Done with the goddamn fucking bridge chapters. Thank fucking Christ. I'd say expect updates to be a bit more frequent from now on but we're super short-staffed at work so idk.

And oh shit Kale wrote a song!

skaletal dot tumblr dot com / post / 119282809822 / for-mybrainproblems-work-at-least-youre-not

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In spite of Mikasa's protests Eren started classes only a day after his return, forged hospital records gripped in still-bandaged hands detailing a car accident and his admission to the emergency room at Trost General. The biology department gave him a two week extension on his formal thesis proposal and his professors excused his lab hours (with pay) for the next three. Eren's new routine became classes, lunch with Sasha and/or Connie, classes, library, walk home with either Mikasa or Sasha. He threw himself into his work, retreating to the comfort of academic texts and lab reports to block everything else out, trying to wear himself out – in spite of Armin's protests – to the point where he could sleep for more than a few fitful hours.

His dreams of fire and smoke and ash had been retreating for so many years, only to make a resurgence. Only now, now the nightmare wasn't that he was being torn away from it but that he was caught, buried alive under flaming rubble. Night after night after night he woke up paralyzed, unable to speak and barely able to breathe, his heart jackrabbiting and his pulse throbbing as he stared up at the ceiling with cement limbs dragging him down.

It ate at him even after Marco came out of the coma. No amount of forgiveness or insistence from Marco that it wasn't his fault would allow Eren to absolve himself of guilt. He could see the hurt and the frustration in Jean's eyes; if they'd never had lunch Marco would be healthy and whole, not hospitalized and learning to walk again. For the first time in years they fought, not sure about what they were fighting over or why. Fists were easier when there were no more tears left to fall.

For the past three years Sasha and Marco had tried to get them to do a group Halloween costume and every year they had failed. The first year they had planned their group costume to be characters from The Wizard of Oz - Dorothy, Tin Man, Scarecrow, Cowardly Lion, Glinda, The Wicked Witch, Oz himself and Jean as... The Bat. The next year they had tried again - Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Han Solo, Chewbacca, C3PO, R2D2, Lando Calrissian and Jean as... The Bat. The third year Sasha had the brilliant idea of doing the Venture Bros. to begin with - Hank and Dean Venture, Brock Samson, The Monarch and Dr. Mrs. The Monarch, Molotov Cocktease, Henchman 24 and Jean as... John Wayne.

This year, with the mood solemn over all of them and with Mikasa refusing to take a night off patrol there was never any suggestion to do a group costume. The nail in the coffin might have been Jean's earnest offer to go along with whatever theme they wanted to do that year.

The sun was well-set by the time they were walking over to the party – a friend of a friend of Sasha's belonged to some society that had a house – and Eren could hear the dark pressing against them. The night sounded like many things now; footsteps light and heavy, the shrieks of children on a sugar high, the crying of frightened children, growls and snarls and jump scares. Every so often there would be the screech of tires or a shadow behind them and it was only after it passed and left him that he could feel the tension sitting in his shoulders and the breath stuck in his chest.

Even off the streets and indoors the tension didn't lessen. It sat between his shoulder blades waiting for something to strike. The feeling lessened after the first drink set into his body; fingertips and lips abuzz and a fog quieting the thoughts of unknown eyes around him.

He was halfway to the bottom of his third drink when he noticed the heated and playful stare across the room. Their name escaped him – something with an A – but he could recall him working in the physics lab down the hall on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Given that Jean had disappeared and Ymir and Krista had not-so-surreptitiously gone upstairs and Connie was pleading with Sasha to not introduce him to any other women at the party it was easy for Eren to slip away.

The usual ritual ensued; exchange names on the off chance it actually mattered, flirt to make intent clear, light touches to making out to heavy petting, a not-so-subtle suggestion to take things upstairs. The rest of it was slippery and sweaty with the faint scent of latex mingled in. The sound and fury of their labored breathing and moans filled the room and yet there was nothing of any significance in them; simply a primal urge for pleasure. He refused to meet the other man's eyes, refused to look at his face as he was lost to pleasure. He didn't care about the intimacy, he only wanted the distraction. Still, he couldn't keep his mind from wandering. The bruises and sore muscles he would undoubtedly have were deserved, the pleasure was not. Rather than give into it wholly and let it wash over him he stared off to the side, mind fuzzy as he fixated on a crack in the wall plaster and his body on autopilot.

When he came it was hollow, a physiological reaction and nothing more. He came down quickly, untangling from his partner and cleaning off best he could before getting dressed. The other man sat up and watched him, giving a low chuckle and an open invitation for a repeat performance that he already knew he wouldn't be taking. As he walked back down stairs the feeling of cooling sweat made his skin crawl and disgust began to settle on his tongue. It didn't take him long to find Connie clearly trying to avoid Sasha and standing next to Jean staring solemnly into an almost empty bottle, his eyes looking as empty and as lost as Eren felt.

Two drinks and thirty minutes later Eren found himself separated from everyone else again, though through no design of his own. Connie had ducked off shortly after he joined them, having spotted Sasha across the room and at some point Jean had silently left his company. Things were starting to get louder and fuzzier and narrower as he pushed closer to the wall, trying to avoid the press of bodies and feeling the crawl of grime on his skin.

He felt the wall shake as a large crash came from upstairs and sent his heart racing and his vision tunneling, his breathing becoming shallow and weighted. Looking around at everyone else he could taste the panic on his tongue; only a few other people were looking up at the ceiling in curiosity. He moved quickly through the crowd of people, not looking for anyone as he headed towards the exit – he could contact them later.

The backyard was blessedly quiet and empty compared to the house, the chill of the late October air keeping everyone inside save a few smokers now re-entering the house. They parted easily, asking if he needed a light as he passed through them. Out in the yard he sunk onto the bench next to the door and let his head fall back against the wall, willing his heart and breath back to normal as he closed his eyes and counted down from a hundred. Around sixty he felt his heartbeat become less erratic and by forty everything was beginning to even out. At twenty he stopped and dropped his head forward, watching his feet scuff at the dead leaves on the ground as the world, a fixed point as the world spun around him. In the cold calm of the night with the October chill creeping up his spine Eren began to sober up, to become all too aware of his heartbeat and the rush of blood in his ears and the tingling false warmth on his skin. And with sobriety came the uncomfortable resurgence of his conscious mind; sick humiliation at caving to irrational panic, skin-crawling repulsion with himself for giving in to a quick fuck. He let all of it crash over him, awash in a sea of self-loathing and a desperate disgust and a desire – a need – to be dragged deeper. There was no pause, no thought, no second guess as he pulled out his phone and tapped out a quick message.

[Eren:] drunk and slept with someone i dont even knoww their name

He tipped his head back, his skull hitting the wall to stare up at the empty purple velvet of the light-polluted sky, unable to identify whether the shiver than went through his body was the result of the breeze picking up or his own abhorrence for his actions. The vibration of his phone in his pocket startled him out of his own reverie of revulsion.

[Asshole McFuckface:] Are you fucking shitting me?

A sickening swoop of satisfaction ran through Eren's body at Levi's response. If there was ever anyone who he would expect to call him out on his own short-comings it was him. He ignored the phone as it buzzed again, setting it next to him on the bench and pulling his legs up to rest his forehead on his knees. His phone buzzed again and continued to vibrate incessantly, dancing its way across the bench and finally getting his attention as it hit the ground.

[Incoming call: Asshole McFuckface]

"Hello?"

"You can't just out-of-the-blue text someone that you drunkenly fucked a stranger and then ignore their follow-up texts." Levi's voice was gravelly and Eren winced at the bite in his tone.

"Sorry."

"Why me?"

"Because…" Eren paused and fumbled with the words he had no desire to consciously voice. "Because I needed to tell someone who's not going to be sympathetic and is going to tell me I fucked up."

"So again: why me?" The bite was gone, an odd neutrality settling in its place.

"Because you already think I'm an idiot." There was a drawn-out groan on the other end of the line followed by a thud and a soft curse.

"So you woke me up at fucking two in the morning to invite me to your little pity party?" A long pause was followed by a soft sigh before Levi continued. "What's done is done. Just don't do something that fucking stupid again. I'd rather not wreck myself dragging your ass out of a burning building again."

"I'm sorry, so fucking sorry." Eren drew his free hand up to his neck, digging blunt nails into flesh. "If I hadn't –"

"If you hadn't fucking what?" Levi cut him off sharply. "If you hadn't gone to lunch with a friend? If you hadn't tried to give someone directions? If you didn't have a crappy father? If you hadn't been born? Shit happens and unfortunately you've got fucking awful luck. None of this is your fault so fucking stop blaming yourself for shit."

"It's been a rough couple of months."

"Understatement of the year."

"Thanks… by the way."

"Sure. Just don't wake me up again to tell me you nailed a stranger because you want someone to be angry at you."

"Sorry about that. Aren't you usually awake at night though?"

"Off active duty for at least another month. Ankle might not be broken but it's fucked up worse than I thought." He ignored Eren's pained groan and continued. "It's not as though I'm out of the loop entirely. There's more to being a hero than running around beating up shithead criminals. And right now… let's just say a lot of people are keen to keep off the streets."

"Huh?"

"Fucking… two elite heroes are dead and even if most regular people aren't aware of it every single hero and villain knows. The Titans went from just a name to scaring the crap out of everyone. The MP, the Guard, the syndicates… they've all been trying to take a piece out of us for years and the new kids in the block just did more damage overnight than they've done ever." Eren's lips parted in shock at the emotion in Levi's tone; anger, frustration, concern. "Try and get your friends off the street, or at least make sure they aren't out on their own. Even your sister and especially your friend with the bow."

"I don't think they'll listen but I'll try."

"Anyway, find your friends and go home. I'm going back to sleep."

"Right. Um, thanks again." He paused tentatively. "And uh, good night, Levi."

"Night, Eren."

Eren heard the click of the call being disconnected and stared at his phone for a moment, an odd yet not-unwelcome feeling of some semblance of peace settling over him for the first time in weeks.

Levi put the phone down on the coffee table and sat up, rolling his shoulders and trying to stretch out the kink in his neck. Leaning down, he picked up the knife he'd dropped earlier and stuck it back into the sheath on his belt before walking towards the kitchen, limping slightly, to make himself a cup of tea. He opened up his laptop, reading over Hanji's notes from the past two weeks and trying to make sense of it all while he waited for the water to boil.

Sleep would not visit him again.