How To Be
infinitify
Summary:
Levi's taken it upon himself to raise his orphaned cousin, Mikasa. Devoted entirely to keeping her safe from the dysfunction of the Ackerman family, he strives to give her the type of life she deserved from the very start. Now depressed, emotionally damaged, and entranced by heavy eyeliner and sad song lyrics, seventeen-year-old Mikasa struggles through growing pains during her pursuit of happiness - all while being so hopelessly in love with a boy who sometimes can't keep his mouth shut.
Mid-2000's High School/College AU.
Goth, angsty Mikasa and protective father figure Levi.
Eventual Eren x Mikasa, eventual Levi x Petra.
CW: Graphic depictions of violence, blood, alcoholism. Attempts of suicide/completion of suicide. Mentions of molestation/attempted molestation. Dysfunctional family life.
Notes:
Thank you all for giving this story a chance!
Please be warned that, while a lot of the time light-hearted, this story is very strong in themes of violence, domestic abuse, alcoholism, and more. The story starts with mentions of attempted molestation and may go further into it down the line (nothing too graphic as I don't like to write things like that, but another content warning will posted in those chapters). I wanted to write a very real, unfortunate life for my two main characters as I feel that's an accurate depiction of what their life would be like in modern times. If any of these themes disturb or trigger you, please click away/skip to another scene. Your mental health matters much more than any hits/kudos on my story!
I hope everyone else can enjoy my story nonetheless. It's more casual than my other AOT story to help achieve the era that the story is set in. I love writing modern worlds for media that's quite the opposite, especially high school au's. When you've finished reading, I'd love to see a comment with your thoughts and what you'd like to see from the story!
Just for the sake of clarity:
Scenes/paragraphs in italic text = past occurrence/flashback/character inner thoughts.
Scenes/paragraphs in standard text = present day.
Happy reading! :)
Chapter 1: february stars
Notes:
Thank you all for giving this story a chance!
Please be warned that, while a lot of the time light-hearted, this story is very strong in themes of violence, domestic abuse, alcoholism, and more. The story starts with mentions of attempted molestation and may go further into it down the line (nothing too graphic as I don't like to write things like that, but another content warning will posted in those chapters). I wanted to write a very real, unfortunate life for my two main characters as I feel that's an accurate depiction of what their life would be like in modern times. If any of these themes disturb or trigger you, please click away/skip to another scene. Your mental health matters much more than any hits/kudos on my story!
I hope everyone else can enjoy my story nonetheless. It's more casual than my other AOT story to help achieve the era that the story is set in. I love writing modern worlds for media that's quite the opposite, especially high school au's. When you've finished reading, I'd love to see a comment with your thoughts and what you'd like to see from the story!
Just for the sake of clarity:
Scenes/paragraphs in italic text = past occurrence/flashback/character inner thoughts.
Scenes/paragraphs in standard text = present day.
Happy reading! :)
Chapter Text
FEBRUARY 1993
Adrenaline coursed through Levi's veins, a single droplet of blood slicked down from the gash on his brow and into his eye. It twitched at the sting, though his now crimson vision was last on his list of shits to give. Never mind the throbbing in his split knuckles, blood dripped carelessly out of those wounds too.
"You're fine… you're gonna be fine," he spoke through his vigorous panting.
He could barely convince himself of that sentiment, let alone the traumatised five-year-old in his arms. God, what a fucking mess this all was.
Mikasa sobbed high-pitched cries against his ear, deafening him more than the whirl of those damn sirens. He held the girl as tight as he could, a concoction of repulsion and worry swam in the puddle that pooled in his gut. As Levi barrelled down the dark suburban neighbourhood, Mikasa pointed towards the police cruiser that swerved into the street behind them. Flashes of red and blue shone in her swollen, glassy eyes. More horrified sobs. The mere sound could crumble any grown man into a wailing mess. Well, as grown as any nineteen-year-old was.
It's not that he chose to wake up in a shitty situation like his. He never intended to for his rotten life to bleed all over anyone else's. But Levi learnt faster than anyone that good intentions weren't going to light fate's shrouded path. How'd he get here? Was his life tainted from the start? Was it genetic to be so ravaged by aggression? Was he going to be destitute forever? "Why's" and "How come's" were swiftly smacked out of him as a child. There was no button to restart it all, no chance to rewind and fix what was broken. This was the life he was born to, yes, and it sure as hell wasn't his choice. But she was.
He chose Mikasa, and Mikasa chose him.
She babbled incoherently, wetting his shirt with uncontrollable tears.
"We'll be there soon. Don't cry." What a ridiculous request of a little girl.
A cruiser sped around the corner and swerved in front of them, its lights off and siren dormant. Damn it, he didn't see the asshole coming. Levi halted, turning swiftly in the opposite direction only to be met with the cruiser that initially took chase.
"No, no!" Mikasa cried, gripping his shirt. Her doe-like eyes peered back and forth between the cruisers, just as he did.
He could escape, yes. Technically, he could sprint into the bushes, through people's yards and over their fences, just as he'd done in the past. But not with a child in his arms. Not this time. Panting, all he could do was hold her as the ringing in his ear became too gruelling to ignore, his hand sliding protectively over the back of her head.
When policemen filed out of their cars, they stuck their wide, alerted gazes into him, and raised their firearms.
"Put her down, okay?"
"Put her the fuck down!"
"Put her on the ground, now!"
Levi squinted at the headlights searing into his pupils. He could barely make out what they were saying between the blaring sirens and the ringing in his ear. Mikasa held him tighter, another sob escaping out from her mouth.
"I said now, damn it!"
Detective Rico Brzenska cleared her throat, settling her cup of coffee on the stainless-steel table.
It was the early hours of the morning now; they'd kept that boy here since seven o'clock. Fresh off a nightshift, Rico was asleep when she was called in to handle him. They'd finally managed to tear the little girl from his arms, at least until they knew he wasn't a threat to her, and shove him in a holding cell. When Rico stalked past, she saw what injuries tainted his already dull, lifeless appearance; where dry, cracked blood was left to settle on his face. He sat with his head low, hands gripping either side of the bench beside him, and stared… into nothing.
Peculiar young man.
She then checked on the little girl who was kept in the children's room, which somehow, even when painted brightly coloured, still erected dull and soulless. The girl sat in the corner; hands pressed over her ears. Attempting to talk to her was like watching a schizophrenic episode, she wasn't really there. May as well be a ghoul or spirit, something along those invisible and unreachable lines.
The detective crossed one leg over the other, now sitting opposite of Levi Ackerman in an interrogation room. The paperwork for witness statements were pulled hastily together in time for her to get the story straight, courtesy of the policemen on scene. Then came his already abundant record.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like something to drink?" she asked, her fingers leaving the handle of her mug. "You were in that cell for hours."
Unfortunately, this wasn't Levi's first rodeo. Petty crime was the real father figure in his life, and daddy taught him one thing, crystal clear. Law enforcement were not your friends.
"This isn't necessary," he replied, staring at her through the brim of his eyelids. "Your pigs didn't even catch the fucker."
"This is still an ongoing investigation," she said matter-of-factly.
"Are there charges being pressed against me or not?" Levi didn't need the fluff, he needed to grab Mikasa and get the hell out of there. Rico paused at his question. "I told your men everything. Why am I still here?"
Sighing, Rico handed the damp cloth she brought into the room over to Levi. With frustration souring his features, he snatched it out of her hand, handcuffs jingling subsequently. He took a moment to wipe the dried blood that crusted over his face, patting around the wound that still throbbed even hours later. He stared at her as he did, expectant of an answer.
"Your mother has the right to press charges against you, Mr Ackerman. The potential of that outcome requires some sort of questioning, some investigation from our end. You're quite possibly looking at kidnapping charges, assault charges—"
"I'm not the fucking criminal here," his voice was flinty with resentment.
"Your record says otherwise."
Levi glared at the woman. "She's my goddamn cousin. Like a sister if you wanna go down that road. I was pro—"
"You were protecting her." The beat changed. Rico's tone remained the same, but her perception of the boy differed. "We've got a good understanding of the situation now, Mr Ackerman. The choices you made were to protect a child you perceived to be in danger. Perhaps, you wanted to avenge her. And from one human to another, I respect your inclination to keep her safe. As do the officers on scene now that they're up to speed with what went down. But a call was made to our operator tonight, a call about you assaulting another man. And when our units arrived on the scene, you attempted to flee with that little girl in your possession. I hope you come to understand that despite your reasoning, there's legalities you breached. That of which we're required to uphold. There's no free pass for good intentions—"
"You can't seriously arrest me and not the piece of shit that touched a little girl," his voice heightened. "Do you honest to god think I'm the fucking criminal here? The real criminal?"
Rico grabbed the file that contained his record and slapped it onto the table towards him. Levi glowered, his eyes flickering between the file and the detective.
"The fuck is wrong with you?"
"Look, Mr Ackerman," Rico shifted in her seat, her elbows now resting on the table. "Mikasa is under the care of your mother. In the eyes of the law, she is her legal guardian."
"Listen, pig. My mother is an alcoholic," he spat venom with his words. "She's the entire reason that bastard was even in the house." Confusion laced the woman's features. "How would you sleep at night knowing you left a child in the care of someone like her? Huh? Would you sleep at all? Because I don't. I don't fucking sleep."
He hadn't noticed how far forward he perched in his seat. Detective Brzenska watched the fire kindle behind his eyes, the mere contemplation of harm finding Mikasa Ackerman crazed him. Realisation soon dawned on her… they knew his age, his brushes with the law, his employment status, even. But they truly lacked insight into the nitty gritty of this boy's life. For god's sake, they had a record eight miles high on him and a fresh report that broke a dry spell, yet all of it failed to depict what was truly going on. Caught for petty theft, assault, breaking curfew. He dropped out of high school, abdicated from his senior year, bounced around from job to job. It all started somewhere, didn't it?
Rico leaned forward to match him. "What's the extent of your mother's alcoholism?" she asked, studying his sharp features as they settled. Levi sat back in his chair; cuffed wrists placed on the table as he silenced. "It would affect any child, I know. Though, in what way does it start to… become a detriment to Mikasa's wellbeing?"
Levi stilled. Memories flashed like a movie in his head, memories of his mother slumped over the toilet, puke dripping from her mouth and chunks dangling in her hair. With every step she took, there was always a damn bottle in her hand. She passed out anywhere. In the kitchen, in her bedroom, on the couch. Mikasa was horrified that she was dying—yes, dying and leaving her. Yet another person was going to die and leave her. She starved for hours alone at home when Levi was working, Kuchel thought the bottom of a bottle at some dive bar was more important.
That was his mother, the same, beautiful woman who gave him softness, and love, and warmth as a young boy. Even amidst the waves of Uncle Kenny and his attempts at placeholding for his father figure. His attempts at brutality. She was the shell of the woman who gave him life – Kuchel the mother was long gone, replaced by whatever woman of the night she was now.
Levi inhaled. "I need to be guaranteed that what I tell you won't get her sent away."
"Well," Rico's eyes hit the table, she thought for a moment. "Where do you plan on going if you're released tonight?"
He took a minute to respond, biting the inside of his cheek. Goddamn it. "My uncle, he lives downtown. He's… a business owner. Makes a lot of money. He can keep us there, keep her fed. A place to sleep. Everything."
It was an answer, sure. One that skated along the lines of a lie. Was it… good enough?
The detective sighed, her eyelids pressing together as if she had a headache. She fought for a solid consensus with the thoughts in her head. He'd been a delinquent for most of his life, a disdain for authority ran coarse through his blood. But ever since his mother was given legal guardianship of his cousin, his record quietened. He made it up until his senior year—further than she'd ever expect—before he dropped out. He bounced between jobs but still managed to obtain them, nonetheless.
Tonight was unfortunate, for all parties involved that is. However, Levi truly seemed to suffer from what he saw, from what he did, from what overcame him. A blinding, inundating rage that resulted in a man brutally beaten, his blood painted that shoddy trailer a new coat of red if the crime scene photos were anything to go by. To authority, it was another step toward life-long criminality; a young boy fated to become a man destined for the lethal injection.
But to Rico, Levi had shown her that Mikasa would never find harm in his care ever again. It was good intentions. It was personal, for her, to see her empathy through.
"Mr Ackerman…" she paused, hesitating for a moment. "If Mikasa's legal guardian is not… doing her due diligence in raising this child…" she ruminated as hard as possible, as if she held tightly onto her words. "Foster care is an option—"
"Not a chance."
"But… so are you," she continued. Levi did not interrupt her again. "You're nineteen years of age. You're… employed as a valet. Sounds like you'll have a new place of residence. Possibly a hard sell to a judge with your record, I'll admit. But there's potential. You don't have any domestic abuse charges and your records seem to get quiet once your cousin enters the picture. If what you tell me about your home life permits… I can direct you to other means to get a case going, and it can all be backed up here. Tonight."
Levi blinked; a soft wrinkle emanated between his brows. His voice returned from the fiery depths it reached before.
"What are you saying?" he asked.
"Levi." Rico sat back. "You could become Mikasa's legal guardian."
AUGUST 2005
"So, do you think you passed? I wasn't expecting question four about the alkaline, but it's whatever. I handled it. She can't throw any curve balls my way and not expect me to hit 'em."
Jean watched her expectantly, then down to her fingers that impatiently twisted the combination knob on her locker.
Sometimes Jean was really sweet. Charming, sure, though he'd probably collapse if she ever dared to admit it. He was a friend she could really spend an afternoon with and not feel like she had to pretend to be somebody else, maybe even lose track of time.
And sometimes, Jean was like a fly whizzing past her ear, too quick for her to swat away, damn it. He would never do her any wrong or harm, but he had an air about him that made her sometimes, only sometimes, want to kick him down a flight of stairs.
And now was that sometime.
"I don't know. But I will know when it gets graded." She opened her locker and shoved her books inside as he towered beside her.
Mikasa had learned patience off of Levi. We'll deal with it when we deal with it. We'll know when we know. No use in making assumptions when the future can't be predicted. Though she second guessed whether it was actually impatience.
"Sure, yeah." Jean paled at her dryness. He didn't know how to respond, so he simply glanced around in search of a conversation starter, perhaps a shred of confidence. And there, on the school bulletin board, sat a freshly printed flyer. Perfect. "So, the Night to Remember dance is coming up pretty soon…" he rubbed the back of his neck.
Jean. The dance. With Jean. Dancing. Mikasa knew how this was going to play out. He would try his luck and ask her to the dance, and then for the fifth time she'd explain how she doesn't go to balls or proms or whatever gassed up mating ritual society threw at her, and he would scramble to play it off. Act all cool. It's whatever, he would say.
Then ask her again in a few weeks.
"It's not for two months," she said.
"Oh, yeah, I knew that. Just… thinking ahead, is all." He paused, watching her attention drift back to her locker. "Well, look. I know you don't like dances or corsages or anything like that. But—"
"Sounds like you already know where this conversation is going."
He blinked, eyes widening a fraction. "Yeah…" he drew out as if he were standing on the thinnest of ice. Her tone always had little inflection, but its usual softness had calloused. "I was just gonna say…" he hesitated again. She caught quick glimpses at him here and there, waiting. "If you don't have a date, we could—um," he choked on nothing all of a sudden. Oh my god, this was backfiring. He quickly cleared his throat. "We could go. You know. As friends."
As friends. That was new.
She sighed, her hands falling. "Jean."
"You never come to any of them," he said. "They can be a lot of fun, and I think you deserve to have a good time. It can just be two friends going to a dance, like Connie and Sasha."
In her view, it would be two friends going to a dance. For her, that's all it was and all it would be. But for him? Something told her he'd benefit from her cooperation more than she would.
"I'll think about it." No, she wouldn't. But a glimmer of hope flickered from his features.
"Will you?" he muttered pathetically, then quickly composed himself. "Uh—kay, cool. Yeah. You think about it. There's plenty of time. Just, y'know, don't think too long. My options… they're there. I'm keeping 'em open."
Mikasa lifted a brow, she couldn't help but blink at the boy. "Your options, huh?"
"Yeah, my…" His words got lost in the atmosphere when she stared directly into his eyes. Holy shit. The hutzpah that previously inflated his chest deflated like a wimpy balloon. All of the effort he could muster went solely into containing the saliva in his mouth. "…my options."
He could only watch, helplessly, as her eyes broke from his and her head snapped to her right. Jean didn't have to look to know who she was suddenly attentive to.
"Hey, Eren." Mikasa slammed her locker shut, trailing a handful of lockers down the hallway to where he was. Jean deadpanned.
She went after him, gripping the strap of her bag as her visage brightened ever so slightly. There was always a sense of giddiness that arose when she set her sights on Eren, like a flower unravelling inside her chest, flaring between her ribcage and tickling her lungs. He was cramming his books into the top of his locker, so mundane yet so hypnotizing. She watched his shirt sleeves fall to reveal more of his toned arms, even while he awkwardly struggled to get his pencil case in the atomic bomb of a locker he had. His neck tensed, lips muttering harmless curses of effort.
For a moment, her features escaped from their seemingly perpetual misery. When she looked at him – and she could look at him forever – all she could think of was how he was so… how he was such a…
Good friend, as he once said. I think I am. Armin says so.
He caught her in his peripheral vision, quickly, he did a double take.
"Oh, hey Mikasa." He was still preoccupied with his books, ensuring they didn't all tumble on top of him.
"Did you like the songs I burned for you?" she asked. He nodded, then pulling his CD Walkman off the top shelf.
"Yeah, they were cool," he said with little inflection. His fingers popped open the lid, secured the disc, and held it out to her.
Oh.
Mikasa stared down at it, brows sunken. "You don't want to keep it?"
"Well, it's yours." He gestured it in her direction a second time. "You don't want it back?"
He spoke with such casual aloofness, without a single thought. She figured these mishaps were a good sign in their friendship; Eren was comfortable, he didn't need to think around her. And if she wasn't so aware of his well-intentioned cluelessness, she could almost say she was hurt. Almost.
She knew what it was like to truly hurt.
"Eren, I made it for you." She couldn't help but grimace.
"Oh," he widened his eyes, arm reeling back slightly. She studied him eagerly as he blinked and then… shrugged. "Okay cool, thanks."
Mikasa also blinked, astounded by his sheer obliviousness. She was rarely so forward with her affections, it somewhat embarrassed her that she had them in the first place. But it was totally absurd that Eren hadn't caught on at this point. Really, she burned him a CD… she burned him a CD!
This crush had a hold on her for years now, ever since Armin's companionship led her to Eren in freshman year. Well, led Eren to her, more like it. Back when she had no friends, by her own admission, and when her only comfort was found in Levi.
It was only by chance that their paths crossed, as she and Armin were assigned to a group project for their Social Studies class. And where you found Armin, you'd find Eren. He would always talk about his best friend like he was a simply the coolest person to ever walk the school grounds. Some passionate, joyful kid who was on his skateboard more than he was on his own two feet.
She didn't think much of him initially, only hearing whispers of what he was like by Armin, there wasn't much she experienced of him firsthand. She had seen him around, passing him in the halls between classes or in the cafeteria during lunch. Once he stood behind her in the lunch line and told her that her boot laces were untied. She peered down, glanced back at him, and thanked him before moving forward with the line. She didn't tie them.
Their first, actual conversation took place over the phone. It was awkward, confusing, and somewhat alarming – and it all started when Eren was at Armin's house.
Armin's Social Studies notes were scattered all over his desk, he'd never been so disoriented by a project before, and he did not take his academics lightly. It was quite intense for their first year of high school, it had him studying up into the early hours of the morning.
Bored out of his mind while Armin was in the bathroom, Eren perused the boy's desk and noticed that one of the papers had string of numbers scribbled in purple glitter pen. Above it was a name sprawled in perfectly neat handwriting.
Mikasa.
His brows furrowed before they heightened with amusement. Holy shit, Armin's got a girlfriend!
"We're not dating, we're on a project together. You've probably seen her around. Her hair is dark, her clothes are dark, her makeup is… dark."
"Her shoelaces untied?"
"Huh? I… I don't look at her shoes all that much."
"It's Mikasa Ackerman, right? We have the same lunch block."
"Yeah, that's her."
Unbeknownst to Armin, Eren had ripped off the corner of paper where her number was and made off with it as he left. Ideas of prank calling flashed in his mind, but he had no intentions of getting her mad. All he wanted to do was see if his friend was telling the truth. Armin would be the first between them to ever have a girlfriend, he ached to find out if she was really going to be sticking around. It wasn't that Armin ever gave him a reason to be doubtful, they were best friends after all. But once upon a time, Armin couldn't even admit to having an English tutor, never mind being in love. It would be idiotic passing up the opportunity to catch his friend red handed. It meant another friend was coming into the fold.
So, he called.
It rang, and rang, and rang, and ra—
"Ackerman."
The voice on the other end was curt, brute, and way too deep to be some teenaged girl.
"Uh… hey, is Mikasa there?"
"And who's this?"
"It's Armin…" he instantly replied, cringing at his gall to lie.
The man on the other end paused. "You sick or something? You sound different."
Eren forced a cough, a fist balled over his mouth. "Uh, yeah. Just… have a cold."
It was silent again, this time, for a little longer than he hoped.
"Alright, one sec."
The man called out for her to take the call. Some scuffling was heard before a softer, balmy voice came through his receiver.
"Hey, you're calling pretty late." Eren immediately silenced. Whatever tried to come out simply fell back in. "Don't you have your friend over tonight?"
Fearing she was onto him, he slammed the receiver back onto the wall and ended the call. No, what was he doing? Did he seriously just do that? Armin wouldn't hang up! She was going to question him about it and the jig would be up. He should just call her back, explain himself, and it'll all be fine. Right?
His fingers pressed the keypads and her number dialled through; it happened all so fast that he didn't even realize what he was doing. It rang once before it was picked up.
"Armin?"
"Hey…" he hesitated for a moment. "This isn't Armin."
She grew silent.
"So, who the hell is this?"
"Don't get freaked out," he blurted. "My name's Eren, we go to school together. I saw your number in Armin's notebook. He said you guys were on a group project together for Social Studies."
"Uh… okay?"
"I was calling to, you know, see if it was just a cover up. That you guys aren't secretly dating or whatever. He has a hard time admitting stuff."
"That's… kind of weird."
Now that he thought about it, it was definitely weird.
"Yeah. I know." He blinked. "So?"
She huffed into the receiver. "We're just doing a project."
"And you're not some super-secret girlfriend he's been hiding from all of us?"
"No? I didn't think Armin even liked girls."
"Huh?"
"He's, you know?" she paused, her voice quietening. "He's gay, isn't he?"
"What?! No! Why the hell would you think that?!"
"What's wrong with being gay?"
"N-Nothing! I didn't say it was wrong—"
"You sound shocked. Maybe he just has a hard time admitting it." She was almost about to burst into laughter.
"Hey, Armin's my best friend! We've been inseparable since kindergarten – if he was gay, which he isn't, he would've told me first."
"Right."
"Right. So… yeah." He scratched the back of his head, unable to determine whether she was pulling his leg or not.
"So… you're the gay one then?" He heard her stifle a laugh. She was definitely pulling his leg.
"No!"
"Oh. Alright then. Well, now that we've both been asked invasive questions about our dating life, is there anything else you'd like to ask before I hang up and pretend this conversation never happened?"
He blinked. "Uh… how's the project going?"
"It's going fine," she replied.
"Well… we don't have any classes together, but I've seen you around." Eren thought for a moment, why couldn't he manage himself to end the call? He got what he wanted, an answer to his question and a somewhat weird conversation to accompany it. Why couldn't he just hang up? "I guess Armin's been hanging out with you this whole time. He's been missing in action for quite a while now."
"Not really. We aren't the best of friends or anything. We just do this project, sometimes get a slurpee from the gas station."
"The one on Porter street? We skate around there sometimes. You skate?"
"No."
"You should try it. It's fun."
"Yeah," she huffed, "I'll put it on my bucket list."
"Well, since you're always hanging out with Armin now—"
"Again, not really."
"—then you can come and hang out with us if you want. I could teach you how to skate or something."
Her end of the line grew silent again. Did he freak her out? Well, if calling her in the first place didn't creep her out, he doubted that wanting to be her friend was where she drew the line.
"I… I don't want friends." Never mind then.
His brows furrowed. "What? Everyone wants friends."
"Not me."
"Have you ever had friends?" Was that a stupid question to ask her?
"Not really. I've been fine without them."
"I think you'll be even better with them. You can't go wrong with a good group of friends."
Something in that really bizarre phone call had urged her to let go of the reigns and see where this took her. The kid was ballsy, it was no wonder why Armin talked about him so much. He called her – a complete stranger – out of nowhere and chatted to her for god knows how long. The voice in her head told her to go, make some friends. She was friendless for so long, which was her own doing, but she found it worked for everyone else too. So, what did she have to lose? If she didn't like them, she could go back to ignoring everyone around her. And if they didn't like her, she could go back to ignoring everyone around her. She liked those outcomes.
"Come on," he urged again. "Come out with us sometime?"
"We'll see, uh… sorry, what was your name again?"
"It's Eren."
"Eren," she repeated. "I'm Mikasa."
The beginnings of a smile played on his face. Mikasa.
Yeah. He liked that name.
Mikasa watched Eren put her disc back in his Walkman and toss the device into his mess of a locker.
"I really have to clean this thing," he admitted as he slammed the door shut. When he turned toward Mikasa, he found himself peering up at a seething Jean that hovered beside her. "What?" his lip curled.
"Are you stupid?" Jean scoffed.
"Look who's talking. What the hell did I do now?" Eren crossed his arms.
"It's what you didn't do, moron!" his voice heightened at Eren's obliviousness. It pained him to admit a 'clueless nitwit' like him had Mikasa's heart, but it was another type of pain to watch her affections go completely over his head.
Armin had appeared amidst Jean and Eren's bickering, and with a roll of his eyes, peeled Mikasa out from between them.
"Can you two stop fighting like toddlers for once?" Armin's tone had relinquished its usual effort. Every single day they bickered and argued over ridiculous things, and yet somehow, remained friends. They were always at odds in one way or another: in class, at the skate park, with Mikasa. Some people were just born to clash; their rivalry never ceased. It was always left for Armin to play mediator, sometimes crowd control when things got too intense.
"He started it!" Eren declared. Even Mikasa had trouble justifying her feelings for him in that very moment, but she took him for who he was, flaws and all. And there were lots of flaws.
"Who cares, Eren! Just go to lunch!" Armin bit back, tugging on his friend's arm. "Come on, Mikasa. You coming?"
She and Armin led the way to the cafeteria, the fiery pair of Eren and Jean in toe.
"I can't stay too long, we're doing a prac for science and I have to be there early."
"Good luck," he smiled. "Maybe your absence will make them both remember that they're actually friends."
Mikasa's lips formed into a slight smile. "I might disappear more often then."
The walls of the cafeteria echoed with its hustle and bustle, sun glazed through the large, sea-foam tinted windows and across the room. Up towards the back sat Connie and Sasha, their heads almost buried into their trays while they ate. They always made it to the cafeteria long before anyone else did, somehow finding their way to the front of any lunch line the school could throw at them.
Jean and Eren lined up for food, while Armin brought his own. Mikasa didn't bother lining up with what little time she had left before the science practical. She could snack after school and before she went home, Levi wouldn't be around to tch and tsk at her for poisoning her body. Have a banana or an apple, he'd say like the old man he was. She loved that grump, but damn it, some afternoons she just wanted to open her fridge and grab a jello-cup without being crucified.
Armin and Mikasa joined Connie and Sasha while the boys got their lunch. They were having a bizarre conversation about food – because what else would they ever be talking about – and the absurdities that came with Sasha's cravings. By the time Eren and Jean got back, all dignity had flown out the window.
"Give me one good reason why you shouldn't deep fry an Oreo," Sasha challenged, holding one of her creations up to nobody in particular.
"Well, it's a one-way ticket to a heart attack by the time you're thirty," Jean sat beside Connie, a permanent grimace on his face.
"Thank you, Jean, that's exactly what I was saying," Connie replied, his voice muffled by the Oreo he shoved in his mouth.
"So, why are you eating one?" Eren sat beside Mikasa, placing his tray down.
"What?" Connie shrugged like it was no big deal. "You put a deep-fried Oreo in front of me and I'm gonna eat it." He attempted to casually get his hands on yet another one of Sasha's supposed cardiac-arrest-cookies, but she snatched them away from him, white-knuckling a handful of them and shoving them into her mouth.
Jean hadn't even begun to eat yet. He didn't think he could. "That's disgusting. Like really disgusting."
"Mikasa, are you still coming to debate club after school?" Armin turned to her, a gleeful look of anticipation on his face.
"Can't," she replied, unable to peel her eyes away from Sasha devouring another fistful of Oreos. "I gotta finish this project."
Jean snapped his head to her. "That the Biology one you were struggling with?" he asked, to which she nodded. "I can give you a hand with that."
Right. Of course, he could. Jean wanted to study Bio-med when he got to college, but something told her that wasn't why he wanted to help her out.
"Thanks, but I was gonna ask Eren for some help. His dad's a doctor."
Memories flashed her back to when she and Eren would study together; getting distracted when she wanted to show him another cool song she found, or when he wanted to play against her in Tekken, or when they simply fell into a fit of laughter over something insignificant and not at all funny. Everything was funny when she was with Eren.
The flower detangled in her chest once again as she turned to him, heart fluttering and lips tugging into a lovesick smile. Do it, Mikasa. Tell him. Tell the guy you love him. Tell him how much you—
No. No, never mind. He was ferociously battling the lid of his pudding cup.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure." He peppered a glance or two in her direction, finally getting that stubborn plastic lip off the cup. "When do you wanna come over?"
Mikasa shook the overwhelming thoughts from her head. "How's tonight?" she responded as coolly as possible.
Jean's eye twitched at the ease of it all. Stupid Eren.
"Yeah. Dad will be home ton—" he suddenly halted. "Actually… my brother's coming over tonight." His tone had weirdly sobered.
"So?" She blinked, shooting a glance around the room.
She'd met Zeke before, about a handful of times. He was in college and had been for the duration of her friendship with Eren, only recently did he start living on campus. Not that it changed much within the family home, he was always on campus or crashing on someone's couch, so he wasn't home much to begin with. Oddly enough, she never saw Zeke and his father in the same room before. From the sounds of it, their strained relationship took more of a toll on Eren than each other.
Armin winced, delicately unravelling his sandwich bag. "He isn't the most… pleasant to be around," he spoke cautiously.
Eren's brows sunk. "Hey, that's my brother—"
"He tried to drown me, Eren!" Armin barked back at him. Not this again.
"That was eight years ago! I told you he was just messing around!"
Mikasa stared at the table in front of her. "So… what's this got to do with me?"
"You know how it is," Eren sounded defeated as he lowered his pudding cup. "He still argues with my dad every time he comes over. I thought living away from each other would mean they'd have a better relationship. But all they do is fight."
Inhaling, Mikasa pursed her lips. She did know how it was. As much as she wanted to spend time with Eren, talk to his really cool dad, and get that project done, Eren didn't want to expose her to what he probably felt was an embarrassing homelife. She would respect that.
"It's cool, I get it. I'll—uh… I'll figure it out. Don't worry." She smiled at him as he went back to his lunch, a sombre hold on his features. His pain didn't shake, instead, it bled through to her and contorted her visage.
As she turned forward again, she locked eyes with a grinning Jean, awaiting her surrender to his previous offer.
Shit.
"How about after school?" Jean suggested.
Mikasa rolled her eyes despite her gratitude. "Fine. After school in the library," she said, standing from the table and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "You better know your Biology."
"Yeah, well, I hope you know… my Biology…" he blustered as she walked away. His friends stared at him in silence, hit with the shock of second-hand embarrassment.
Without a shred of warning, Jean's face whitened with cafeteria-grade milk, his face crumpling as the carton thumped against it.
Connie slid his chair back. "Woah—!"
"Eren!" Armin yelped, his teeth gritting.
Jean spluttered, wiping the liquid from his eyes. Immediately, they narrowed at a glaring Eren.
"What the fuck?! You got milk all over my sandwich!" he slammed his hands down onto the table.
Without a word, Eren stood from his seat, the chair legs grating against the ground. He abandoned his food as he held his tongue and disappeared out of the cafeteria. Jean begrudgingly cleaned himself up with Armin's help while Sasha continued to eat, oblivious to all the commotion.
Eren quickly found himself behind the school gym again. He sat against the cinderblock wall and watched the soccer team practice on the field. Grisha made a particular effort to educate his son on anger management; drilling into him that, when upset, he should always remove himself from the situation to avoid any brazen acts or words. Eren had a better hold on his temper nowadays because of his father's advice.
But today wasn't one of those days.
Grisha wasn't here right now and Eren wasn't about to cry over spilled milk. Jean was a colossal ass sometimes; he was lucky he only got soaked. He seemed to be the one person Eren couldn't compose himself around – like a constant ringing in his ear, he could almost lose his mind.
Eren didn't want to admit it, it was somewhat embarrassing to do so, but his jealousy would jump out of him like a jack-in-a-box at times. Usually, he kept his composure as he suffered through every attempt Jean made at getting Mikasa to date him. He could keep quiet for as long as he was supposed to. She was his friend, after all; it wasn't in the rulebook to get jealous over another guy pursuing his friend.
Friend. That was how she saw him.
And he was content with being just friends – being in her life and having her in his. He was constantly having to ask himself, why would we go any further? He shouldn't be so stupid to ruin the good thing they had by bringing feelings into the mix. Besides, it's not like she felt the same way. Mikasa was honest, he would know by now if she wanted to be more than friends. Girls always expressed their feelings. She would mention it… right?
Friends was what life permitted them to be. Life, and Levi Ackerman.
If Eren ever felt like he didn't want to live anymore, Levi was the go-to guy to get the job done. He didn't want to imagine what would happen if he found out Eren had feelings for his little cousin. Though he figured it would run along the lines of Mikasa getting locked away while Levi hunted him down.
Standing at an even six-foot now, Eren had grown past than the man. He thought that after his recent growth spurt, Levi would start treating him a little nicer – a little less threateningly – now that he towered over Levi's five-foot-six. Even Mikasa was catching up to him. But height never seemed to be a favourable factor when he found that Levi was still the icy prick he always was, and that regardless of stature, that he did not like Eren a single bit. Whatever. He was just being protective, sure. But it could only go so far before it intruded on Mikasa being her own person. She was supposed to do whatever and go wherever she wanted. She was seventeen now, she wasn't that lost little girl anymore.
Mikasa told Eren about her childhood. How scared she felt and how Levi was always by her side, protecting her, raising her, giving her everything he could. He was a good father figure – a great one, even. Was Eren the bad guy? Maybe that was why Levi never liked him, maybe he could sniff out something wrong with Eren before Mikasa or the boy himself ever could.
"Fancy seeing you here," Historia beamed down at him, the sun blaring behind her. "Your pants are going to get all dirty sitting on the ground." When the hell did she get here?
Eren shrugged. "Thanks, mom."
"What are you doing back here?" she asked. "Is everything alright?"
"Fine. Just came out here to think."
"Hm, yeah. We all need a sec to just sit and think sometimes." Historia glanced back at the field. One of the players had scored a goal, pumping his fists as he gloated with his teammates. "They're getting better," she noted.
"Yeah, now that the new guy joined their team," Eren replied, raising his forearm over the glare of the sun.
"That's right. Floch." She turned back around. "Ymir already doesn't like him." A soft smile emanated on her face as her friend's name left her mouth. She mentioned Ymir a lot.
"She's good at that," Eren's voice strained as he sat up. "So, what are you doing out here?"
Historia sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I wasn't hungry, so I came out for a walk. I'm kind of dreading the Calculus test next period."
"Damn it, that was today?" Fuck, I totally forgot.
"It's been today for the last two weeks," she giggled. Her eyes then drifted down to her watch. "We still have some time. Wanna revise some of my notes? They're back at my locker."
She was smiling at him, and he saw the autumn sun paint a gold shadow around her silhouette. Historia was an innocently beautiful, a delicate soul donning delicate features. On a subconscious level, he could accept she was attractive, but he was never into the porcelain-skinned blondes like Jean seemed to be.
And Ymir would kill him if he ever came close trying his luck.
"Yeah," he smiled. "I do."
Mikasa flung her backpack onto the ottoman as she came through the door. As it closed, second thoughts spung into her mind, and she took hold of her backpack again to put it on the coat rack in a civil manner.
Yes, tidiness was as civil as Levi would ever get in this world.
Her study session with Jean resulted in satisfaction, contrarily. Well, for themselves, not for her project. He wasn't weird or attempting to swoon her like she anticipated, he was back to treating her like another member of society again. Although, he was in his P.E. clothes after school which was unusual. When she prodded, he grumbled about milk and tried to change the subject. And soon enough, his macho-façade was nowhere in sight. They studied, they got slurpees, and at the end, Mikasa walked back home. The afternoon was digestible.
She really tried to toe the line with Jean. She valued his friendship; it would be sour to lose it because she couldn't tell what vague, friendly gesture would give him the wrong idea. Mikasa understood that he couldn't help how he felt, not that she'd ever blame him for something out of his control. But accepting his kindness came with its limitations because of it.
Jean must have stupidly mentioned it to a few of his classmates. The word that he was into her got around faster than Sasha when she got food poisoning. So, people thought she was a fool to give Jean a pass, given the number of girls in their cohort that drooled over him. He wasn't lying when he said he had options. On the outside, he was your classic dream boat – tall, toned, good looking (and he would die if she ever admitted it). Girls practically fell into his lap, but they weren't staying for long. He was a hopeless romantic, he fell hard and fast and frantically, and he scared these mindless robots off almost comedically fast. Girlfriend after girlfriend after girlfriend, it was tiring meeting the new blonde bombshell he would bring to lunch almost every week. They didn't care about the art he would make for them, or his grand gestures, or obscure jokes. It didn't take long for Jean to realise these girls were only giving him a chance for his pretty boy looks. So, for a few days out of the month, she and Jean would share the same music taste when he decided to get all angsty and emotional over a breakup.
Mikasa couldn't tell if he was more or less bearable during that time.
Now, she was home again. The Ackerman house wasn't as grand and marvellous as one like the Yaeger's. It was a modestly built shithole that erected in the late seventies and refused to die. It was where her childhood really began, when she and Levi lived in the aftermath of their tragedies together. The lounge was small, the kitchen was small, her room was small, and the bathroom was eerily cold all the time. Suffice to say, with the help of Miche and Uncle Erwin, Levi got it to the stage of being able to raise a child in it. The walls had a sage green wallpaper nowadays, there was even an oscillating fan in the living room. It wasn't bougie, but it was pretty neat. She tried not to feel like she was forever destined to be destitute, but sometimes when she came home from an afternoon at Eren's house, it reminded her of just how little she had.
Mikasa carried forth into the kitchen where a single post-it note sat on the bench.
Dinner in the fridge. Day shift today.
Back home at seven.
She checked the fridge for Levi's Michelin-star meal. Roast chicken, peas, and a wad of mashed potato. Her eyelids were heavy, she wasn't hungry. She closed the door and wandered down into the lounge-room where she turned the television on. Her body fought gravity with every step she took, the features of her face falling. The television fizzled for a moment before another airing of that show about demon hunting brothers was on. To slump on the couch wasn't an urge, but a necessity, and she became one with the cushions as she fell onto them. The chatter from the show seemed to wash away into the background as that overwhelming darkness was consuming her again. Its presence was beginning to make itself known more often. Not moving was sudden peace. She simply couldn't fight the urge to shut her eyes and block the whole damn world out, it would break a windowpane inside her mind if she were to.
Mikasa laid there, staring up at the ceiling, filling her lungs with oxygen as it was the only task she could muster the energy to complete. Besides Eren, memories were all Mikasa ever thought about these days. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the downright disturbing. Like the sandpit Uncle Erwin and Levi built was a good memory, a great one, really. Now it sat half covered in dirt and weeds with the autumn leaves giving it a blanket.
Or that time when she was seven and she woke up during the night to what she could have sworn was Levi crying. She had never seen or heard him cry, not in the obvious sense, but the sound that woke her was unmistakeable. Unbearable. Sometimes he used to come out of his room and his eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. He never mentioned it and she never asked. That was a bad memory.
Or the time that Levi made her dinner back when they were living with Uncle Kenny, a dinner similar to the one he made tonight. But instead of peas, it was green beans. She didn't like green beans, but she ate them because Levi said they were good for her.
That was downright disturbing.
Mikasa attached the little plastic shoe to her doll. Caven's niece was too old to play with toys now, that meant Mikasa could have all of them. It was so nice of her to bring them over today. While it was Levi's day off, he still cleaned all day and Caven said she was going to 'run errands.' Mikasa didn't know what that meant, but it sounded like grown-up stuff that she would probably have to do when she was older. For now, she was going to stick to the new friends in her hands, even if they dressed a little too brightly for her liking. They were better than nothing.
Uncle Kenny wasn't in a good mood when he came home. He always cursed, but he sounded really angry when he came through the door. Levi was taking the garbage out and Caven was in the shower, so she was all alone as he paced around, swearing and ignoring her presence. Before they started living with him, she didn't see much of her father's brother. He owned a bar downtown, it was a while away from Kuchel's trailer, so he didn't visit all that often. And when he did, he was too disgusted with the state of his sister to stick around for long.
Levi came back through the kitchen door, taking one glance at Kenny before heading over to the sink to wash his hands. He didn't want a bar of what was happening. Kenny's complaining grew louder, thunderous enough to make it clear that he was addressing Levi. Mikasa watched, worry furrowing her brows.
"I had to fire that kid we had 'cause someone called the damn pigs and told 'em there was a teenager workin' at the bar!"
Levi's brows creased. "Didn't think anyone would notice how young he was. He didn't look fifteen. You sure it wasn't one of your other that called it in?" He turned the tap off.
"They weren't lookin' for him, you idiot. They said the caller told 'em there was a kid there with black hair who didn't look a day over sixteen! Everyone at the bar knows yer twenty!" Kenny's fist slammed the kitchen counter. A flush of acute awareness washed over Levi as he stared at the man's whitening knuckles. "They were lookin' for you! Then those fuckin' cops checked everyone's IDs and they saw Joanaldo wasn't eighteen. I lost one of my best workers because of you! This shit wouldn't have happened if you just stayed at your fuckin' mom's!"
"Maybe this wouldn't have happened if you didn't hire children to work in your bar." Levi patted his hands dry.
"What'd you say to me, boy?" Kenny stepped to him, peering down the length of his nose.
Eyes narrowed and stare rigid, Levi paused for only a second. "Don't."
"Don't what? Knock your teeth through your skull, you ungrateful little shit?" His voice lowered.
"There's a kid in here. You forget that?"
Kenny huffed. "I see two kids, matter of fact."
Their gazes, alike in indignancy, were unmoving. An uncle peered down at his nephew and saw what he once was – a fiery, thick-willed teenager with little to show for his life. And a nephew peered up at his uncle, damned if he'd ever turn out the same grouchy, miserable bastard he was.
Levi looked to his right. Huddled with her doll sat Mikasa on the floor – wide, fearful eyes peering back at him. Regretful the day would be when those soft, doe-like eyes would narrow with hardship like his. Today wasn't that day.
"I made dinner." Levi broke his gaze and turned to the sink again. He didn't want a fight and there were dishes to be done.
Kenny watched him for a moment, a slick smirk tugging on his lips.
"Yeah, I bet you did," he huffed again, strolling away from the boy. "You ain't a man. You're gonna be someone's sweet little housewife someday, Levi."
He scrubbed at the dishes as he grumbled under his breath. "What would you know about wives? You've only had three."
It was almost instantaneous that after the words left his mouth, the jar of coins sitting on top of the refrigerator was hurled at him, narrow missing him and hitting the windowsill.
"You little fucker—" Kenny's insults were shrouded in Mikasa's horrified wailing.
Glass shards and coins ricocheted around the kitchen like a firework, cutting at Levi's forearm as he shielded himself from the projectiles. He glared back at Kenny who gritted his teeth, snarling with acute fury.
Levi decided the glass he was cleaning wouldn't be dearly missed as he threw it through the air, colliding with his Uncle's face. Shards spiked out of his skin as he recoiled, and a blind, inundating rage overcame him just as the pain did.
Kenny charged at his nephew, tucking his shoulder into his gut as he spear tackled him into the fridge. Levi was too overwhelmed with adrenaline to suffer through the wind knocking out of him. He drove elbow after elbow into the man's back, trying to dig away at his grip as he suffocated him against the fridge. He used his knee to land blows into his gut, causing him to grunt, but they seemed to fall short when each hit just made the older man increasingly infuriated. Stupid Ackerman trait. Kenny came back up and grabbed Levi by his sweatshirt, lifting him and slamming his back against the metal again.
"You wanna dance, little boy?!" He drew his fist back and swung at him, socking him directly in the jaw. "I'll give you a fuckin' dance!"
Kenny withheld his restraint. Countless times, he threw punch after punch into his nephew's sharp features. For a moment, he could have sworn he was delivering a beating to the kid he once was. The kid that reminded him so much of himself, they may as well be clones. Or father and son in some messed up way.
In the midst of his assault, Levi had stopped defending himself. Not because he couldn't, or because it was futile. Kenny knew the kid could fight, what he didn't know was why he was just… staring back at him. With every hit, Levi returned his gaze to the man as if he wasn't worth the effort. He was tired. God, he was so fucking tired. Between the blood and the fury, exhaustion seeped into his visage.
Before Kenny could let up, Caven sprinted from the hallway with a robe on and her hair wrapped in a towel.
"What the fuck is going on?!" she ran into the kitchen and severed the grip Kenny had on his nephew. "The fuck is wrong with you idiots?! You're scaring her!"
Levi leaned back against the fridge in a daze. Kenny's roaring at Caven had faded into obscurity as his eyes tracked Mikasa still sitting in the other room. They widened at her dismay, the horror filling up her vision and spilling its tears.
He went as fast as his beaten body could take him, stumbling past Kenny and knocking into the kitchen counter on his way. By the time he got to her, she was still bawling her eyes out. Fuck. She was mortified. He never wanted her to see him like that again, not after what happened at the trailer that night. He couldn't see her in such a state of fear, he couldn't put her through this. Not again.
Levi knelt down in front of her. "Hey. Come on." His hand extended out to her, but she recoiled, staring back up at him was complete terror. "I'm not gonna hurt you," he blurted out, "I would never hurt you." Levi tried to resist the lump in his throat. Fuck. Fuck, he hated himself. He hated everything about this moment. He hated everything.
"You always let 'im off easy! There's no fuckin' discipline when it comes to ya. That's why your niece is out whorin' around! So, don't you interfere with my fuckin' discipline—!"
Kenny's anger directed at Caven now. She never failed to give him a good talking to, or a good slap to the face in return for his ever-so-kind words. She was the only woman who could ever put him right back in his place.
"Shut your damn mouth and get out of here!" she bit back.
Mikasa peered back up at Levi, her lips trembled at their arguing. He needed to get her out of here. He needed to get himself out of here. He needed to move fast. Kenny wasn't going to ruin another kid's life.
Levi lifted Mikasa into his arms and left through the front door. He pressed her tightly into his chest as he sat down on the stairs of the front porch. He wouldn't allow himself to let go of her, not for anything. He held her, hugged her. Levi buried his face into her little shoulder, not even the notion of his blood staining her clothes was going to pull him away. He clung to her like his life depended on it, like it was going to squeeze all the tears out of her and she was going to be happy again.
He was going to get her out of here. When he had enough money, when he could support her like she needed him to, they would live on their own. Just him and Mikasa. They didn't feel like cousins, he felt she was his sister, and he was going to do everything he possibly could to help her live a life much better than his. Much better than the one he dragged her into.
Levi was going to make sure nothing came between he and Mikasa. He would make sure no harm ever found her ever again.
The wind had forced the front door to slam shut. Mikasa's eyes cracked open at the sound, eventually leading her to let go of dream-state and sit up. Dream-state was what she designed to call it. It sounded better than 'flashbacks,' or 'fucked up moments in my life that I keep having to relive.'
Levi's footsteps trailed into the kitchen where she heard his keys hit the counter.
"Hey, kid. How's that project looking?" he called out to her.
"Almost done," she shouted back, rubbing her eyes and getting up to meet him in the kitchen.
He donned his bartending uniform, that all black get up. He had to look 'presentable' as he once told her, not that he ever looked unpresentable. Mikasa thought the sleek attires seen around his job had rubbed off on him, because growing up, he usually rotated between a few pairs of jeans and slightly different grey sweatshirts. As soon his pockets were lined with a little more cash, he was suddenly a 'grown up,' and 'more mature,' and 'Mikasa, I can't dress like I'm eighteen for the rest of my life.' They were no where close to being well-off, but Levi was able to accrue a nicer wardrobe for himself over the years.
He worked at The Fox's Den; some flash, upscale bar in the city that was mainly frequented by prestigious businessmen and lawyers alike. That uppity bar was their saving grace when it came to supporting themselves, it was barely comparable to Kenny's downtown dumpster – in ambience and pay. It was sheer luck that Miche was a bouncer there on Friday nights, he worked his magic and by the grace of that big-nosed god, secured Levi a trial shift. Levi had gone from serving drinks to jobless alcoholics to serving some of the city's most notable figures. Lawyers, surgeons, small-scale politicians, entrepreneurs – he despised them just as much as those drunks back at Kenny's. But unfortunately, he was strictly required to maintain his composure. An 'adaption period' as the owner, Pixis, tended to call it.
It wasn't some lawless free-for-all where he could toss just anyone out on their asses, or whack a guy upside the head for being a pain in the ass. It was his career. They took him in, taught him their ropes, and even put him through the state's best mixology course. Levi wasn't an idiot; he knew when life was throwing him a bone. That rare, shooting star of a bone. And if it meant he had to bite his tongue about nine times a day, for Mikasa, he could persevere.
"Good. You still struggling with the cells?" Levi rolled up his sleeves as he waited for the kettle to boil.
"A little." Mikasa rested her hand on the counter. "A friend helped me with some of it after school, but I don't think he really knew what he was talking about."
"Which friend?" Levi absently asked, getting the appropriate tea bag for his mug. He was particular about his tea preparations, too, sticking fiercely to just the one mug. His mug, he called it. Mikasa didn't mind that she was sort-of-but-not-really forbidden from using it. He would let her. Probably. If she wanted to. She didn't want to. He would probably just stare at her the entire time she drank from it if she wanted to. Levi really liked his mug.
"Jean. The tall one."
"Ah." Levi glanced back at the kettle again, his arms now folded as he continued to wait. "You ask Hange for a hand?"
"Yeah, but she can't just give me all the answers, she has to be vague when she's helping students. She said I'm on the right track with it." Mikasa shrugged a shoulder. "She also said that she would give me one of her Petrie dish samples if I got full marks."
"You tell her to keep her damn germs out of this house." Levi eyed her.
"I wasn't going to take it."
"Good. Taught you well." A barely visible smile emanated on his face, partly from pride, partly from the kettle being ready to pour. "And the practical went okay?"
"It was fine," she shrugged again, tracing her finger on the bench. "Hange's hair almost caught on fire."
Levi shut his eyes and sighed. "Sure knows how to captivate her students."
Shaking his head, he continued to prepare his tea as Mikasa blinked mindlessly, staring into his back with hesitance. A silence filled the air. She should just tell him, right? It's not like he would flat out refuse. She didn't even need to ask, all she had to do was just let him know. He never denied her anything anyway, he was a sucker for his little cousin. Why was she so timid about it?
Do it. Just say it.
"Um." Mikasa cleared her throat. "I was thinking of maybe going over to Eren's house tomorrow."
He continued his silence for a moment longer than she liked. "What's at Eren's house?" he asked.
"His dad."
He lazily glanced over his shoulder. "Your taste in men is getting more questionable every time we talk." Jokes. He was making jokes. That was a good sign, a great sign.
"Funny," a faux smile creased her face. "I just figured he could give me a hand with the project, being a doctor and all."
Levi stirred for a moment, still preparing his tea. Come on, that was a solid reason to go over, she thought.
"The man's busy. Try someone else."
She furrowed her brows. What?
"Since when were you his personal assistant?" Her top lip curled with confusion.
"Put a bullet in me if I ever work for a Yaeger," he scoffed, turning to face her with his fresh cup of tea.
"Why can't I go over?" she folded her arms, Levi sighed as if he was having the worst day of his life.
"Don't you think you spend a little too much time with that shithead?" he remarked, then sipping from his mug.
Mikasa furrowed her brows. He didn't need to name who he was talking about.
"He's not a shithead, he's my friend," her voice strengthened.
"Well, now you have other friends."
Levi stared at her, his expression unreadable like always. From the moment Eren stepped into the picture, Levi immediately harboured a disliking for him. She never understood why – Eren was nice to her, he always let her hang out at his house, he was the entire reason she delved into the deep end and made herself some friends. Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha. Without him, Mikasa never would have known what she was missing out on. She owed a lot to him, affections aside, and Levi's ignorance of her happiness pained her. He refused to see how good Eren made her feel, instead he focused on ushering her in different directions, or whatever lame nickname he could come up with the next time Eren was brought up in conversation.
Sighing, Mikasa turned around and headed for her bedroom. She'd heard the 'gentle persuading' from him a million times.
"Hey, did you eat your dinner?" Levi sipped his tea once again, expecting her to give him an answer. "Mikasa?" he called out, but again, she brazenly ignored him. He set his mug down and went to the fridge. When he opened it, he saw the plate of food still sitting in the cling wrap. Right where he put it this morning. Damn it. "Hey, come on! That roast was perfect!"
Mikasa slammed her door shut.
"So, he's staying for a few nights?" Mikasa twirled the phone cord between her fingers, laying flat on her bed.
"Yeah." Eren seemed conflicted. "But you can come over tomorrow if you still need help with that project. He'll be hanging out with some friends."
It was ten o'clock when Eren decided to call, too late into the night for Levi's liking. Although, he didn't seem too pleased when Eren called at an acceptable hour of the day either. Levi rarely expressed his annoyance, for Mikasa's sake, though it was written all over his face. She'd run to the phone the second it rang just so Eren and Levi didn't have to talk to each other. Limiting their exchanges was optimal for everyone. He can be a real asshole sometimes, she thought. And Eren's temper is fragile at best.
Temper. Excitement. His hearty laugh. She loved Eren's passion in all the forms it came in. It made him all the more interesting to her.
"So, did you, um," she hesitated for a moment, attempting to keep her tone crystal clear. "Did you wanna get some ice cream over the weekend or something?"
"Yeah, sure," he sounded enthused. Mikasa's heart fluttered. "I'll tell Armin. He said that new place in the mall was really good."
Her features fell.
"Oh." She rubbed her brows tiresomely. "You… don't wanna hang out? Just us?" When he didn't reply, she panicked. "Um… no, it's okay—"
"Well, h-he bought me lunch when I forgot my wallet at home last week. I owe him one, a-and I know Armin likes ice cream."
Goddamn it. He was so simple sometimes, it made her want to rip every follicle of hair from her head. She bared through the pain, gritting her teeth through a smile.
"That's… nice of him." She crossed her arm over her torso. "You didn't tell me you lost your wallet."
"You've been pretty busy with your project, I didn't wanna bother you with my stupid stuff," he huffed into the receiver. She didn't have much resolve when it came to being upset with him, not when he laughed. Well, especially when he laughed.
"Well, you know if you ever need me… I'm here." Her voice had weakened – she kicked herself for lacking forwardness. Why didn't she tell him it would be a date? What if she did and it all went okay?
And what if you do and it all backfires?
Mikasa couldn't leave it up to chance, she needed to know what he felt and exactly how he felt it before she ever put her wanting on display. Before she could ever become vulnerable to another human in that way.
"Yeah, I know," Eren replied. "You're so good to me."
He paused.
She paused.
His breathing couldn't be heard through the receiver.
"Yeah?" she coaxed, eyes wide and anticipating as they stared up at the ceiling.
"Yeah," he reaffirmed, a smile began to tug on her lips. "You're a great friend, Mikasa."
She continued to stare at her ceiling, seldom blinking. That little smile kept on her face for another second longer before it began to dissipate. Her mind was thoughtless.
"You're a great friend too, Eren." Mikasa lost the inflection in her voice, her brain switched to autopilot as her lips continued to fall out of its smile.
As the excruciating call continued, Mikasa wasn't aware of Levi's presence in the hall. Her door was cracked open just enough to allow the phone cord into her room. With the light leaking out into the hallway, he couldn't help but find himself standing outside her door, listening to the spirit leave her voice as she spoke. He peeked through the gap, watching her lay so lifelessly on her bed.
Little bastard. Didn't he know?
Levi knew – he always knew.
Back when he first met Eren, he and Mikasa were freshmen. Almost fifteen years old. To think it was hard to see her growing up back then, soon he had to watch her shoot up a foot and walk her big ass boots into junior year. Shit.
Not long after Armin entered the picture, Levi noticed some kid was riding around the neighbourhood on his skateboard. He hadn't seen him before, and with his keen eye on the property market, he wasn't aware of any houses up for sale in the area. So, where the hell did the kid come from? And why was Mikasa suddenly on the phone so often?
Before he ever had the misfortune of meeting Eren Yaeger, his curiosity led him once again to Mikasa's room one average Thursday night. Usually, they would rent a movie she really wanted to watch, and Levi would sit down and endure it with her. But on that night, she wasn't particularly interested in Levi and the movie he got for her. She was hauled up in her room. On the phone. Chatting. Initially, he thought it was Armin again, but they finished that project the week before and she was unusually chipper as she spoke.
Something was… off.
"Mikasa, you do your calculus homework?" Levi entered her room, staring down at her as she sat cross-legged on her bed.
"Yes." She put the receiver against her chest, her brows narrowing at him.
She thought he was going to leave once she answered his question, but he stood at her door as if he was unsure of the situation. He had that same, uncanny stare as the time she used his mug to pour water into Mr Sprinkles' bowl. It was freaking her out.
"You… talking to someone?" he asked. Mikasa gestured to the receiver in her hand as if it were the most obvious answer to his question. "Who?"
"My friend Eren."
Oh, phew. Finally, she was making friends. It probably meant this girl was going to come over at some point and they were going to braid each other's hair and giggle a lot. That's what tween girls did, right? Well, this girl must like Mikasa enough to talk to her on the phone for so long. He didn't believe likability was an Ackerman trait, but maybe she slipped through the cracks on that one. Girls liked him in high school. Sometimes.
"Well, does she have some homework she should be doing?" He truly sounded like a stiff, but the phone bill was going to skyrocket if she didn't hang up soon. God, he was getting old.
"He finished his before I did."
Oh.
Fuck.
"Ah," he blinked at her. "So, it starts."
"What starts?" she furrowed her brow.
Levi miscalculated that one. He had to leave the room at that point. He wasn't ready to go down the whole 'liking boys' road with her. He couldn't process her social development without a cup of tea handy.
Soon after, Eren, who was definitely not a girl, started showing up live and in living colour. Eren, the same kid that kept skating around the neighbourhood. Levi wasn't amused.
Mikasa tried to rush the introductions and get him over to her bedroom, however Eren was too talkative for his own good which promptly got him on Levi's nerves. Kid was pretty boastful about his family and how his father was a loved and local doctor, eventually Levi was able to put two together and figure out just who Eren's father actually was. That didn't bode so well.
But what topped it off, what really agitated him the most, was the light in Mikasa's eyes as she watched Eren speak.
As she got older, Levi hated how quiet and bitter she became, just as he had. He wanted her to be nothing like him, she needed to be better. Be happier. But her wide, doe-like eyes shrivelled and narrowed, and she became the same jaded teenager that looked back at him in the mirror when he was her age. He always felt he failed her in that regard, but with all the misery she had to see, part of him knew it was inevitable.
Then, Eren stepped into the picture. And she took 'deer-in-headlights' to a whole other level. Levi watched his cousin melt for that stupid wiener of a kid the very first time he walked through that door, skateboard in hand and cheesy grin pressed into his cheeks.
Levi knew – he always knew. He just hated the reality of it from the very start.
"I'll be over tomorrow." Mikasa spoke from inside her room. "Sure." She paused again. "Good night, Eren."
The receiver hit the phone and the call was over. Levi was usually a fan of silence, but it felt too cold coming from Mikasa's room. He watched her as she sat up, brought her knees to her chest, and held them as sorrow drained her features.
Levi knocked on the door as he pushed it open, stepping inside and witnessing her unmoving gaze.
"Done your homework?" Obviously, that wasn't a question he'd want to bombard her with after what seemed to be a shitty phone call, but he wasn't too great of an improviser.
"Yeah," she muttered.
Still, her eyes kept away from his. He slowly paced around her room, casually glancing at the ground as if he were searching for something. He wasn't.
"Where's, uh. Where's Mr Sprinkles?" he decided to ask, sliding his hands into his pockets. Mr Sprinkles was a stray kitten Mikasa found at the park when she was eleven. Now, he was a creature of the night who only stuck around to eat their food and scratch at the damn sofa.
"On the porch. He didn't want to come in." Her tone was flat.
Levi shrugged. "Guess I'll feed him later."
Mikasa exhaled. "I'm tired. I'm gonna go to bed."
"That's fine." He decided not to make her aware that she was already on her bed. Didn't seem like the time to make old person jokes, being that he hated when she shut him out. She never spoke to him anymore.
Mikasa finally glanced at him when she realized he wasn't going anywhere. She stared at the door for a moment, before returning her gaze to him.
"So… goodnight."
Levi blinked, swallowing whatever saliva built up in his mouth out of sheer anticipation. They watched each other, expectant of their next word or move. He remained still.
"You… want some tea?"
"Can I go to sleep, please?" She was becoming agitated.
"You're upset," he said.
"I'm not upset, I'm just tired."
"You don't look upset when you're tired." He watched Mikasa stand up and walk over to her desk, fiddling with some of her CDs on it. "If something is wrong, you need to— I'd like for you to tell me." She continued to do absolutely nothing of importance with the junk on her desk, moving stuff around, stacking things one way or another. Levi's eyes narrowed even further. "Stop ignoring me."
"I'm not ignoring you."
"You're ignoring the conversation I'm trying to have," he said, folding his arms. She didn't look at him, nor did she grace him with any sort of response. Her silence would have gone on forever if it weren't for the jingle of Mr Sprinkles' collar from outside her window, it aggravated Levi further. Goddamn Ackerman's and their stonewalling; this bloodline was a curse. "Mikasa," he warned.
She finally let go of the pencils on her desk, lowering her head as her visage softened.
"It's nothing," she spoke softly. "I'm just being dramatic."
Levi frowned. "Hange's dramatic. And you're not Hange." He watched her retreat back to her bed, planting herself down with her hands in her lap. "Tell me what's going on, Mikasa."
Her brows furrowed further, she glanced away before she could speak. "I just feel… like I'm not…" she struggled, scratching at her nose. "Not here. I feel invisible sometimes."
Well… shit. Now came the actual consoling part. Levi hadn't got to this stage in a long time, he wasn't expecting her to really come out with it. He was entering the deep end now. What did she say? Invisible?
He gently sat down beside her. "Who makes you feel like that?" he asked.
Mikasa immediately shook her head. "Nothing. No one does." She wiped the single tear that trickled down her cheek. "It doesn't matter—"
"Is it Eren?"
"No—just…" she halted, turning her head away to hide more of her tears. "Thanks, anyway. For listening."
That was the signal. Get out old man, you don't know what I'm talking about. He watched her stand up and turn away, leaving her back to him. He could only think of a time where they both lived life for each other. She kept him sane, while he made sure to keep her happy, keep her saved, and fed, and clothed. He made sure she could tell him anything and everything that was on her mind – the good, the bad, the ugly, and even the downright disturbing. And now, he couldn't even know where her head was at. She wouldn't let him in. He was so far detached from the little girl who used to jump into his arms and drag him around to build sandcastles or endure tea parties with stuffed animals. It was so… awful. He felt awful.
He sat, merely staring at her. "I'm not leaving this room."
"Levi, please, I need to sleep," she turned to him, the rims of her eyes red and glassy.
"Just talk to me."
She sighed with frustration, shaking her head. "You are so annoying sometimes, you know that?" her tone hardened.
"Tough shit, kid." Levi stood. "This is what you get from people who care about you. Persistence."
Mikasa's mouth widened as if she was about to shout at him, but she refrained. Allowing herself to breathe for a moment, she couldn't bring herself to falter to her irritation.
"Fine." She folded her arms. "We'll talk another time, okay? I promise. Right now, I just… need to sleep."
Levi stared at her. He wanted her to cave so badly, but from the exhaustion on her face, he knew she wasn't going to budge. She truly wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep.
"Fine," his voice softened.
Mikasa watched as he turned to leave. She scratched the back of her head as guilt began to seep into her veins, she didn't want to leave him on such a sour note. She hated how callous she could be to him.
"Wait," she spoke up. Levi turned around to be met with Mikasa's embrace. He automatically hugged the girl back, his hand instinctively cradling the back of her head. Shit, she was getting taller. He hadn't gotten a hug from her in a damn long time. Something was really eating away at her.
"I just want you to be okay," he told her, staring into the wall.
"I know." She kept her hold on him. "Thanks for caring."
"Tch." He pulled back to look at her. "Silly thing to thank me for."
Mikasa didn't resist the urge to smile through her melancholy.
foo fighters - february stars
Chapter 2: fake happy
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"So, he's staying for a few nights?"
"Yeah. But you can come over tomorrow if you still need help with that project. He'll be hanging out with some friends."
Eren's mouth dried at the thought of Mikasa coming over again, and life had her over at his house often. It was a little nauseating seeing her in his room, when she'd take her boots off, get comfortable behind his desk, or on his beanbag. It made him nervous. At school, he could suck it up; safely compose himself in front of everybody. The environment helped him click into another headspace and keep himself in line – she's your friend, that's that.
But when they were alone in his room, having a great time or managing to study quietly for a few minutes at a time, he stared a little too long, a little too often. Smiled hard, very hard. Watching her fizzle into a laughing fit taunted him, he could almost lean in and that would be... Eren had to keep it together. They were best friends, after all. Armin was his best friend too, but it all felt different with Mikasa. Their friendship meant the world to him, he couldn't screw it all up for his own enjoyment.
Mikasa momentarily basked in silence on the other end of the line.
"So, did you, um." He heard her inhale. "Did you wanna get some ice cream over the weekend or something?"
"Yeah, sure." Eren wasn't busy on the weekend, that meant he was usually hanging out with her and Armin anyway. "I'll tell Armin. He said that new place in the mall was really good." Particularly the boysenberry flavour. Weird that he remembered that.
"Oh." Mikasa paused again. "You… don't wanna hang out? Just us?" Just them? Getting ice cream?
Like… a date?
Uh, no? Why would we go on a date?
He could only imagine that would be her response, like hell would he ever talk it into reality. What the hell was he thinking? She'd never ask him on a date, not in this lifetime. He wasn't even Mikasa's type – or, well, he didn't think he was her type. Not that he knew what it was anyway. Maybe someone had injected him with hormones these last few months. With the way Mikasa was on his mind all day, it was safer to bring Armin along to everything, studying alone with her tomorrow was tantalizing enough.
"Um… no, it's okay—"
Shit, she's talking again.
"Well, h-he bought me lunch when I forgot my wallet at home last week." Eren wasn't the best at improvising, but he had his moments. "I owe him one, a-and I know Armin likes ice cream."
Goddamn it. It's not like he didn't want to go on a date with Mikasa, he'd want nothing more than to hold her hand and walk through park with their ice cream cones or something. He wanted to do all the cheesy things with her. But if push ever came to shove, his entire friendship with her was on the line, and making big decisions were out of his purview.
"That's… nice of him." She sounded a little weird. "You didn't tell me you lost your wallet."
Eren cleared his throat. "You've been pretty busy with your project, I didn't wanna bother you with my stupid stuff," he huffed into the receiver. Good thinking, moron.
"Well, you know if you ever need me… I'm here."
Of course she would be – she was an angel. It was hard to look in any other direction without finding her right there. Mikasa was always by his side.
Eren smiled. God, she's so amazing.
"Yeah, I know," he replied, lost in the thought of her. "You're so good to me."
His visage abruptly plummeted into shock. Did he just fucking say that? Like that? Jesus Christ, he may as well have started moaning into the phone. He could imagine her just sitting there, face scrunched up with disgust, ready to slam the receiver down.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. You're an idiot, you're such an idiot!
He held his breath; he couldn't breathe even if he wanted to. All he was able to do was await her response.
"Yeah?" her tone was light.
"Y-Yeah," he reaffirmed, brows furrowing as he scrambled for a recovery. "You're a great friend, Mikasa."
Phew. Nailed it. Perfect.
But she grew quiet again, and a part of him began to worry.
"You're a great friend too, Eren," she finally responded, a distant emptiness to her tone. Perhaps she didn't really care for the mushiness of their sentimental comments. Maybe a low blow, but he did expect an absence of vulnerability from her – something she definitely learned from Levi.
He tapped his finger on his desk, unsure of what else to say. Can't even trust myself to be on a call with her – how the hell are we gonna study tomorrow?
Eren inhaled. Time to fizzle out the awkward silence.
"So—"
"I'll be over tomorrow," Mikasa cut him off.
"Okay," he replied, brows beginning to furrow. "Maybe we could play some Celebrity Deathmatch when we're done. What do you say?"
"Sure."
Again, he inhaled. "Alright."
"Good night, Eren."
"Oh… Night, Mikasa. See you t—"
The dial tone sung in his ear. He glanced at the receiver in his hand, its miniature screen flashing the total duration of the call. That was weird. Weird enough for it to concern him. He had to have blown it – he had to. Mikasa thought he was a total freak with the way he melted on the phone. Eren had to backtrack, play it cool. Perhaps give her the cold shoulder for a little while. That could put everything back into order.
He sunk down into the seat at his desk. His eyes trailed all over his room, and in every corner, he could see her. Reading a magazine on his bed, playing Crash Bandicoot on his PlayStation, drawing sketches on his desk, opening up his curtains, rummaging through his closet, playing with his stereo.
He could see her in both the ways she was, and the ways he wanted her to be.
Taking her jacket off, cradling his face, lying beside him on his bed, sitting on his lap. He wanted her lips on his, her hands on his body, his heart in her hands. To an extent, his heart did sit in her hands – in the grip of purgatory, waiting for him to speak his real emotions into existence and pray her fingers wouldn't start to curl and squeeze.
Eren wished his room was smaller, maybe then, he wouldn't be able to see her at all. He could lock himself inside and not come out for the rest of his life.
Yeah, that'd be good.
"Eren?" Carla called from down the hall. She peered her head in through the door frame, her eyes searching around the room until they settled on his crumpled figure. "There you are. Did you bring your gym clothes home?"
"They're in the wash already," he grumbled, propping himself back up.
Her lips frowned. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine." He stared down at the pencil on his desk.
"Oh, alright. Well, it's getting late," her eyes snapped down to his desk. "Are you finished with the phone?"
"Yeah. Sorry." Eren grabbed the receiver of the cordless phone and handed it back to his mother.
Carla watched her son for a moment. What kind of mother would she be had she ignored the burden on her child? His phone calls rarely ended with him down and out, especially when it was Mikasa on the other line.
As far as Eren knew, Carla had no idea that he viewed his friend in a different light nowadays. He wasn't against her finding out, but it was his mom of all people. Parents always harped on about wishy-washy crap when it came to unrequited feelings, like 'be yourself!' or 'say your truth!' It was like a catchphrase that would play when he pulled at the string on their back.
She walked toward his desk with her frown still prominent. "Everything alright with Mikasa?" she questioned delicately, leaning against his desk.
"Mhm," he hummed, glancing at one of the posters on his wall.
Carla's finger rested under his chin and raised it up, she immediately secured his gaze.
"Wanna try that again?" She fought back a grin. A trait she loved dearly of her husband was his tendency to be a terrible liar. Thankfully, it was genetic.
"Everything's fine." He gently slid his face out of her grasp. "Just trying not to screw everything up like I always do."
She sighed, dropping her hand. "Darling, I'm sure you'll be able to sort out whatever's happening."
"Yeah." He rested his cheek on his fist, swinging his chair from side to side. "Hope so."
"I wouldn't be too disheartened. She's a lovely girl. And when you're as inseparable as you two are, you'll figure it out eventually."
Yeah, that's what sucks. She's sickeningly lovely.
"Is dad home yet?" Eren questioned.
"No, he and Zeke are still out," she replied, leaning off his desk to leave the room. "Let's hope they didn't rip each other's heads off in public, huh?" Carla began to grin.
As she left the room, Eren turned in his seat to face the bed. He pictured his friend laying there, boots off, lazily flicking through his CD case. His music taste had become infinitely better since befriending Mikasa. Gone were the days of listening strictly to Limp Bizkit and other aggression-fuelled bands. Well, partly. He succumbed to his roots sometimes.
Mikasa huffed. "If you want something pissed and political, try Rage Against the Machine. Or if you want heavy and weird, there's System of a Down. They also go hand in hand with pissed and political."
"Hmm." Eren stared at the shelves upon shelves of CDs at the record shop. "I don't know."
"Yeah. You don't," she shrugged. "Not unless you give it a try."
Eren had a lot in store for him tomorrow after school, all he had to do was not make a fool of himself. No more throwing milk at Jean or glaring at guys who stared at her. He was going to act like it was just any other day. Like he had to.
Because for Mikasa, it would be.
"Mikasa, you got your binder?"
"Yes."
"Your pencil case?"
"Yes."
"How about your shoes, you got them on?"
Mikasa zipped the last boot up and rose from her kitchen table seat.
"Yes."
Friday, finally. It couldn't have come around any quicker. Levi sighed as he glanced around, searching for any little eraser or forgotten essay pages she couldn't go without. It was important to be well equipped in the academic field. He wanted to believe her intellectual acuity came mostly from his self-imposed parenting, but Mikasa was a smart girl with and without him. Staring at her report card every year almost brought a tear to his proud eye. Almost.
Watching her flourish in a struggling education system persuaded him to maybe miss his younger years - to want to go back and start it all over again, actually. Get a better job than this one. He wanted to say it was when life was 'simpler' but contrarily, his teenage years were more hellish and unpredictable than his adulthood. High school was where he met Hange, after all. And she was fucking nuts.
"I'm closing tonight so dinner'll be in the fridge. Wash up once you're done and for the love of god, ring that sponge out when you're finished."
Mikasa's expression remained aloof. She wasn't eating dinner at home as far as she was concerned, she was meant to be studying at Eren's tonight. But Levi didn't know that, nor did he have to. The closing shift kept him until three in the morning, possibly later if boozed up businessmen or totalled trust-fund babies didn't know when to pull the pin.
"Anything else?" she spoke disentranced.
"Yeah," he sighed. Damn her waning spirit. "Good luck with your English presentation. Wake me up tomorrow and tell me how it goes."
"Thank you."
Still, her expression was empty; it was like her facial muscles became inactive once she hit thirteen. After last night's heart-to-heart, if he could even call it one, maybe it wasn't out of their realm to show her the same physical affection she once smothered him with as a child.
He approached his cousin, placing his hand behind her neck and pulling her head forward enough to plant a kiss on it. God, he was incredibly awkward. Reeling back, he saw her lifeless gaze turn slightly sour. Everything he touched usually crumpled, he wasn't surprised.
"I thought kids were meant to be excited about the weekend coming?" he joked, as monotoned and unassuming as always. No wonder she was following so closely in those footsteps.
Mikasa snapped her headphones onto her ears. "I'm not a kid," she eyed him as she walked away.
His brows furrowed. "You're still a k—" She kept walking. "I said you're still—" Great, she was a smartass now too. "Mikasa," he warned, but as he followed her out of the kitchen, he watched her brazenly open the front door. "Pain in the ass… And don't even think about going to Eren's while I'm gone!"
The door slammed. Loud. Levi stood still and alone as he continued to glare at it.
Time to get this shitty day started.
1995
Levi's forearm shielded his eyes from the sunlight blaring into his bedroom. As he lay half asleep, he cursed himself for keeping the curtains open. When insomnia found its way into his bed, all he could do was lay on his back and stare at the moon. He kept them open with the hope of it entrancing him into sleep somehow.
So stupid.
Instead, he got to relive memories against his will, watching them ache away at his eyes and build tension in his forehead. He selfishly hoped Mikasa would wake up and call out for him, sulkily asking if he could put her back to bed again, maybe read her a story or watch a little more television with her before she fell asleep in his arms. Something distracting and requiring of him.
But because he kept those damn curtains pulled, once he finally found an ounce of sleep, the sun would sear through his eyelids and pull him right out of it. It was a Saturday morning. He was twenty-one. Most people his age were recovering from a long night out of drinking. Instead, he was recovering from the nightshift. Making a good impression on that fancy bar owner was paramount, he couldn't let Miche's efforts go to waste. Not when it was a huge favour of him to pull in the first place. So, even with a seven-year-old to care for, night shifts weren't exactly a choice.
The clock by his nightstand read 07:53am. It would've been easy to just roll over and shut his eyes again, but more annoying than the sun was the footsteps. The tiny, slappy footsteps of his little cousin. She scrambled back and forth, likely playing in that imaginative world she often escaped to. Good. She was finally acting like a kid again.
Suddenly, she was by his bed. He could tell by the way her footsteps were fast and loud before they were silent and in his room. Damn it.
From under his forearm, he peeked at her with one eye. The sun gleamed behind her like a cherub, she smiled once he looked at her. If it wasn't for her psychotic ogling, he would've thought she was a cute kid.
"You okay?"
Mikasa nodded.
"Good." Good. So why was she still staring at him? "Well… what do you want, then?"
"Do you wanna play?" Right. Of course. Always wanting to play. It was better than watching her sit in a far-away corner and hug her knees. Now that they had a place of their own, a home she could feel as safe and comfortable in, bit by bit she started to act like a seven-year-old.
But Levi was exhausted. Levi got home at four in the morning. Levi did not want to play.
"Not… not right now," he said as he rubbed his face.
Mikasa frowned. "When?"
"After I wake up."
"But you're awake now."
He sighed. "After I sleep some more." He wouldn't dare to lose his temper at her.
"Then… can I sleep, too?" she questioned.
"It's as easy as going to bed."
Mikasa's smiled pressed tightly into her cheeks. She hopped up onto his bed and crawled over his body, positioning herself right next to him. He deadpanned at the ceiling until she lay comfortably and still, turning his head to meet face-to-face with her.
"Your bed."
"Yours is bigger! We can both fit," she replied, grabbing his arm and placing it behind her head.
"Fine." He turned his head away and shut his eyes. "But you need to be quiet. I can't sleep if you keep talking."
"I promise I'll be quiet." Mikasa scooched up and rested her head on his shoulder.
For a little while, she did manage to stay silent. He was impressed, eventually able to slip into half-consciousness yet again.
But only half.
It wasn't long until a child who was entirely awake got bored of pretending not to be. Mikasa started walking her fingers across his stomach, pretending they were a little person on his way to work. Who then did jumping jacks. And rode a motorcycle. And teleported to and from different locations on his stoma—
"Alright, I'm up." Levi shot up as Mikasa fell over onto the bed.
She shifted upright and grinned. "Yay!" her arms slung around him, trapping him in a hug. "Let's go play!"
2005
"They've gone under."
Erwin sat at the bar with his fingers laced around the brim of a scotch glass. He gazed into the amber liquid, watching the ice float around as he swirled it. Levi picked up a tray of now clean shot glasses and faced his friend.
"No shit?" Levi raised his brows. "That was fast."
"Indeed. Some of them saw the signs early on and jumped ship to us over these last few weeks. I presume the bulk of their lawyers will make their way over next week as well." Erwin shook his head and took a sip. "It's a pity, I quite liked their office. Head to toe in mid-century décor, reminded me very much of my father's firm. Not as quaint, however."
The upside to working in a fancy ass bar was your fancy ass lawyer friend coming to get plastered every Friday night. He wasn't nearly as pretentious as he sounded, though he could get a little uptight when desired. No, Mr 'moneybags' Erwin Smith wasn't just a tall glass of water in a tailor-made suit, he was Levi's unlikely best friend. A calculated man who was following in his father's footsteps and working at a prestigious law firm in the heart of the city. Businesses and corporations law were his specialty, but if you asked Levi, sounding like a high-and-mighty dweeb all the time could soon be an overtaking endeavour.
The pair first met back in middle school detention. Erwin was being punished for incessantly debating his teacher on the ethics of 'time outs' and their effectiveness at rehabilitating students. Levi, for throwing his chair at another student. Their friendship suffered rocky beginnings, but strengthened enough to carry through all of their schooling and following each other into adulthood, through different versions of themselves.
They were nothing alike; Levi knew that very well. Erwin came from an upper middle-class family, while Levi lived in a trailer his entire childhood. Erwin's parents had a loving, happy marriage, while Levi didn't know who his father was and never bothered to find out. And Erwin had a successful career, while Levi had to make sure he could afford that expensive tea he liked if the timing of the bills willed it.
But one thing Levi knew for certain was that, while he hated the idea of burdening someone, it was Erwin he could always rely on. It was always Erwin who was there. Talking Levi out of playground fights, getting his friend out of detentions or suspensions, giving a good word to his next employer, or landlord, car salesman. And if it weren't for Erwin and his family, Mikasa may have disappeared into the system, and Levi would have been lost without her.
"You get asked if you like men often?" Levi asked as he wiped down the bar top.
Erwin shrugged. "That's not as insulting of a question as one might believe. I happen to find it flattering when I'm of interest to other people."
"I bet you do." Levi tossed the dirty rag into a tub under the bar, coming back up and glancing at Erwin's now empty glass. "Want another one?"
"Hm, perhaps I should wait. I've invited someone to join me tonight," he said.
Levi suddenly seemed impressed. "You got a lady friend?"
Erwin Smith was a chick magnet if Levi were to put it crudely, but the man was all work and no play. The drunkest Levi had ever seen him was back in their early twenties, and even then he was only slurring a little. As it turned out, women liked to have a little fun before they stayed home and raised children for a workhorse like Erwin.
"You could say that."
"Oh, uh. I was joking. You didn't tell me you had a date."
"A date?" Erwin scoffed. "I'm certain you won't take this to heart but this establishment, however nice, wouldn't be my first choice to bring a lady."
"Fine, jackass. Then who's the lady fr—"
"Helloooo!" An ear piercing, grating, burning tone of voice shrieked. "God, you wouldn't believe the traffic on the way here!"
"Oh, fuck me."
Erwin smiled at his friend. "Hange, delightful to see you as always. I trust you'll be on your best behaviour tonight."
"Depends!" She planted her hands firmly on the bar top. "Is Pixis around?"
Erwin turned to Levi as if looking for confirmation. "I believe he's gone to the bath—" But the man shook his head, a stare conveying imminent death given back to him. "The… Bahamas."
"Damn! He sure loves that holiday house. Ah well, there's always a party at the Fox's Den with or without him!" Hange grinned as wide as she typically did when she was surrounded by alcohol. "So, Levi… would you be so kind and make me some of those pretty strawberry cocktails again, pleeease?"
He folded his arms against his chest. "First of all, fuck off. Second, I'm putting you on a cap—"
"What—A cap?!"
"Yes. You're only having one."
"But why?!" Hange frowned.
"Because the last thing I wanna see is you tongue-fucking another one of my co-workers. You're already unbearable enough as it is."
Hange groaned. "Pretty please, Levi?! With a sexually autonomous woman on top!"
Levi resisted her begging, not that there was much to resist in the first place. "Don't make me get Miche over here," he warned. The trio glanced at the door where Miche – clad in a white turtleneck and black suit jacket – stood, his sandy brown fringe cloaking his eyes. His nose twitched.
Erwin relinquished. "Perhaps a few won't hurt. I'll monitor her throughout the night."
Levi exhaled, his arms falling. "You keep stirring the pot and it's gonna burn you," he said.
"Actually, it burns you – without fail – on every occasion. It's quite a sight to behold." Erwin smiled at his deadpanning friend, reaching for his wallet. "I'll pay."
Levi stared between an eager Hange and a chuckling Erwin. These nutjobs were his friends; the suited-up robot and the maniacal science teacher. Friends. With Levi. And, unfortunately, he wouldn't give them up for the world.
"Fine. Whatever."
Hange cheered in excitement as she took a seat next to Erwin. Minutes passed as small talk took over and Levi begrudgingly readied the woman's drink. He wondered what Mikasa was doing right then and there. She was probably watching television, leaving crumbs all over the couch with her feet kicked up on the coffee table. Well, actually, the more he thought about it, he realized she didn't quite do that anymore. In fact, she was always holed up in her room. She always told him she was 'just studying' but sometimes he let his curiosity get the better of him, and he'd open the door to find her… sleeping.
"So, how'd Mikasa go on her practical?" Levi asked as he sliced the tip of a strawberry.
"Flying colours. Gotta hand it to her teacher for that one!" Hange grinned. Levi promptly rolled his eyes. "However, her project is what I'm eager for."
"She's been working hard on it," he commented.
"So I've heard. My only concern is that she may be having… second thoughts." Hange watched as Levi's eyes snapped over to hers. Her tone sobered. "She doubts herself, Levi. A lot. Her practice test we did on the learning material was fine, but I noticed she tends to cross a lot of her answers out to rewrite them. I mean, kids do that all the time, but she did it with almost every answer and, well… a few of them were incorrect." She saw his confusion appear. "They were right at first! But she crossed them out and started over. She's really worried about failing my class, though as far as I'm concerned, she's a really gifted student."
"Eh, it's not the class," he shook his head, holding her finished cocktail in his hand. "It's you. She doesn't want to let you down."
"Well, if that's the case, I'll have to let her know how far from a reality that is," she declared, a reasonable smile pulling at her lips. Levi continued to simply stand there, stone-faced, holding her vibrantly pink strawberry cocktail. "Er… can I have my drink?"
Levi couldn't bring himself to place it down.
"Levi," Erwin warned.
"What?"
He blinked. "Would you mind handing Hange her drink please?"
Levi continued to stare.
"Preferably today, Levi," his tone hardened.
"Fine."
Hange squealed with excitement as he reluctantly set it down in front of her. Erwin passed the man his credit card, a satisfied expression staining his carved features.
"On credit, please."
1995
Levi's night shifts were a bumpy road to begin with, but they soon eased its way into their lives. It meant he needed a babysitter for Mikasa, though he wasn't going to get some random neighbour to do what he considered to be an extremely important job. Under no circumstance was she ever going back to Kenny's, even if it was just for one night. So, with that in mind, Caven was more than happy to fill in on Friday nights. Levi chalked it up to her wanting to get away from his uncle, now she had the perfect excuse. Mikasa loved her by all accounts and soon enough, they even had a good routine going.
Caven came over at around five, kept Mikasa entertained with stories of her hectic and restless life, warmed up dinner, bathed her, kept her wise with advice on 'steering clear of bum-ass men,' and let her watch television until it was time for bed. For the most part, everything seemed to work out just fine.
And then everyone was on goddamn vacation all of a sudden.
Kenny and Caven in Vegas for two weeks, Miche and Nanaba in Idaho seeing whatever the hell was in Idaho, and Hange was a no-go on all fronts if he wanted Mikasa to be a functioning member of society. That left him resorting to the least apt of them all…
Erwin Smith.
"So… can you?" Levi had a remarkable poker face, but his eyes were definitely pleading the man across the table.
"Oh, I can! I can!" Hange was almost spilling out of her damn chair.
"No. Not you. Never you."
She faltered. "Why not?! I love kids!" she proclaimed.
His eyes narrowed at her. "Mikasa started biting people the last time you were over."
"Oh, come on, we were just having fun!" she rolled her eyes. "I bit her back, we got even!"
Levi turned to the man, and Erwin noticed he had what he could only describe as a look of 'dysfunction' in his eyes. Almost as if he were going to throw up or burst a blood vessel. It made a few appearances when he and Hange were in the same room.
"I don't know how to take care of a child, Levi," he confessed. He was only twenty-one, he didn't have any siblings at all either. What would he know about children? "What about Miche and Nanaba? Will they have returned by then?"
"They aren't back until Sunday. Believe me, I've exhausted all my options here." Levi never seemed so eager. "Can you do this?"
Erwin studied the man with caution, pondering the scenario that played in his head. Or lack thereof.
"What… will the child and I do?" he asked.
Levi blinked; his lips parted. This was a terrible idea.
"Oh, it's easy!" Hange chimed in. "You just gotta entertain 'em, is all! Don't worry, Levi. I can take care of it – Mikasa and I will have a great time!"
As Erwin glanced back at his friend, he noticed his eyes spoke for him. Novels, paragraphs, sentences. But the main message was clear: Do not. Leave Hange. With Mikasa.
"Okay," Erwin conceded. "Hange and I will look after her."
Levi deadpanned. "Eh… fine," he surrendered. A compromise was better than nothing. "But if I get back and she's walking around on all fucking fours, I'm taking both of you out."
"Yes!" Hange hissed with excitement. "Oh, Erwin, I always wondered what it'd be like to play house with you!" she teased.
And when Friday rolled around, when it was finally time for Levi to head off to work, he wondered what he was going to come home to: A feral Mikasa, or no house at all.
Fuck.
"Yep, buh-bye! Take care, Levi! We'll be here! Waiting! Waiting for yoooouuuu—" Hange eased the door shut until the very last second, slamming it as hard and as fast as she could. "Gah! Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee—" she zipped past Erwin and disappeared down the hallway, flying into the bathroom.
Erwin turned himself around, attempting the locate the child and make sure she was safe. That was priority number one. She stood shyly, doll in hand, and hiding half of her body with the wall that separated them from the lounge room.
He blinked. "How are you, Mikasa?"
Not a single word escaped the little girl. Her head tilted, eyes glancing wearily away. He was a giant compared to her; it wasn't a wonder.
"Okay," he said to no one in particular.
His eyes tracked around the house in order for something to entertain her with as Hange said. Levi kept the place immaculate; it was a shame the building itself was so outdated and lifeless. Every time something fell apart, Erwin would be right at his door with his father's tool kit. However, as time went on and the more Levi and Mikasa hunkered down, the more lived in it became. It wasn't as much Levi's belongings that nested in the house, bar the furniture, mostly everything was Mikasa's. Her schoolwork, her toys, her pillows, her blankets. Levi refrained from spending a dime on himself, the bulk of his pay went toward bare necessities, and whatever was left over sat right in the living room with the rest of Mikasa's toys.
"Would you like to play–?" Erwin peered down to find the girl had disappeared on him. "Oh."
He stuck his head into the lounge room to find it empty. He ventured down the hall and glanced into both bedrooms. Both were empty. This wasn't a good start. Walking the way he came, he could hear Hange rummaging around in the bathroom, that of which he wasn't going to investigate. He had to find the girl.
Catching the corner of his eye, standing mighty tall in the kitchen, he finally found Mikasa by the sink as she stood on a stepping stool. Her tiny hands were holding a medium sized pot under the tap, where she filled it with water.
Perplexed, he walked into the kitchen. "Aren't you a little young to be playing with that?" he asked her.
She paid him no mind as she took the pot and planted it on the stove. She lit it up, let it do its thing, and climbed the countertop. She planted her little feet on it steadily, reaching into one of the cupboards and grabbing one of Levi's many tea pots. He watched her as she got back down onto the stepping stool, poured some loose-leaf tea into the infuser of the pot, and simply waited for the pot to boil.
Erwin was unsure if he was supposed to intervene, quite frankly, he was more impressed than ready to scold her. Peering back over his shoulder, he wondered what Hange would think of this.
Once the pot hit its boiling point, Mikasa turned the heat off and carefully took it from the stove, pouring it into the tea pot as attentively as a seven-year-old could. She allowed it to infuse as she went on a mission to find some mugs. She avoided Levi's one and opted for one of the mugs further into the cupboard. Eventually, she poured some of the tea into the mug and carefully made her way over to Erwin.
He glanced down at it as she lifted it towards him. "This is for me?" He was somewhat taken aback, even when she nodded. "That's very kind of you. Thank you." He took it from her hands.
"Levi loves tea. It's his favourite," she decided to inform him.
"Yes. He does." Erwin sipped from the mug, the scalding liquid burning his lip. He didn't react. "I enjoy this."
Mikasa jotted down the last of her notes as Grisha sipped on his tea. It was almost six o'clock now. The man had been so knowledgeable when it came to cell structure, she almost wondered why his efforts were wasted on career as humble as a local doctor. She could see him as a beloved Biology professor at some ivy league, he definitely had the look for it with his circular specs and greying facial hair. As Eren grew older, he seemed to look more like his father back in his hay day. Within the few years of friendship Mikasa had with him, she watched the boy devolve from his mother's innocent features into almost a spitting image of Grisha. If his senior photo didn't have that wild mullet like it did, she would struggle to tell the difference between him and Eren.
"Thank you. You've really helped." Mikasa flicked through the pages of notes she compiled as she sat on the floor.
"Not a problem. Anytime, Mikasa." He smiled down at the girl as she continued to tidy up. Such a polite girl. "How's your cousin?" he asked.
"He's good," she replied, keeping her head down. "Not much to talk about."
He faltered into a slight disappointment, as polite as she typically was, she could be a bit vague sometimes. Mikasa just wished he would stop asking about Levi every time he saw her.
Before long, Eren had returned from the bathroom and entered his father's office.
"Ah, there he is," Grisha announced. Mikasa's lips began to pull as he returned. "Eren, did you wash your hands?"
She stifled a laugh.
But Eren fumed. "Yes—" He could barely gather a sentence together. "Why would you ask me that?!"
"Well, I was just making sure—"
"I'm not a little kid, of course I washed my damn hands!"
He was even funnier when his fuse lit so easily. Some days, Mikasa would roll her eyes when he and Jean would bicker. But others, she couldn't help but find his energy so alluring. Never without an ounce of passion, she appreciated his emotional side. Whether it was frustration, or excitement, or sadness, though with the life Eren lived, she couldn't imagine anything to drown in melancholy about.
Grisha contained a grin as best he could. "Alright! My goodness." He stood up, taking his mug with him. "I won't ask another question ever again," he joked as he began to leave the room.
Eren let out an exasperated sigh once the man was gone. Parents were literally the worst.
"Uhm, Eren?" Mikasa piped up, now standing with her books in her arms. "I'm all done here. You wanna go upstairs?"
He paused, staring at the grip her fingers had on the spine of her textbook. Her nail polish was wearing off.
Focus.
"Yeah. Sure," he shrugged.
Eren's bedroom was ginormous, just like the rest of his house. It was big enough to fit a television, a king size bed, his PlayStation, a stereo system. Everything a seventeen-year-old could ask for.
Mikasa slipped out of her boots, plummeting two inches lower in height. She truly made herself at home whenever she stepped foot into his room. She first turned his stereo system on, a Radiohead CD continuing to play from where it last left off. Mikasa took his CD case and sat on the bed, intently flicking through his array of music for a different album to play.
Huh. Wasn't that funny.
Eren was inwardly frantic, attempt to keep himself mentally occupied and composed. He stole glances at his watch a little too often, scanned his bedroom for nothing in particular. Just play it cool.
"Your dad was really helpful," she broke the silence, peering up at him momentarily.
"Yeah. Guess being a doctor will do that," he said, leaning himself against his dresser.
She rolled her eyes at his perceptibility. When she couldn't decide on a different album to put on, she put the CD case on his bedside table and turned to him expectantly. She was staring at him, right? Like, it's me she's looking at? Eren hesitantly, obtusely, peered over his shoulder and at the wall before returning her gaze once again. When she started to take her jacket off, his posture stiffened.
"Are we gonna start?" she asked. He was equally as dumbfounded as he was hopeful.
Are we about to…?
"…Start?" he repeated.
She ogled at him in confusion. "Celebrity Deathmatch?"
"Ohhh," he stammered. You're an idiot. You're a big goddamn idiot. "Yeah. I forgot about that. I'll— uh, I'll turn it on."
"Cool. I'll get the bean bags."
Eren briskly hurried over to his TV unit, opening the smoky-glass door to turn the PlayStation on. Mikasa gathered the two bean bags from either side of TV unit, dragging the first one against the foot of the bed. As she turned to grab the other, Eren had also turned to place the controllers down. In the midst of their actions they collided momentarily, teetering before grabbing onto each other to stabilize.
"Shit, sorry—"
His hands instantaneously grabbed her forearms, as her hand instinctively reached for his shoulder. At the sensation of his touch, her eyes dilated, eyelids widening as she beamed up at him.
"It's okay… are you okay?" she muttered.
"Yeah. Fine," he blurted, losing himself to the expression she bore.
"Um…" Mikasa glanced down, fixated on the skin of his fingers that held her arms. A fleeting thought almost sent her over the edge – she could just… tell him. Tell him everything she feels, everything she sees and hears when he's around. When he touches her, how he leaves such a sensation on her skin. "Eren, I—uh…" The words danced on her tongue, finally able to come out. But as the confidence was ripe, she watched Eren yank his grip from her, slowly reeling himself backward to create space. The air left her lungs. Don't tell him. "I…" she blinked, "wanna play as Marilyn Manson."
Immediately, he nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Cool," he sputtered. "I'll play as—" Before he could finish, the chime of the doorbell broke his train of thought. Finally. "I-I'll go get that."
Eren calmly turned and walked over to his bedroom door. It wasn't until he was on the other side of it did he scramble through the hallway and down the stairs in an absolute panic. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He reached the front door in a heap, gripping the knob and swinging it open with enough force to jolt himself with it.
What he expected to see was Armin, what he found was Armin squished between Connie and Sasha while Jean towered over them.
"The hell? Armin, you brought everyone else?!" Eren's teeth clenched.
"I didn't exactly have much choice," Armin folded his arms.
"We were at the skate park and saw Armin walking by!" Sasha exclaimed. "You think we're just gonna sit there and do nothing on a Friday night?"
"H-yeah, not when your mom gets all the jumbo snacks from Costco," Connie agreed, leaning over to Sasha. "And is so, so hot…" he whispered, clutching his heart. Eren glared at him.
"I'm an unwilling hostage," Jean declared, a deadpan stare freezing his features. "I wanted to skate."
Eren's eyes rolled. "Ugh, whatever. Just come in." He widened the entrance and stepped aside.
The group filed in, kicking off their shoes and sliding off their jackets. Mikasa eased down the stairs, taking a peek through the banister to confirm who she'd been hearing. Her face contorted into perplexity.
"Mikasa?" Jean had caught her in the corner of his eye, his brows furrowing.
"Neat, you're already here!" Sasha beamed, her eyes wide and smile contagious as the girl came further down the stairs.
"What're you all doing here?" she questioned, meeting them on the ground floor.
"Armin said he was coming over," Jean replied, his expression falling. "What are you doing here?"
The girl stammered. "I- I was just working on my project. Eren's dad was giving me a hand…"
Armin's head spun in Eren's direction. He pulled his best friend by the arm and took him aside, hushing his voice.
"You guys were having a study session?" he probed with dissatisfaction.
"Hey, you were invited," Eren folded his arms. "And I wasn't even studying."
"I didn't know Mikasa was here, I thought it'd just be us!"
"So?" He raised a brow. "She needed some help on those cell things for Biology."
"No—Eren, that's not the point! If you guys were already hanging out, why did you bring me along?" he grilled, struggling to keep his dismay inconspicuous. But when Eren simply stared at him, unknowing of what to say, Armin's tone sobered. "Eren… why am I here?"
The boy's visage was still. His head shook from side to side, followed up by a half-hearted shrug.
"What's it matter? Just hang out with us," he said, his tone sedated and quiet.
For Mikasa's sake, Armin faltered, shutting his eyes and sighing.
"It… It doesn't. Don't worry," he replied, soon facing the group. "Come on."
"Oh! You've got more friends over," Carla's stride had conked out at the sight of her foyer filled with teenagers. Nonetheless, she smiled at all the familiar faces. "Eren, you should have told me."
"It wasn't planned." Nor was he pleased.
She smiled at a weary Armin. "How've you been, Armin?"
"Good Mrs Yaeger, thanks for asking," he gave her a bleak smile.
"And you, Jean?" She endearingly placed her hand on the boy's shoulder. "How's your knee?"
"Y-Yeah. It's been fine." He shrugged. "Still can't play, but, y'know."
As they spoke, Sasha shrugged off a sloth-like Connie who ogled at the woman. Again, Eren glared.
"Oh, that's too bad," she frowned. "I'm sure improvement will come eventually, darling. Now, look, I was just making some cookies if you all would like some later on?" she offered.
Connie felt light-headed. "Oh my god," he muttered.
Armin nodded. "Sure. Thanks, Mrs Yaeger."
"Yeah, thanks!"
The group smiled at the woman as she quietly left the room. Once she had disappeared, Sasha let out a sigh of relief. Or rather, she started swooning. Either way, Eren was riled up again.
"Dude, your mom gets hotter every time I see her," Sasha fawned.
"Tell me about it," Connie clutched his head. "She's so—"
"Will you idiots stop drooling over my fucking mom?!" Eren snapped, teeth gritting with frustration.
Silence thickened the air. Wide eyed stares surrounded Eren, even from Jean. It wasn't until the smothering of a giggle alerted him from behind. He turned around to see Mikasa's hand covering her mouth, eyes scrunched as she attempted to hold back her laughter. When she caught sight of Eren's irritated expression, her eyes widened, and her giggling had stopped.
"What?" she said, removing her hand from her mouth and grinning. "She's hot?" Eren's eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as he stalked back upstairs. "Hey, come on?"
She followed him.
It wasn't long before Mikasa wasn't the only person to get comfortable in Eren's room. The group had migrated upstairs to smash out a Celebrity Deathmatch tournament and a plate of Carla's cookies. Connie and Sasha battled it out while Jean and Eren discussed the new kid on the soccer team. Meanwhile, Armin and Mikasa had quietly sat themselves in Eren's bed, eyes cautious and wide.
"I can't believe him," Armin rested his forehead in his hand. "I don't know why he keeps doing this."
It was almost a ritual for Eren to reel his best friend in to third wheel he and Mikasa. These last few months, he played the hot and cold game by throwing her a bone and sending Armin in to pick it back up again.
"You haven't… told him, have you?" Mikasa's eyes flicked to their corners, watching Eren carefully as she quietened her voice even more.
"Of course I haven't," Armin furrowed his brows. "Jesus, Mikasa. I thought you had some trust in me."
"Sorry. I do," she glanced down.
Armin shook his head. "And what about this ice cream thing?" he queried. "Eren doesn't even like ice cream as far as I know. Well, from what I've gathered. He never wants some when I offer it to him. It's bizarre."
She sighed, shrugging hopelessly. "You know, I want you around too. I just thought that we could finally be alone again."
"I know. It's not about me, I get it. I'm not worried," he assured her, placing his hand on her forearm. "Listen, if he's not getting the hint, then… maybe it's time to just tell him?"
Mikasa's eyes snapped up to his. "Are you fucking cra—" she bit her tongue, glancing around the room. "Are you serious, Armin? You know I can't do that."
"I know you won't try—"
"I've tried, I—" she halted, brows furrowing as she stared into his eyes. "The words don't come out. My brain malfunctions or he, he doesn't look like he's ready to hear it. I'm not ready. It's not as easy as you think."
Armin shut his eyes, shaking his head once again. "Look, I'm aware of that, okay? It's never going to be easy, it just has to be done. If you really think about it, what's the worst that could happen?"
Mikasa paused, taking a moment to think it through. "He hates me and never wants to speak to me again?" she replied.
Armin blinked. "That… is the most dramatic thing I've ever heard leave your mouth."
She groaned, burying her head in her hands. "This is so stupid."
"Mikasa, let me ask him how he feels about you," he took her hands from her face. "We can gage the situation from there and you can decide whether or not you wanna make your move?"
"No, not a chance," she immediately shook her head. Armin's expression fell, disheartened by the sight of her stubbornness. Or rather, her fear. Her gaze dropped. "I just can't," she spoke quietly. "I'm sorry."
Armin exhaled through his nose. "You don't have to apologise," he assured her. "Eren's weird. He says and does unpredictable stuff all the time, and some days I don't even think he has a train of thought." Mikasa huffed. "But he's a good friend. And he'll always be one even if things get awkward or messy."
Mikasa's lips eventually pulled into a bleak smile. "You're a good friend too, you know."
"Well, I've had good people to show me how," he grinned, his hand resting on her forearm again. Armin was a gem in her eyes, luck hardly ever graced her in this world, but it had to have leaked through a crack or crevasse when he showed up in her life.
"Can you still keep this secret?" she gently pleaded.
"I might even die with it," he quipped, earning a roll of her eyes. He nodded. "Of course I will, Mikasa. I think if I ever told him, he still wouldn't get it anyway."
"Armin, your turn!" Sasha called out, a smug, satisfied smirk on her visage. Connie, silently bitter, stood up and shuffled back over to Jean and Eren by the window.
Armin left Mikasa's side to challenge Sasha's winning streak, all while Mikasa remained on the bed. Her smile began to wear off, her friend's words sitting tightly at the forefront of her clouded mind.
If I ever told him, he still wouldn't get it anyway.
She slowly blinked, staring at the CD case on his bedside table. She needed to look at anything but Eren if she didn't want tears to fall.
Am I so insignificant?
paramore - fake happy
Notes:
hello! thank you so much for all your comments, i loved every single one of them. please let me know if there's anything or anyone you'd like to see from this story. more characters and dynamics will be introduced, and i'll try and remember to add any new tags that are needed. i can't guarantee when chapters will come out but as soon as each one is done i'm immediately on top of writing the next!
happy reading :)
Chapter 3: alleyways
Notes:
hey! welcome back :)
just wanted to let you know that the chapter names are all named after songs i either thought would fit the chapter or the general vibe of certain characters. at the end of each chapter is the song name and band, i would highly recommend you give them a listen :)
thank you all for your comments and kudos, it means a lot! like always, if there's anything you feel you wanna see from the story whether it be certain characters interacting or things you wanna see them do/see more of, let me know!
thanks :)
Chapter Text
The last few weeks had surprisingly flown by without incident. Eren continued to rope Armin into third wheeling he and Mikasa, and soon enough, just started to make excuses as to not be alone with her altogether. The distance, however, meant the heart grew fonder. While upset, he was all she ever thought about. Breakfast would have been nice with Eren sitting across the table, late night television would be more enjoyable if he was watching too, and Friday nights would seem more fun if he would just hang out with her again. It as if he was unpleasant or dismissive – from the outside, everything appeared normal. They still talked in the classes they shared together and lunch was usually as chaotic in their group as it always was. Nothing was technically amiss, which meant nothing could really be said. But even if he didn't physically push her away, it felt like his hands were making space between them every single time she found him alone.
Now the dance was getting closer, being just over a month away, which meant she had to give Jean an answer. It was an obvious one at that; even if they went as friends, it was still some ego-driven, glorified snooze fest that required her to dress up and appear more attractive for the un-showered schmucks at school. So no, she would not be going. Besides, Levi never went to any dances or homecoming balls when he was her age, so it was safe to say that was the only Ackerman tradition she'd like to carry on.
It was Thursday now; a day Levi had free to do all the domestic duties his heart was content with. He finished the day off with a typical late-week dinner for he and Mikasa, roast chicken once again. He added some greens, some corn, and even made her some fruity mocktail she seemed to like. It was essentially just shaved ice and flavouring, she always feigned for it ever since Hange introduced her to slurpees when she was eight. Fucking Hange.
Mr Sprinkles decided to grace them with his presence tonight and sat pathetically by the dinner table, tapping Mikasa's leg with his paw. She tore off a bite-sized piece of her chicken and dropped it into his mouth. Levi was starting to think she wasn't a fan of his cooking anymore, she tended to feed the cat more than she ate nowadays.
"You spoil him," Levi declared, cutting into his roast.
"He's just a cat," Mikasa could almost grin.
"A cat who's spoiled."
She rolled her eyes, leaning down and reaching to pat his little head. He rubbed graciously on her fingers, angling himself so she scratched under his jaw. Oh yeah, the good spot.
"Do you mind if I have some friends over tomorrow night?" she casually asked, returning to her dinner.
Levi finished chewing. "Just keep the house as clean as I left it. Should be fine."
"Thank you." A smile flickered onto her face.
His words were never gentle, and his voice was never anything but monotoned, but allowing a bunch of teenagers into his house was more than sign of trust in the girl. The group, for some mind-boggling reason, liked to veg-out at Mikasa's house whenever they had the chance. It was the only house close enough to both the school and the skate park, which made getting to a lot easier. Levi was usually out working, which meant they could all claim the domain as their own until he got back and threatened to kick everybody's asses if they didn't clean the crumbs off the sofa. But aside from that, they could be as loud as they want, whenever they wanted, with the house essentially being 'parent-free' unlike their own.
Again, until Levi came home.
"So…" he cleared his throat. "Who's coming?"
"Everyone," she shrugged nonchalantly.
"I don't know what that implies," he said. "I'm not gonna come back home to four-hundred people in my house, am I?"
"Can't even fit four hundred people in here…" she mumbled, earning Levi's persistent stare. Her eyes rolled. "No, it's just Armin, Jean, Sasha, Connie…" she trailed off.
Levi could almost laugh. "And?"
Again, she shrugged. "And Eren."
He continued cutting his chicken. The air had filled with silence once again, as it did many times in the Ackerman house. She would have thought that by this point, Levi would be over whatever feud he had with a seventeen-year-old boy, that he'd finally get a grip and accept that there was another person in her life that she cared for. Sometimes she wondered if he was jealous in some absurd way, that he designed to be the only person in her life allowed to ever get so close. Though, she and Armin were close? She and Mr Sprinkles were pretty close, too. The theory simply remained as that, she chalked Levi's personal gripes with the boy up to some blip in the universe that didn't exactly smooth itself out. He was annoying enough as it was, she doubted he could get any weirder.
"He's not allowed in my room."
Mikasa huffed, lowering her fork. "Why would he ever go in your room?" He sounded like a child.
"If he's smart, he wouldn't," Levi insisted.
Sighing, Mikasa continued to eat. "He won't go in your room. I promise," she spoke with her mouth full.
"That goes for all of them. Armin too."
"Even Armin," she replied, shaking her head. "Anyway, can we watch a movie tonight?"
Levi glanced up from his food, eyes steadily on her. "You're not gonna study?"
"Nothing to study. Not right now, at least," she said.
Levi watched her as she kept taking glances at him, expectant of his answer. Mikasa wanted to… hang out? With him? Oh man, gone were the days of trying to extract a peep out of the moody girl, she thought he was cool enough to spend leisure time with again. He hoped to whatever kind of asshole God there was that he didn't just accidentally liquor up her mocktail out of habit, that she actually wanted to watch a movie with him.
"Alright. I'll go pick something up." He grabbed his fork again. "There something you wanted to watch?"
She shrugged again. "Nah. Your choice."
Something was off, Mikasa was chipper. The last time he saw her emanate an emotion even remotely close to happiness was when she introduced him to Eren for the first time, that smitten buzz all over her otherwise dreary face. Levi's eyes narrowed all of a sudden.
Eren. That little shit.
He remembered how he'd made Mikasa feel those few weeks ago; invisible. The word seared into his brain, he could never forget watching her through the door and seeing her embody the word almost perfectly. They never came together and that talk she promised to have, she most likely hoped he'd forgotten or didn't want to walk back into those muddy waters. But on all that was holy, she was dead wrong.
Levi had an unfortunate habit of malfunctioning when he had something difficult to say, it wasn't that he wanted to make her feel uncomfortable, if anyone was uncomfortable, it was him. His family didn't 'talk it out', they didn't 'have the hard conversations', they yelled, they fought, they partook in one filthy habit after another so they never had to address their discomfort ever again. However, Levi wasn't about to fist fight a seventeen-year-old girl, nor would he ever come across the thought of doing so. So, all he could do was stare and stare and stare until she got the hint, wanting for her to confide in her big cousin like she used to.
Something told him it wasn't going to be as easy as he hoped.
Mikasa shot glances at him again; he hadn't blinked in almost a minute, wearing that wearisome expression he always had when he was about to make her wish she was deaf.
"I promise he won't go in your room," she broke the silence, continuing to chip away at her dinner. The less eye contact, the better.
Levi finally blinked, albeit forced as if it was protocol, not because he needed to.
"No, uh… I wasn't gonna say that," he replied. "We never talked about that thing you said. About feeling the invisible."
Her expression sobered, gone were the remnants of her contentment.
"Forget I said it. It's nothing."
"Mikasa—"
"I don't want to talk about it," she said.
"Don't backtrack."
"I'm not—"
"Yes, you are. Just tell me."
"I said I don't want to talk about it."
"You promised."
"I promise a lot of things, okay?!" she snapped, her knuckles whitening as she clenched her fork.
Levi's lips parted; eyes slightly widened with astonishment. He never heard her voice bellow, not with dismay like that. She was a composed and articulate girl, one to implode rather than explode, but her eyes were wild with fury in a way that reminded him of his younger self. Resentful. Frustrated. Hopeless.
He spoke firmly but placidly. "No one on this planet should ever make you feel invisible. Especially someone you… you know…" the word was like a cheese grater to the tongue. "Like."
Mikasa exhaled, shutting her eyes. "I don't like Eren."
Levi continued to stare. He would have jumped for joy and clicked his heels together if he hadn't known how false her statement was.
"I thought you—"
"It's more than that," she confessed, glaring down at the table.
Oh.
Levi's gaze finally dropped, and a cold silence settled into his bones. He fought tirelessly, almost desperately not scrunch his visage up in disgust once he'd realized what she meant.
That was the last thing he ever wanted to hear.
Curse this fucking bloodline.
"You… love that shithead?" he quietly asked, eager for a misunderstanding to have occurred. "Mikasa, are you sure what you're feeling is—"
The girl pushed herself out from her seat, dropping her fork onto her plate. She left him sitting there like a child as she charged out of the kitchen and down the hallway.
Fuck. I can't let this fester. Not any longer.
Levi arose from his seat and followed suit. As he followed her down the hall, she slammed her bedroom door in his face, causing him to jolt back.
What the fu—?
Levi froze momentarily. What the hell did that little shit Eren do to his cousin? He had to have brainwashed her, indoctrinated her into his cult of insufferable dipshits. Levi knew he could be a raging asshole, but Mikasa never retaliated like this, it was the first time she'd treated him so dismissively. He knew that despite his aversion to Eren, he didn't deserve her shutting him out. His dismay was only to protect her.
He instantly opened her door again, glaring at her as she plunked onto her bed and faced the wall.
"How can you love someone that makes you feel invisible?" his voice tensed. "Tell me, Mikasa—"
"You don't understand!" she cried out, clasping at her bed sheets. "You've never loved someone! You don't go on dates; you haven't brought a woman home!"
"You think I don't love you?"
"That's not the same! I'm talking about when you really love someone, when you're really in love," her voice faltered, eyes hopelessly scanning him for an ounce of understanding. "I know it can be blinding, but I know Eren's never done a single bad thing to me—"
"He makes you cry—"
"—not a single, horrible thing, and you hate him!"
"He doesn't deserve you," Levi stepped forward. "He's been around for two goddamn years, and he still can't see that the only girl to ever give him attention thinks the sun shines out of his fucking ass. You were perfect from the day you were born – I can't even begin to tell you what a waste you would be on him. This family almost ruined you, you turned out better than I ever thought you would. But do you think he sees that? Do you think that's something he could ever understand? No, because he's a fucking moron, Mikasa. Love him or not, that's one thing you can't ignore."
As Levi succumb to his frustration, Mikasa reeled back onto the bed, her lip trembling as her wide, tear-rimmed eyes gawked up at him. It was as if she was that terrified five-year-old all over again, like there was a gun held to his head, forcing him to rewind the clock and witness it once more. He watched her face sour and the tears start to fall.
She was crying. Why was she crying?
Levi clicked back into reality, realizing he considerably towered over her. Just the vague notion of Eren's existence could scramble his brain, of course a full-blown tangent could get his blood pressure rising. Immediately, he retreated backward with a simple step, his visage transitioning from dismay to guilt.
Mikasa whimpered, dropping her face into her hands to hide it from him.
No, no, no, no—
Levi lowered himself in front of her, now disturbed with remorse.
"Mikasa, I'm sorry," he quietly spoke, placing his hand on her knee. "I didn't mean to…" He stopped, didn't see the point in trying to justify himself. "I'm sorry," he repeated as she continued to cry. He made her cry.
Well, at least he and Eren had something in common.
When the next morning brought them to Friday, and Levi awoke with one terrible thing on his mind. It irked him while he folded laundry, while he brewed himself a piping hot cup of tea, while he scrubbed the already immaculate countertops until his fingers were raw.
Mikasa silently made her way through the house as she readied herself for school, not wanting to grace the man with any form of verbal greeting. She had cried herself to sleep last night, only realizing it once she had awoken with mascara stained cheeks, which in turn made her cry again. She could hide it well with her usual makeup routine, being black eyeliner tended to water her eyes to begin with.
Levi offered to make her breakfast – an obvious gesture to accompany the thousands of times he said the word 'sorry' last night.
She ignored him.
Now, he stood on the front porch, taking in a cigarette in an attempt to stop himself from melting into the ground. It was a pathetic habit he picked up when he was fifteen, when his full-time job was hating the world and everyone in it. Of course the trope wouldn't have been complete without stealing the nearest adult's cigarettes, the only thing he could thank his mother for at the time. Suffice to say, as much as he loathed the grip of addiction, he was glad it was the only one that wouldn't ruin his already lamentable brain in the end.
Mikasa opened the front door and stepped onto the porch, a solemn expression tainting her features.
"Hey," Levi caught both her attention and the daggers she sent his way. "I'll take you to school."
They sat agonizingly silent in Levi's geriatric Toyota, it was older than Mikasa and the heating hadn't worked in years, but the thing had more life in it than the both of them combined. He hated breakfast radio and generally any music the stations dared to play, so the stereo was never on. Didn't help the tension.
When the silence allowed for a little too much rumination, he sighed in annoyance. His incessant thoughts had irked him for long enough. He was taking her to school for a reason today, a reason he wished never existed, one he could go his entire life without ever having to consider.
Goddamn it.
"Look… kid." Great start. She continued to face towards the window, unmoving. "This is gonna be the hardest conversation I've ever had. So, don't hate me for asking, alright?" he held his breath for a moment, trying to shove the question out. "Fuck," he breathed, waiting until he came to a stop at a red light. "Mikasa… you…" he glanced out the window. "Do you know what sex is?"
Her eyes widened instantaneously; she looked like she'd seen a ghost.
"We aren't talking about this."
"I mean, they still teach that at school, right?"
"I'm getting out—"
"Stop," his voice hardened. "Look, I'm not exactly smiles and rainbows about this subject either, but you need to know these things, Mikasa. You need to be prepared—"
She slapped her hands over her face, letting out a vehement groan.
"Now, this isn't me giving you permission to do things," he grimaced, "especially things with Eren—"
"Stop!"
"I can assure you, a guy like Eren wouldn't know what to do anyway. Probably. Not that you should find out." Levi's heart rate quickened. "Actually, you're not going to. Don't do those things. Ever. Not, uh… not until you… you know. I… I don't know. Just… forget what I said. You don't need to know anything. Don't have sex—"
Mikasa flicked the radio on and turned the volume knob repeatedly to drown out the sound of his tormenting voice.
He turned it back down.
She was about to claw her eyes out. "Stop it—!"
"I'm," he stammered, scratching the back of his neck, "I've never had to give this talk, alright? All I want is for you to make the right decisions. You don't want a kid while you're only a kid yourself," he told her, his tone now controlled. "You're young. You're bound to make stupid mistakes. Just don't let that be one of them… and more importantly, I don't want any Yaeger babies invading our already screwed up bloodline."
Mikasa shielded her eyes from embarrassment. "You're so fucking weird," she cursed under her breath.
Levi sighed, shaking his head. "Fine. We won't talk about this," he relinquished, finally facing her as she cowered in humiliation. "About sex."
"You're still being weird!" she insisted, dropping her hand and glaring at him.
He turned away, staring into the bumper of the car in front of them.
"And just so you know, what you said last night about not bringing a woman home? That was for you. All my effort went into raising you," he admitted. Mikasa kept her silence, focusing on her fingers as her hands laid in her lap. She didn't doubt him for a second. "But high school was a different story—"
She turned the music back up.
"Mikasa." Hange flicked through the pile of graded criteria sheets in her hand as she stood over the girl's desk. She finally pulled out the sheet with her name and placed it on her desk. "Great job on your project. Very thorough."
The girl lifted her paper and scoured through her grading.
Criteria one: A
Criteria two: A
Criteria three: A
Criteria four: A
She squinted, bringing it closer to her face.
Criteria five: A
Mikasa sighed in relief, she had managed to succeed in all elements of her project. Thank God. It was her best foot forward yet. If she brought it home, Levi would stick it on the fridge and stare at it for five minutes straight like he did with her calculus test. That was his way of letting her know he was proud.
Bizarre.
Biology was the last class of the day. Mikasa was lucky to have Hange—Miss Hange when she was at school—for her two Science classes, Biology and Physics. While it was easier to have a familiar face helping her throughout her education, the notion of failing in front of her was equally as daunting. She'd known the woman since she was five, Hange was around for a lot of her growing pains. As maniacal as she was free-spirited, she was also incredibly intelligent, graciously taking on a massive workload that left her with little free time nowadays. She taught seven classes, which meant she saw the school's brightest and best, the most academically inclined. So, pushing out A+ worthy papers and projects was important to Mikasa, more important than it was to any other kid in the school. Because Hange was her teacher.
Hange was her friend.
The bell eventually sung, dismissing the students that were ready to spear-head into the weekend. As Mikasa gathered her belongings and headed for the door, Hange arose from her seat.
"Mikasa? Before you go," she fervently shimmied out from her desk, meeting the girl by the door. "I've been meaning to have a chat with you."
Mikasa wasn't exactly keen on 'talks' at the moment.
"I know this is Biology, but I don't need another sex talk if that's what you want," she spoke uneasily, a soft grimace plaguing her features.
Hange cocked her head in confusion. "I don't recall us ever having one of those," she replied.
"We haven't." Mikasa gazed at her intently, warning. "We won't."
"Er… is this a Levi thing?" she questioned, earning the girl's nod. "Look, if you're ever curious about sex and all it entails, the last person you should be asking is Levi. Next time you wanna talk sex, you come straight to the source and ask your old friend Hange," she jerked her thumb into her own chest. "But… this isn't about sex—"
"Please stop saying that word."
"This is actually about your performance in my class," Hange's tone had dampened with restraint, Mikasa felt a fireball burst in her chest. "I've come to notice that you're quite precise with how you answer questions nowadays. It can be incredible to read, however, with your… precision, comes a lot of second guessing." Hange planted her hand on the girl's shoulder. "I started to notice a few months ago that you cross a lot of your answers out, even the correct ones, like you don't believe you're got it right. Am I correct to assume you're doubting yourself?"
Shit.
Mikasa sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "I just don't think it's… good enough. I want higher grades, full marks if it's even possible. And…" she turned away, her brows furrowing. "I don't want you to be disappointed in me. If there's anyone I wanna be as smart as, it's you."
Hange blinked in bewilderment, gently pushing her glasses back up onto her nose. "How could I ever be disappointed in you?" she whispered. "You're a smart young girl who's growing up into an even smarter young woman. But even if you were as dumb as a bag of hammers or couldn't explain the functions of each cell structure, I would never be disappointed in you. I would be there for you."
Mikasa would fawn over the woman if she wasn't so riddled with guilt. "I-I'm sorry," she frowned at the ground.
"You're apologizing?"
"I…" The girl rubbed her arm. "I don't know. I don't know what to say. I wasn't trying to upset you."
"I'm not upset," Hange huffed through a laugh. "I'm worried you don't think you're as smart as you're capable of being. All you need is some belief in yourself. Trust the answers in your brain, because they're there. You have them," she continued, tapping her temple with her index finger before grinning at her. "And I'll be here."
Mikasa allowed a smile to slowly emanate.
Yeah. Hange will always be here.
"Thanks, Hange."
The woman's features fell into serenity, a genuine, heart-aching smile overcoming her. Then she remembered.
"Oh! I almost forgot." The woman skidded as she ran back to her desk, rummaging behind it before pulling out a small object. "Since you received full marks on your project, I put this aside for you!"
Mikasa blinked down at the Petrie dish that was then given to her, holding back a grimace as she observed the discoloured bacteria.
"Oh, okay, you were serious," she mumbled, quickly forcing a smile at her friend. "Uh, thank you, Hange," she jittered, "but Levi said I couldn't bring this home."
"That's okay, you can keep it in your locker!" she suggested. "That's what I used to do."
Mikasa's eyelid twitched at the thought of it, her lips pursing. "Alright. I will do that."
Hange grinned, sliding her specs back up on her nose.
Great.
Levi tossed a fresh cloth over his shoulder and exited the storage room, succeeding in his retrieval of a new bottle of Grey Goose for top up. It was seven o'clock, still somewhat early for the night life to kick in. It gave him more time to mentally prepare for the cocky pricks that came in, to vehemently remind himself that he works to make a living.
A living for Mikasa.
His little cousin.
That of whom he loves dearly.
And is obligated to provide a roof over her head and food in her stomach.
Goddamn it.
In the beginning, as a cantankerous twenty-one-year-old, he found it almost impossible to deal with those asshats on a nightly-basis. At least in Kenny's bar, the worst type of customer was the verbally berating kind. He could toss them out on their drunk asses, too intoxicated to give a good fight back.
Not that they'd win sober, anyway.
But at the Fox's Den, there was a little thing called 'image,' and apparently Levi behooves to uphold it. Pixis was generous with his insight, he gave the boy many chances to bite his tongue and thicken his skin, and soon enough, he had learned complacency. When he realized just how good he'd finally got it – a decent team of co-workers, an owner who knew what empathy was, and the best paycheck he'd ever had – he decided it was best to let these lonely bastards talk all the garbage they wanted, he needed financial security to give that little girl at home a better life.
Besides, their money was lining his pockets one way or another. Whether it was from buying round after round, or being so buzzed that some innocent pickpocketing went unnoticed. Though, after Pixis installed security cameras in the venue, that last option was no longer viable.
As he returned to the bar, he noticed an eager Erwin standing there with a jiggle of his leg and tap of his fingers on the counter. No one was with him, but Levi knew he wasn't alone. He typically brought clients and higher ups to the swanky bar in order to build a good rapport, and every time he did, he looked just as constipated as he did now.
"What're you after?" Levi called to him as he approached.
Erwin leaned onto the counter with his elbows. "I might need a round of daiquiris. Those lawyers from Wilcox & Co have joined my division this week and I'd like to make a good first impression."
Levi's top lip pulled at one of its corners. "Daiquiris? You don't want that. I'll get you a round of Martinis," he told him. "Dimo Reeves' men order them every time they try to close a deal."
"And it works?"
"I wouldn't bring it up if it didn't."
"You're correct. You wouldn't," Erwin replied, glancing back at one of the tables.
This idiot could make a fortune in saying the obvious.
He blinked. "Yeah."
Erwin mulled over it for a moment. Levi hadn't let him down with his drink recommendations before. Granted, Martinis did seem quite basic, but who was he to discredit the classics?
"Alright, I'll need five for the booth by the aquatic-life tank."
Levi glowered. "Just say fish—"
"And could you also get the kitchen to bring out some canapés?" Erwin requested, averting his attention back to his friend who sighed.
"The seafood or the Italian?" he pulled out one of the glasses.
"Hm," he tapped on the counter as he thought. "Perhaps the Italian. Seafood might seem overzealous."
Levi peered over Erwin's shoulder to scrutinize the table. "Well, by the look of them they don't… seem…"
His eyes locked, what he caught in his sights rendered him speechless. Erwin anxiously flicked back and forth between his new colleagues and his best friend, lips parted with concern.
"What is it?" he asked, however the man's gaze was rigid. "Levi? …Levi."
"What?" he snapped, brows furrowing in annoyance. Oh. He was having a conversation. "Uh, I'll get the seafood," he lowered his head.
Erwin blinked. "I want the Italian."
"I'm getting you the seafood," he persisted. "We need to make a good first impression."
He paused, watching his friend closely. "You mean I need to."
Levi also paused "That's what I said."
"No, you said we."
"Listen, eyebrow, do you want your fucking canapés or not?" he barked, gripping his cloth until his knuckles turned white. Still extremely befuddled, Erwin glanced back at his table of fresh colleagues again, attempting to figure out what had Levi acting so strange.
Or rather, who.
Erwin sighed, pointing at the man. "Don't forget the Martinis."
"Yeah," Levi huffed, grabbing the last glass he needed.
As Erwin stalked away and sat back down, eyes glowing with charm and confidence, Levi began the process of the Martinis. Seconds couldn't go by without his gaze settling on that table again, and soon enough, a pair of eyes were settling on him.
She was so radiant just sitting there, her briefcase by her legs. It was like staring into the goddamn sun, only instead of a blinding light, it was warm and welcoming and cheerful. She was one of Erwin's new colleagues, she had to be, she appeared way too sophisticated; had that well-educated aura to her that Levi himself could never achieve. There was no chance any of those other douchey-looking trust fund babies would bring their arm candy dressed in a tailor-made power suit. Jesus, that thing fit her in all the right places. So elegant, so poised, so—
A shattering by his shoes yanked him out of his Ted Bundy-esque staring. His eyes situated on the mound of broken glass on the floor, fearing if he dared to look up, she would notice it was him that dropped it like a clumsy idiot.
"Levi…?" One of his bartenders watched him cautiously. "You drop that?"
Blinking, he remained fixated on it. "Yeah," was all he could muster. The young man promptly fetched a dustpan and got to work sweeping the mess up. "Oh. Thank you."
"Are you okay?" he asked, peering up at him.
"Yeah."
The young man rose, heading over to a bin. "I've never seen you drop a glass before," he noted.
"That's because I never have." Huh. In his ten years of working here, he couldn't recall when he'd ever dropped anything. Not even once.
Funny.
"Well… not until now," the young man mumbled.
"I'm, uh. I'm gonna keep going." Levi carefully grabbed another glass and continued from where he left off.
His eyes hesitantly shifted toward her once again. She was listening intently to Erwin talk, as were the others. Good. She didn't see that. So, Levi forced himself to focus on finishing the drinks and eventually, he placed them carefully on a serving tray before garnishing them with skewer-spiked olives.
"Anka," his head snapped too and from in search of the girl, but unbeknownst to him, she was right by his side. "Here. Run this out for me."
"Sure thing." She quickly slid the tray onto her flattened palm and made off with his concoctions.
Levi stood there with hands planted on the counter, watching as Anka took them over to the table. With a courteous smile, she promptly handed all the patrons their drinks and power-walked back to the bar. Levi watched scrupulously as the woman picked up her glass, brought it to her lips, and took a sip. He watched as her eyebrows shot up, and she pointed at her glass in astonishment and beamed at one of her colleagues, nodding incredulously.
Who. The fuck. Is she.
As Levi drowned in the sight of her, his best friend, sitting at the edge of the booth, leaned into his line of vision. Besides wondering what on earth had overcome the man, Erwin was equally as interested in the wait-time for his canapés. Finally capturing Levi's attention, Erwin gestured his head toward the direction of the kitchen, a light curve of his thick brows.
Fuck, the canapés.
Levi almost jumped into action, reaching for a pen and notepad to write down Erwin's (or rather, his) order, as well as the table number. He walked the order to the kitchen where he slammed it down on the counter, coming face to face with one of the junior chefs.
"I need this out as soon as possible. Prioritise it." Shit, don't scare the poor kid. "Please," Levi forced a wobbly grin, though it seemed more like he was gritting his teeth in pain.
God, was it difficult.
The boy nodded vigorously, taking the order and vanishing from sight.
While there, Levi took the time to sort out a stock delivery that just arrived. The chefs were too busy completing orders, one of which being his, that they handballed the mess onto him. Before he knew it, Erwin's canapés flew out the door and he was entrenched in accounting for and stacking the deliveries. Nothing could tickle him as well as cleaning, however. When he was finished, he scrubbed his hands clean and finally made his way back to the front line.
Sitting at his bar, well-postured and anticipating of him, was her. That petite redhead from Erwin's table.
Oh, fuck.
Levi's poker face was incredible, but he shit himself at least four times in that very second. The woman watched him as he returned, smiling and eager for his attention.
"Can I help you?" Shit, he sounded bitchy.
She smiled even sweeter. "I wasn't sure if it was yourself, but my colleague ordered us a round of Martinis about fifteen minutes ago—"
"Yeah, they were sent out already." He just saw her drink it.
"Oh, yes, I know," she stared at him as if it were obvious. "I was actually wondering if we could get another round, please?"
Oh.
"Uh, yeah. Sure."
"Thank you," she graciously beamed at him, manoeuvring to get off the bar stool. "And could you let the bartender know that was an amazing Martini? I think it's the best I've ever had. He deserves all the praise he can get."
Levi felt the muscles in his face shift in such a foreign way. "I'll do that," he rigidly replied. He hadn't blinked in a while, the sight of her commanded he didn't.
She peered over her shoulder, continuing to smile at him as she then returned to the table. Completely taken, he wasn't fazed by the image of her fizzling out and re-emerging as Erwin marching up to the bar.
"Those canapés are quite the talk of the tab—" Erwin's hushed voice halted, brows furrowing in shock. "Levi… you are smiling."
His features dropped. "What?"
"You were smiling."
"The fuck I was," he shook his head, snapping himself out of his daze. "Go see your eye doctor."
Erwin glanced at the table once again before returning his gaze back to the man, a sudden smirk pulling at his visage.
"My colleague really likes your drinks," he noted, resting his elbows on the bar. "You made an excellent choice."
"Yeah." Levi was back to making another round of Martinis, he could feel Erwin's invasive stare penetrating his stupid, shaking hands – goddamn it, why are they shaking? "She, uh, one of the new ones?"
"She is," he responded. "She's also quite a gun in the field. A gentleman I know was in her graduating class, said she'd be a great addition to the company and I believe him to be right. She's ruthless when it comes down to it, one of the most outstanding lawyers to come out of Wilcox & Co."
Levi remained fixated on his task. "Would hate to be her husband. Can't imagine all the arguments I'd lose."
He raised a brow. "So quick to think about marriage, Levi. You just met the woman." Oh, he made it too easy.
Fucker.
"Get out of here or I'll shit in your canapés," Levi casually replied, garnishing the first Martini.
Erwin huffed, taking it from the counter. "Charming as ever, my dear friend."
As he continued to pierce the olives with skewers, Levi glared at the man that left his presence. He let his eyes naturally fall from Erwin to the woman sitting at the table. She scooched over to accommodate him, warmly inviting him back to his seat at the booth. Levi, for the life of him, couldn't take his eyes off her. Even as he poked himself with a skewer.
The house stood still and quiet, bar the faint buzzing of a lawn mower some distance away. It was peaceful, neat, and calm, until the front door unlocked and in came a plethora of teenagers to disrupt its serenity. Now, it was noisy, lively, and probably irritating if Levi were here to witness it.
Mikasa pulled her keys out of the lock as they all filed in. Connie held a pile of DVDs from Blockbuster, Sasha the bag of snacks from the gas station on Porter Street. The others came equipped with only their backpacks and skateboards.
"Then he slipped and fell on his ass, and Ymir saw the whole thing," Connie continued, kicking the door closed with the back of his foot. "Like, the worst person to ever see you eat shit in the hallway."
"Yeah, God, I could never live that down," Sasha muttered. She opened the bag of snacks, almost inhaling the damn thing before Jean snatched it from her, a stern glare warping his features. He shoved her skateboard back into her hands and took the bag to the kitchen. She frowned.
Mikasa slipped her backpack off her shoulder and onto the ottoman. "Poor Marco. Falling over at this age is just embarrassing. What are you even meant to do?" she huffed, leading the rest of the group to the kitchen.
"Laugh?" Armin suggested, though not confidently. "Shows you don't take yourself so seriously."
"Can't even remember the last time I fell over." Jean shrugged.
"I do," Eren smugly interjected. "It was only last year."
He deadpanned in retaliation. "Oh, har-har. Good one, maniac. Since it was so funny to you, I'll be sure to do it again for your viewing pleasure. Only this time, instead of losing the ability to play soccer, I'll lose my ability to keep myself from kicking your ass. That funny enough for you?"
"Yeah, okay," Eren muttered, unimpressed. "Give it your best shot, Jean-boy. But when I'm done pulverising your face, I won't be the only one laughing." His eyes flicked over to Mikasa.
"Shut it, jackass!" Jean's hand slammed on the counter.
"Enough, already!" Armin insisted, glaring at his best friend. "Eren, go help Connie pick a movie!" he demanded, pointing in the direction of the loungeroom.
Eren began to grumble, staring at Connie to lead the way. They stalked off into the other room, Sasha waddling along just behind them.
Mikasa pursed her lips, glancing between Armin and Jean. "So… drinks?"
Armin migrated to the girl. "You think Levi would notice if I made myself some tea?" he quietly asked.
"Levi can notice how many steps you've taken on the floorboards," Mikasa contained a grin, grabbing a few bowls from the cupboard.
"Heh…" he scratched the back of his neck, resisting the urge to look at the floor. "That doesn't sound terrifying at all," he mumbled.
"Use the generic one he makes for Hange, not his Harney & Sons," she continued.
Content, Armin flicked the kettle on and searched for a mug while Jean and Mikasa sorted the abundance of snacks into serving bowls.
"So, Jean," Armin opened the cupboard, "what'd you think about the game today?"
The soccer team held a home game to start off the school year, it must have been unbearable for Jean to watch them start a new season without him.
"Yeah," Mikasa was also curious. "And that guy that replaced you."
"Who, Floch? Well, he's a show-off for starters," Jean replied, voice tense and quiet. "And his hair is stupid."
"It's pretty questionable," Mikasa nodded in agreeance.
"I think he lacked strategy. He was ball-hogging the entire time," Armin observed, sprinkling sugar into his mug. "The team's gonna have a rough season if they don't figure their play out."
"It's already rough," Jean asserted. "He almost cost them the game with all that showboating. It's no wonder no one on the team likes him, but Coach Shadis wants to give him a chance. Think he just wants another powerhouse on the team since Reiner graduated last year."
Mikasa rolled her eyes. "Reiner was twice his size."
"And he knew when to pass the damn ball," Jean added.
"Think of it this way, he lost his two best players in the same year. It's obvious he'd be scrambling to find a replacement." Armin turned to his friend. "And if it's any consolation Jean, I think you could still kick circles around this guy. Even with your bad knee," he smiled, nestling his warm mug of tea in his hands.
"Thanks Armin," Jean's features had finally softened. "And I won't tell Levi you took one of his expensive teas."
Mikasa spun around to the boy.
"Yeah, thanks…" Armin blinked, eyes widening at his friend's scowl.
Well, he made it painfully obvious, that was for sure.
He'd been watching her the whole night. God forbid she returned his piercing glances with a smile, because when she did, he turned away like a schoolboy. It was refreshing to say the least, especially with the men in her industry. Cocky, arrogant, tossing money around like it was as plentiful as their audacity, but this one kept his head down; he must have been head bartender or some sort of leading staff member. He worked that bar like a professional, and he could make a damn good Martini.
It had only been an hour, yet she was reeled in.
So, she decided to make her way up to the bar once again. The canapés were amazing, the drinks were outstanding – Erwin Smith had really welcomed her and her colleagues into the company with open arms. He also seemed quite chummy with Mr Bartender; she could count on that aiding to her advantage.
She sat herself on one of the stools by the bar, her empty Martini glass in hand. Resting her chin on her hand, she watched and waited for the bartender to turn around from the back bench. The staff here wore an all liquorice-black, satin-like material underneath their pressed black aprons, but none of them looked as good in it than he did. It creased and draped in all the right ways, the sleeves folded both neatly and carelessly at his forearms, his collar sharp and smooth.
Even the back of him is alluring.
Once he'd turned, tray of drinks in one hand and a tumbler in the other, she could have sworn it all teetered just a little as he halted at the sight of her. His lifeless eyes met her gleaming ones, and she continued beam back at him, smile persistent.
She slid her empty glass forward.
"Can I get you something?" he asked her, tone dull and void.
"Just the usual," she replied. "When your hands are free, of course. Unless you know how to juggle."
He barely blinked. "I don't."
"Ever wanted to learn? You could be the first juggling bartender." Shit, she was pretty tipsy.
One of the corners of his lips tugged, almost as if he resisted a grin, but she couldn't give herself credit just yet – was she as charming as she believed herself to be, or was he about to laugh in her face?
"Anka. Run this out for me," he told the young woman as she presented her efficiency to him.
"No problem." She eased the tray of drinks out of his hands and into her own, taking off in a flash.
The bartender then stepped forward, set his tumbler down, and took her empty glass, placing it elsewhere as he brandished a clean one.
"You like your Martini's a certain way?" he asked her.
"Just the way you make it."
Smooth. That was smooth.
She kept her chin rested on her hand while she watched him do his thing. It didn't look like an acquired skill, rather it was engrained in his genealogy, like muscle memory of a man reincarnated. He didn't seem phased by her efforts at flirting, in fact, he was almost completely unreadable. Some would say her advances were being rejected, others would say it was a red flag, a trait she should probably avoid if she didn't want to lose the game. But in her industry, she didn't avoid challenges.
She took them by the throat.
"You getting me one?"
She glanced up at the gentleman suddenly by her side, her colleague and age-old friend. She deadpanned.
"Well, you didn't ask for one," she unimpressively replied.
Oluo frowned. "You should always assume I want another one," he insisted, resting his elbow on the counter.
Rolling her eyes, she turned to the bartender just as he was finishing her drink. "Could you make that two, please?" She felt bad for asking, given he had to start the process all over again.
"And I want it shaken, not stirred." Oluo stipulated with a pompous lifting of his finger. She told him to stop quoting James Bond in public, but ever since he started that movie marathon, he was unstoppable.
The bartender readied yet another glass. "Sure. Want me to piss in it for you too?" he casually questioned, earning her abrupt pop of laughter.
Oluo seemed mortified, his wide eyes blinking at the man in shock. "Do you seriously offer that here?!" he asked, completely and utterly seriousness. Staring at the gullible outrage on his face, she let out another cackle of laughter.
"I can make it happen," he continued, a bleak, faux smile bending his lips.
Oluo frowned. "Who on earth would want that?"
"The same type of guy who wants a shaken Martini."
Almost hopelessly, Oluo peered down at her. She told him to stop quoting James Bond. She attempted to wipe the grin off her face, but around the bartender, it seemed a hard feat to accomplish.
"Just get it stirred like everyone else," she said, still leaning on her hand as she glanced up at her colleague.
"Fine." Oluo turned to march away before he abruptly halted and faced the bartender once again. "Stirred, not shaken," he wagged his finger again.
"Yeah. Sure." He was curt with the man as he grabbed the bottle of gin once more.
She smiled.
With one movie down, the gang had dispersed throughout the house to stretch their legs. Next on the list was more for Sasha than it was for anybody else: Scooby Doo 2, the live action rendition that was surprisingly better than initially thought. Connie and Sasha huddled in the kitchen to make everyone popcorn, while Mikasa, Eren, and Armin migrated to the girl's bedroom. Or, rather, Mikasa invited Eren to come check out some new CDs she bought and Eren dragged Armin along.
Again.
Armin watched the two converse about music as if all the hidden meanings weren't so blatantly apparent. He couldn't count on one hand how many love songs she burned on that CD for him, and how many of them Eren expressed were some of the best songs he had ever heard. If Armin wouldn't face any repercussions for grabbing the back of their heads and forcing them onto each other, he'd crash them together like cymbals.
Speaking of crashing, when he heard a catastrophic bang come from the kitchen – likely Connie and Sasha burning the whole house to the ground – Armin jumped up, using it as an out.
"I-I'll go," Armin insisted, attempting to ease Mikasa's worry. "I'll take care of it. Don't worry."
He vanished from her bedroom in an instant, side-eyeing the girl the whole time as he left her alone with Eren. It had been so long since they shared the same four walls together. She didn't have much left in her to throw anymore hints his way, it wasn't as if he was going to catch them, or talk about them, or touch her. She'd love for him to touch her. But he may as well have been repulsed by the sight of her, that was her conclusion of the matter.
Mikasa stared up at some of her artwork pinned to her walls. Levi talked her into leaving her childhood drawings up there, said it was a good comparison to how far she had come. She drew more anatomy and places nowadays, like what she envisioned a café in Prague would look like, or a woman walking along the streets of Venice. It was something to ease her mind when the world became too much, before the darkness would swallow her whole again.
"Your drawings have improved a lot," Eren spoke up, sitting on the corner of her bed.
She continued to stare at her artwork, attempting to hide her surprise from his lingering presence.
"Were they that bad?" She began to grin.
"No, just," he paused for a moment, "not as good as they are now."
Her eyes drifted downward. "Thanks, Eren."
He finally rose from the bed and stood behind her, focusing on one of her childhood drawings and all the colourful crayon it entailed.
"Is that Mr Sprinkles?" His voice was low and quiet, as if he was in an art gallery. His emphatic mind usually found reservation when she was around.
Mikasa smiled. "Yeah. Drew that when I was eleven," she replied, equally as hushed.
"It's actually pretty cute," he admitted.
"He's a cute cat." She tilted her head, further appreciating it.
His eyes dropped from the crude artwork and landed achingly upon her face. As she continued to observe her drawing, he could only imagine the memories it brought her back to. He studied the glimmer in her eyes, swiftly falling victim to the curve of her nose, the length of her jaw. Her soft, porcelain skin told him he could melt into it if he dared to try.
God, he hated himself.
Most days he could distance himself without feeling too much like a piece of shit, but right now, he hated that he'd left her in the dark, put an unpleasant confusion on her face every time he felt the need to escape her presence. The reality of it all was that Eren felt himself helpless against her, suffered an intense gravitational pull when she was nearby. He always, always wanted her in his arms, to feel the silk of her skin, smell the graces of her perfume. He wanted to know exactly what she tasted like.
Without a single thought otherwise, as she continued to stare at her drawing, he convinced himself to try and reach for her gentle face. He craved to plant a soft, eager caress on it, to feel how it felt on the back of his fingers. But as his hand lifted from behind her, her head suddenly turned to the door. Eren immediately dropped it, following her gaze and finding Jean.
Standing there.
"Popcorn's done." His expression was stony and unreadable, just like his tone. "What are you two doing?"
"Just looking at my old drawings," Mikasa replied, gesturing her head for him to enter. She stepped aside, allowing him to take her spot and view her artwork.
"Huh. Mr Sprinkles," he noted once he'd peered up, soon turning his head to a rattled Eren. "What's got you all bothered?"
"I'm not bothered," he tensely replied. "Let's go watch this stupid movie."
Mikasa watched as Eren fled the room, face dark with something or other. She could never tell nowadays, and the confusion was equally as painful. She glanced at Jean who had watched the boy disappear; she tried reading his visage for an answer, but he still wore that same, unreadable expression. He eventually returned her gaze, seeing her face etched in dismay. He unfortunately lacked an answer – Eren was a mystery to even the best of people.
As she eventually began to leave, Jean quickly placed his hand on her shoulder, attempting to stop her.
"Uh, Mikasa," he swallowed, tone sober and low. His eyes hit the ground. "I just wanted to check in. You know, about the dance."
Uh oh.
"Oh, um…" she blinked rapidly – she couldn't withstand an awkward moment right now. "I'm… still thinking," she blurted out. Damn it. Tell him the truth!
"Look, take your time. It's not what you think it'll be, I promise," he reassured her as she smiled politely, creepily. Ackerman's didn't exactly have the finest tuned of smiles, they were a little out of practice. "Maybe, uh, if you wanted," he cleared this throat, "we could hang out tomorrow?"
"Jean—"
"As friends, too," he interjected. "It doesn't have to be a date."
Unimpressed, her brows lifted. "It wasn't going to be a date."
"Mikasa, we're on the same page," he nodded, retracting his hand. "I just thought that, you know," his head gestured towards the door, "with you two not being as close anymore, that… you seem lonely." He watched her gaze hit the ground. "Tell me I'm wrong if I am."
Inhaling, Mikasa let her eyes close. "We're not… not close," she clarified, well, sort of. "We just don't hang out as much as we used to. I didn't think anyone could tell."
"It's not hard to miss," he told her, noticing the hurt she tried to hide from him. "Hey," his voice softened, and he placed his hands gently on her shoulders as he lowered to her height. "I know… I've kind of thrown myself at you from the start, but I want you to know that first and foremost, I see you as my friend. It's always been that before anything else." Man, he wanted to throw himself off a bridge. "You gotta know I'm here for you, and I think you need a good distraction from all this Eren crap. We can hang out tomorrow, go get some ice cream, maybe go to the skate park. That sound okay to you?" Disorientated, Mikasa blinked. Ice cream? "Armin was telling me about the new place at the mall, thought if he was obsessed, then it must be good," he continued.
Right. For a moment there, she thought, well, she didn't know what she thought, only that it was odd he asked her to go get ice cream like she had asked Eren a few weeks ago. But Armin was a broken record about the new ice cream parlour, it was surely just a coincidence.
Mikasa exhaled, searching his face for a shred of deception. No, nothing. He's just being a good friend. He's just being Jean.
"Alright," she relinquished, letting a bleak smile overcome her. "We'll go. But you're buying."
Jean suddenly beamed, letting out his bated breath. "Fine by me. We can get as much as you want," he told her. She started making her way to the door.
"If only you'd make that offer to Armin," she huffed as he followed her.
"Well, I'm not made of money."
By the time midnight rolled around, Erwin and his colleagues were almost eight rounds deep into their fun. He'd loosened his tie, was quick to laugh, and kept the canapés coming. Strictly seafood, Levi's orders.
Now two in the morning, most patrons had gone home, but the last few standing were headstrong in their endeavours. They stopped serving alcohol at the bar around this time, which was usually the signal to get the hell out of there so Levi and the staff could clean up. Erwin was a puppeteer when it came to his professional composure, no amount of alcohol could cause him to break character, and so he networked all the way out of the venue and right up until his cab arrived to take him home.
As the night had carried on, Levi's stolen glances began to wane. The more he saw of her liveliness, the more guilt weighed on his shoulders – how could he even entertain the notion of them associating? He spent over a decade keeping to himself, ensuring Mikasa was his only priority, and it seemed to work for that long, long while.
Can't get bored when you've got a kid. Can't imbibe in a lustful night when you've got school drop off the next morning. Can't desire the warmth of a woman while you slept, not when you already had a little person falling asleep in your arms whlie you watched television.
She was so affectionate back then.
But now, with Mikasa grown up and relatively distant, the chance of wanting someone was a reality that could creep in. She was right – he'd never brought anyone home, never brought them close to his heart, to his chest where he kept his best cards. He could barely count on himself to keep Mikasa whole her entire life, he did it out of sheer necessity, not because he deemed himself fit for the task. How on earth could he keep a relationship? All he knew was blood, and spit, and misery – even after all these years of building a better life with his cousin. When it came down to it, where he was most vulnerable, there was still a fiery young boy fighting off the world, knife in hand. And he couldn't bear the thought of letting anyone go near him.
With a keen grip on his rag and a malice towards spillages, Levi took the time to scrub the daylights out of one of the booths. He caught her in the corner of his eye, steadily making her way towards him. She seemed short, but, well, so was he. She was probably pretty average. Or maybe Mikasa was just tall.
Doesn't matter.
The closer she approached, he noticed that sunny look on her face, the one she wore the whole night. All it did was remind him that someone like her shouldn't go for blackholes like him, someone who seemed so happy all the time deserved better than what he had to offer.
She tapped her fingers on his shoulder, it felt like a dancing sensation. "Thank you for the drinks tonight, they were lovely," she told him.
He continued cleaning. "Thank Erwin Smith. He paid for 'em all."
"He's very generous," she slowly nodded, he noticed the blush of intoxication on her cheeks. "But he could buy me a thousand Martinis from any other bar, and I wouldn't be as impressed as I was with yours."
Levi paused for a second.
"Is this your way of getting the recipe out of me?" he quipped. "Don't be disappointed, but they're not that complicated."
"Actually, your name is what I'm after," she corrected, a tight smile pinning to her cheeks. "I wanna know the man who makes my drinks the way he does."
Levi stopped scrubbing, leaning himself off the table as he gave her a dead-eyed, unphased stare. Her eyes flickered sideways for a moment, unsure of what was happening.
"Yeah, you don't wanna get into this with me," he told her.
It sounded somewhat threatening, but she continued to smile.
"…Pardon?"
He sighed. "You're, what, a lawyer? A good one?" he asked, but she was too stumped to reply. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure you've got more going for you than the general public, which means you're a little out of my league, and I don't exactly like to play sports. So, no offence or anything, but I'm telling you before this gets messy; you're better off not knowing me."
He then went back to cleaning the table, just as if he'd informed a patron where the washrooms were. He was mentally kicking the crap out of himself, but he knew one thing was true: what he felt was innately harmless, but what he knew was best, was better for everyone.
Soon enough, her stunned features eased not into that bright smile, but an almost terrifying smirk.
"Is that what you think?" she questioned him point blank, her voice invigorated with curiosity. Levi froze at the sound of it, glancing at her over his shoulder. "My, you're a straight shooter. See, I like a guy who's forward, it means I don't have to play those silly little games either and no one wastes their time. It'd be awful of you to keep quiet, see where this all went, and maybe screw me over somewhere down the line when it really matters. But you skipped the formalities, went straight into telling me you're a bad idea. I'd be an idiot to ignore a red flag when I'm presented with one," she laughed. Levi had wearily retracted from the table, watching her as she spoke. "But I've had about eight Martinis tonight, and a big girl like me can make all the bad choices in the world so she pleases," she told him, her features poised as she held out her hand, "and I please. And I'm P—"
"Petra!" her colleague called out from the door. "The cab's here! You wanna go to Don e Lucia's or not?"
She glanced back at the man, strawberry-blonde hair swaying as she gave him a single nod. When she turned back around to face Levi once more, she found him ogling at her restated hand, lips parted with… awe.
"And what's your name?" she asked him, her hand still extended.
His features slowly relaxed into that perpetual scowl as the gears clicked in his brain. He did not shake her hand.
"Your cab's waiting, Petra."
Eren's eyes sluggishly unpeeled to the dimly lit room. The television screen was a bright blue, the DVD ejected from the player. He lifted his head to take in the lounge room – Jean was sitting against the sofa beside him, head slumped to the side and arm draped along the floor as he slept. Sasha was leaning on a drooling Connie, both sound asleep like sugar-rushed toddlers. Eren craned his neck to look at Armin, his body slumped over onto Mikasa who cradled herself at the edge of the sofa, blissfully asleep.
He absorbed the image of her as he wobbled to stand up, attempting to find his balance in her presence once again. The tranquillity on her face was a rare sight to behold, it was usually muddled with some form of emotional turmoil, be it pain, grief, or confusion. He hated that he caused a part of it, being so distant from her in so many subtle ways he felt only they could understand.
As he watched her, Eren couldn't help but kneel beside her sleeping form. He could hear her gentle breathing the closer he got, his eyes following from her visage down to her limp hand. He wanted to lace his fingers between hers, feel the heat of her skin on his. No, he wanted to grab it, to gently pull her up and take her to bed, he wanted to lay with her as she fell back asleep, listening to her breathe against his chest.
His brows furrowed with hopelessness.
Damn it.
This was much harder than it used to be. Mikasa used to be this vague notion at the back of his head, one of his best friends who was kind of cute and made him happy. Simple. But now, she was his best friend that was angelic, sculpted – who made him weak in the knees by merely existing. He couldn't begin to imagine just how terrified she would be if she ever knew the way he saw her.
He reeled back, allowing her sleeping form to remain undisturbed, and stood up. Just go home, he thought to himself, frowning at her body. He needed to get away from all of this. From her, again.
Again.
Eren took himself over to the ottoman by the front door where he slipped his shoes back on and gathered up his stuff. He approached the front door, unlocking the hundreds of locks Levi thought necessary, and twisting the doorknob. As he opened it, revealing the dead of night, he found the man himself standing on the other side, key raised and ready to use. Eren jolted at the sight of him, eyes widening in terror. Even in broad daylight was seeing Levi frightening, he wouldn't exactly blame himself if he pissed his pants right then and there.
Levi stared up at the boy through the brim of his eyelids, the tension already beginning to bubble.
"Uh, hey," Eren cleared his throat, attempting to maintain a composed expression.
"Why are you here so late?" the man questioned, stepping closer. "You better not be the only brat in this house."
Eren stepped back. "I-I'm not, everyone's still here. I'm just… I'm going home," he explained.
Levi studied the boy. Stupid little Yaeger shit-fuck weasel little shit. Was that even English? Whatever. It was exactly the chorus that sang in his head. His top lip curled as he eyed Eren up and down.
"It's not safe," he said.
Eren blinked. "Huh?"
"It's not safe for a kid to walk home this late."
Eyes still incredibly wide, Eren glanced at a nearby corner, unsure of what to say.
"Okay…"
Levi began to step forward, prompting the boy to immediately back up. Once inside, he shut the door behind him, peering into the loungeroom to see Mikasa and all of her friends sound asleep. He inwardly sighed; Levi didn't want this brat in his house – ever – but he knew what the streets could be like. He roamed them himself at an age even younger than Eren, he couldn't possibly send a kid out there on his own, even if said kid was an eternal pain in his pasty ass. He didn't want him to get jumped or mugged or possibly even worse.
Empathy was sometimes a curse.
"Just stay," Levi relinquished, turning to lock the door.
Eren furrowed his brows. "I was on my way out for a reason," he replied.
"Oh, yeah? And what would that be?" Levi challenged him; it caused him to fold. Like hell could he ever tell him how he felt about Mikasa, not if he wanted his head still intact with his body.
"I just wanna go home."
Levi almost rolled his eyes. "Look, kid. I don't want you here either, but I'm too tired to drive your ass back to your little mansion. When the sun's up, you can crawl there on broken glass for all I care. So, just go to sleep and wait until morning," he told him. "Besides, Mikasa would kill me if I let you walk home at this time of night."
Eren stared at the ground, evidently puzzled. Levi would have grilled him for seeming so confused, but he was truly exhausted after tonight to try and read into it.
"Fine," the kid settled. Hallelujah.
Levi continued to watch him, even as Eren glanced up and made eye contact with him for an uncomfortable amount of time, before he abruptly set off down the hallway.
As annoyed as he was freaked out, Eren dumped his backpack and skateboard by the door again and turned to the loungeroom abundant with his sleeping friends. His eyes settled on Mikasa once again, she hadn't moved a single bit. He could only hope she remained as peaceful as she seemed, despite his inner conflict, it healed him to see her in that state.
Without warning, Levi had pushed past him with a bundle of blankets and pillows in his arms, entering the loungeroom and dumping it all on the nearest victim.
Connie.
He jolted awake with a sharp yelp, alerting everyone and pulling them out of their slumber. Except, unsurprisingly, for Sasha.
"You're all gonna get stiff necks sleeping like that," Levi stated, hands planted on his hips as they all moaned and grumbled. "Mikasa, go to bed."
The girl groaned in response, gradually lifting herself from the sofa. She rubbed her eyes, glancing around the room before her eyes fell on Sasha, still completely comatose.
Mikasa stood up and grabbed her friend's limp hand, attempting to pull her up. "Come on, Sash—"
She slumped forward like a noodle, disproving Mikasa's assumption that she'd wake, and slammed face first onto the carpet. Connie erupted into a groggy fit of laughter.
Mikasa hands raised to her mouth. "Oh my god—"
"Ooh—"
"Christ, Sasha."
Levi deadpanned.
"Hnnnnggg," the girl grunted, lifting her head. "School alreadyyy?"
Mikasa crouched down, attempting to help her up. "No, Sasha. Bed. We're going to bed."
"Oh, I love bed."
Mikasa eventually managed to get Sasha back to her feet, walking the zombie-like girl out of the lounge and to her bedroom. Despite the commotion, and despite all the conflict in his head, Eren never detached his eyes from her. If he was going to stay here, a nagging in his head demanded that he needed to clear things up, whether he'd tell his truth or make up some bold-faced lie, he felt compelled to apologize for keeping his distance.
His head turned as she passed him, he felt his body taking him in her direction, but a grip on the back of his shirt yanked him back to where his was.
"Not a chance," Levi's tense voice sounded by his ear.
Eren deadpanned into the loungeroom, shrugging Levi's hand off him as he readjusted his shirt. Shit, fine. Maybe tomorrow. Sighing, he reluctantly walked himself into the room, greeted by Armin's smiling face. His friend had crafted a makeshift bed out of a couple blankets and pillows for him before crawling back to the sofa bed he'd made for himself.
"Hey, I wanted dibs on the sofa!" Connie declared.
Armin glanced to him unpleasantly. "Connie, I've had dibs ever since we had the first sleepover. I've got the sofa."
Connie grimaced. "That's not even fair—"
"I'm the tallest," Jean interjected, "if anyone should be sleeping on it, it should be me."
"You'll all be sleeping in trashcans if you don't stop arguing," Levi said as he re-entered the room. "And turn the TV off."
Jean blinked as if a bucket of cold water had washed over him. "Oh yeah, it was my turn this time," he mumbled to himself.
"Well, next time the electricity bill shows up, I'll be sure to give you a call," Levi grievously joked, silencing the room. "Now, I don't wanna hear you brats while I'm trying to sleep. These walls are paper thin, so best you don't talk at all. Got it?"
"S-Sure Levi," Armin forced an anxious smile. "Got it."
As Levi turned to leave, he noticed Eren still standing there. "Go to bed, Yaeger," he demanded, before disappearing into the dark hallway.
The boy exhaled, shutting his eyes as he forced himself onto his makeshift bed. He'd give anything to be in Mikasa's room without getting his ass kicked.
2003
She had entered Eren's room a few times at this point. She had sat down with his parents for dinner, studied in his living room, and even learned to skate in his driveway. Eren's house was much more spacious, and grand, and neat than hers, it didn't even feel like people lived there with how decorated and pristine Carla kept it. No signs of wear and tear, not many personal affects besides the odd family photo. The only room that seemed lived in was Eren's – such a different atmosphere to the walls and rooms that surrounded it.
Now, it was Eren's turn to step into Mikasa's domain. As they approached her house, she seemed embarrassed by what she was allowing him to walk into, however all it looked like was just a regular home to him. He understood how fortunate he was when it came to his father's career, his living situation wasn't exactly the norm for their small town, more so the hallmark. His friends didn't have houses like his either, nor did he expect them to. In brief, short words, she informed him that her home wasn't something she was proud of, however Eren was about to turn fifteen – he wasn't particularly interested in the integrity of houses as of yet.
"So, this is your room?" Eren's eyes scanned her tight-knit territory, noting the art and music posters on the wall.
"Yeah. Kinda small compared to yours," her balmy voice replied.
He smiled, still assessing his surroundings. "It's cosy. I like it."
Mikasa closed the door and sat on the edge of her bed. She'd never had anyone in her room before, was it meant to feel this awkward? It took all but thirty seconds to realize just how often she was holding her breath, as if it was illegal or something ridiculous like that. He must have noticed her silence, because he'd thought it a good idea to start asking her unexpected questions, at least that was what she figured.
"So… why do you live with your cousin?" he asked, joining her on the edge of the bed.
Mikasa shrugged. "I just do."
"Where are your parents?"
Immediately, her expression froze. She tried to shrug, feign light-heartedness, but she struggled.
"They're gone," she muttered, compelling her tone to remain light.
His brows furrowed. "They left?"
Mikasa shook her head, eyes glued to the dresser in front of her. It took him a moment, but eventually Eren came to understand her definition of the word. He knew Armin's parents had left him with his grandfather to travel the world and 'seek enlightenment' – whatever that meant – and had done so ever since Eren had known him, which was in pre-school. But, by the forlorn overcast of Mikasa's eyes, her parents seemed to be more… permanently absent.
"I'm sorry about… him," she gestured her head to the door, an attempt to change the subject.
Eren snapped out of his daze, staring at her again. "I don't think he likes me all that much," he noted, pursing his lips.
"Well, he doesn't really like anybody." She could almost smirk.
The boy thought for a moment, confusion knitting his features. "Why's he like that?"
His curious questions caused her to bait her breath once again. "You don't wanna know." It was almost as if fear laced her voice.
"Oh," Eren blinked. "Did something bad happen to him?" he asked, however Mikasa refrained from divulging, causing the boy to falter. "Bad things happen to all of us, I think…we shouldn't hide from it," he attempted to reassure her.
"Eren," she glanced down, picking at her nail polish. "What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you?"
What a loaded question. He sat there, staring into the floorboards as he scoured his brain for any repressed memory, any sour thought.
"I saw our dog get run over when I was little," he admitted, his features collapsing. "Kinda messed up."
She gently nodded. "So, think of that happening over a hundred times," she replied.
He began to frown. "Is that what it's been like for you?" With solemn draining her visage, she refrained once again. "You can talk about it to me… if you want to." His tone softened.
Mikasa forced a bleak smile. "I've never said it out loud before," she professed, "I don't know what'll come out."
"It's okay," again, he made the effort to assure her.
"There's a lot."
Eren nodded. "I'll listen."
He remembered her sitting there, stone faced and monotoned, as she went over all the events of her life that scarred her, all the nitty gritty instances in the dark, dirty corners of her life. She was right, there was a lot.
From the death of her parents, to the man who touched her, the fighting between family, the alcoholic aunt, the cops, the screaming, the crying, the misery. He was aware of a general hardship some people may face, horrible occurrences that are often shoved under a blanket term like 'abuse' or 'assault', but nothing was as gruesome and soul-wrenching as the little details that came with the recalling of her memories. She told him how much she loved her cousin, for all that he'd ever done for her, but despite the pain they shared, he never seemed to understand her. It was always easier to default back to keeping all of her emotions in. Levi made assumptions, despite his mantra of 'knowing when we know', he jumped to conclusions to ensure he was ready to protect her and her feelings first and foremost, but it seemed to shut her out.
Eren sat there as she released it all upon him. He could tell she had held it in for so long, because by the end of it, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
So, she did both.
He held her tightly as she cried and laughed into his chest; it was the first time he'd ever hugged a girl he wasn't related to, he didn't imagine the experience would be so traumatizing. It seemed his awareness wasn't all that sharp to begin with, because he never imagined that girl in the lunch line could have such a complex life either. Though, he knew one thing for certain.
He loathed the image of his friend crying; his friend didn't deserve the stain of tears to trickle down her otherwise porcelain visage.
"You know what would make you feel better?" he pulled away, watching her again. "Behind the skate park is a huge hill. Sometimes we sit up there and watch the city during sunset," he told her as she wiped her tears. "It's not much, I mean, it's just a sunset. But it always makes me feel better when I see it. So… you wanna go?"
Mikasa smiled sweetly, even while her features remained contorted with sorrow. "Eren," her voice still engulfed in a cry, "we should get slurpees, too," she nodded.
The emanation of a grin overcame him. Designed to ensure her happiness, Eren took her by the hand and pulled her with him as they hurried out of the room. Taken by his excitement, Mikasa laughed as he dragged her through the house, giddy to keep the smile on her face.
She paid no mind to Levi as he stopped cleaning the kitchen and advised her not to stay out too late. Her laughter rung through the house louder than any parenting ever could, and Eren held her hand tighter, determined to keep it going.
She had such a sweet laugh.
alleyways - the neighbourhood
Chapter 4: brighter
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It didn't come as a shock to Levi that slumber never found him. His evening was spent drifting in and out of consciousness, flashing images of the pretty redhead startling him awake and ruining any chance of finding some damn peace. As if that wasn't daunting enough, he was also stuck in the depths of rumination, constantly troubled by the close proximity Eren was to Mikasa in his house.
Should he have let the kid piss off and take his chances out in the night? What if he tried to go into her room? He tried last night; he started following her. What if he tried again? Would Levi be able to hear? Would he know?
Shit.
Every now and again, Levi resurrected from his bed and checked on Mikasa. It was equally reassuring as it was worrying that he still found her exactly where she should be – in bed. It meant he had to come in and check again when his anxiety willed it. The first time he felt compelled to inspect her room, he had to remind himself that it was Sasha who was sprawled out and drooling like a pig next to her, not Eren.
It should never be Eren.
He drifted down the hallway and took a glimpse around the corner; the boys were also exactly where they should be, sleeping and gurgling in his loungeroom. He returned back to bed, hoping for his body to shut down into sleep. His eyes settled on his alarm clock, and he watched the minutes tick by agonizingly slow.
Once eight a.m. hit, Levi decided he couldn't waste away in his bed any longer. He picked up his morning routine; the bane of his mundane existence included cleaning up any ounce of mess left by the teenagers currently inhabiting his house, setting some food out on the porch for Mr Sprinkles while the cold bit at his skin, then he showering, shaving, and trying not to look into his own eyes when he happened upon the bathroom mirror.
Memories of that woman kept replaying in his head. It wasn't like he'd never seen an attractive person before; typically, the successful people that frequented the Fox's Den were somewhat appealing to the eye. Something about 'pretty-privilege' as Mikasa once called it. That woman – Petra, took on a different form, however.
"You like your Martini's a certain way?"
"Just the way you make it."
He could almost shudder at the thought of being reduced to a blushing teenager, but god fucking damn was she able to do it.
"And what's your name?"
Don't be a piece of shit. Don't be a piece of shit. Say your fucking name.
"Your cab's waiting, Petra."
He wasn't a fan of his blunder. Though contrarily, he wasn't a fan of ruining some poor woman's life with his shitty existence either. Despite the negative image himself, he had to wonder; what about him exactly screamed 'dream guy' for her to throw herself at him like that? He didn't find himself attractive – he was some short, grumpy asshole with a vile case of resting bitch face. What would he even have to offer a self-made woman? Inexperience? A desolate house he doesn't even own? Uncanny habits and routines – an almost insatiable urge to have everything around him absolutely kempt and pristine? Whatever. She was better sitting on a shelf far into the back of his mind, simply titled 'Erwin's colleague.' Having her any closer to the forefront would probably cause some catastrophic shift in the universe.
Because Levi wasn't meant to be with anyone.
Now, an hour later, it was time to get the brats up and the hell out of his house. Fed, of course, and then onto on the street to fend for themselves. He saved the tea-making for last once everyone was conscious and talking, when he knew he'd really need it.
So, Levi stood at the edge of the couch, eyeing them all in their slumber. He wouldn't admit it, not even to himself in his own head, but he was somewhat bitter that they could all sleep while he couldn't. Connie was drooling, his ass hiked up into the air. Jean's arms were stretched out, his elongated body taking up most of the floor. Armin was cuddled up with one of the couch cushions, a slight smile on his face. And Yaeger was laying on his back, fingers woven as they rested on his chest. Except he wasn't sleeping, he was wide awake and staring up at the ceiling.
His icy eyes flickered at Levi as he stood over him. The eye contact, albeit not as heavy as it could have been, was definitely uncomfortable.
"What?" Eren furrowed his brows. Levi despised the tone of his voice, actually, the mere existence of it.
"It's your lucky day. You're on death row," he dryly joked. "You get one last meal, and then you're out on your ass. So, think of going home as the afterlife." He then blinked, allowing a silence to settle. "And stay there."
Eren had known Levi for two years at this point, and not a single day would go by where he'd be less creeped out by him. He harboured an odd humour, and woven with the man's intense disliking of him, it made for a terrifyingly confusing joke sometimes. If Levi couldn't kick the kid's ass, at the very least, he would enjoy toying with him.
Eren hesitantly blinked, fearing movement would trigger him to pounce.
"W-What?"
Levi continued to stare at him. "Get everyone up," he instructed. "I'm about to make breakfast." And with that, he left the room, leaving the kid to lay there in total confusion.
He navigated the hall and arrived at Mikasa's room. Gently, he knocked on the door, leaning his head against it.
"Is, uh, is everyone decent?" he called out.
Seconds went by before he heard a few footsteps, the door then opened softly to reveal his cousin dressed in the oversized t-shirt she found at the thrift store. She'd forgotten to remove her makeup, but her black eyeliner was smudged almost completely off anyway. He noticed she lacked the usual swell of sleep that typically puffed her face, she didn't seem as if she'd just woken up.
"Sasha's still asleep," she whispered.
"Tell her she's getting a free breakfast."
Mikasa nodded. "Is… Is Er—uh, everyone still here?"
Levi had turned to leave. "You'll find out."
In the matter of half an hour, Levi's babysitting club was in full force. Neither himself nor Mikasa had breakfast anymore – she stopped having a morning appetite years ago and he was satiated by a cup of tea. It never kept him from buying eggs, however. He remained hopeful that one day she'd pick up her old habit and he'd wake up to find her making scrambled eggs. Too hopeful, maybe. But with the excess of teenagers in his house, he figured he could put them to good use. He didn't like letting them leave without being fed; Erwin's mother gave him that same courtesy as a child, he remembered how she'd look at him as if a forlorn orphan in a dingy basement, forcing food upon him as soon as he entered the door, and as he was leaving it. She called it a 'motherly instinct,' Levi called it basic empathy. It was a necessary standard he would expect anyone to hold themselves to: keep the children of the world fed. These kids weren't struggling like he was at their age, but he knew what it was like to go hungry, and he wanted to keep it that way.
"Hey… Hey!" Levi stood by the open cupboard, whipping around to the occupied kitchen table. "Which one of you brats drank my tea?"
The teenagers gawked at Levi. Armin pursed his lips, a nervous whimper escaping his throat.
Jean cleared his throat. "I—"
"I did," Mikasa casually replied, paying the man no mind. Levi's eyes narrowed at the girl, he wouldn't scold her or make her replace it – he'd give her the clothes off his back if she ever wanted it – but he wasn't happy about it. He turned back around, prompting Armin to let out his bated breath.
Mikasa smiled at her friend.
In the corner of her eye, she noticed Eren by the front door, putting his shoes on as he sat on the ottoman. He hadn't joined them for breakfast, remaining unusually quiet in his makeshift bed while everyone sat at the table. Well, unusual for his regular self. With Eren being so distant and mute with her now, the bits of normalcy he sometimes relinquished to her felt like a drug. She craved every little moment that they were operating ordinarily, despite how much it hurt her to know it was all temporary.
She was tired. She was lost.
Mikasa rose from the table as her friends laughed and discussed the new South Park episode. She made her way over to her him, a solemn pull on her features as she did.
"Hey," she hugged her forearms. "You're leaving?"
With his head down, Eren continued to tie his shoelace. "Dad wants me home," he bleakly replied.
"Oh." Mikasa's eyes hit the ground.
As he stood back up, he took the chance to study her form again. He awaited her refusal, or an offer to stay longer, maybe to head out to the skate park or go for a walk. He was accustomed to her proposals, even when though he found himself denying them anyway. But Mikasa just stood there, staring at the ground with nothing else to ask.
She eventually raised her gaze. "I'll see you at school," she said.
Eren felt his throat close up. He glanced at the ground, despising himself, before looking at her again. He let himself nod, but not say goodbye – goodbye would be too painful right now, he thought it best to let her words be the last he heard. The boy let himself out, gently closing the door behind him.
Mikasa stared at it, the eyes in the oak grain gazing back at her. The space he filled was now empty, and yet somehow, she felt even emptier.
"Mikasa." She turned at the sound of Levi's voice, witnessing his aloof expression. "You alright?"
Eventually, she nodded at her cousin, taking herself out of the foyer and back to the table.
1993
"You could become Mikasa's legal guardian."
Levi blinked once again, his expression of awe now finding permanency on his bruised face. Could he do that? Was raising a child, while he was only just a child, be something he could achieve? The texts of the Ackerman history book all pointed to a big red sign that screamed NO. He didn't know a damn thing about raising a child.
He sat back in his seat, eyes struggling to focus on the table. How young had he been when he learnt that, to survive, he had to become self-sufficient? That his mother wasn't there, even when she was. What he learnt, could Mikasa learn too? Could he teach her his way of life as he was essentially forced to?
He had to.
"So, what? I get a lawyer? Make this thing happen?" he spoke absently.
Detective Brzenska rested her woven fingers on the steel table. "You can represent yourself, however in your case, given your history, I strongly suggest an attorney. Is there someone you had in mind?"
Levi's head tilted upwards, his eyes staring at the table through the brim of his eyelids as he thought.
"Yeah. I got someone."
Erwin had been fast asleep when his mother came into his room. As she gently shook him awake, he blinked at her through the darkness.
"Dear," she whispered. "It's Levi. He's on the phone."
Sitting up, he turned his lamp on and rubbed his eyes. "At this time?" he questioned her, but when her weary expression spoke for her, his visage stiffened.
He stepped foot into the kitchen and took the phone as it laid on the counter, the sharp moonlight from the window entered his eyes, causing him to turn.
"Hey."
"Hello," he replied to Levi's voice coming through the receiver. "Is there a reason you're calling at—" he leaned over, studying the clock by the kitchen door. "—two in the morning?"
"Yeah."
Erwin awaited said reason, but got no further response.
"…Is it dire?"
"I'm in a holding cell," Levi admitted. "Something happened. Something bad."
"What…would that be?" Erwin grew hesitant.
He heard his friend inhale sharply through the receiver, as if the words he was about to say were better left unspoken.
"Mom let someone into the house." Levi paused. "She passed out. Left him alone with Mikasa." He struggled to continue, letting his breath shudder into Erwin's ear. "I don't know how far it went. But when I got home, he was next to her—" His voice swiftly faded out, Erwin figured he lowered the phone as he heard it scuff against his clothing. When he brought it back up, he could hear his wild breathing. "I almost killed him."
Erwin felt the air release from his lungs. "Levi…"
"Don't." His tone was sharp. "Don't lecture me. Don't tell me about legalities, I don't give a fuck. He could have hurt her. He might have—" Levi exhaled, faltering when his words got choked up in the cry he resisted. "I don't know."
Erwin had never heard his friend so pained and distraught, not even after the scrabbles he had with his violent uncle. Something about the tainting of this little girl had broken him beyond all doubt.
"I need…someone. I need help," his friend admitted, desperation had never laced his tone like it did. "They're saying my mother doesn't have to be Mikasa's legal guardian anymore, not since I'm old enough to adopt her. I just need to make a case."
Erwin hesitated. "How badly did you hurt him?"
Levi huffed. "Doesn't matter now. Fucker got out before the cops showed up."
"Even on the verge of death?" Erwin let a grin emanate. "Sounds like you didn't hurt him enough."
Levi would have smiled if it didn't hurt. "Yeah."
The situation became critical again, Erwin could have joked all he liked about the man who deserved the worst to come to him, but his friend was in need, and so was the little girl. Jokes could come later.
"You know my father won't let you lose," Erwin assured him. "That is what you're asking for, yes?"
Levi paused. "Yes. For her," he said. "I can't rely on myself. They'll take one look at my mother and take her guardianship away, that's not what I'm worried about. It's me. It's when they look at me. They need to see that I can do this. I can take care of her." His voice drew nearer to its edge. "I need her with me. She can't go into the system. It can't happen."
"It won't happen. We won't let it," Erwin settled. "Let's talk about this tomorrow. For now, we have to get you out of there."
Levi took a much-needed breath. "Erwin… thank you."
He shook his head, even while Levi couldn't see him. "Do not thank me. Anyone would do this for their friend."
Levi huffed into the receiver, almost incredulously.
"Fuck, you're naïve."
Eren gazed upon the afternoon sunlight as it streaked across his bedroom ceiling. There was no temptation for background noise; his television was off, as was his stereo. Music reminded him of Mikasa, and right now, she was the last thing he wanted to think of. His bed suddenly felt stiff, his jeans and sweater uncomfortable. It was as if the incomplexities of life were souring on him, returning his poor behaviour with minor inconvenience.
He wasn't so sure when the visions of Mikasa in his room became so apparent, so frequent, but there was only one place he could look without seeing her there: the ceiling. It was tall and white, matching all the other ceilings in his spacious house. The only notion that could ruin the mental sanctuary from her image was imagining her lying beside him, watching the ceiling too. He did everything with her – and he still wanted to – but she was better left alone. For the sake of their friendship, he couldn't trust himself not to ruin it.
A knock on the door barely deterred his locked eyes. He heard it open, but a silence still emanated throughout the room.
Then Zeke spoke.
"Big night?"
Eren didn't bother to move. "Yeah. Something like that."
"You look exhausted. Didn't you sleep well over there?"
As the conversation potentially neared the subject of Mikasa, Eren forced himself to sit up.
"What do you want?" he questioned, resting his forearm on his knee.
"Nothing, really. I'll be going back to campus this week." Zeke strolled about, examining the room as he spoke. He found an incomplete Rubik's Cube on his brother's shelf, bringing it closer to his face. "Your friend Reiner says hello," he mentioned absently, curious of its state.
Eren's eyes slightly widened. "You know him?"
"He and Bertholdt share a dorm with Porco. They've become a part of the fold quite quickly. I can see why you were all friends." Zeke fiddled with the cube, twisting and turning it.
"He like it over there?" he asked. At some point, even though he was only in his junior year, he felt he should have been more focused on his future. If he knew exactly what he wanted, that is.
Zeke became enraptured by the toy, his focus gradually intensifying. Almost thirty whole seconds went by as Eren awkwardly watched his brother struggle to complete it, then seemingly out of nowhere, Zeke had remembered he was engaged in conversation. He suddenly halted, gently placing the unfinished cube back on Eren's shelf.
"You were saying?" he slowly paced around the room.
"Uh… does he like it there?"
"Oh. I presume so. We don't exactly converse about classes or what not, more… plans. Social activities. Seems like that's all he wants to talk about to begin with."
Eren furrowed his brows – since they were children, his brother had always feigned maturity, taking advantage of their six-year age gap to do so. On the outside, he appeared smart, always clad in a combination of slacks, polo shirts, or sweater vests. It helped him seem wise beyond his years, even when it was a far cry from the truth. Eren loved his brother as any kid would, despite the occasional bickering or throwing of jabs, and for the most part they got along quite well. But Zeke was an interesting guy, put together a mean streak alongside a tendency to assume he was always right, and you had a one hell of a temper tantrum. It didn't bode well whenever Armin would come over, someone who was 'forever in the pursuit of knowledge' and actually knew what he was talking about. Zeke liked to needlessly throw in exorbitant words to gas up his sentences, and when Armin had figured that out, Zeke didn't take too kindly to it. Hence the drowning incident. Eren didn't know where his brother had gotten that trait from, sometimes Eren thought he was cursed by it himself, so it couldn't have been Zeke's birth mother, Dina. By all accounts, she was a sweet woman.
But no one was sweeter than his own. Even if she pissed him off quite often.
Zeke finally stood still; arms leisurely planted behind his back. "I heard your parents are finally taking that vacation." They were – situating themselves somewhere in Hawaii for two long weeks, a state where the sun barely weakened from the everchanging seasons.
"Yeah. Can't wait to have this place to myself," Eren began to grin.
"What if I told you…that wouldn't exactly be the case?"
He glared at his gawkily standing brother. "And why not?"
"Not for the entire duration, little brother. Just for one weekend. You see, your parents will be leaving this Friday, so I was thinking I'd have a few friends over on Saturday for…a celebration of sorts."
His top lip curled. "Celebration for what?"
"The free house, Eren."
"Oh."
"Listen," Zeke approached his brother, "if you manage to keep this from father, you can invite your friends to join us. You'll get to see Reiner, Bertholdt… and you can invite your little friend Mikasa." He tried to grin, but it wasn't very convincing. "Show her off in front of all the big college kids."
Eren stared up at his brother through the brim of his eyelids. "Why would college kids care about some high schooler?"
"Oh, you'd be surprised how low some people are willing to stoop for affection—"
"Okay. Alright." Eren shut his eyes. "I won't tell Dad. I wasn't going to, anyway."
Zeke nodded just once, now a natural smile pulling at his fair features.
"Good. I'm glad we're on the same page, little brother."
The weekend had finished as quickly as it started. The Saturday she had spent with Jean was… good. Fine. Nothing exactly noteworthy, but still enjoyable to say the least.
Jean left the house as everyone else did that morning, then came back in the late afternoon completely freshened up. When Mikasa opened the door, still in her pyjamas, her first thought was that Jean forgot something at her house. It wasn't until he awkwardly complemented her attire did she remember they were meant to be getting ice cream. So, she hastily got herself together, and on their way they went.
It was an uneventful time, they simply talked about school, the group, that weird Floch kid again. The conversation veered towards Eren's odd behaviour, however Mikasa was tired of searching for some way to justify it. Jean found it obvious that she was hurting, but she failed to admit what that made of Eren as a friend. Her head was buried completely in the sand.
"I wouldn't do that to you, you know."
"Yeah. I know."
Jean watched her solemnly chip away at her chocolate ice cream. He got a cone. She got a cup. And he made sure to not talk about how he was still hung up on her, even while she could blatantly pick it. Concern would file in here and there, rattling her mind and making her question if she'd call Saturday a date. She wouldn't – she wouldn't dare to on the sole reason that it wasn't. But to Jean, or to an outsider, it definitely appeared to be, even when he assured her of the opposite.
He offered to walk her back to her house, and she wanted to decline, but they had been having a good time. Regardless of the Eren topic, that is. She couldn't see a reason to dampen the fun they were having. So, she agreed, and on the way there, they'd come across the skate park. Jean had his board and was encouraging her to learn another trick or two. She wasn't particularly interested in skating, but being around Eren had her doing crazy stuff, so she'd let him teach her the basics so they could do it together. Jean showed her what to do and held her firmly for when she'd fall. She was actually having fun – and far into her mind did her worries go when she remembered that Jean could really be a good friend.
He really took her mind off Eren.
Now Monday, Mikasa was back to running on autopilot. The journey to lunch hour was gruelling, but seemed to pass by quickly. Sasha and Connie must have been held back in P.E., as when she, Armin, and Eren had arrived at the usual table, they were nowhere in sight. Now, they were talking about astrology, thanks to Armin's magazine.
"What a load of bull," Eren stated, taking a bite of his sandwich. Apparently, he was an Aries.
"Oh, come on. It's interesting!" Armin assured him, flapping the magazine down on the table.
"What does mine say?" Mikasa leaned over his shoulder and gandered at the text.
Armin brought it closer to his face. "Hm, well February tenth is—"
"Aquarius." She told him, her eyes flickering towards Eren. "I read a lot of these."
Her friend cleared his throat. "Aquarius: You're facing a tumultuous time in your life right now. Sometimes the adversity can feel overwhelming, but you've triumphed before, and you can triumph again. You've previously realized your most innate desires, now it's time to actualize them. Take the bull by the horns and have the hard conversations, see where life goes when you voice your truths and spite your fears. The grass is always greener that way."
Mikasa's lips parted, eyes widening ever so slightly at the paper. She couldn't help but glance at Eren who was already looking at her, his sandwich lowered. She blinked, turning her head.
"Yeah. Load of bull," she mumbled, unable to take her eyes away from the magazine.
"What's that?" Jean had arrived with his tray of lunch, peering down over Armin's shoulder and at what he had in his hands.
"Horoscopes," Armin beamed up at him. "Wanna know yours?"
"That star crap?" Jean huffed, taking a seat beside Eren. "You know it's not real, right? Thought you out of all people would know."
Eren restrained a grin. "That's what I said."
"I'm completely aware of the fact that it's not scientifically accurate, in fact, it's a pseudo-science if we're going to call it anything," Armin rolled his eyes at Jean. "It's just fun to read, and besides, it comes free with my Astronomy Weekly subscription. It's like a little bonus." He smiled, as if that was going to win them over. When Jean and Eren blinked unimpressively at him, he faltered. "Okay, fine. I'll put it away."
He turned to place it in his bag, but Mikasa gently took it from his hands.
"So, my brother's having a party this weekend," Eren said, shaking his leg.
Armin's brows raised. "Your Dad's allowing that?"
"He has no idea it's happening. My parents are going on vacation." Eren didn't seem too thrilled at the notion of an empty house and a party with college kids, it was a far cry from the boy he was five months ago.
"Without you?" Jean snorted.
"We'll be there," Armin gleamed. "When is it?"
"Saturday," Eren replied. "Zeke told me that Reiner's coming."
Jean smiled. "Oh, shit. Nice."
"And…Bertholdt?" Armin plainly asked.
Eren shrugged. "Yeah, I think so. Don't see why not." As Armin seemed to ruminate, Eren had lost his vision into the distance of the cafeteria. He squinted, not as if he struggled with his eyesight, but with total confusion washing over him. "What's up with that new kid?" he asked, his head slightly turning towards Jean. "What's his problem?"
Jean manoeuvred to look between the shoulders of Armin and Mikasa, harbouring a good look at Floch as he teetered on his chair, laughing and gesturing to him amongst his new group of friends.
He exhaled. "It's that Floch guy. He's obsessed with me and don't ask me why. Hasn't left me alone since he found out he took my position on the team."
Armin's eyes widened as he glanced back at the kid. "Why would he care so much? It's not like you're trying to get it back," he said.
"I don't know," Jean shook his head. "He's just some weasel. Annie said he was a loser back in elementary school."
Armin furrowed his brows. "He's from Liberio Valley, too?" The suburbs tended to be small and dense, it was rare that an outsider would move to Paradis Falls in the first place, let alone from across the river where Point Marley and its sister-towns were.
"You gonna kick his ass?" A smugness pulled at Eren's features. He said it more so to taunt him, rather than throwing in a suggestion.
"Depends."
"There's conditions?" Eren blinked in bafflement. "He's an asshole, look at him. You don't need a reason to do it."
"And you don't need to assault people just for laughing at you, maniac," Jean's voice hardened.
Eren relinquished, rolling his eyes.
"Just try to ignore him, Jean," Armin encouraged. "He'll forget about you sooner or later."
"Yeah," he sighed, finally picking up his fork. His eyes then settled on Mikasa; her head buried into Armin's astrology magazine. "So, you been practicing those tricks?" he asked her.
She wasn't paying attention, only lowering the magazine once a silence befell the table.
"Me?" Her eyes widened.
"Yeah, the tricks I taught you on Saturday," he followed up, a gentle smile emanating on his visage.
Eren glanced at Jean's tray of food, brows furrowing.
"Oh," she blinked, "uh… no. Haven't had the time." Mikasa brought the magazine back up to her face in a bid to avoid eye contact with anyone.
Jean slightly frowned at her odd behaviour, but as the memories of Saturday played back to him, he begun to smile again.
"You were right about the ice cream parlour," Jean turned to Armin. "It was great."
"Oh, you went?" Armin beamed, sitting upright in his seat.
"Yeah, Mikasa and I went on Saturday."
Armin's expression dropped. Eren simply stared over the boy's shoulder and into the distance as he continued to shake his leg. Blinking nervously at the sight, Armin forced a contrived smile, linking his arm under Mikasa's.
"Th-That's awesome, Jean. Uh—Mikasa, could you come and get some more milk with me?"
Before the girl had any chance to respond, Armin upheaved her out of her seat and pulled her along with him, the magazine falling out of her hands and onto the floor.
"Ow—"
As they managed to create some distance between them and the table, Armin leaned in.
"You went on a date with Jean?" He furiously whispered, his tight grip on her arm.
"No," she firmly replied, staring directly into his eyes. "It wasn't a date. We just—"
He suddenly gasped. "You went on a date with Jean!" His voice reached an impeccable high pitch, it sounded like he was about to faint.
Mikasa halted, spinning the boy around. "I did not go on a date with Jean! He just wanted to hang out—"
"Seriously, Mikasa?! Getting ice cream? Skateboarding together?"
She could almost scoff. "So? I do that with you and Eren all the time."
"You—" Armin paused, his expression falling into bafflement. "You know Jean likes you!" He twitched with exasperation, almost shaking her where she stood. "Do you honestly think he wanted to do those things like you and I would? Or how you and Eren would?!"
Mikasa stood there as the gears clicked and churned in her brain. He promised her it wasn't a date; she wouldn't allow it to be either way. Was it naïve of her to believe him? Was it really all a front? Jean had never done this before, he was an honest guy, a real friend. But as Armin's stare of disbelief bore into her skin, it all came crashing down.
"Do you think Jean would do that…?" she blinked, racking her brain for a clear answer.
Armin hesitated; his first thought was to say he wouldn't, he'd never thought of Jean as someone with ill-intentions. But with Eren the way that he was at the moment and Mikasa being alone almost all of the time now, anyone would see the opportunity was there for the taking.
"I… I don't know," he responded, his tone now sobered. "A part of me doesn't want to believe he would."
Mikasa deeply inhaled, she fixated on the floor as she studied her thoughts. "Shit. I wasn't trying to give him the wrong idea. You know I wasn't."
"I know, I know," he shook his head, mind racing to conjure up a solution. "I just can't help but wonder what Eren thinks."
Mikasa looked to him. "What Eren thinks?"
Armin lowered his head, sighing. "I can't make sense of him – he doesn't let anyone in. I can't figure out what's going on, but he still talks about you like nothing's happening." Mikasa furrowed her brows. "You know he's always butted heads with Jean, so I can only imagine how this is all gonna go. He'll either think Jean's trying to steal your friendship now that he's taken a step back, or he'll see it as Jean…making a move on you. And he might just step even further away."
She could trust Armin to be so damn analytical, but unfortunately, he never had all the answers. His guess was that Eren would care about the situation, just not in the way she wanted him to. Not out of affection, or feelings.
Mikasa frowned as she glanced back at the table. She halted once she realized it was almost empty, only a stoic Jean sat alone.
"Where's Eren…?"
Eren couldn't quite recall how he got to Calculus, only that Ymir tried to trip him on the way in. What would usually spark a string of insults to be thrown her way hadn't expunged anything more than a simple eye roll. Mr Walbrunn, their Calculus teacher, hated his job – the entire class could see it on his face as he'd always stroll into the room, mumble that he'd made a worksheet for them all, and slouch behind his desk to play Minesweeper.
Eren stared down at his sheet, head resting against his fist. Halfway through the class and his pen hadn't even begun to touch the paper. His mind was racing a mile a minute, a discombobulation of what happened at lunch and what his imagination conjured up had succumbed him.
"So…" Jean scratched the back of his head. "You been to the ice cream parlour?"
"Yeah." Suddenly, he couldn't see straight. "With Mikasa."
Jean slowly nodded, pushing his food around with his fork. A few seconds of awkward silence went by; he couldn't hear a single thing except the sound of Jean's echoing voice.
"She get the chocolate?"
"Strawberry." Eren's leg continued to bounce under the table. He then let out a shaky breath. "Was it a date?"
Jean turned to him. "Huh?"
"Was it a date?" he repeated. His friend glanced away.
"I…I don't know," he finally replied. "I asked if she wanted to get ice cream and she said she'd go." Eren's silence began to agitate him, as did the violent shaking of his leg which caused the table to vibrate. "Look, I know what's going on between you two. Mikasa doesn't know what she did, but if you really cared about her, you'd know she doesn't deserve it—"
Eren slid his chair back and arose, an absent expression donning his features. As he left the cafeteria, he could barely hear the sound of Jean's voice calling after him.
"You feel okay, Eren?"
The boy turned his head ever so slightly. Historia had turned in her seat diagonally across from him, a compassionate lift of her brows.
"I'm fine," he muttered. He didn't feel like talking.
Ymir spun around in her seat, facing him with a grimace. She searched his features, resulting in a shake of her head.
"Well, you don't look it," she remarked. "So, that's bullshit."
Eren dropped his fist from his face. "Yeah, thanks. I was doing this thing where I don't burden other people with my problems. You should try it sometime."
"When the hell do I ever—"
Historia raised her hand, a gentle, yet telling smile on her lips as she faced Ymir. Her expression fell back into civility, and she settled in her seat.
"You're not a burden on anyone," Historia assured him, lowering her hand. "I can't let you sit there all sad, I know you'll feel a lot better once you let it out."
Eren sighed as he shut his eyes. He wasn't good with words or expressing feelings – it's not that he was ever shunned for it, he just couldn't help finding it innately weak of himself to be so overcome by his emotions. Emotion was all around him; Mikasa with her melancholy, Armin with his intrigue, Sasha with her love, and Connie with his excitement. He could never fault them for harbouring their feelings, but with himself, it was the one thing he truly despised.
As he opened his eyes to find Historia gleaming back at him, he couldn't help but appreciate her tenderness. She was such an altruistic being, as much as he wanted to deny her help, he felt guilty doing so. With all that was going on in his mind, maybe it was better to let it out just a little.
"Fine," he mumbled, glancing down at his desk. "I keep hurting someone I care about."
Historia frowned. "How?"
Eren inhaled steeply; if he kept it vague, he wouldn't really be admitting anything, right?
"Because…I like them…when I shouldn't. But I do," he said lowly, almost painfully. "This isn't easy to talk about."
The girls watched him as he sat there, crushed by the inner-workings of his mind. Historia brought her hand against her chest, deeply pouting as she commiserated with him.
"Oh, Eren… that's—"
"Is it Armin?" Ymir interjected, her mouth slightly agape in anticipation.
"No, it's not Armin," he gripped his pen tightly, gritting his teeth.
"Well, you two are always together. I thought this was gonna be a gay thing—"
"What?!" Eren snapped, lurching forward in his seat.
The surrounding students glanced back at him, even Mr Walbrunn peeked over the top of his computer. As Eren faltered back into his chair, he glared at Ymir, letting his pen roll out of his hands.
Historia shook her head. "Why can't you like this person?" she questioned, a casual softness to her tone. However, the topic was far from it.
His head lowered, and a solemness soured his features. "Because we do everything together. We've got this really good friendship. If they don't think of me the way I think of them…then it's destroyed. So, I keep my distance, make sure I don't do or say anything that'll screw it all up."
"Eren… if your friendship is as good as you say it is, do you really think something like this would affect it?" she posed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You're being avoidant, but this other person, they might not be. You'd be surprised how easily some people let this kind of stuff roll off their back."
The boy glanced away, hurt truly finding his expression. "That's not the only thing," he admitted, his voice quietening. "They…might be into someone else. I just don't know what to do anymore. If I don't stay away, I go crazy around them. But when I'm not there, someone else is," he tightened his fist, his features souring, "just to fuck with everything."
"Dude, why are you letting this all go to shit?" Ymir huffed incredulously. "Listen, there's no point in hiding it anymore, especially if you're hurting them. Stuff like this always comes to light, whether you want it to or not. You should be the one to control how and when it should be done. If you want them so bad, don't let 'not ruining our little friendship' take priority over it."
"If it was so easy, don't you think I would've done it by now?" Eren sat forward.
Historia sighed, letting her eyes shut as she thought for a moment. "Eren…would you like to know how Ymir and I got together?"
"No offence, but is that really important right now?" He blinked, growing confused. "What does your guys' friendship have to do with this?"
Ymir stared at him, top lip curled in dismay. "God, you're an idiot," she shook her head, turning to Historia. "Are we seriously gonna do this?"
"Ymir and I aren't friends," Historia clarified to the boy, her brow raising at him. "You— You know that, right?"
Eren frowned, still utterly perplexed. The hell was she talking about?
"What do you mean? I always see you two around. You're together all the—" Eren's eyes widened. "—time…" As he sat back in his seat, it all clicked. How fiercely loyal Ymir was, how Historia's tender demeanour became otherworldly around her. How being together all the time made Ymir think he and Armin were— "Holy shit… you guys are…are a thing."
Ymir huffed. "Aw, congratulations, kid! Now you know your first lesbian couple, how exciting? There're streamers and balloons out in the hallway if you wanna celebrate."
Historia restrained a grin. "Ymir…"
"What? Come on, don't you find it ridiculous that he didn't know?" She was exasperated.
"Hey," Eren frowned, "How was I supposed to know? I just thought you were good friends."
Historia nodded, turning to her girlfriend. "We're not exactly great at PDA."
"You wouldn't catch me dead doing it," she grinned.
Eren shook his head. "So, what? You guys have some intense love story? A real tear-jerker?" he remarked.
He watched as Ymir's expression soured. "With the way your life is going, tears and jerking are about to become your newest pass tim—"
"Ymir!" Historia hissed, incredulously shaking her head. She shrugged at the blonde, causing her to sigh as she faced the boy once again. "Eren…do you remember back in Sophomore year, how Reiner…had feelings for me?"
"Yeah?"
"Well," her eyes shifted to the girl beside her. "So did Ymir."
She was silent for a moment, staring at Historia almost uneasily before she rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine. I'll tell him," she sighed, exasperated. "Yeah, I was…into her, or whatever. Historia and I were just friends back then. I didn't wanna tell her because, well, I had no idea if she even liked other girls, let alone liked me. It was hard to watch, but I was just happy that we were friends at least." Her expression dropped. "Then came Reiner's huge ass to ruin everything."
The beginnings of a smile played on Historia's face. "I didn't know she liked me the way I liked her. I hadn't met anyone else who liked girls before, I thought I was just…imbalanced. Confused. So, when Reiner told me he liked me, I thought it was finally my chance to try and be like everybody else. With that came…not so pleasant things. And when those things escalated between he and I…" Ymir turned away, a rough expression on her visage. "It didn't feel right."
Eren's eyes widened. "So, you and Reiner…?"
She nodded. "Yeah. We did."
"That asshat knew I liked her," Ymir added. "He saw me as competition," she huffed. "Every day, I had to come to school and see him near her, see him grin at me like he'd won, like she was some prize, not a person."
"So, eventually, I broke down to her," Historia admitted. "I didn't want to be with someone I didn't have feelings for. I felt so lost, and the one person who I knew I could turn to, was there the whole time."
An entranced smile came over Ymir. "Looking back now, I don't think it was the best moment to tell her. She was crying like hell on my bed, confused about who she was. But…when she told me she couldn't do it anymore, I just...told her how much I had always loved her. That I needed her to know, no matter what came of it. I couldn't let myself hold onto it anymore."
She beamed into her lover's eyes. "And the rest was history." She then turned to Eren, examining his incredulous visage. "My point, Eren, is that if Ymir hadn't taken that chance, we wouldn't have gotten together. Our friendship wouldn't have evolved into something much more than what it ever could have been. You really, really, just need to take that chance."
Eren studied his desk as he ruminated, eyes focused and rigid.
"I'm…" his head began to shake. "I'm not Ymir," he said. "What me and… What we have, if you were in my position, you wouldn't take that chance. You would put it in a glass case, and you would never, ever wanna touch it. Because if you do, you'll ruin it, or poison it, or kill it. You would keep it out of reach, because the last thing you wanna do is give her another person to lose."
Historia's silken features fell into solemn, a sympathetic nature on her face. Ymir blinked momentarily, almost as if she needed to hear what she heard again. A realization came over her.
"Is that really how you feel, Eren?" Historia's brows furrowed as he nodded.
"I can't do that to her. Even if it means screwing myself over in the end. They're more important to me than I'll ever be."
Ymir side-eyed Historia, waiting for her to click, or jump, or shout eureka at the top of her lungs. It really, really wasn't Armin that he was talking about.
"Well, well, look who's returned," Reiner grinned.
The common room was the typical location on campus that their group congregated to. The dorms were, while decent, not big enough to host them all in full form. It'd been almost a month since Zeke showed his face to his friends – he had bouts of disappearing almost all the time, however on this occasion he'd been gone longer than he ever had. It was odd, he'd still go to his classes, but as none of them majored in Political Science as he did, they all had differing schedules. The most they would see of him is the rare sighting between classes, especially now that he was doing his PhD.
Zeke entered the commons with his usual cross-body satchel he'd taken from his father's closet. The thing was older than he was, and Grisha had only retired it once Eren and Carla gifted him a new one for his forty-fifth birthday. The vintage satchel suited his style immensely being the one positive thing he seemed to share with his father.
Porco and Pieck shared one of the leather sofas by the fireplace, while Reiner and Niccolo were passing the time with a game of billiards. How exciting.
"Welcome back, Zeke. Did you enjoy your stay at home?" Pieck lazily smiled at the man as she hung upside down from the sofa.
"Not exactly," he placed his satchel down on the sofa beside her. "Carla's gravy is abominable, but it was good to see my little brother again."
Reiner glanced up from the table. "How's he doing?" he asked.
"Well, you can ask him this Saturday," he replied, making his way up to the nineteen-year-old.
Niccolo raised his brows. "What's this Saturday?"
Zeke laid out his open hand towards Reiner, gesturing for the stick. "My father and his wife are finally going on that vacation they've been talking about for the last two years. I figured that while they're gone, Eren and I could make use of a perfectly empty house." He then steadied himself at the end of the table, lining up a shot.
"A party?" Pieck mused as she positioned herself to sit upright.
Porco rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Oh, great."
Zeke spasmed as his shot launched the white ball past his intended target, hitting one of Niccolo's ones. His brows sunk with agitation, head turning to Porco while Niccolo grinned in satisfaction.
"So, who's comin'?" Reiner questioned, allowing Niccolo to take his designated two shots.
"Tell Bertholdt. I'll tell the others when I see them," Zeke informed, handing the stick back to him.
Porco lazily glanced over his shoulder and towards the billiard table. "Who exactly do the others entail? You make some new friends while you were gone?"
"Perhaps I did, given my old ones were a little too nosy for my liking," Zeke folded his arms. "Last I recalled, I can invite whoever I damn well please to my own house."
Porco turned, planting his arm on the backrest. "It was just a fucking question."
"Relax, Galliard," Reiner chimed in.
He grimaced. "Don't you start, meathead—"
"No more fighting," Pieck insisted, gently grabbing her boyfriend's hand. "Come on, let's go nap in the courtyard," she said, pulling him up from the sofa.
His expression contorted. "You know I don't like sleeping in public."
"But you're so good at it."
As the pair filed out of the room, Reiner set his stick down on the table, a indication to Niccolo that he was done playing. As Freshmen, they often found themselves stuck with each other when it came to Zeke's group. There was an unspoken hierarchy within it, but Niccolo didn't mind; as long as everyone was cool to him, he was cool to everyone. Studying food science took up a foreseeable chunk of his time anyway, any spare minutes of his day was spent with Bertholdt or Reiner.
"Niccolo," Zeke turned to the boy. "How's your studies going?"
"Yeah, good. So this party, any room for me?" he questioned, an intrigued smile on his face.
"Of course. You've got the most important role," Zeke replied. "I need you to put your acquired knowledge to good use, bake us something and bring it to the party. My little brother will be bringing his friends along as well, so make sure there's enough for everyone. Sound ideal?"
The boy nodded. "Yeah, for sure. Leave it to me."
"Thank you. Now, Reiner and I have some important matters to discuss. We'll be seeing you around, Niccolo."
Niccolo took a few seconds to wrap his head around Zeke's implication. As they stood still, watching him as he also stood still, Reiner forced a stiff smile, slightly gesturing his head for him to leave. Finally grasping the point, Niccolo placed his billiard stick down and left the room, leaving the pair alone amongst the few stray college students.
Zeke sighed amidst their silence, tracing his fingers along the edge of the billiard table.
"Ever since you arrived, Galliard's become more and more intolerable to be around," he confessed, his eyes studying the placing of their game.
Reiner's gaze fell. "I don't expect him to like me after what happened."
"I know there's history between you and his brother, however that doesn't mean we all have to endure his mean-girl attitude simply because you're in the room. Some grudges should stay in the past."
Porco and his brother Marcel had gone to Liberio Valley Academy, a high school in one of Point Marley's various sister-towns. Marcel was on their soccer team, as was Reiner for the Riverbank Titan's in Paradis Falls. The two schools came together at Riverbank High for a home game where both teams began to clash over an unjustified red card. Reiner couldn't recall what exactly he did to Marcel, the game was so hazy in his mind now, but the kid came out of it with his shin broken in three places and a severe concussion. In between the moments of chaos and ambulance sirens, Reiner could fondly reminisce on his teammates, the way they had his back, as he had theirs. It was an odd situation to recall.
Reiner looked back up at Zeke. "So, Eren will be there?"
"Well, it is his house," he softly chuckled. "I told him to bring all his friends, perhaps some familiar faces for you and Bertholdt."
He nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "Bertholdt will want to bring Annie, if you don't mind."
"I wouldn't mind at all." An amused expression overcame him – Zeke placed a hand on Reiner's shoulder. "Between you and I, as pleasant and unassuming as your friend may be, I do believe he's better left to his own devices. Whether that be his girlfriend, or his non-dominant hand. You don't need a lost puppy following you around everywhere you go."
Reiner hesitantly nodded, fixating on the man's extended arm. Zeke was very knowledgeable; he wouldn't say something as substantial as that without reason. Bertholdt had been his best friend since childhood, but Zeke was right – the guy wouldn't leave him the hell alone. Born to follow, not to lead. It was like he couldn't even wipe his ass without asking Reiner if he should do it or not. They both majored in Mechanical Engineering for goodness's sake, there was nothing they did apart. But now that they were in college, now that he had found familiarity in the eldest Yaeger brother, maybe it was time to spread his wings regardless of how tight Bertholdt held on.
When he and Annie started dating in high school, it was a breath of fresh air for Reiner. Bertholdt had clung from one person to another, and surprisingly, she allowed it. However, now with Annie stuck completing her senior year at Riverbank High, Reiner was back to being suffocated by his best friend.
"In regard to your athleticism, I'm aware there's a 'meathead' stereotype that tends to float around here," Zeke continued. "However, I do believe you're smart enough to know when it's time to shed the excess baggage."
Reiner furrowed his brows. "That's my best friend. I can't just ditch him."
"Who said anything about ditching?" Zeke removed his hand from the boy's shoulder and used it to slide his specs back up on his bridge. "There's ditching, and then there's refusing to entertain someone's cluelessness." He then forced a stiff smile. "Just my advice."
Reiner glanced down again.
Mikasa staggered to her locker, eyes fixated on the boy a few doors down. He wore a stoic expression as he navigated the mess of his locker, placing his books back where they belonged and grabbing his backpack. She wanted to tell him everything – that no, it wasn't a date, that she could never think of Jean in the way she thinks of him, but she could only imagine how absurdly it would come across. Why would he care to begin with?
Eren peppered a glance in her direction; he could see her there, but he wasn't looking for her. In fact, she watched as he ignored her presence, causing her to frown. She needed to bite the bullet, to talk to him and just gage where his head was at.
Mikasa trailed over to him, arms tightly holding her books. "Hey," she greeted, forcing a lighter tone.
His eyes didn't turn to her once. "Hey," he flatly replied, continuing to reorganize his locker.
"How was class?" she asked, earning his aloof shrug. "You…doing anything after school?"
"No."
Mikasa forced some sort of unstrung smile, trying to convince herself not to hyperventilate. What was she doing that was so wrong?
"O-Oh. Cool." God, she was such an awkward communicator. "Do you wanna hang out—"
Eren shut his locker, finally gracing her with his low brow, stone-like gaze.
"I can't," he churned out, before walking away.
Mikasa stood there, eyes wide and startled, watching him disappear down the hall. She was utterly frozen, unsure of what to do. Did he not want to be her friend anymore? Well, why couldn't he just say it? Was this about the ice cream parlour? But why would he care so much? She knew that Eren had a tendency to be jealous, but not about this, not about her. He was jealous of everything in relation to Jean, even if he didn't want to admit it. He was jealous of his skating abilities, making the soccer team when he didn't, having way more friends than he's ever had. What would hanging out with Mikasa have to do with any of it?
Suddenly, she was compelled to follow him. She dodged the influx of students coming out of their last classes, keeping a keen eye on Eren as he exited the hall and went down into the stairwell. As Mikasa collided with shoulder after shoulder, she finally got to the door, opening it and seeing him make his way down.
"Eren," her hesitant voice echoed, but she was assured; she needed to know what was going on. "Eren."
He stopped himself, his lifted leg lowering as he turned to the sound of her voice. He frowned.
"What do you want, Mikasa?"
As she trotted down a few stairs and approached him, her visage stiffened. "Have I done something?"
He inhaled. "No."
"Then why do you keep avoiding me?" she asked, searching him for a shred of transparency. "What's wrong?"
He watched her for a moment, a solid chunk of time just observing her glassy features. A solemness diluted his deadpan.
"I just… feel a little sick. I can't hang out right now. I'm sorry."
She scratched her nail polish with her index finger, taking in a deep breath. Sick…right. Eren got sick sometimes.
She hoped, somewhere low in the pit of her gut, that Eren actually was jealous deep down. That he was jealous of Jean spending time with her, that he thought it was date and that it hurt him to know she had fun with someone else. It was the only time she could say she hoped for him to feel pain.
God, she could be so cruel.
"Well," she glanced down, voice becoming so little. "I hope you feel better then."
"Yeah." His eyes fell on her body. "Thanks."
Eren continued to take her form in, allowing the image to burn deep into his brain. Then, without hesitation, he left her standing there in stairwell, disappearing downstairs to go home.
To get away from me.
It had been a few weeks since she last felt it, but that inner void, that darkness made sure she had company as she stood alone. She felt her soul hit the floor to make room for it's ever-vivid presence.
"You know, Mikasa," Eren turned to her, face gleaming from the rays of the settling sun. "If you ever need to talk, I want you to call me."
The view from the hill was such a beautiful sight. Even though they were trapped in middle America, Paradis Falls had its moments of sanctuary.
"My problems are…" she frowned, unable to finish. "When it stays in my head, no one else gets to perceive it. No one sees me like a victim. That's how it should be."
He sipped the last of his slurpee, it made a rattling noise. "You can't keep stuff like that all in your head." He watched her stare into the sky. "Hey. I know having friends is all new to you, but it's what we do for each other. We be there. And what happened to you? That isn't who you are," he assured her. "You're free to be whoever you wanna be."
Mikasa felt herself begin to smile. "Yeah?"
"Of course. We all are." He glanced over to the sunset. "We're all free."
"Free."
Mikasa's whisper echoed throughout the stairwell, recalling a memory much sweeter than the ones she was making lately. That Eren, the one who watched sunsets with her, disappeared months ago. She couldn't find him, and with him was that part of herself who discovered the joys life could offer. And together, they left her standing in the stairwell, books in her arms and vividly alone.
It was a comfortable feeling, perhaps a permanent one.
She couldn't remember the walk home. She floated past the bus stop and missed the bus altogether. Someone was controlling her body, placing her on autopilot as she simply went from A to B.
She entered the house, placing her bag and books on the ottoman, and headed straight for her room. There, she shambled over to her bed, laid down, and closed her eyes. These days, she felt she lacked the oxygen in her head. Blood in her heart. She needed to disappear into her sheets, just melt into another universe that wasn't this one.
Why the fuck does everything hurt so much?
"Mikasa." Her eyes shot open, faced with the presence of Levi looming over her did she finally snap back into reality. He furrowed his brows at her. "Quit ignoring me."
"Sorry," she mumbled, propping herself up on her elbows. "I didn't know you were talking."
He found it bizarre she hasn't noticed him only a few feet away when he greeted her at the front door.
"I've been talking to you the entire damn time. Is something the matter?" His eyes narrowed. "Is it that shithead again? Did he do something?"
She inhaled.
"Do you always have to be so fucking invasive?"
Mikasa's eyes widened as soon as the words had left her mouth. Her fingers raised to her lips, unsure if she really said that aloud.
Levi's expression fell. "What did you say?" His quiet voice became something she hadn't heard of him before, it wasn't like a veiled warning or that he'd actually misheard her, it was more of a restrained disbelief – a hurt, infuriated disbelief of a whisper.
"I'm sorry— I don't—" she shook her head almost vigorously. "I'm sorry."
She halted, watching him cautiously – Levi would never hurt her, even in his most furious of states. He could yell, he could swear, he could shout in her face like he did last week, but he could never, ever hurt her. Mikasa was completely aware of that fact, but as he stood above her, terror imprinted on her features, she harboured the thought that if was ever going to disprove it, now would be the time.
He stared at her as if he were struggling to stay on his own two feet. His face twitched with emotion, seemingly as if he was scouring his brain for the right words to speak. That one sentence replayed over and over and over again. Then, his composure yielded.
"You don't want me to care about your life?" he suddenly asked her, blinking as he restrained his anger. He pointed to the doorway. "Because I can do that, Mikasa. I can walk out this fucking place and not come back—"
"Don't say that," she gritted her teeth, invigorated by his threat. The warm sting of tears began to well in her eyes. "Don't you ever say that!" her voice bellowed, she felt brutalised by those mere words. How dare he threaten to leave her? After all the people who had disappeared in her life, of all the people to leave her, how could he ever throw that notion at her?
Blinded by his indignation, he doubled down. "I'm sick of seeing you so goddamn upset. I'm sick of the shit that little fuck makes you feel. All of it." He leaned forward. "And the longer you keep your head up your ass, the more I have to see it. Every. Fucking. Day."
Mikasa stood from her bed. She planted her hands on his chest and pushed him with all the effort she could. Levi stumbled back.
"Mikasa—"
"Get out!" she demanded, continuing to shove him. "Get out!"
"Stop it—"
He attempted to grab her wrists, but she hastily yanked them from his grip. She continued to push and force and shove him until he was in the doorway, then, with a knuckle-whitening grip, she slammed the door in his face. Heaving, she stood there, just waiting for him to barge in again and scold her, possibly demand she fix her appalling attitude or do some chores. But the longer waited, the longer her assumptions went unmet. Her eyes scanned the door as her hands settled upon her face. She breathed, stumbling backwards to sit on her bed. She had never felt so enraged in her life, never seen Levi so baffled by her actions.
Again, she felt her brain lacked oxygen. She direly breathed as she laid on her back, sobs emanating into her hands.
On the other side of the door, Levi stood there, eyes boring into the woodgrain as they swelled with the slightest of tears. That one instance was as hellish as it had been in twelve years, back when all he did was fight with Kenny, argue with his mother, battle anyone. He'd been wrong this whole time – he couldn't protect her, couldn't 'raise her right.'
She was just… just like him.
Levi attempted to walk away, though he could still feel the pressure on his chest from where her hands were. He didn't know when she'd gotten so strong. It stopped him in his tracks, causing him to rub his eyes to rid the tears. Then, when he no longer felt its sting, he continued to walk away.
brighter - paramore
Notes:
hi again! thanks for reading :)
just wanted to make note that this story IS set in america, but the state itself is just some vague state in the middle of the country. the town names are all inspired from the ones of aot, which i have set up as: two main towns border each side of the river, that's paradis falls and point marley. the rest of the towns are just surrounding ones. the college zeke and the warriors attend is in point marley, and the school the 104th attend is the one closest to the riverbank in paradis falls. duh. just thought i'd explain it all for you!
i read alllll of your comments and i'm very grateful for them. if there's certain characters that you like seeing interact, let me know and i'll try to incorporate them more! otherwise, see ya in the next one!
Chapter 5: high horse (1)
Notes:
hi everyone! this chapter was super long so i've decided to split it into two parts. not sure when i'll be able to get the second part out but it's pretty intense, so hopefully it's soon!
happy reading :)
(EDIT: chapter was formerly named after a different song, which i've now changed. nothing story wise has been edited, so no need to re-read!)
Chapter Text
And so it started, Levi's typical Friday night shift. He was shaking up a rum and cranberry cocktail for one of the regulars at the bar. They never made small talk, in fact, she ordered her usual drink with an unassuming stare every single time. The older lady wore an eccentric attire, could only leave him to believe she had a shitload of wealth – and, well, the fact that the Fox's Den was her regular bar of choice.
Ever since the blowout he and Mikasa had on Monday, she wasn't particularly a fan of talking to him anymore. Once he realized he wasn't getting anything out of her, they then went days without having a conversation passed the usual.
"What do you want for dinner?"
"I'm not hungry."
He wanted to say he regretted his threat – to some extent, he did, because watching the horror wash over her face was something he could throw up over. But what drained the color from him wasn't her expression, it was the words she so kindly graced him with.
Do you always have to be so fucking invasive?
Spoiled brat. The words flashed in his mind a few dozen times, almost said it as the words left her mouth. She startled him from the very second she entered the door – that blank, automatic expression on her face, how her eyes never left her bedroom door as she set her stuff down on the ottoman (which he certainly coached her not to do), and as she closed her eyes as if he wasn't standing there. It was like she was completely hypnotized by whatever happened to her before she got home. And she dared to frustrate at his concern?
He wished someone was there for him when he was growing up in what he could only describe as a fucking nightmare. He dreamed of someone constantly on his ass like every other parent was. Lecturing him, scolding him, enforcing a curfew, helping him with homework, raising him, being a good goddamn role model. Mikasa had no idea how good she had it, because while she had Levi, Levi had Kuchel. Levi had Uncle Kenny. Levi had bruises, and beatings, and screaming matches. One alcoholic mom and one enraged uncle. He could never be to Mikasa what his family was to him; he may not be the model figure she needed him to be, but he thought he was pretty damn close. So why the hell was she treating him like this? Why did Eren hold more significance to her than he clearly ever could?
Levi slid the cocktail over to the patron across the bar and pretended the thought of Mikasa wasn't eating away at him. She grabbed it, took a sip, and went on her merry way to one of the booths. He continued to clean his equipment, and while he polished off the tumbler, he glanced up to see a wired Erwin approaching the bar.
He wondered. If Erwin was here, did that mean—
"You're in luck," the man said, planting his hands on the counter as he leaned forward.
"Oh yeah?" Levi set the tumbler down. "How do you figure that?"
"The Wilcox & Co team are no more. As of this week, they are officially employed for and will be referred to as lawyers of Harper & Monroe," he said, a paramount of effort spent into not grinning like a fool. "They were quite impressed with the way we run and were happy to stay on board."
"Sounds like you're the one with the luck."
"There's more," he lifted his finger. "It just so happens that they were also impressed by the fine establishment I brought them to last Friday. Particularly, the Martinis a certain someone had served them."
In came the dawn of realization. Levi blinked at him; eyes slightly widened, and Erwin pursed his lips in an attempt to yield his giddiness. The corner of his vision caught the lawyers filing in, heading towards the same booth as last time. She glanced at him, because of course she did, offering a placid, glimmering smile.
"You want the canapés too?" Levi almost mumbled, the infantilized expression still plaguing his features.
Erwin resigned his excitement, his friend's demeanour only confirming he had a right to it.
"Yes, the Italian canapés this time," he agreed, turning to head back to the booth. He suddenly halted, peering over his shoulder. "I mean it, Levi."
He was already writing it down. "The Italian. I got it."
"I was talking about the good impression you left on my team," he clarified, coming back up to the bar. "I was worried they were on the fence about staying. Suffice to say, I think your Martinis alone sealed that deal."
"Well, it wasn't for them," Levi replied, lowering his gaze. "It was for you."
A smirk came over Erwin, he glanced back at the booth. "I wouldn't be so sure on that one." He then returned his gaze to the man, his expression softening. "You're a good friend. Thank you for helping me," he told him, his finger tapping on the bar. Levi kept his eyes away from him, he wasn't particularly a fan of praise and Erwin was prone to lay it on thick, so he let it be. Erwin tried to leave the bar again, but an urgency crossed his mind, prompting him to turn back around as he pointed a stern finger at the man. "Italian canapés."
"Alright. You'll get your damn meatballs." Levi rolled his eyes.
He eyed the man as he set off back to the table. First and foremost, he ensured there wasn't a repeat of last Friday and immediately delivered the order straight to the kitchen. He then returned to the bar, started on the Martinis, and had Anka run them out. The night continued on, getting increasingly busy as more patrons filled in. Pixis was entertaining a few of his guests in one of the VIP booths; he wasn't exactly fond of the gentlemen he had to impress, but they were bigtime investors, so morality had to take a backseat for a while. He made sure all female staff were to steer clear of their table, which left Levi being tasked with running drinks out to that area specifically.
Why'd the idiot only hire female runners?
As Levi returned to the bar, an almost empty Martini glass sat on the counter, the stem gripped by none other than the woman herself. She gave him a coy smile, chin resting on her open palm as he approached her. She donned a plaid power suit this time, lots of beige going on. It only complimented her neutral colouring, along with her gold earrings, her cropped, strawberry blonde hair.
Don't piss yourself, just refill her glass.
Petra blinked up at him, swirling the remnants of her Martini. "It's nice to see you again," she said, her eyes dropping to his chest. "You know, I was wondering if you'd lost your name badge. You never seem to have it on."
"Can't wear what I don't have," he replied, planting his hands on the bench.
Her brows heightened for just a moment as she brought her glass towards her lips. "Well, that's too bad. I've been curious about that name for a while now." She took in the last of her drink and gently set the glass back down, eyes flickering at him expectantly. Petra understood she'd find simplicity in just asking Erwin – she was sure he would tell her the man's name, but the chase was the best part of all this. Instead of answering her, he reached over and took her empty glass, pulling out a new one. "You're good at reading minds," she grinned teasingly. "You should look into becoming a lawyer. I know the company won't go under with you around."
Levi felt a bucket of embarrassment wash over him – she had him trained like a goddamn dog; she didn't even ask for a drink and yet here he was, eager to start up another one.
She's just a person. Don't forget that.
"Knowing what people think always got me into shit," he finally said, cracking open the gin. "Not sure I'd do well getting people out of it."
"Well, how much trouble do you find yourself in now?"
"Ask your buddy Erwin. He's the one always cleaning up my mess."
Petra's eyes scanned him as he concocted her drink. It was an attempt to make sense of what he said, read between the lines if she was supposed to. A fleeting thought told her that maybe getting all the needed intel from Erwin wasn't so bad of an idea, but as he stood there, shaking up her Martini, she could feel her pulse in her reddening cheeks.
"How long have you worked here?" she questioned, tapping her fingers along her chin.
"Too long," he replied, unscrewing the tumbler.
She grinned once more. "Looks like you have the skill to show for it. I guess it also indicates how loyal you can be," Petra eyed him closely. "Your girlfriend is very lucky."
Levi shook his head, disallowing any semblance of a grin to appear. He could sense what she was doing, attempting to get clarity on the picture of his life. Sure, he'll give it to her.
"Don't have much time for girlfriends," he said.
She raised her brows. "That surprises me."
"It shouldn't."
She huffed a laugh. "Then what do you do for fun?"
"Don't have much time for fun, either." Levi reached over and placed her Martini on the counter, sliding it towards her. "I'm sure our versions of the word are completely different."
Petra held her drink. "Don't be so shy," she teased. "I can go first if you like."
She kept coming back at him, regardless of how curt he was being. It was akin to a bizarre game of badminton, except there was an unusual amount of tension on the field and it wasn't the competitive kind. He had to ask himself, you really doing this?
"Sure. Hit me."
"Well, have you ever been horseback riding?" she mused, taking a sip of her drink.
He stared at her, deadpanning. "You tell me."
Petra held her free hand up in faux defence. "Hey, I don't discriminate based on appearances," she said, taking another sip of her Martini. "Quite the opposite, actually," she muttered.
Levi's eyes wouldn't budge from her creamy complexion. He studied her, trying to decide whether she was easily deceived, or just mentally unwell for having any form of interest in him. His eyes focused.
"Something tells me it's not just the Martinis you're after," he somewhat joked, his tone stained with seriousness.
"I couldn't imagine what gave it away," she jested, setting her drink down as her gaze returned his. Though he pretended to seem slow at catching on, Petra was certain he knew exactly what she was doing. Just as she intended. "You'd look great on the back of a horse. You should try it sometime," she said, her voice low and velvety.
Levi weakened at the sound of it. "That a recommendation or an invitation?"
Her typical smile was gone now, replaced by the throes of focus. "I guess it all depends on you." Except she wasn't guessing, she was certain of her stance. All she needed to know was his.
His eyes wouldn't tear away from her. Fuck, she's beautiful. But fuck… they weren't a good match. He could feel it in his weary bones. He would ruin her, or depress her, or bore her. She didn't look like she deserved that.
"Why are you doing this?" his voice lowered with seriousness, focusing on her expression.
"Doing what? Showing interest?" she replied as she sipped on her drink, unphased by his tone.
"You get off on being pushed away or something? You got daddy issues?" he narrowed his eyes. "Or are you just used to getting whatever the hell you want?"
She lowered her gaze with a pressed smile, settling her glass on the counter. "Tell me, bartender. Is there something about you I should be scared of?" she proposed, folding her hand over the other as she rested it on the bar. "Or is it you who's fearful?"
He leaned forward as if to let her in on a secret. "Women in power-suits don't scare me."
"Yeah, lots of men say that," she huffed, shaking her head. "Ask yourself, if you're the one doing the pushing away, being the pusher…is there really nothing you fear?"
She stared at him, just as he stared at her, absent of any facial tics or cues. Motherfucker…
"Petra, you coming?" A colleague of hers called out from the middle of the venue. Erwin and the rest of the lawyers had gathered their coats and briefcases to head off.
"Just a moment," she called back, her head slightly turned but eyes still cemented on him.
"No one fears nothing," he finally commented, grabbing one of his cloths.
Petra eventually lowered her eyes, that same, pressed smile laminating her lips as if she were content. She stood and grabbed her coat off the back of the stool, sliding it on.
"We're going to that karaoke bar on Maria Avenue," she said, taking another sip of her drink. "I hate to leave you so early."
Levi huffed. "So, our versions of fun are different," he said, wiping down the counter. "Our versions of pain, too."
"It's a shame you can't come with us. I'd like to see just how many eighties hits you know off by heart," she grinned.
"I might finally end it all if I stepped foot inside a karaoke bar, so." He stopped wiping. "You know."
She let out a chuckle at his dry humour, her hand sliding into her pocket. Levi could feel his facial muscles moving in that peculiar way again, forcing himself to lower his head. He'd verbally abuse himself for it if he wasn't in the presence of the public. Petra then took in the last half of her drink, planting her free hand flat on the counter to steady herself. Once finished, she placed the glass back down, but didn't slide it over to him as she usually did.
"Thank you for the drink. You enjoy your night," she smiled through her words. "I'm sure we'll talk soon."
And then, Petra left, leaving him there to watch her as she did. She met up with that annoying colleague of hers and they headed to the door together.
Levi instinctively reached over and grabbed her glass, her imprint of coral lipstick around the brim. As he did, a scrap corner of paper had fluttered out from under it, falling onto the counter. He used his other hand to pick up it – the first side was blank, however, as he turned it over…
For when you're ready
284-821-8848
Petra x
He glanced up at the door, eyes settled onto the back of her overcoat. She's insane, she has to be. Miche vaguely sniffed at her as she passed him. He then made eye contact with Levi in the distance, shrugging, before nodding his head.
Sniff of approval.
Shit.
It was unusually warm for a Saturday in Fall, and Mikasa spent the entirety of it ignoring Levi again. Even his ghost-like presence seemed to annoy her, flat out refusing to stay in the same room as him if he had the nerve to enter it. Attempting morning routines was an awkwardly unbearable occurrence, especially if they needed to shower at the same time – Mikasa would be in there for forty-five minutes every single morning. He didn't know what she was washing that would possibly take so long, quite frankly, he was too hesitant to try and find out. It's not like he could just barge in and shut the water off, and throwing that simple question at her was going to be ignored – if not met with total horror. So he idled in the kitchen with his towel in his hand, resentment brewing like a throbbing headache. All he wanted was a goddamn shower.
Today, Levi was astounded when she finally broke one of her unspoken 'avoid Levi' rules. Mikasa sat in the kitchen and waited for the kettle to finish boiling as he put away the last of the dishes. Just as he was securing an easily accessible place for his mug, the phone rung. Mikasa sat there, face resting on her barely closed fist as she day-dreamed into table. He watched her from his peripheral vision, anticipating her promptness to the phone as what was normal, but she remained still. In those few seconds of realization, it came to him that Eren didn't call much these days – not that he was complaining, in fact, the lack of Eren in anyone's life, the better – he could only wonder what was going on between the two. The phone continued to ring unbearably before he concluded that, seemingly, he was the only one who could hear it. He shut the cupboard door and bit his tongue, making his way to the phone.
Levi held the receiver up to his ear. "Ackerman," he answered tersely. His hard-boiled expression remained as he grunted for his next answer. Then, "Hold on. Lemme ask her." Levi lowered the phone. "Oi. Miche and Nanaba are going out for dinner tonight, their babysitter just cancelled on 'em. They need someone to watch the kids for a few hours." His friends had decided to start having children around five years ago. They wanted the gender to be a surprise, and well, surprise… it was quadruplets.
"I've got plans," she curtly replied, finally settling back into reality.
Levi could almost roll his eyes. "Tch. Apparently the girl who never talks has an engaging social life," he told Miche. The man reassured him it was all fine and the two had ended their rather brief conversation. They always spoke sparsely, they were around each other often which resulted in very little to talk about. They both knew what was going on, why have a conversation over it? It wasn't that they had nothing in common, just that Miche didn't feel the need to fill the air with inflated words like Erwin, nor did he enjoy the sound of his own voice like Hange. He didn't have to ensure pleasantries with someone who wasn't expecting it, and neither did Levi. It was simple, just as they both liked it.
Levi stood beside her, staring down at the melancholic heap she was. God, he wanted to scream. "Care to tell me where you're going?"
"Not really." She avoided his gaze.
He sighed once more. "Fine. Don't care. Just tell me anyway," he said.
Suddenly, her eyes met his, wearing an exhausted glare. "I'm seventeen. I don't need to tell you where I am all the time."
His eyes narrowed. He wondered when she would finally come to realize that he wasn't being intrusive for the sake of upsetting her. Her safety rode on whether he knew her whereabouts. He wasn't going to let her disappear into the town, opening her up to be hurt or taken advantage of. This wasn't a problem before, and he'd be damned if he let it become a problem now.
"Listen. You've got people who care about you. Every time something goes wrong, you seem to forget that. You're not some drifter or some lost kid who roams the streets. Start acting like it."
Mikasa's scowl took a while to soften, but eventually, she lowered her gaze. "I'm just going to Eren's house," her voice meekly replied.
Her timid tone had thrown him off his course, it'd been a while since he heard the softer side to her voice. However, quickly, it didn't seem to matter anymore because Levi stopped computing. The entire course of the week begun to flash back at him – Mikasa leaving the lounge when he would enter, refusing to eat every single meal he made for her and sometimes just for her, staying away from the house until late in the evening, taking so long in the damn shower. He was suffering, he loathed just how far this had all gone. After all isolation she put him through, there was no chance in hell he would allow her to hang out with the wrecking ball of their unremarkable lives.
"No."
Her head snapped up, brows beginning to furrow. "What? What do you mean 'no'?"
"You're not going," he impassively said.
"Why the hell not?"
Mikasa watched him turn from her and walk over to the phone. The chair legs scraped against the floor as she rose from her seat, eager for an answer. He lifted the receiver and began to dial.
"I'm calling Miche. You're babysitting tonight."
"I can't. I'm not—"
"They need you." He turned from her once the call begun. "Miche, it's—" Mikasa slammed her fingers down onto the hook, teeth gritted as Levi turned to her in astonishment. "Mikasa," his voice hardened.
"I'm not going and you won't make me!" her voice wavered, a slight stinging to her eyes. "God, I am so sick of you," she muttered as she stormed off to her room, leaving him with the prickle of her words. His hand mindlessly placed the receiver back on the hook, his lips parted and eyes agape.
He heard her door slam louder than it ever had before. There was an abundance of pressure building up in his head, and he came to realize just how suddenly it was all backfiring on him. She was such a different girl now; she used to be so happy at the fact that he merely existed. He thought he finally managed to do something right in his life when every morning he would wake up to a smiling ball of energy standing beside his bed. When the only thing he dreaded was the fairy wings she would make him wear to her imaginary tea parties. When the only shred of discontent or attitude he ever received from her was when she didn't want to eat broccoli with her dinner. He thought he could turn everything around for her, thought he'd somehow managed to do that, and yet he couldn't stop what she was becoming.
She was just another Ackerman.
She danced to the beat of her own drum, never mind what he had to say anymore – he had no jurisdiction over her. She wore nothing but black and donated all semblance of color from her wardrobe. She blasted depressing songs to accompany her teenaged angst. Never mind not wanting broccoli, she wouldn't eat at all anymore. It was as if she was doing absolutely everything he disproved of just to spite him. Not liking Eren had her falling for him even more – he wasn't trying to hurt her; he didn't want her to think she wasn't capable of liking the right people. She was just a damn kid, and if the life of his mother at her age was any indication, kids made terrible, life-altering mistakes.
He couldn't let her suffer the same fate.
The phone rang once again. Levi stared at it before convincing himself to answer it. Miche's voice echoed back at him.
"Yeah. Sorry. That was me." Levi bore his eyes into the wall. With all the help Miche had given him over the years, he felt it right not to let the man miss out on his anniversary dinner. "I'll, um… I'll baby sit."
1997
Levi had tucked himself into the corner of the sofa, watching over the girl as she laid against him, holding the novel up so the both of them could see. The late-afternoon sunlight cascaded through the blinds and against their diminutive lounge room, casting streaks of a burnt-orange hue along the wall and sofa. Her third-grade teacher explained how Mikasa's reading comprehension was lacking for her age group. After an eye examination determined her vision wasn't an issue, Levi brought it upon himself to have Mikasa read to him every night. After a few months passed, both he and her teacher were seeing improvement. She was onto bigger words now, less picture books and more novels. She seemed to pick it up all so easily, it was a wonder as to why she was struggling to begin with.
"The woman was p…oi-zed…" She paused, glancing up at him for approval. He nodded, eyeing the next words on the page. "And sop…so…" her brows begun to furrow; she lowered the book with a sigh. "I don't know this one," she sulked.
"You do. What happens when P is next to H?" He peered down at her.
Mikasa's eyes tracked the room as she thought. "It…makes another sound?" she purely guessed.
"What sound?"
"Uh…" Again, she settled into deep thought. "Thhh—wait, no! Fffff," she corrected, a grin emanating on her little face. "Like fuck."
Levi pressed two fingers into her temple, thumping her. "Great. Now you're turning into a degenerate."
"Is that a bad word?" She blinked up at him, her forehead creasing with concern.
"Yes. Fuck is a bad word. Don't say it."
"I mean the other one," she paused. "The one you said. Degen-rate."
"Well, no. It's just a name for a person who's bad," he explained. "It's not a curse like fuck."
She grew perplexed. "How come you can say it? Why can't I?"
"Because you're better than me. Only morons swear when they can't think of a better word."
Mikasa turned her body around, sitting up as she faced him with dismay. "You're not a moron?" she spoke as if he'd been lying to her. That, in fact, he was an imbecile this whole time, and that he was just incredibly exceptional at hiding it.
Levi could swear he was seeing her thoughts swim around on her delicate face. He watched her as she watched him, waiting for him to confirm her sentiment.
"Look at all these new words you're learning," he finally spoke, tone now sober. "You don't need to swear like I do."
Her eyes met the floor. "I guess…" she mumbled.
Levi sighed, gently pulling her back down to lay on him. "Try the word again."
Mikasa brought the book back up, taking a moment to find where she had left off. "So…Sophis…tee…caded," she spoke sluggishly. "So-phis-tee-caded."
"Sophisticated," he enunciated for her. "Now read it all again."
The girl cleared her throat. "The woman was p-poised and sophisticated," she read, glancing up at him again. Levi nodded contently, etching a smile on her face. "What does that mean?"
"Means she smart. And she acts normal."
"Smart like Hange?" she questioned, still peering up at him.
"Sure."
"And normal?"
"Hange isn't normal."
"She isn't?" she questioned once again, earning Levi's deadpan. "But she's really fun."
"Next time you see her, keep that to yourself. Now, what's the next line?"
Mikasa let out a groan. "We've been doing this for so long…" she frowned.
Levi sighed; she was right. This was just as unbearable for him as it was for her. "Alright. Look through the page and find a word you don't recognize. We'll practice it, then we'll finish."
Once again, the girl whined as she flicked through the pages, letting her eyes scan side to side in an attempt to fool him.
"I know all of these."
"Oi. I wasn't born yesterday."
"I do!" She nodded at him vigorously, shutting the book and standing from the sofa. "We should make dinner now!" she suggested, bouncing up and down with excitement in an attempt to rub some of it onto him.
A faint smile captured him as his eyes settled on her animated form. Such an eager and excited girl, a far cry from the one who wallowed and wasted away at Kenny's house. Levi was lucky, he got to see her like this every day. He was never this happy as a child, nothing and no one gave him a reason to be. And when the moonlight shone through a sliver in the clouds, when there finally came along a reason for him to smile, nothing and no one allowed it to persist. He found peace in the thought that her little form never resembled his own at nine – that instead of the scowling, fire-eyed boy who grew into a bitter, resentful man, she created her own nature: an imaginative, jubilant girl who he could only hope would grow into an equally as bright and well-rounded woman.
But for now, she was just his little girl.
Mikasa grabbed his arm, yanking at him. "Come oooon!" she coaxed, her grin widening. She loved to help him cook. She wasn't all that good at it, but what nine-year-old was? He certainly wasn't.
"You're doing a good job," Levi finally voiced.
"Yeah, but—"
"I'm really proud of you. Alright? Make sure you remember that," he blurted out, Mikasa's bouncing then came to a stop. "And always do your best. Don't worry about what you achieve from it. Just make sure you're trying, that'll be good enough. Your best is always good enough. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
Mikasa's doe-like eyes had widened, she nodded, understanding what her cousin had said. His tone was so adamant, like he had to get it all out or else something bad would happen.
Suddenly, Mikasa launched herself on top of him, wrapping her little arms around him as he grunted form the force.
"You're my best friend," she professed, tightening her grip as she cradled her head into his shoulder. "I love you."
A smile overcame him once again, allowing his held breath to settle. He could smell the green apple scented shampoo in her hair. Levi ensured she was always fresh and clean.
"Love you too," he replied. "Make sure you don't forget that either."
Mikasa pulled back, nodding as her grin remained emphatic. "I won't."
"Good." Levi lifted the girl as he stood, planting her back down on the ground. "What do you want for dinner?" he asked as she intertwined her hand with his, guiding him to the kitchen.
"Can we have macaroni again?"
The party was, well, a party. Zeke had invited all the usual faces Eren had come to know, along with almost a gazillion more he hadn't. It was good to see Reiner and Bertholdt again, the group felt so empty without them since school started. To Eren, Reiner was that somewhat douchey-big-brother that everyone seemed to have – said the odd questionable joke or two, always had a fling with one of the popular girls, and dominated a school sports team. But he was warm hearted, always made sure to look after you where need be. Eren liked having him around. He missed having Bertholdt and Reiner at lunch, joshing each other and sending the whole table into a fit of laughter. They had quite the model friendship, reminiscent of he and Armin on occasion. In fact, it even reminded him of he and Mikasa used to be. Way before Eren let his head get in the middle of it all.
Eren perched himself against the sideboard in the living room. He had a decent view of the first floor from where he stood, nursing the beer Zeke let him have. His older brother explained how the red cups were customary at house-parties right before he went on a tangent about their cultural impact within the 'adolescent scene.' Sometimes Eren just wanted him to shut up.
His eyes fell upon Annie and Hitch as they spoke by the stairs. Annie was another face that used to show up during lunch, but ever since Reiner and Bertholdt graduated, she decided to take her education more seriously now that she was in her senior year. She wanted to get into the same college as Bertholdt. It was rare that she came and sat with them anymore, but they could always find her in the library with her headphones on if they ever needed her.
Eren's mind fell back to Mikasa as he stared at Hitch – he knew she didn't really like Hitch all that much. She was a little too 'look at me, look at me!' for her liking. He found it odd that Annie even liked her, questioned if she really ever did. Their personalities didn't seem like a good match in the field of friendship, but they were neighbours, had been since Annie moved to Paradis Falls. Deep in the confines of his consciousness, he had an inkling of a theory that Hitch wasn't actually as shallow as she seemed in some regard; she let slip a few sane sentiments over the years before scrambling to smear some vain dirt all over it. He wondered if Mikasa ever realized it too – she was good at reading people.
He let his eyes skim the room, watching everyone laugh and wobble and chat from afar. Armin was talking to Bertholdt, Connie and Sasha had now embarked on a raid in the kitchen, and Zeke was boring Pieck and Galliard into hell, the downlight glistening against his glasses as he rambled.
"Hey."
Eren glanced over to see Jean's sudden appearance by his side, hand in his pocket whilst the other held his drink. He leaned against the sideboard with him, watching over the room.
Eren let his gaze fall. "Hey."
"Didn't know your brother knew this many people," Jean commented, his voice low.
"Well, he's not a loser," he defended, staring up at the boy.
"He's not," Jean backtracked as he met his gaze. "But he's, well, you know…" Eren's expectant glare intensified, causing the boy to buckle. "A great guy. Of course he'd know a lot of people."
As he peered into Jean's eyes, Eren felt his stomach churn. All he could think about was the date. The date, the date, the date. He couldn't bear to keep eye contact with his friend, not when his imagination wouldn't stop conjuring up Mikasa holding his arm.
After a brief moment of silence, Jean stared into his cup, swirling the mixed concoction around. "Feels kinda weird. I thought I'd be more excited hanging out with a bunch of college kids," he admitted, tone sober and serious. Eren figured Jean wasn't having a good time, he also figured he didn't give much of a shit. "Speaking of weird…" his head snapped back and forth, "thought Mikasa would be here by now."
Eren kept his eyes from the boy. "What do you care?" he mumbled, causing Jean to side-eye him with dismay.
"You're not her only friend."
"Right. I forgot," Eren huffed. "You two are getting real close."
"Yeah, last I checked, I wasn't blowing her off like you do," Jean retorted. He fully expected an outburst from him, but instead, was met with a soft shake of his head. What seemed to be an expression of guilt laced his features, only seconds before it was taken back over by resentment. Jean scoffed at his silence. "You never shut up, and yet you've got nothing to say." He watched the boy, waiting for a response. When he wasn't met with one, his bitterness festered. "Got no idea what she sees in you."
"Jean, just fuck off, okay? She doesn't love you and she never will," Eren snapped, turning to him. "Fine, you went on one date, but—"
"But it's one more than you've ever been on," Jean leaned in, grimacing at the boy. "At least I've got the balls to ask."
The two lost each other in their prickly glares; Eren fought with all his might to not start swinging on him. How would that look? What impression would that give Jean about his thoughts on Mikasa? As easy as it would have been to spear-tackle him into the dining table, it seemed like he already some thoughts on Eren's relationship with the girl.
So, he did what he knew best. Distance himself.
"And why would I wanna go on a date with her?" he asked quietly through gritted teeth. Jean reared his head back, blinking at him; he knew Mikasa was infatuated with Eren, though he only had a hunch that Eren was simply too imbecilic to realize it, that the boy did like her back somehow without knowing. Eren, through his spite, looked Jean up and down. "I'm not like you. I don't convince girls they're my friend just so I can fuck them."
"Oh, screw you, asshole— That's what you think this is?" His voice heightened with disgust. When Eren simply continued to glare in response, Jean exhaled, shaking his head. He leaned in once more uttering, "She's wasted on you. Don't forget that," and leaving him in his indignation.
As he disappeared into the liveliness of the party, Eren couldn't relax himself. His muscles were stiff with exasperation, a permanent frown on his face. He glared down into his drink, biting on the side of his cheek. Jean was right; she would be wasted on a loser like him. He drank the last of the liquid he held, he wasn't a fan of seeing his own reflection in it. The alcohol made it easier to forget her, seemed like it was time for another. She wasn't coming, why would she? After the way he put up roadblock after roadblock, perhaps she got the hint.
Don't waste yourself on a loser like me.
As it neared nine o'clock, most of the invitees had arrived to the Yaeger house. Zeke planned ahead and informed the neighbours he'd be having a little…get together. They were certainly to brace themselves for some music. Grisha bought a stereo system to hook up to his own father's vintage record player, he kept a vinyl collection worth thousands stashed in the television unit. It wasn't the vinyls Zeke needed, but the stereo, and it was perfect for hijacking. So, Zeke ditched the record player, hooked Eren's CD player to the stereo system, and voila. He could now entertain people of the current millennium.
Reiner had made his way back to Zeke after switching the music from one of Eren's depressing CDs. Ever since Mikasa came into the fold around two years ago, suddenly Eren was more 'sensitive' and 'thoughtful' in his music taste. The two perched against the thick, draped curtains as a few Sophomores readied a game of beer pong on the billiard table. Between the heads of the intoxicated partygoers, Zeke could spot Bertholdt by the staircase, arm leaning on the banister as he spoke to Annie. He tried not to glower at the sight, forcing a bleak smile as Reiner returned.
"It's interesting how much time Bertholdt gives Annie when she's around," Zeke commented, gesturing his cup in their direction. He glanced at Reiner almost menacingly, "You're not jealous, are you?"
Reiner huffed. "If you could believe it, he's not the only guy to want her. Can't imagine how much I'd have to hate myself to be into her."
He raised a quizzical brow. "She's not ugly, Reiner."
"No, she's not. She's just a hard ass."
Zeke vaguely shrugged, a simple nod following as his eyes scathed around the room. "I'll have to take your word for it. I don't know the girl all that much."
"Well, if she gets into Marley next year, you'll know soon enough," he assured him, sipping on his beer.
Zeke then glanced at his friend. "So, who would be the other one?" he asked.
"Hm?"
He leaned in further. "Who's the other party interested in her?"
"Oh, uh—" Reiner's eyes scanned the room for a certain tuft of blonde hair. He eventually spotted Armin walking almost aimlessly in search of someone or something. When he spotted Annie and Bertholdt by the stairs, he jerked to a halt, gaze hitting the ground as he turned in the other direction. "Him," he lifted his chin. "Armin. He's one of Eren's friends."
Slowly, a grin began to emanate on his bearded face, he examined Armin in all his timid glory. "Oh, yes… we're very acquainted." Then, uncouthly, he let out a chuckle. "This is great," he said. "My friend, it looks like we finally have a plan."
Reiner furrowed his brows. "A plan? What do you mean?"
Zeke turned to his friend, lenses glistening. "This is the perfect opportunity for you to create some space between yourself and Bertholdt. I mean, aren't you sick of being smothered by the guy?" Reiner's lips parted as he stared at Zeke. "If we manage to get him a girlfriend that's actually on campus, say, anyone you may know that's currently majoring in Mechanical Engineering, then he'll be too preoccupied with his new conquest to even bat you an eye. You won't have to worry about him anymore. Yes?"
Reiner blinked; Zeke had never been so forward before. It made sense, sure, but Bertholdt already had a girlfriend, and why did this plan spark in the man's brain at the sight of Armin? How did he come into play in all of this?
"Yeah…I guess," he hesitantly replied. "But Annie's graduating at the end of the year. Why don't we just wait it out?"
Zeke shook his head. "As you said before, we don't conclusively know if she'll even get into Marley."
"She's smart—"
"Reiner," Zeke cleared the agitation from his throat, setting his cup down with a contrived smile. "Look… ultimately, it is your decision if you'd want to go another year with this monkey on your back. I'd applaud your tolerance if I didn't find it so utterly foolish. However, if it were me…" he glanced over at the staircase. "I'd do everything in my power to make sure I wasn't being held down," he told him.
Reiner ruminated; it was all so confusing how Zeke thought things should go. In the end, it would all turn out better if Bertholdt would just be his own person. Reiner cared about his friend, he didn't want to rid him entirely from his life, he just needed some space from the guy. Maybe Zeke was right, as terrible as it may potentially end up, this could be the only opportunity to really tear themselves apart from each other. The only question left to be answered was…how?
His voice lowered. "How…how do we do this?"
Zeke let his chest collapse with relief, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Armin, as annoying as he may be, is quite a useful tool," he said.
Before Reiner could respond, his eyes caught sight of Historia. He could feel her air capture his throat as she knelt down beside a recliner, hands placed attentively on a passed out Colt. Poor bastard majored in Bio-med, he never had a spare second to just be a twenty-year-old. So, when they'd take him out to parties, he got trashed almost instantly.
Reiner inhaled as his senses became hyper-aware. He hadn't seen Historia since he graduated; their breakup wasn't messy, just wasn't fun. He could confidently label her the one that got away, except, it wasn't exactly his own doing that made her run into the arms of someone else. He heard she was happy with Ymir, and despite the concern currently etched into her visage, he would say she looked it.
"Dude, it's a party. What do you think happens to people when they drink?" Ymir's shrill voice sounded. She stood by the recliner with her cup in hand, arms folded as she peered down at the crouched girl.
"Ymir! We have to help him!" she insisted. "Can you please get him a glass of water?"
She rolled her eyes emphatically, turning to leave. "Oh, for god's sake."
Reiner watched as Historia gently eased Colt's unconscious form back on the recliner; the idiot kept slouching forward with all his dead weight.
Zeke huffed into his cup, taking a sip. "We have to remind him not to get so carried away," he eventually said.
Reiner continued to watch the fiasco unfold. "Think we're passed that point now," he countered, his eyes still settled on the meek blonde. But as he got lost in the sight of her, Zeke didn't allow a second to be fixated on nothing but his plan to separate Reiner and Bertholdt.
Mikasa glanced over her shoulder as she walked down the footpath, her hands shoved into her coat pockets. She never liked walking alone at night, despite how free it made her feel. Levi had taught her how to defend herself in the event of needing to, but as the walk to Eren's house was only a twenty-minute ordeal into the nicer side of town, she felt less inclined she'd have to.
It was almost half past nine when she arrived on his street. She was well and truly late, being that she had to wait for Levi to leave before she could make her way over. He demanded she stayed home and find some chores to do while he watched Miche's kids, but that wasn't the plan she had herself for tonight. Mikasa only somewhat tried to cover her tracks, she knew it would be fruitless with Levi's freaky intuition. She left the light on in her bedroom, as well as her CD player too, and decided to stop there. She knew leaving was only going to worsen the current standing their relationship was on, she could just picture it now: she would come home around midnight, he would have been sitting at the kitchen table the whole time, ready to pounce on her with lectures and scoldings before she'd bite back and storm off into her room.
It was a mess she would have to deal with when the time came. A bridge to cross when she got to it.
Mikasa could hear the music from a few houses down. When she reached the property, she walked along the steppingstones of the Yaeger's large front yard, making her way up the stairs of the patio and to the front door. She hesitated for a moment, unsure if Eren would even want her there. Taking a deep breath in, she let her fist knock on the door a few times. It was in that moment she realized just how much she didn't want to be at a party right now. Eren was avoiding her, his smarmy brother was there, their parents had no idea it was even happening. She loved his parents, they were great parents, and they were going to be livid when they found out. And there were cars out the front, which meant there were tons of college kids here. Holy shit, she didn't want to do this. She didn't want to be here. She could go home right now and Levi would have no idea she was even gone, she could avoid a whole quarrel with him and just—
Mikasa forced her body to turn around. As she was about to take a step down from the patio, the front door opened, prompting her to glance over her shoulder.
"Mikasa…hey," Eren blinked at her scrupulously. She couldn't tell whether it was too dark for the boy to properly see her or that he thought he saw a ghost. "I didn't think you were coming," he continued.
She slowly faced him. "Just a little late," she quietly replied, her sullen glare softening at the surprise on his visage.
Eren continued to stare at her as he moved aside, allowing her space to come in. She felt her body move against her own will, stepping inside and losing to his gravitational pull. As she moved past him, she could smell the alcohol either emanating from him or his cup. He wouldn't tear his eyes away from her, wobbling here and there as he closed the door. She gave him a tight-lipped smile.
His eyes then fell to her chest. "That a new necklace?" he asked, an odd tone lacing his voice.
Mikasa glanced down at it, she forgot she put it on. "Oh, um, yeah. Sort of…" she jittered, her hand instinctively touching it.
"Jean buy it for you?"
"No," she almost laughed in his face. Wouldn't have been so cute of her. "It's just…in the family."
She wasn't sure why she decided to wear it. It was a green pendent on a slim, black leather rope for her to tie around her neck. Something about her disagreement with Levi urged her to open her drawer of family mementos. Her mother never officially handed the necklace down to her.
"Oh," Eren resigned his stone-like demeanour, taking another sip of his drink. "It's nice. It suits you a lot," he eventually said, his glassy eyes entranced by the necklace. His hand automatically extended out to hold and examine it, but he'd snapped himself out of it before he could, dropping it almost instantly.
Mikasa's lips parted at the sight, her fingers touching the glaze of the pendent. She didn't know what that movement was, but it had her at his mercy. It was one of those rare moments again where Eren was showing interest in her, even if it was just platonic. He had been avoiding her the whole week, even more so this particular one. It was so jarring to see him watch her so closely after months of avoiding eye contact.
In the awkwardness of it all, Mikasa decided to glance around the house. There were quite a few people here. From kids she went to school with to familiar faces she hadn't seen in a while – Reiner, Bertholdt, Zeke, even some of Zeke's friends she had met on a few occasions. Then there was a bunch of college kids she didn't know.
When her gaze found its way back to Eren again, she noticed he was still staring at her. He slightly teetered from side to side, his blinking lazy. He definitely had a few drinks by the time she got here.
"Is Armin around?" she decided to break the silence. As much as she loved being in his presence, and she would let him stare at her all day if he wanted to, there were people around to witness his odd behaviour.
Eren peered around, shrugging. "He's here somewhere," he told her, soon gesturing his head. "You want a drink?"
Mikasa thought for a moment. She was already here against Levi's (and now her own) wishes, already in a buttload of trouble. What was some underage drinking added to the mix?
"Yeah. Okay."
Eren held her hand and took her over to one of the coolers in the living room. She was taken aback at his forwardness, swiftly mesmerized by the sensation of his skin once again. It had been so long since she felt his touch – he used to be so casual with his affection. He would swing his arms around her and Armin's shoulders, embrace her when she needed to cry, lean his head on her shoulder when they rode the bus.
When they got to the cooler, he reached inside and grabbed her pre-mixed drink. He held his almost empty cup between his teeth as he used both hands to attempt opening the bottle. She watched him almost painfully as the lid refused to come off no matter how hard he kept trying.
"Uh, Eren," she started to wince. "I think you might need a bottle opener."
Eventually, he gave up. "Yeah, just…seeing if I could open it anyway," he spoke against the cup. He definitely thought it was a twist off. He found a bottle opener on the bookshelf beside him – a bikini-clad pin-up girl with a ukelele – and used it. Once the lid popped off, he handed it to her. Again, she gave him a tight-lipped smile.
"How much have you drank?" she questioned.
He shrugged, brows furrowing. "What's it matter?"
A frown tainted her visage. "Maybe you should slow down a little," she suggested, her fingers lacing around the cup in his hands. He let her take it from him and watched as she placed it on the bookshelf. "You want some water?"
He couldn't stand to hear the sincerity in her tone, he hated just how much she cared about him. He didn't deserve a single ounce of her compassion. He wanted to fall docile, apologise at her feet for disappointing her; for being such a raging fuck-up.
But he couldn't falter now.
"Don't do that."
Mikasa blinked. "Huh?"
"Try to take care of me," he persisted.
She wanted to tell him she was only worried, that she didn't mean to control him. She also wanted to smack him over the head for being so inconsiderate of himself. But instead, she faltered, pitiful at his demand.
"Sorry," she lowered her head. "Just seemed like you had enough."
At her compliance, Eren softened. He was still reeling from his spat with Jean earlier, he knew he shouldn't have taken it out on her.
"No. I'm okay," he tenderly replied.
Jean. Fucking Jean. How could he let that asshole worm into his brain like that? The pair let a silence befall them, and Eren let his gaze go astray while he thought about how much he wanted to pulverise that tall idiot. He wouldn't be too surprised if Jean had tricked her into going on a date with him. Somehow.
He let out a fierce exhale, turning back to the girl. "I think Jean likes you," he blurted out, as if he truly had to bring it to her attention.
Mikasa blinked at the boy as she glanced back up at him, a wave of bewilderment washing over her. "Yeah…everyone knows already," she told him. Why would he bring that up?
"Oh," he scratched the back of his head, embarrassed by how casual she was about it.
The girl peered down at her drink, the fizzy white liquid bubbling back at her. "It, uh…wasn't a date. If that's what you were wondering," she mumbled to him.
His eyes locked onto her. "Well…what was it?"
"Two friends hanging out. Like we do." Her eyes flickered up at him. "Did."
"I'm—" Eren exhaled. "I just…" can't get you out of my head. "I'm really busy right now. I've got…stuff going on. Life."
She nodded her head, almost pouting. "I understand," she softly spoke.
"Yeah," he lowered his gaze; he was utterly disappointed in himself. "I knew you would."
Mikasa slowly took a breath in, she faced him with her chin held high, bearing into his eyes. "Are we still friends, Eren?" she commanded herself to ask. "Is that…what you see me as?"
"Of course," he replied, instantly frowning down at her. "We'll always be friends."
Again, she nodded, but this time she would not drop her head from him. "We will…won't we?" she reaffirmed, the words like a coming out just as easily as needles going down.
"Even if…I get really busy, you'll always be my friend," he told her.
Mikasa took it for what it was, another reassurance that he'll never see her the way she saw him. She feigned happiness as best as she could in an attempt to keep her wounded heart at bay, perhaps she had to stop dreaming of notions that were far from reality. She should ground herself, keep her head out of the clouds and ensure she didn't spend another two years writhing in pain from it all.
Eren and Mikasa migrated over to the stairs where they sat; they spoke sparsely about the people who came to the party, memories and anecdotes about things that happened at school. She could tell quite apparently that their friendship, for some reason, wasn't once what it used to be. That she didn't get the passionate, energized responses from him anymore, that he wouldn't give her all of his attention when she spoke. He told her she didn't do anything wrong, so was he just growing up? Moving on? His hair grew longer over the summer, he wasn't as tall as he was this time last year, and his face resonated more with Grisha's now than it did with Carla's. He started to resemble more of a man than a wide-eyed emphatic boy. He was just as attractive to her as he was when they were fourteen, it wasn't his appearance that distressed her. The flame of life that kindled within him is what she longed for these last few months.
Eren stared at the plastic bottle in his hands; he'd put the alcohol aside and opted for water like Mikasa suggested. The longer they sat, the more he sobered up. He drank to rid the thought of her, but now she was here, he couldn't allow himself to succumb to the impulsivity that came with intoxication. He was already enough of an impulsive jackass.
"So, how was it? With Jean?" Eren casually asked, attempting to ignore the vortex stirring up in his gut. "It sucked, right?"
Mikasa exhaled a short laugh, taken by a grin. "It was fine," she replied. "I…haven't been so good recently, so he just wanted to take my mind off things."
Eren's stomach churned as he glanced away, attempting to hide his scowl. "That was nice of him," he mumbled. God, he'd been such a dick to Jean before, it's no wonder he tried to rub it in his face. Mikasa wouldn't lie to him, it must not have been a date after all. His head turned in her direction. "What's got you down?" he promptly asked.
Mikasa glanced up at an approaching figure, delivering a contrived smile as they stood before the two.
"Mikasa," Zeke smiled down at her. "Always pleasant to see you."
"Hey," she nodded. He continued to stare at her, now expectantly with a slight cock of his head. "Uh, good—good to see you too."
Eren rolled his eyes.
"You wouldn't happen to know where Armin is, would you?" Zeke questioned. "There's a fascinating new bill that's been proposed and I'd like to get his opinion on it. He always has…interesting opinions."
She side-eyed Eren doubtfully. "Well...I-I don't know. I kinda just got here," she replied, much to his dissatisfaction.
"Can't you just leave him alone? He's having fun," Eren scolded his brother.
"He's a big boy, he's capable of civil discussion," Zeke frowned.
With a sigh, he gestured forward. "There. He's playing beer pong with Reiner."
Zeke glanced over his shoulder, studying the situation with an emanating simper. "Excellent," he mumbled, turning back to the teenagers. "I'll leave you to it." He staggered between them and made his way upstairs, causing them to suddenly jerk out of the way.
Eren shot Mikasa a look, one of pain or apology. She refrained from laughing, covering her lips with her hand as she snickered.
"I know," he rolled his eyes again.
"He's…a character."
"Tell me about it," he huffed.
Mikasa smiled down at her drink, taking a sip and lowering it. "Remember the time he and Armin got in that debate about grey matter? You know, the brain stuff?" she asked him, studying his features as he thought.
He paused for a moment before it clicked. "Oh yeah, of course."
"And he thought it got its name because it showed up grey on an MRI scan?"
He nodded. "Yeah, but it was the cell concentrating or something," he began to grin.
"And Armin kept explaining how he was wrong, but he kept acting like he was the smartest guy on the planet—" Mikasa's laughter overcame her. "Then Armin lost it and had to Google it to show him?"
Eren, compelled by her contagious laughter, reared his head back in a fit. "I've never seen him scream so loud before—!"
"And he was shaking the computer!" She let out a howl of laughter. "And Zeke was just sitting there…just sitting!"
As Mikasa lost herself to the hilarity of it all, Eren watched her as his laughter fizzled out. He was forced to witness her in her purest state – her nose crinkled up, her eyes watered shut, her smile wide and gorgeous. He loved it. And it hurt that he loved it. He loved it all so much – loved her so much, he was frightened he'd destroy that laugh. She laughed as his friend, not his lover. He had no way of knowing what it would be like to hear it in another regard, why bother trying? It wasn't broken, don't try to fix it. Let it be.
Let it be.
Mikasa eventually fell out of laughter, turning to him with a content smile on her face. He watched her as she watched him, studying each other's features for a readable thought, a facial tic. She missed this; she missed it all so much. This was how they used to be.
Suddenly, Eren's visage warped anxiously, prompting him to stand up from the stairs. "I should, um… I need to make sure everything's going okay," he told her.
She faltered at the shift in his tone, and he left her without inclination of his return.
high horse - mannequin pussy
Chapter 6: high horse (2)
Notes:
(NOTE: chapter was formerly named after a different song, which i've now changed. nothing story wise has been edited, so no need to re-read!)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Those hell spawns had him drained by the time he got home – he was certain Miche and Nanaba lived on a diet of cocaine and Red Bull if they were able to keep up with four of Lucifer's children. He wasn't entirely sure what happened; Nanaba had them bathed and ready for bed by the time he got there, it was meant to be an easy stint if a teenaged girl could have and has done it. Levi was supposed to just sit on the sofa and watch cable, simply send himself into a three-hour brain rot while he occasionally checked the kids were still in bed, maybe walk one of them to the bathroom at some stage. That's it.
But that would've been too easy, right?
They were psychotic. What the fuck was he meant to do when one of them kept trying to swing on the light fixture? Or when one of them kept smacking him on the head from behind the sofa? Or when the other one found where Nanaba hid the paint tubes? It got to a point where Kenny's voice cropped up inside his scrambled head, assuring him that, sometimes, child abuse is okay. It was all fun and games until one of the little brats ransacked their parent's bedroom and found shit five-year-olds weren't meant to see. Shit Levi didn't want to see.
That's where he drew the line.
He used whatever he could find to his advantage – one of Miche's Halloween masks and a butter knife from the kitchen – and scared the ever-living crap out of them all, driving them back into their beds with a unison of scream-cries.
Though amidst all the toy bashing and high-pitched toddler voices, one of them kept from partaking in the mess. Miche's little girl named Stella, a real quiet one amongst her brothers. Poor thing had her father's nose. She sat idly on the sofa when Levi set off to wrangle the rest back to bed. As he took the mask off and settled back into his seat, an exhausted sigh escaping him, he tried not to jump at the sight of a little girl sitting beside him in the darkness. When it came to getting her back into bed…well, he did try.
"Ever heard of the boogey-man?"
"If you stay awake too late into the night, you'll never sleep again. You sure you want that?"
"I hear monsters live around here. Monsters that like to eat little girls."
She wasn't all that receptive to it. Instead, she shuffled up to him, showing him her scribbles of what looked to be a dog-bear-person and a picture book about adventurous lion cubs. She had a wary politeness to her, asking questions about his favourite color, how old he was, where her parents had gone. She was immediately comfortable around him, and he wondered if she simply remembered him from the times he and Mikasa would visit. Even when the night came to an end and Miche and Nanaba strolled through the door, their daughter was sprawled out fast asleep, head resting against Levi's forearm as if it belonged there. He hated that he had to move and disrupt her, even if she slept like a log.
It was almost eleven now, the cold settling well into the night. Levi dropped his keys on the counter, his head slowly scouring his house for any sign of life. He could hear the CD player in Mikasa's room emanating a soft hum through the door, something delicate and melancholic as usual. His outrage had begun to dwindle; it had ever since Miche's kid pulled her drawings out to show him, wearing him down like the father of a spoiled brat. For a moment, it took him back to when he was just an adolescent, when Mikasa was a careful yet warm creature. 'His little girl' as he came to affectionately think of her. She wore Mikasa's gentle gaze, and as the television's glow reflected along her enormous eyes, it reminded him of just how much he missed what she used to be. He could imagine that only for a moment he was nineteen again and Mikasa was all of five, just like Stella. Too young and hopeful to realize the gravity of her trauma and how it would eventually blemish her spirit. Too content to find a real reason to be upset with him, to find herself turning away when they made eye contact, or frown at his presence. Back to a time where she wanted to show him things, and ask him questions, and learn from what he'd come to know throughout his life.
To a time where she loved him, and regardless of any intruding force, her love was forever unwaning.
Levi padded down the hallway, the music becoming more apparent as he neared. Once he stood in front of her door, he let his knuckles gently knock on it. He didn't expect her to let him in, quite frankly, it'd be foolish of him to expect her to fold and explain how he was right, that Eren was a devious twerp after all, and she suddenly decided to pull her head out of her ass. It would all be too perfect; the universe wouldn't allow as such.
Levi leaned against the door frame, lowering his head. "Mikasa, I know you're in there," he said, tapping on the door again.
More radio silence.
"Alright. You're upset with me, I get it. Look…" he shook his head. "If you had told me five years ago that someday we'd be at each other's throats, I'd tell you how delusional you are. I wouldn't even entertain the thought that we might piss each other off, maybe ever. But yeah. Things are different now. Real different." He wasn't sure what he was trying to say, the words just seemed to fall out of him. "I don't… I don't want it to be like that. I know saying this won't fix things, I know you're sick of having me around, but…I just wanted to say I'm sorry… Not because I don't like Eren, or because I didn't let you go to his stupid— uh, probably stupid house." He rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry because…I don't give you enough credit. You're smart, you're real smart. I have to keep reminding myself that you're not as young as you used to be, that you don't need me the way you did when you were five, or eight, or twelve. Once February comes, you'll be eighteen. You'll be…a woman."
His gaze hit the floor at the concept, his little girl an adult.
"It's not that I ever doubted you, more that I think there's something in our blood that makes this family prone to living a life of shit. When my mom was your age, she made one bad mistake and fucked it all up for herself. She had me. And because of that, she got kicked out, we lived in a women's shelter 'til Kenny got his own place. You know how it goes. She suffered from her bad choices, one after another, and she couldn't…" He halted, exhaling. "That's why I worry. I worry you'll mess up— again, not because you're incapable, but because it's in your blood. And that I'll somehow let you fail, and it'll be my fault for allowing your life to fall down that same rabbit hole." His brows furrowed. "But that's where I go wrong. Look at where you are, Mikasa. You're leagues away from anything like that. You did something none of us ever could, you came this far without ruining your life. It speaks volumes being the only Ackerman without a criminal record or alcohol addiction. Tch," he shook his head again, allowing all the memories to replay back to him. "Took me a while to realize it, kid. But you outgrew me years ago. Maybe I'm just not ready to let go and accept this grown-up version of you," he said, taking a moment to think. "Doesn't seem so long ago when you were just some happy girl who couldn't read for shit, jumping around everywhere like a damn monkey. The only Ackerman who thought the world wasn't so dull after all," he huffed.
The corner of Levi's lips began to tug, his eyelids watering at their brim.
"Fine. Guess I'll always have to resort to missing her. Even after all this time she hasn't been around. Now, it's you in her place. Mikasa the smart ass, with her straight A's and her abstract art. Mikasa the adult. Mikasa the woman, who spent her whole life learning how to make better choices than the people before her." He stared forward. "You've always been a good kid, better than I ever was. I'm sorry I keep letting myself forget that."
Levi kept his glassy eyes forward; he knew the second his eyelids closed on him that the tears would fall. The music in Mikasa's room had come to a stop, prompting him to sniffle, his thumb wiping away a rogue tear. He couldn't hear her on the other side of the door, but he hoped she'd come to open it. Come and embrace him like she used to. Maybe she was hesitant – after being so hard on her these last few weeks, he had to shove the thought that he possibly damaged their relationship to the back of his head. She needed to know he would always be there, no matter how indignant she felt towards him.
His hand twisted the knob, slowly, he allowed the door to widen. Part of him expected her to be standing on the other side of it, moments away from opening it herself. The other part expected her to be sobbing on her bed, ready to throw a shoe at him the second she saw his face. As her room revealed itself to him, he succumbed to confusion.
It was empty.
Her bed was unkempt, the lid of her CD player was up, her window was slightly ajar and letting in a gentle breeze.
No. No, no, no—
He entered it as if scouring every crevasse and corner of her miniscule bedroom would unearth her presence. The CD in the stereo continued to spin, slowing more and more as the seconds went by. It must have stopped once the album was over. He brought himself over to her window, examining the sill. Dust remained on it, she wouldn't allow him to spot clean her room the older she got– No, stop. That didn't matter right now. She was gone. She left.
"Mikasa?" he turned back, stalking into the hallway.
Goddamn it, how could he be so stupid? So much for making good choices – she was seventeen, of course she wasn't staying home and doing chores. Of course she would prioritise Eren – fucking Eren – over him. She hated him, she hated everything about him, she wouldn't listen to him. What the fuck was he thinking?
"Mikasa," he called out once more. Louder.
But no one spoke back to him.
Sasha giggled as she tore open the box of fruit rollups. They had hunkered down in the kitchen for at least an hour now, taking their pick amongst the candy isle that was Eren's pantry. Carla must have loaded up for Eren before she went away on the trip. God, what an angel she was.
"It's like she knew Zeke was gonna throw a party. Why else would she buy a buttload of snacks?" Connie suggested. He was wrist deep in a tube of Pringles, wiggling his fingers to reach the last chip.
As she turned the tube upside down for him, her brows furrowed with realization. "But...she doesn't know," she replied, she could feel a panic swarming her chest. "M-maybe she bought it all for something else…what if she's throwing a party when she gets back? What if she was just trying to prepare for it?!" Her hands clasped her head, even with the pair of fruit roll ups between her fingers.
"Aw, shit—we just ate everything!" Connie's eyes widened.
Jean side eyed the two, his elbows resting on the kitchen counter. "You two are idiots."
Their heads snapped in his direction.
"Jeez, lighten up," Connie muttered, tossing the empty Pringles tube into the make-shift garbage bag that hung on the cupboard door.
"Yeah, you want a fruit roll up?" Sasha offered, almost as if she wasn't freaking out just a moment ago. The duality of man.
Jean merely glared at the snack she dangled in front of his face, a sullen expression tainting his sharp features. Connie focused on him; he noticed his usual disgust of the pair's gluttony was laced with a little more than just repulsion. His mom once told him that the eyes were the windows to the soul – he didn't understand what that meant until ninth grade but at least knew now, especially as Jean's eyes appeared…hopeless.
"What's wrong, man? Are you upset or something?" Connie asked, brows furrowing with concern.
He exhaled, dropping his gaze. "It's just Eren again."
"Oh."
Sasha frowned. "He's still acting strange, isn't he?" her tone had mellowed.
Jean leant off the counter. "He's just so damn touchy. I couldn't even mention Mikasa's name without him being a jerk about it."
"He's a passionate guy. You tellin' me this is something you just realized?" Connie quizzically raised a brow.
Sasha rolled her eyes, biting into one of her roll ups. "Something's up with those two for sure. Have you noticed how distant they've been from each other?" she asked Jean.
He scoffed. "More like how distant Eren is to her," he replied, eyeing Mikasa by the staircase. Her back was turned to him as she spoke to Ymir, but every time she took a glance at Eren on the other side of the room, he caught glimpses of the stress on her face. His visage churned with concern.
Sasha eyed him, she could see it written all over his face. "Go talk to her," she told him. His eyes snapped over at her. "You want to, don't you?"
Jean lowered his head, his lips contorting into some sort of restrained frown. "Yeah," he uttered quietly.
Connie gestured his head. "Then go, man."
Jean inhaled as deeply as he could, his eyes still set on a borderline frantic Mikasa. He took in the last of his drink and set the cup down, manoeuvring around the kitchen island and leaving the room. Connie and Sasha watched him as he made his way up to her; he placed an attentive hand on her back as he spoke, but the girl jerked back. She shook her head at the both of them, waving her hand in an attempt to ease out of the situation as she gradually retreated in another direction.
Connie winced. "Damn."
"Poor Jean," Sasha mumbled, slowly taking a bite out of her roll up.
As they continued to watch, Connie's hand covertly reached over to grab the box of fruit roll ups. Sasha instinctively captured his wrist in a death grip.
"Put it down."
Connie halted, breathless. "Okay…"
As he vigorously rubbed his hand in an attempt to soothe it, they noticed someone enter the kitchen with a plate wrapped in aluminium. He blew a tuft of his curly blond hair out of his eyes as he set it down on the counter along with a six pack of beer. Sasha and Connie eyed each other, almost as if they had a secret, telepathic language they spoke to each other in. Whatever aroma was emanating from that plate smelled warm and gooey and inviting. They returned their gazes back to the boy as he unsheathed the foil from it, revealing an abundance of chocolatey squares.
Brownies.
They swarmed over to him, planting themselves on either of his sides as they eyed off the plate.
He glanced between them, brows furrowing. "Uh…"
"Hi." Sasha's sight was rigid – it was about as well set as the heavenly precious masterpieces. "Are these Zeke's brownies?" she asked, tilting her head to examine them. The last few times Zeke held get-togethers with his friends, he would bring over brownies with a little extra…something in them. 'Happy brownies' as she came to think of them as.
"No, they're mine?" The boy peered down at her; features contorted with annoyance.
Connie lowered himself to eye-level with the baked goods. "What'd ya put in 'em?" he interrogated.
"Well, baking chocolate, eggs, flour. Just the regular stuff."
Sasha blinked. "Wait, so these are just brownie-brownies?"
"Not pot brownies?"
"God no," the boy scoffed. "Pot ruins the taste." He watched the pair stare at each other, visibly offended. "Here," he reached for two of the brownies, handing them over. "You tell me if these need pot in it."
They each took a square, scrutinous of their shape and size. The outside was firm but gooey to the touch, and the closer they held it to their faces, the more emergent their delicious aroma became. Sasha felt as if she could smell every grain of cocoa that graced its mixture, while Connie could already imagine the gumminess of its middle sticking to his teeth as he'd chew.
They both took a bite.
The boy watched Connie's suspicious expression lift, then turned to Sasha just as she hunkered down. From her wonderfully captured features, it was as if he could see the flavours explore her tongue in real-time. Her natural colouring brightened; her sparkling eyes shot wide open.
"Aah! This is amazing!" she practically screamed into the remainder of her brownie, staring between it and the culinary God who created it. The boy watched her melt, and he could say he had a similar feeling. A smile overcame him. "What else can you make?!" she grilled him.
"Uh—cakes, pastries. Savoury dishes too, like beef wellington, uh, braised lamb shank, lemon-ricotta linguini. I major in food science," he told her.
Sasha could have fainted. "Oh my god, no way!"
His grin widened, he felt mesmerized by her passion. "What's your name?" he watched her as she bit into the brownie again.
"I'm Sa— I'm Sasha," she beamed through the contents in her mouth, raising her hand to her lips.
"I'm Niccolo," he held out his hand as he introduced himself.
She glanced down at it, her features sobering as she swallowed and gently took it.
Connie stared at the ordeal, lowering the brownie in his hand. "Hey… hey Sash, why don't we get the others to come taste these?"
"So, how long have you studied all of this?" she asked Niccolo, nibbling on her brownie as she peered up at him.
"Well, I'm only a freshman, but my mom's a private chef. We've always cooked together."
"Sash?" Connie blinked, his eyes falling somewhere or other as the awkwardness began to hit him.
"Aw, that's so sweet," she clutched her heart.
"Yeah, she's amazing. Seriously. If you think my brownies are good, you've gotta try hers."
Sasha stared at him, a serious hold on her features. "I'll try anything."
Connie leant on the counter, resting his head on his hand as he set down his brownie. Suddenly, they didn't taste so good.
"Your throw has to be impeccable to win, that's all I gotta say."
"Nah, man. It's all about the stance. Good leg posture, back posture. You screw that up, then your whole throw's gonna be out."
Reiner watched his fellow classmate's debate about beer-pong technique for only a few moments longer. His own game against his buddy with a baseball scholarship had ended in failure – successfully. His teammate, probably one of the best strategists when it came to anything, simply wasn't all that great of a thrower against a trained pitcher.
"Why do I have to drink all the ones he lands?" Armin grimaced at the brown liquid.
"I'm the designated driver tonight. Someone's gotta get Bertholdt home in one piece."
What was a little rum sprinkled into the cups of beer? It wouldn't hurt the kid, it would probably help him unwind, loosen that "think first, ask questions later" mindset he always had going on. Within the span of half an hour, Armin managed to ingest a total of six rum shots and two cans of beer. Zeke's plan was going accordingly. By the end of it, the kid couldn't even spell beer-pong.
"So, Armin," Reiner planted his arm on the squirrelly boy's shoulder, steering him away from the billiard table. "Lotta talking going on recently. I'm sure you've heard what all the fuss is about."
Armin blinked, trying to combine the two images of his friend into one. "Wha' fuss?" he questioned.
"Oh, you don't know?" Reiner leaned him against the wall, bending over to his level with the utmost serious of expressions on his face. "Annie has a major crush on you." He pointed at the staircase where Annie sat, red cup in hand as she aloofly glanced around the room.
Bertholdt may have been oblivious to it all, but Reiner sure wasn't. He had seen how Armin perked up at the sight of her, asked her lots of questions about those intelligent topics he always rambled on about. Men knew when other men were interested in a girl like it was a sixth sense. He was sure it went the same way for women, as well.
Armin's eyes snapped over to her. Hints of confusion had etched into his features as he looked back up at his friend.
"N-no, she's wi' Bertholdt—"
"Does that really matter?" he spoke lowly, crucially. "It's how she feels. I thought, you know…you felt that way about her too?"
Armin swallowed, almost as if the whole world around him had disappeared. "I…I do."
Reiner grinned, slapping him on the shoulder. "That's great man. You're not gonna let Bertholdt get in the way of how you feel, are you?" He studied Armin's unconvinced expression, prompting him to shift the boy's body in her direction. "Come on, look at her," he spoke over his shoulder and into his ear.
Armin exhaled. "I…I like looking at 'er."
"Yeah? What part of her?" a grin slowly overcame him; he watched Armin hesitate. "She's got a great ass. I wouldn't blame you if—"
"No!" the boy swung around, his features frantic. "I…I like 'er hair…her eyes…" his head turned in her direction again, his eyes focusing on her. "Her nose is…is beautiful. Hic."
Smirking, Reiner turned him towards her again. "You know…Bertholdt doesn't tell her stuff like that. He kind of forgets she's even there sometimes." He could almost hear Armin's faint gasp. "Man, if that were my girlfriend, I'd tell her everyday just how pretty she is." He could almost gag at the thought.
Armin nodded. "Y-yeah…"
"Would you?"
"Yeah!" His nods became vigorous.
"Well go on," he shoved him in her direction. "Tell her."
Enthralled, energized with adrenaline, Armin took a step forward in the direction of his love. He was in advanced English with her, they studied together all the time now that Bertholdt was in college. He found her softer side, the same side she must have only reserved for those closest to her. How could he ignore all of that?
Suddenly, his nerve endings tingled. A big, bright neon sign flashed in his mind to STOP. And he did. He turned around and shuffled back over to Reiner, an uneasy pull on his features.
"I-I can't, I don' think I'm drunk enough," he spurted, searching around for another beer.
Reiner watched him, tainted with shock. "You're not?"
Levi yanked the handbrake and killed the ignition of his car. He stared at how lively the Yaeger's house was through his window – the lights were on, music vibrated throughout the street, and cars were everywhere. It was a party.
"God fucking damn it," he hissed, forcing himself out of the car.
Their house was, ironically, a humble-sized mansion. It was one of those white colonial-style houses with the red door and the gold trim on the bricked mailbox. It made him sick to see a family like the Yaeger's live in such suburban luxury compared to the rest of the town. As he stalked up their ridiculously long driveway, he thought to himself that if there was ever an instance that he would break the dry spell his criminal record suffered, then now would be that instance. How could he have been so stupid to trust her? He was too riled up to figure out who he wanted to kill first – Mikasa for sneaking out on him, lying to him, pretending he was just some guy she merely lived with, or Eren for being an eternal pain in his ass.
The closer Levi neared, the louder the music got. He almost tore through the door as he went inside, scouring the house full of adolescents for a familiar face. People passed by him, spilling drinks and talking obnoxiously loud as if he wasn't within earshot. He soon found Sasha and Connie yacking it up in the kitchen and beelined right for them. Sasha was guffawing like a manic over something some blond kid smilingly whispered in her ear, while Connie seemed unimpressed by the whole notion.
His expression abruptly fell at the sight of Levi, his face draining of all color as the man approached, grim and irate. He strenuously elbowed Sasha over and over again in a bid to shut her up, mere jabs turning into full-throttle elbows to the gut, but the girl was built like titanium.
Levi stood at the other end of the kitchen counter, glaring between the two until Sasha finally opened her eyes.
"Ahahahaaa—!" she had little time to gasp at the sight of a furious Levi, her laugh jarringly transforming into blood curdling scream.
Levi grimaced. The blond boy winced, jolting his head away from her as Connie cowered, almost whimpering.
"I-I'm sorry, Levi, we're just having a party!" Connie assured him. "I promise they're normal brownies!"
Sasha empathically nodded. "Y-yeah! Do you want some?!" her eyes flickered between the empty plate and her hand that held the last brownie, already half eaten. "Uh…" she hesitantly offered it to him, reaching over the counter so he didn't have to.
"Where the fuck is Mikasa?" he finally graced them with his words.
"I-I don't know—I think she's outside?" Connie nervously suggested, pointing towards the other room.
Levi didn't waste a second continuing his search. He pushed through swarms of college kids and Eren's stupid friends, stumbling upon the sight of Armin and Reiner in a far-off corner. He held the smaller kid by the back of the shirt as whispered into his ear, pointing in another direction. Why the hell were these kids so damn secretive?
He felt a sigh escape him, and not the pitiful kind. "Damn it, Armin," he mumbled.
Levi pushed through a few more students to get to them. Armin immediately locked eyes with him, a wobbly grin pulling at his soft features. At least someone was happy to see him.
"M-Migasa!" he hiccupped. "Di' yew get shorter?"
He deadpanned.
"Hey, Levi. Long time no see," Reiner stood up straight, dropping the lethal grip he had on the back of Armin's shirt and merely placing a hand on his shoulder. Levi stared at him, scrutinous. "Oh, him? He's fine. I'm taking good care of him." He slapped the boy's shoulder a few times, grinning at the man.
"Then why the hell is he totalled?"
He shrugged. He fostered that peculiar expression people pulled when they wanted him to think nothing was amiss. He may have only been thirty, but Reiner seemed to forget he'd raised a child before. Lived lifetimes before the idiot ever reached elementary school.
"Just having a good time is all," he simply said. "Hey, you want a drink? We've got beer in the—"
"Don't be fucking delusional, Reiner. Give me him," Levi took hold of Armin, severing him from the boy's grip.
"Woah—hey!" he stumbled back, brows furrowing as he raised his hands. "We were just messing around!"
Levi had already taken off with the intoxicated mess Armin was, pulling him aside to a gap in the living room. His knees kept buckling on him, as if he was micro-blacking out during the simple journey from one room to another. As Levi tugged him along, his features became uneasy at the dead weight he would momentarily become. Shit, how much did he drink? Did Reiner give him too much?
Levi stood the kid up against the wall, trying to ignore the wobbling of the family photos above his head. He planted his hands on his shoulders, lowering himself ever so slightly to his eye level. At least they were a similar height, the rest of them were all nearing or surpassing six foot—No. Stop it. Find Mikasa.
"Where's Mikasa?" he asked him, staring at him through the brim of his eyelids.
"Mi-Migasa?" Armin blinked at him, his head rolling from side to side against the wall.
"Yes. Mikasa. Where is she?"
He tried as hard as he could to focus, his squinted eyes repeatedly blinking. He lifted his head from the wall, jaw hanging as his visage fell serious, his eyes starting to widen. Suddenly, it wasn't Mikasa he was talking to.
Armin let out a wail of a scream as he realized who stood in front of him, he used his hands to try and back up further, scrambling and scratching against the wall.
"The fu—? Hey—shut up!" Levi spoke through gritted teeth, shaking the boy to snap some sense into him. "Why the hell do you kids keep doing that?"
Eventually, his wail came to an end, and in its place came hyperventilation.
"I… I…"
"Tell me where Mikasa is. Now."
"Sh- She…I don't…I don't know…" his breathing laboured; he sounded like he was on the verge of tears.
Shit. Now, he really began to worry. If she wasn't with Sasha and Connie, or if she wasn't with Armin, then the chance of her being alone with Eren was high enough to make his stomach churn. Nausea overwhelmed him; he released his grip on Armin and let a hand rest on his shoulder as he turned around, discernibly searching the room. Whether it was for his cousin or a nearby bucket, he wasn't too sure now.
Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of familiar figure standing in the middle of the staircase. His eyes narrowed at her; she hadn't seen him yet, but it was definitely who he had been searching for.
Mikasa stood on the staircase, her hand resting on the banister as she wearily peered down into the room. She was searching for someone – and when it came up fruitless, she continued her journey upstairs. No, she wasn't looking for someone, she was checking. She was making sure no one was following her. Following her upstairs…where Eren could be.
Levi's grip tightened on the boy's shoulder; as he headed for the staircase, he dragged Armin along with him.
"No! Ple- pleaz don' kill me!" Armin whined, attempting to sever the grip Levi had on him.
"It's not you I'm killing," he gritted his teeth, continuing to yank him along.
As he made his way up the staircase, the atmosphere quietened. He could hear the grating sound of Eren's voice as he spoke to someone. All Levi could see was red. He lugged Armin to the top of the stairs, rounding the corner into the nearest room.
Mikasa stood there in what looked to be Eren's bedroom, her back turned to the door. She glanced down at Eren who sat on one of his beanbags, while Bertholdt sat next to him against his bed.
"Was Ymir just up here?" her tone was laced with apprehension.
"Nah," Bertholdt replied. "Actually, I haven't seen her since—"
Levi hurled Armin past Mikasa, clipping the fabric of her sleeve as he tumbled down and landed on top of Eren.
"Wah!"
"Shit—!"
"Woah, what the—"
"Levi!" Mikasa swung around, her eyes wide and startled.
Bertholdt winced at the sight, scooting away from Eren as quickly as possible. It wasn't too long ago that he'd experienced the tension between Levi and Eren at Mikasa's house, he just didn't know now was the time they were going to duke it out – at a party of all places. He saw the emergence of Zeke at the door, prompting him to get up and scoot by a heated Levi to get to him.
"We're leaving. Now." Levi demanded, hooking his hand around Mikasa's bicep.
"What the hell's your problem?!" Eren shouted from the ground, trying to wriggle Armin off of him.
"And what the hell are you doing here?!" Mikasa tore her arm from him.
"I could ask you the same goddamn thing," he spoke sharply, bringing his face mere centimetres from hers. "Get. In. The car."
Mikasa staggered backwards and away from him, a bewildered expression soiling her features as she helped Armin sit against the wall, ensuring he was okay. Eren stood up, fists clenched as he approached the older man.
"Levi, is it?" Zeke called to him, eyes observing him up and down. Eren halted. "So you're the brooding and mysterious parental guardian I've heard so much about."
"Zeke, don't," Bertholdt whispered to him, earning the older boy's conceited glance. "Trust me. Leave it between them."
Mikasa shook her head. "I'm not going—"
"Now, Mikasa."
"I didn't think I was talking to thin air," Zeke chuckled at Levi, grinning at Bertholdt as he did. "I know you can hear me."
Grimacing, Levi allowed Zeke a shred of his attention, turning to glare at him. "You're right. I'm hearing you, but I'm sure as fuck not listening."
"Yeah, you wouldn't," Eren piped up. "You're just an asshole to everyone, right?"
Levi managed to almost butt heads with the boy even with Mikasa between them. "Mind your business you little shit," he spoke through gritted teeth. "I've had enough of you."
"Stop it," Mikasa wedged herself in what little gap they had left, forcing Levi back.
"Now, now. Is that any way to talk to a child?" Zeke questioned, stepping into the room as Bertholdt disappeared. "Clearly, I'm out of the loop on what's got you so distressed, but I don't see why my brother can't have his friend over for a little party?"
With scornful eyes still locked with Eren, it suddenly seemed to click. Levi studied the glowering boy's features for a millisecond before turning back around to the bearded young man by the door.
Brother.
"You're Zeke, huh?" His eyes travelled up and down the douche-ily dressed pest. "Do all of you Yaeger's have that whimsical bullshit attitude? Or is it just the men in your family?"
Zeke huffed, though he wasn't laughing. His expression solidified. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm not talking to thin air, am I?"
"No, you're not. But you sure are aggressive," he folded his arms. "Is it typical of you to throw children around when you're upset?"
Levi stepped forward, indignant at the notion. "You wanna find out?"
"No—stop!" Mikasa pleaded, her brows furrowing at the mess she had created. She pulled on Levi's arm, catching his attention. "Stop. I'll go. Just stop," her voice weakened.
Appalled, Eren blinked down at her. "Are you seriously gonna let him—"
"Please, just—" Mikasa exhaled at the sight of his outrage. Angry men. She was so sick of angry men. "Don't worry about it. Please."
Eren stared at her, a million thoughts swirling around in his head. He didn't want her to leave. He didn't want Levi to whisk her away, never to be seen again in some bizarre scenario. He wanted to hold her, to protect her from the awfulness her life had to offer.
Eren faltered, unsure of what to do. "Don't let him hurt you."
"He would never—"
"Hurt her?"
"—hurt me." Mikasa and Levi spoke in unison, blinking at him with shock.
She wasn't sure why he thought that, or of whatever gave him the idea that Levi would put his hands on her. If anything had angered Levi the most tonight, it was that comment right there.
Forcibly, he stepped up to the kid. "Listen to me, Eren. Stay the fuck away from Mikasa. I mean it," he demanded, glaring up at the boy. "Don't talk to her. Don't look at her. Don't even think about her, alright? You see her at school, you run in the other direction. You catch her scent, you leave the goddamn building," his face scrunched with acrimony. "Stop fucking up our lives, Yaeger. I mean it. We don't need you." Eren peered down at him, glowering as the man spoke daggers into his heart. He waited for any instance of the young boy to fight him on it, to throw his shitty little defences at him in the hopes that it'll work. But Eren simply stood there, silent and repulsed. "Don't let me see your face again," Levi finally warned.
Mikasa stared between the two, vision blurred from the profuse tears welling up. Her expression fell with disgust at Levi's words, but swiftly succumbed to the pain of Eren's inactive defence. As they glared at each other, Mikasa tore away from the scene, clasping her hand over her mouth as she disappeared downstairs.
Levi turned at her absence, almost as if he snapped back into reality. It wasn't something he wanted to say in front of her – if he could have said it in secret, he would have. But he was a typical Ackerman, he was crude. He was vulgar. He was the first to give in to whatever impulse the semblance of anger threw his way.
And he'd made her cry.
Levi exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. He forced himself not to take Eren out right then and there, promptly leaving the room to follow her.
"Good one," Zeke muttered as he pushed past him, merely turning his head.
"Fuck off," Levi spat from the hallway.
Eren ignored the questions of concern coming from Sasha and Connie as he rushed past the kitchen. He barrelled through a group of drunk college kids, hardly concerned by the mess their spilled drinks would create, and finally reached the front door. He swung it open, stumbling onto the porch just as Levi's car had taken off into the dead of night.
The air bled from his lungs, his expression descending into frustration at yet another lost chance.
"Fuck. Fuck!" Eren slammed the back of his fist into the wall behind him, teeth gritted with hopelessness.
In a matter of seconds, he'd gone from allowing Levi's words to control him, to losing his damn mind. If it wasn't himself driving a stake between them, it was the universe. In the few milliseconds it took to devise his plan before he hurried downstairs, he had it all figured out. Find her, kick Levi's ass, and run away together into the night. At least that was what the rage invigorating his body had devised. It was childish—stupid, even. She would never pick him over Levi, not in a million years. What good would it do for her, anyway? It was just more fighting, more stress, more trauma to go through. As his temples throbbed, Jean's words had never rung so loud in his head before.
She's wasted on you.
"Eren…?" Armin's wobbly voice called to him over his shoulder, his arm leaning on the doorway. "Wh-what's going on?"
His eyes never tore away from the street, instead, they succumbed to the sting of tears.
"I'm so useless," he mumbled, defiant of any blinking. He couldn't tell Mikasa the truth. Couldn't admit it to Jean, either. Couldn't stand up to Levi. All he felt was sheer uselessness.
"H-huh?" Armin staggered onto the porch, his legs weakening beneath him. "I ca- I can't hear you…"
Eren finally released his gaze just in time to witness Armin's descent. He instinctively caught the boy and held him up, saving him from yet another hard tumble.
"Armin?" Eren shrugged him up higher, finding a better grip. "Jesus, how much have you drank?" If anyone should be this plastered, it should've been him.
"I d—hic. I dunno…" his hand slithered overed his stomach, his features contorting. "I feel sigck."
Eren sighed, furrowing his brows. "Come on."
He lugged his friend inside and shut the door. Manoeuvring past his intoxicated party guests, Eren took Armin to the nearest bathroom. As he reached the door, he shifted his friend's weight onto his hip, freeing up one of his hands to open it. His eyes widened at the sight of Hitch and some burly college guy making out on his basin; they stared back at him, equally as terrified.
"Jesus, Yaeger, will you close the damn door?" Hitch reached over the slammed it shut, shrouding the boys in the hallway's darkness.
"Use the damn lock!" Eren called out to her, moments before he heard it flick. He grumbled, shuffling Armin around to hold him firmly and taking off.
His parents' bathroom had to be vacant, everyone had hunkered down on the first floor of the house. Maybe then he could finally find some peace and quiet. Armin had become dead weight by the time he reached the staircase, he didn't have a clue how he was going to get him up there. He gave it his best shot, getting a quarter way up the stairs before Jean had spotted them at the top. His expression sobered, promptly jogging down the stairs and getting on the other side of Armin.
"The hell? How did he get so drunk?" Jean definitely made the task easier.
"Don't ask me. He just came to me like this," Eren curtly replied.
The pair took Armin through the master bedroom and into the ensuite, settling him down onto the tiles just in front of the toilet.
Jean readjusted his shirt. "Shouldn't we get him into bed?"
"He feels sick." Eren folded his arms, staring down at his friend as he writhed on the floor. Armin rolled over, his hand gripping the edge of the toilet as he dragged himself upright. He groaned nauseously.
"Relax, buddy. Just let it all out," Jean assured him, watching him with unease.
Armin's bleary eyes glanced up at Eren, his head wobbling. "I-I'm so…sssorry, Eren…" he babbled, squinting from the downlight. "I shouldduve…warned you 'bout…L-Levi…"
Eren shifted his gaze, a sullen pull on his features.
Jean crossed his arms over his body, side-eyeing his friend. "Bertholdt told me what happened," he spoke gently. "One moment you guys are talking, the next, he's watching Armin get catapulted on top of you."
Armin hurled into the toilet bowl, creating a nasty splash sound.
He simply stared at the floor. He wasn't necessarily keen on talking to Jean at the moment, not with everything that was going on and especially as Armin blew chunks in his bathroom.
Jean released a sigh, shaking his head at the ground. "Hey. I'm sorry about before," he apologized to him. "My feelings got the better of me, I shouldn't have said any of that."
Eren let his arms fall. "No. You were right," he disagreed. "About everything."
Jean faltered. "I was just upset, Eren."
Armin let another gallon of vomit pour out of him.
"I know you. You don't hide the truth," Eren replied.
"It's not the truth."
"Don't bullshit me—"
"It's not the truth, Eren," Jean's tone hardened. "It's just not. Truth is, I don't know what's going on with you and Mikasa. All I know is that…" he paused for a moment, reluctantly. "Jealousy is…a shitty feeling," he spoke vulnerably, his voice quiet. "Might make me look weak, and that's fine. But whenever I look at you…that's what I feel."
Eren turned to him with furrowed brows. "You? Jealous of me?" He was astounded at the notion. "Are you kidding me? The whole school loves you, Jean. Coach Shadis loves you, the teachers love you, the girls love you. They all talk about Mikasa like she's stupid for never giving you a chance. I don't have what you have."
"Dude, look around you. You've got a big ass house, a pool, basically everything a guy our age could want—"
"Yeah, all the material shit. I get it, I'm a lucky kid. But I don't want that—that's not what makes me happy. What good does it all do me when I feel so fucking useless all the time?" He exhaled frustratedly. "You're not. You win everything. Like the trophy from state finals? They even put your photo in the case right next to it. I never even made the team. You can skate better than I can, you can draw, you can play guitar. Everyone just loves you, Jean. You can go around and talk to people because they know you, or they like you, I can't do that. Do you know what I have, Jean?" His flickered between the features of his friend's face. "All I have is you guys. All I have is my friends. And in that is the one girl who's ever cared about me." Eren lowered his head, his eyes searching the ground. "And look at what I've done," he mumbled, a crease forming between his brows. "You were right. She's spent the last two years wasting her life on an idiot like me."
Jean stood there with his mouth agape in disbelief. He'd never seen Eren so raw before – never mind talk to him for so long without resorting into a fit or yelling match. He wasn't sure if he was merely drunk or scared something was going to happen between he and Mikasa, but he laid it all out in a way he never had before. Jean didn't know what to say. He always had a game plan, always knew the right words to use. But now? He was speechless.
Jean placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Eren…I'm—"
"G-Guys…" Armin turned to them, drool dripping from his lip. "Don' figh—"
A pool of puke shot out from Armin's mouth and splattered onto the tiles, forcing the boys to scramble back against the wall.
"Fuck!"
"Armin! What the fuck?!"
His eyes widened. "Oh sh—I…I'm so sorry…" his fingers grazed his lips. "Ca- Can I—hic—can I take'uh shower?"
Jean grimaced at the sight. "You're lucky we don't blast you with the garden hose!"
"Goddamn it," Eren muttered, attempting to dodge the puke as he shuffled over to the shower. He turned the knobs and started the water before observing the mess before him. "Fuck. I don't wanna clean this up."
Jean shook his head. "Well, I sure as hell aren't."
Armin reached out with his saliva-soaked hand. "I…I can clean it…"
"No, you've had enough fun with liquids. Just get in the shower," Jean instructed, folding his arms again.
Eren staggered over to the door, dodging the puddle of muck. "You get his clothes off, I'll go get paper towels."
"What?" Jean snapped his head to him. "Why do I have to get him naked?"
Eren huffed, gesturing to the ground. "You're welcome to mop this shit up if you like."
He resigned. "Fine. I'll stay. But you better come back," he said, prompting Eren to roll his eyes. Jean, pitifully, glanced down at Armin who was hopelessly staring back up at him. He then sighed, crouching down in front of him. "I'm, uh…I'm gonna have to take your clothes off now, bud."
"S'ok—hic."
Jean winced, scratching the back of his head. "That means we're gonna have to, like, see your junk," he uncomfortably mentioned.
"Speak for yourself," Eren chimed in, opening the bathroom door.
"No, s'only fair," Armin replied. "I-I've…I've seen you both naked lots'a times."
The boys frowned.
"That…is very weird to say out loud," Jean told him.
"Hic—" he jolted back. "N-nothin' to be worried 'bout…" he assured him. "You have a gre—hic—great body."
Jean stood, horror finding his features. "Okay, this is getting weird."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Eren huffed, walking out of the room.
Levi watched as Mikasa hurried to her bedroom, tears streaming down her face in silence. He threw his keys down on the ottoman and shut the door behind him. He thought by this point, he would have been lecturing her, tossing in a lengthy grounding stint to really get the message across. That's what parents did, right? Ground the little shits? But Levi had fallen victim to her tears – he hated the sight and sound of her cries, it alerted all of his senses, made him really on edge. He wouldn't take back anything he did tonight, even if it did make her cry. But nonetheless, he still felt bad for her, felt bad about himself for making her draw tears.
"Hey. Come here." His voice was tender.
"Get lost." Hers was not.
Levi exhaled, shutting his eyes before following her to her room. She tried shutting the door in his face as she came so accustomed to doing, but he halted it with his hand. She didn't seem to care that her attempt was thwarted, plunking herself down on her bed as she held her pillow.
He stood at the foot of her bed, glaring down at her. "You don't get to pretend I don't exist for a whole week and then go out and do whatever the hell you want. You think that's fair of you, Mikasa?" he rhetorically asked. "You know what would've happened if Kenny was here? If that jackass was raising you? He'd beat the shit out of you for even thinking of going to that party."
"Is that what you wanna do? Beat me?" she bleakly questioned, staring at the wall.
His brows creased, discernibly taken aback. "That's not what I'm saying—"
"Then why bring it up?"
"Because you don't understand how good you've got it," he calmly replied, seating himself on her bed. "Everything I've done was to make sure you didn't grow up miserable like I did. Yeah," he huffed, "I'm not the best role model. You've seen a lot of shit you shouldn't have. But you're smarter than this. The life I've made for you wasn't meant to be wasted feeling sorry for yourself, especially over some dumb kid. You were meant to be happy—"
Mikasa shot up, her fingers gripping her bedsheets. "Do you think what you said to him makes me happy?! Are you insane?!" she shouted at him, her eyes wild and furious.
He faltered. "I was protecting you—"
"How the hell am I meant to be happy after all of this?! What screams happiness about my life?!" she continued, tears streaming down her face. "Don't you get it? I go to school, I come home. I love someone, they don't love me back. I remember everything and it heals nothing. We aren't meant to get our way in this life. I'm not meant to be happy," she declared, watching him stare mindlessly at her. "And neither are you," she muttered, finally easing back and laying on her side again.
Levi tore his gaze from her, his expression stoic. She was right—how could an Ackerman ever be happy? None of them were. The only ones who achieved happiness were her parents, and now they were buried six feet under, one coffin buried on top of the other. Was happiness an unachievable state like she believed, or was it fleeting? She had made him happy before. Before all the teenage angst and long-winded sighs of unrequited love, back when she was a child, when she didn't care about the kids at school or disappointing her teachers. When the only solace she found was in him, and he was all she needed. That was happiness, wasn't it?
Hange had told him once that his little cousin wasn't so little anymore, that she was becoming a woman right in front of his eyes. He would have to accept it.
Why did that have to be?
"Fine," Levi said. "We'll just sit here and be miserable assholes. If that's what you want. If that's what we're meant to be."
Mikasa rolled her tearful eyes, she could now bask in the silence that befell them. Minutes of idle went by; she shut her eyes and hoped he would just leave, that maybe she could fall asleep and not wake up. Make it easy. But Levi scanned her room, allowing everything he set his eyes on to play memories back to him. He settled his gaze on her shelf, focusing on a novel that sat away from the rest of the books she had.
"You still like to read?" He broke the silence. Mikasa did not grace him with a response. "You used to read to me all the time."
She exhaled through her nose, tightening her grip on the pillow. "I know."
"What's this?" Levi stood and grabbed the lone book.
Mikasa glanced over her shoulder before her head hit the pillow again. "Twilight."
"What's it about?"
"Read it," she replied shortly. "Find out." Right, his dreaded 'know when you know' mantra had come back to bite him. He bet she was proud of that one.
Levi faced her. "You wanna read it to me?"
"Does it look like I wanna read to you right now?!" She snapped as she forcibly sat up, her face scrunched with dismay.
He simply stared back at her. He didn't want to cave to her anger, didn't want to actualize it. He was done yelling, done being so damn upset with her.
Mikasa settled back down again, staring at the wall.
"Miserable people read," he told her.
"So read it."
"No. I want you to," he said, making his way over to the side she laid on. He stood there, tempting her aggravation as the book dangled in her line of sight.
She let out an exasperated sigh. "I know how to pronounce words now."
"Good. It'll be bearable to hear this time."
Mikasa shut her eyes, another sigh escaping her. She gave in to his request and finally sat up, taking the book from his hand. She moved over to allow him space as he sat down next to her. It was a tight fit only having a single bed, it was all the room could reasonably fit.
She stared down at the book; she had read it before. A few times, actually.
"You didn't have to tell him to stay away from me," she finally spoke, her eyes boring into the apple on the book's cover. "He avoids me already."
Levi watched the hurt swirl her features. "Well," he glanced away, "I'm not gonna consider it wasted breath."
Through her frowning, she exhaled, tears feeling all too familiar.
"What's wrong with me?" she suddenly breathed.
Levi stared at her with an urgency, his lips parting. "Nothing. Nothing has ever been wrong with you," he adamantly told her, turning to witness her aching.
"Why…why do I have to love him?" she sobbed, easing over into his embrace.
He couldn't stand to hear the soreness in her words. He couldn't imagine that same, happy little girl crying over something as tortuous as feeling unloved. He abhorred to see it at that age, and he abhorred to see it now. Eren broke her. He broke his little girl. And he couldn't do a single thing to stop it.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll forget him," Levi told her, glaring forward as he held the girl in his arms. "You'll pretend he never existed."
Mikasa let another sob escape her, her hands gripping the same shirt she stained with her tears. Maybe that was all she had to do – simply move on. If Eren could be forgotten, maybe that's what she had to achieve. The question swam around in both of their heads.
Was forgetting Eren…possible?
high horse - mannequin pussy
Notes:
so you can see why i had to break these chapters up into two parts now, but thanks so much for reading! i hope it wasn't too unbearable watching everyone do and say questionable things :) what are your thoughts on everything that went down? leave a comment and let me know!
see you in the next chapter :)
Chapter 7: lover, you should've come over
Notes:
hi! sorry for the wait, i took a bit of a break from writing but i'm now back into the swing of things. just wanna say this chapter HURTS. it just keeps getting worse before it's gonna get happier but trust me, it gets happier! (relative) (happiness is subjective. read at own risk).
if there's only ONE song you listen to out of all the songs assigned to a chapter, LET IT BE THIS ONE! (i will say this often during this point in the story lmao) the vibes are literally so insane and sad, it fits our two little lovers perfectly at this stage in their relationship. for eremika, it's all progress from here.
i do wanna mention that the next chapter will be entirely dedicated to rivetra for all my fellow stans (i am genuinely feral for rivetra. also have i plugged my rivetra one-shot in these author's notes before? maybe for the millionth time? go read it if you already haven't/like stories closer to canon). we need more of them and we need to see levi getting some love tbh because bro been thru it. so for everyone that likes a bit of push and pull, or simply just likes petra taunting tf out of levi, then be EXCITED for the next chapter.
IMPORTANT: i just wanna issue a CW for eating habits/depression. our girl doesn't suffer from an ED but she does suffer from depression and she's experiencing appetite loss. nothing in this chapter is graphic, but poor eating habits are referenced to so if that is a topic you aren't able to stomach in any form, please be advised.
thank you and enjoy the chapter!
Chapter Text
Somewhere during the week, Mikasa found her relationship with Levi still showed glimmers of strain. She couldn't deny his behaviour at the party showed just how irrational he could be; he had never done anything like that before, he was never one to restrain her freedom. But the longer Eren seemed to be in the picture, the more aberrant he became, he could no longer hide the distain he felt for the boy and it was as evident as ever. Now, her autonomy was hindered.
She was in a constant game of tug and war between her heart and her head. As she sobbed into his arms that night, Levi had somehow planted a seed of his doubt in the back of her mind. Mikasa inevitably came to realize that Eren's inactiveness told her only one thing: she wasn't worth the fight. Now that seed of doubt had sprouted, and so began the process of forgetting Eren Yaeger as best as she could.
He bought her a scarf the first Christmas they shared as friends, so she plucked it from her chair and shoved it in the back of her closet. She took down the photos they shared together, and if he was anywhere to be seen in a group picture, it was covered with the Hello Kitty stickers Hange gave her a few months back. All the songs that reminded her of him were taken out of her CD player and hid in a drawer under some clutter. She stopped doodling teal-eyed boys on park benches, ripping all the previous sketches out of her journal and hiding them in one of her novels. And as easy as it seemed to do those simple actions, it was equally as hard to live with their ramifications.
That inner darkness prevailed from the night of the party onwards. Suddenly, she was a shell of a functioning girl. Eating became more of a chore rather than a necessity, sleep would swallow her whole from when she got home to when she woke for school the following day, and on top of it all, tears would fall without warning. There wasn't a place she didn't cry, from the shower, in the janitor's closet, to the back of a quiet bus, and never in front of anyone who might ask. She could ease into sleep after a thorough sobbing, dreaming of a life much different from hers, much less hopeless and cruel. The joy of honing her makeup was unfound now, so she stopped doing it. Picking up a pencil and sketching was out of the question, so she didn't. Music reminded her of someone she couldn't bear to think of, so her CD player sat collecting dust.
Mikasa was no longer Mikasa.
There was no knowing just how much hoping and desiring she had left in her, so long had passed of yearning still unmet. Perhaps Levi was right, if two years of nothing could go by, then maybe she had her answer all along. After all, before Eren there was Levi, and Levi wasn't as overly protective and restrictive before Eren. He was always there to show her just how much he cared in both his own, uncanny way, and as a guardian should. He had been there to witness all she went through. She loved him – differently than how she loved Eren, but nonetheless, it was just as great and powerful. Her love was as prominent as the flashbacks she suffered, a paralysing reminder that her life, while not what it was, had unsteady beginnings and that her future would follow suit. She couldn't help feeling so sensitive to it all, she thought she would be stronger given what she had to endure as a child. Not being loved back sounded like a typical teenage bummer, but a notion so easily overcome by others instead haunted her to her very core. Why couldn't she get over it? He was just a boy. He was just a fucking guy. Did her happiness really revolve around him? Why couldn't she move on and get over it like anyone else would? That's what everyone thought, what everyone told her, so why didn't she listen?
Now Ymir was in the middle of this mess. God, if only she kept her voice down. If only Armin kept his voice down.
"You know Jean likes you! … I just can't help but wonder what Eren thinks … He still talks about you like nothing's happening."
Something in that conversation helped Ymir put two and two together; she beelined for Mikasa as soon as she saw her at Eren's party.
"Hey. Ackerman."
"Yeah?"
"Look, I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life. Do whatever the hell you want. But take it from me—Eren's not gonna know you like him if you don't tell him."
Mikasa froze, almost dropping her cup. "Wh-what? What are you—"
"Zip." Ymir held her finger up, staring unimpressively at the girl. "You know I don't like bullshit, so don't try to feed me any. I heard you and Armin talking in the cafeteria."
Immediately, Mikasa shook her head. Her eyes drifted to where Eren situated was across the room. He hadn't noticed her yet.
"No. You have it all wrong—"
"Don't be like this, dude. Just face the facts already. You won't know what'll happen 'til you do," she told her. Her voice then softened. "You were there back in Sophomore year. You saw what happened with me and Historia."
As her eyes switched back and forth between Ymir and Eren, Mikasa begun to panic. "It's not the same—it really isn't."
Eren finally locked eyes with her, suddenly perking up at the sight of her and Ymir talking.
"Look, there's something you should…" Ymir bit her tongue. Her eyes forcibly shut, head lowering as she exhaled. "Do. There's something you should do. You know what it is."
Vehemently, she continued to shake her head. "You can't tell anyone, not even Historia. Please."
And the cherry on top?
"Mikasa." Jean had cropped up beside her, a concerned hand sliding against her back. "You alright?"
"Yes. I-I'm fine."
"What's the matter?" He suspiciously glanced between her and Ymir. "What's wrong with her?"
Ymir's hands raised in faux-defence. "Dunno. Not my circus, not my monkeys."
He let his concerned gaze fall on her once more.
"Really, I just…I have to pee."
Forgetting Eren was hard enough as it is, now she had Ymir running around with her secret on the tip of her tongue. Initially, she didn't want another person knowing how she felt about Eren, but a part of her now hoped Historia was aware, at least so she could keep the reins on her girlfriend and make sure nothing was being spread around. She was good like that, keeping everyone's business to herself. There was a hope that some of her mentality rubbed off on Ymir during their relationship.
Now that she was trying to forget Eren, she could only ask herself what was the point in caring? She was moving on; she was getting over him, that was the plan. The past week she made the effort to do exactly as Levi said: pretend Eren Yaeger did not exist. She kept her eyes away from him as he passed her in the hall. Sat away from him during class. Made sure not to look in his general direction at their lockers. He seemed to have gotten the hint she wasn't too fond of him at the moment, he stopped showing up to the cafeteria for lunch, sat all the way at the back of the room during class, far out of her sight. Part of her resented that her actions were coming up fruitful, the other part of her was essentially Levi in a wig shouting at her not to give in.
After Mikasa rolled out of bed, tamed her hair to some degree, and dressed herself, she ventured off to school on a completely automatic journey. It was all a haze from point A to point B, the blare of traffic and nature combined was merely a figment of white noise, draining her senses.
As she neared the stairs of the school entrance, her consciousness began to reel back in.
"Mikasa."
With one foot on the first step, she halted, turning to find Annie peering up at her.
"Hey." She noticed the slight concern etched into the girl's already aloof features. "Is something wrong?"
"I was just wondering how Armin was doing," she quietly replied.
Armin hadn't been at school all week. After recovering from his two day long hang over, he caught a bad case of the flu. Being that he lived with his elderly grandfather, he felt it necessary to isolate away in his room until he was no longer contagious. Armin's immune system was shot after a nasty virus he suffered in infancy, it led to plenty of sick days and allergies all year around. The constant sniffling used to make him look insanely dorky with his thick rimmed glasses and choppy mop of hair, but now that he shot up a foot, wore his contact lenses, and cut his hair, he settled down to a medium dorkiness.
"I'm not sure. He called on Tuesday to say he wouldn't be at school. That's the last I heard from him," she told the girl, watching her brows form a crease. "He's probably fine," she assured her.
Annie nodded, her eyes soon focusing on Mikasa.
"You look a little dull."
Her features fell into a deadpan. "How nice of you to notice," she mumbled, continuing her journey up the steps. "Haven't got makeup on today."
Annie followed her. "I don't think it's the makeup."
"Didn't sleep well either."
"No," she blatantly refused. "You don't look tired, you look different. Thinner."
"Annie," Mikasa spun around with gritted teeth, her features contorted with frustration. "Why don't you just go back into the library and pretend we don't exist again? You were doing it so well."
She merely raised her brows, staring up at her friend. "That was quite defensive."
"I gave you my answer already. Whether you believe it or not is your problem."
"I think you're the one with a problem, let's not kid ourselves here," Annie folded her arms. "Your eyes are red, your face is gaunt. I know I haven't been around lately, but if something's going on, you should tell someone. Or at the very least, if you don't want your problems being passed around, then tell me."
On one hand, Mikasa understood Annie's concern was very well intentioned. She wasn't one for gossip or drama, she didn't care much of what you told her in the first place. But on the other hand, she had no idea what was going on with her and Eren nowadays. She was so disconnected from the group now that she couldn't possibly understand the gravity of it all. The only connection she really had left to them all was memories of the years prior, and studying in the library with Armin.
Mikasa shook her head. "Just mind your business," she muttered, staring at the remnants of Annie's concern.
Annie watched her leave up the stairs and disappear somewhere into the school building. If it weren't for what happened at the party, she may have felt inclined to ask Armin what was going on. But the more she thought about it, all it did was serve as a harrowing reminder of what she truly had to speak to Armin about.
Reiner's eyes cracked open at the ray of sun cascading across his face. He didn't have any morning classes like Porco did, meaning he got to enjoy sleeping in until twelve as any nineteen-year-old would. As he sat up, his eyes fell upon a snacking Bertholdt who flipped through some of the pages of his notebook. He hadn't seen the guy since Zeke's party, his mother was sick again and unfortunately, he was the only family close enough to take care of her. Despite missing his classes and lectures, Bertholdt still managed to get his work completed only a day or so later than he usually would. Reiner figured he wouldn't be able to be as committed as his friend.
"Morning," Bertholdt glanced over his shoulder, closing his notebook. "Long time no see."
Reiner groaned as he shifted in his bunk. "It's only been six days," he replied.
"You've been counting?" He huffed, a grin emanating on his features. "Guess I don't blame you. Definitely a memorable party. Didn't know the little guy had it in him to drink so much." Reiner figured he was talking about Armin, immediately did his nerves begin to play up. "I gotta say though, I'm surprised you weren't the one totally smashed by the end of the night with the track record you've had lately."
Reiner's own words flashed in his brain, recalling how he lied to Armin about being the designated driver. If Reiner himself got smashed, how was he meant to stay lucid enough to keep Zeke's plan on track?
"Yeah. Kid was pretty loose, huh?" Reiner cleared his throat as he swung his legs off the side of the bed.
"Annie was worried about him. She'd never seen him so drunk before," Bertholdt admitted, crushing up the wrapper of his granola bar.
Reiner's brows lifted. "She spoke to him?"
"Yeah, I think so. Not sure when, though," he replied. "All that stuff with Mikasa and her cousin was going down and then we lost him. Annie wanted to leave right after," he shrugged.
Reiner couldn't tell whether the plan went accordingly or not. Bertholdt didn't seem upset, even absolutely intoxicated did Armin manage to people-please. Goddamn it.
"Yeah…" was all he said, blinking at the floorboards.
"Hey, uh, I can't run with you today," Bertholdt told him, swooping up his backpack. "I have to go over to Paradis Falls to fill a script for mom. I think Dr Yaeger's clinic has some shit we don't. I don't know. I might be gone for a while, depends on how she's feeling today, but I'm sure I'll be back tonight."
"Fine by me," he blankly replied. "Hope she's okay."
"Of course." Bertholdt stood still for a moment, his brows creasing with curiosity. "Are…you okay?"
Reiner met his gaze. "Yeah."
"You sure man?"
"I'm fine. You always this nosy?" he huffed, standing and stalking over to his dresser.
Perplexity struck his friend's features. "Sounds like something Zeke would say…" he let out an uncomfortable laugh. "You just…seem kinda off, man. That's all," he reiterated, watching him sift through his shirts. Reiner shrugged. "Alright. Guess I'll see you when I get back," he finally said, awkwardly shuffling over to the door.
"Sure."
Reiner heard him exit the room as he found a shirt to wear. He pursed his lips, glaring at the door as he thought.
Mikasa rested her cheek against her fist as she sat in the cafeteria. Her eyelids grew heavier as the minutes ticked by, threatening her with more of the abundance of sleep she already received. In between munching down on her chilli dog, Sasha rambled whispers of Niccolo in Mikasa's ear. They had only known each other for a week yet she spoke of him like one of her favourite take-out spots. At any other given point, Mikasa would have entertained her friend's gushing, told her she was excited for her and that she hoped it all went well. But ever since the party, she felt that darkness sitting on her chest, snuffing her ability to express any other emotion better feeling than this one. It wouldn't go away no matter how hard she tried to return to her normal self.
Her mind ticked over to Armin, recollecting that he had made it to school alive today, but was cramming in the library for his German Lit test the following period. Now with Eren's presence unfound, their lunch group had gotten smaller, however, not much quieter. Mikasa couldn't help but think back to just the previous school year, when in total there was nine of them. Back when Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie were still around to fill the empty spaces. Things just so happened to seem a little livelier back then.
In the midst of Sasha's effusive fondness of Niccolo, Mikasa failed to respond to one of her questions. Sasha awkwardly blinked, awaiting her answer from the girl who stared monotonously ahead.
"Mikasa?"
"Hm?" The girl dropped her fist, turning to her friend.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, just…" Mikasa stretched, speaking through a yawn. "Just tired."
Bothered by doubt, Sasha eyed the girl. They shared a few classes together and for the last week, Mikasa had been snoozing in every single one. She was aware of the squabble she had with Levi at the party, and by the way she was acting when Ymir and Jean were talking to her, it seemed there was more going on than simple fatigue. She was watching her friend wither right in front of her eyes – there was almost none of the usual effort put into her appearance now. Her cheeks were somewhat hollow, there was a darkness underneath her eyes. Sasha was certain Mikasa was getting plenty of sleep, more haunting notions were eating away at her.
Sasha hesitated for a moment. "Have you been eating much?" she quietly asked, internally fearing she didn't overstep.
Mikasa rubbed the back of her neck, settling into herself. She shook her head.
"Not…really," she murmured, keeping her gaze low. "I'm trying, but I just feel sick when I do."
Sasha let out the breath she wasn't aware she was holding. "Gosh, sorry to hear…but hey, it's important to eat, you know? I think you should see a doctor," she told her, brows creasing. Suddenly, her visage lifted. "Maybe Eren's dad can see you! Though, it'd be a little weird knowing your friend's dad knows what your ailments are. And, actually, I'm not too sure about how patient-confidentiality will work the more I think about it…" she mumbled.
Mikasa's oesophagus shut almost completely at the mention of his name. She felt frailer than she did before.
"Can we not talk about him please?" Her voice strained to remain quiet.
"Who? Dr Yaeger?"
"Eren."
"Oh," Sasha paused, eyes scanning the table. "Yeah. I guess, but…do you know why he hasn't been around much lately?"
"No." Mikasa slid her hands over her face.
"Sorry. I just thought that—since you two were good friends and—"
"I got it," Connie chimed as he returned with an unimpressed Jean by his side. Mikasa exhaled with relief.
"Got what?" Sasha glanced up and over her shoulder.
"His quarter," Jean replied, monotoned, as he sat himself across from Mikasa.
"The lunch lady overcharged me for my chili dog, basically robbed me blind," he said, planting himself beside Jean. "She's lucky I wasn't in the mood to give her a piece of my damn mind."
Mikasa forked her food around. "Is that why you begged Jean to go with you?"
Sasha muffled her giggle. "You brought along muscle for a quarter?" she gaped.
"No-!"
"Yes," Jean hissed, nudging him with his shoulder. "Don't act like I didn't just do all the talking back there."
Sasha howled with laughter, revealing the pieces of onion between her teeth.
"She wouldn't have given it back to me if I asked! Celia hates me!" he adamantly replied, face crumpled with frustration.
Jean rolled his eyes. "Connie, this 'rivalry' you have with the lunch lady has gotta stop. It's completely one-sided— I don't think that woman has ever killed a fly before, why the hell would she short-change you on purpose?"
Connie groaned. "You haven't seen how she plates my lunch. That woman has it out for me," he grumbled, leaning his head on his fist. Jean exhaled at his stubbornness, shaking his head as he began to eat.
"So…" Sasha blinked. "Anyway. Like I was telling Mikasa, Niccolo told me all about his family and gosh, they all sound really cool but I'm freaking out a little. I just want them to like me," Sasha bounced excitedly in her seat, a love-struck grin pulling on her features.
"They'll love you, Sash," Mikasa assured her, voice drained and bleak.
"Eh…I don't know about this dude," Connie stared down at the table in suspicion. "He's in college."
She rolled her eyes. "He's only a freshman," she told him. "And tomorrow we're going to the movies, and then we're going to my favourite Italian restaurant! Connie, you know the one that's open real late at night—with the giant meatballs!"
"What?!" Connie's fist fell onto the table, features falling with dismay. "You're taking him to Don e Lucia's?!"
"Yeah!" Sasha nodded vigorously as she giggled.
"No! You just met the guy—you can't take him to somewhere as sacred as Don e Lucia's! Are you insane?!" he grilled her as her expression warped with confusion.
Jean huffed as he restrained a smirk. "Yeah, hey, Connie? You know you're talking about a restaurant, right? It's not that big a deal," he shook his head, grinning as he smacked his lips. "Getting jealous already."
"Pbbt—Jealous? Of some Point Marleyan Gordon Ramsay wannabe?" Connie emphatically rolled his eyes, faux-laughing as he slammed his hand down on the table a few times. "I'm pissing my pants, man. Really." He deadpanned.
Sasha grimaced. "Oh, that's not good."
"Actually, the dude's pretty nice," Jean leaned back in his chair. "He made Armin a sandwich at Eren's party, helped soak up the alcohol. And uh…replace his dinner."
"Wha—?!" Connie's eyes widened. "Oh, come on! You're gonna let a couple brownie points win you over, Jean?"
Sasha swooned, sliding against the table. "Don't get me started on his brownies…"
"What's the big deal?" Jean grimaced, turning to the boy. "He's cool to Sasha and he's cool to us."
"Yeah, and he's a whole town away," Connie protested, then turning to his friend. "Sash, seriously, what are you gonna do with this guy? He has to sail across the river every time he wants to even see you. No guy's gonna wanna do that for too long."
The three of them gaped at him, their faces contorting with confusion.
"Have…you never been to Point Marley before?" Jean asked him, blinking.
"No. I never had to," he replied. Utterly astounded at his density, they continued to stare, prompting him to enrage. "What? You don't sail?" he glared between everyone's dumbfounded gazes. "Well, how the hell does he come over then?!"
"The highway," Mikasa told him.
"Oh."
"To answer your question, I think what I'm gonna do is ask him to the dance." Sasha thought for a moment, her finger tapping her chin. "Hm, you think he'll say yes? I know he's in college but—"
"Woah, hey! I thought we were going together!" Connie frowned as he slumped his shoulders – could this get any worse?
Sasha winced. "I mean, yeah, that was the plan but…we go to all of them together. Now, I've got someone. I've got…a date," she said, her brows furrowing sympathetically. He faltered even further, a stunted whine escaping him. "W-we can still go together! Maybe you can find someone to go with too! Make it a real date, huh?"
"Sash…" Connie sulked down at the table. "I don't like this guy. He's taking up all of your time."
She blinked. "Well…yeah! That's what happens, right? Like when Jean gets a new girlfriend, he disappears for a week." She then cleared throat, avoiding eye contact with the boy. "But I guess he comes back crying," she mumbled.
"Sasha—" Jean lowered his sandwich.
"What? It happens!"
"It does happen," Mikasa doubled down.
"Oh—Aha!" Sasha jerked her thumb at the girl beside her. "Hey, why don't you ask Mikasa to the dance? She might finally come to one of these things if she has a date—"
"No," Jean blurted out, leaning forward in his chair as his features fell serious. They gawked at his abruptness, prompting him to soften himself. "You can't ask her because…I already asked her."
A silence settled amongst the group as Mikasa watched Jean from across the table. He seemed as if his insides were scrambling and it was paramount that he remained as still-faced as possible, that was as close to the effect Mikasa had on him that he could describe. The gears in her brain begun to churn.
Connie frowned. "I can ask her too!" He shifted diagonally to face her. "Mikasa, will—"
"Sorry, Connie," she side-eyed him, returning her gaze back to Jean.
"Aw…" he quietly whined, earning Sasha's sympathetic hand from across the table.
The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. As Mikasa stood, she could imagine Armin's distant shriek somewhere within the confines of the school building now that it was time to do his test. Connie shuffled away as Sasha comforted him, and Jean followed Mikasa as she threw away her tray of food.
"Hey," he greeted as he caught up with her in the hallway. "What was that?" he peered down at her.
"I didn't want him to waste his breath," she replied, eyeing the students that passed her. "I think he'll be fine." He would be absolutely fine.
They strode along in silence for a moment. Mikasa found navigating the halls a little easier with Jean than when she was by herself. Being the social-god he was, he was on good standing with the entire cohort, even teachers – whereas Mikasa was merely a background character in their rich, full lives. People seemed to veer out of the way for him while they bumped into her, offering a pathetic apology over their shoulder. But with Jean by her side, that didn't seem to be the case as often.
"Well…can't help but wonder," Jean broke the silence. "Connie asks you to the dance, he gets turned down instantly." Mikasa remained silent, waiting to see if this was going where she thought it would. "But," he hesitated, "I ask you to the dance, and you don't say exactly no."
It was going exactly where she thought. "I wanted to think about it," her voice was dull and distant.
"Well, it's been almost two months," he told her. "What'd you come up with?"
She thought for a moment – Jean essentially had girls lining up out the door for him. She couldn't recall how many times she heard them hope and wish he would pay them a shred of attention, make their dream come true and treat them to night of fun and laughter at the dance. How she watched as girl after girl brazenly tried their luck at asking him out to dance, only to be met with a one foot out of the door response. It had been well over a month since Jean asked her and while she knew the answer was a simple 'no', she couldn't bring herself to do it. Perhaps she was tired of rejecting him, even if it wasn't a date. Friends. He wanted to go as friends; he told her from the beginning. The situation was going to look completely different in the eyes of Armin and just about everybody else in the world, but despite it, she knew what it was between her and Jean. She wasn't fazed by what they would think – what Eren would think.
You think Eren really cares what you do?
Mikasa halted, her eyes met Jean's as he stopped as well. Be normal. Be yourself again, is what she demanded of herself. The longer she held her gaze, the more he began to fidget.
Jean pursed his lips, finally glancing away from her. "I take it that's a no to me, too."
She inhaled, her lips parting as his eyes met hers once again.
As the school day came to an end, Eren trailed into the locker room alongside Armin. PE was always cathartic for Eren – while he wasn't some superstar soccer player like Jean or an innately gifted pitcher like his brother, he found a physical outlet to be easier to navigate than a verbal one. It was simple; acquire a ball (the one he pumped extra air into), acquire a target (Floch Forster), throw ball at said target as hard as you can (play dumb when called off the court).
It was easier than done when Armin wasn't on his team – not that he was a bad player, but he couldn't stop stressing about how he did on his German Lit test the period before. He got antsy, blabbered into tangents, and overthought how one test was going to completely throw off his GPA, and therefore, his future as an Astrophysicist. It wasn't all bad, with his hiked-up nerves, he really put the emphasis on 'dodge' in dodgeball. His reflexes were almost supernatural, it would have been hard to pick he had just been sick for the last week.
He visited his friend a few times during that stint – Carla made her 'get well soup' which was essentially just chicken noodle soup with cabbage added to it, and instructed Eren take it over there. Armin wouldn't allow him to enter his room, so Eren sat in the hallway and leaned up against his door as he listened to the slurping-sounds of his congested friend. He didn't stick around too long.
Now that Armin was back at school and in good health, they existed just as they normally would after last period on a Friday – getting changed in the locker room. For a split second, Eren remembered all the unusual things Armin had said in his inebriated state. He second guessed getting changed in front of him.
"Hey, this might sound a little weird, but…I thought I had a dream about the party back at your house," Armin confided, halting as Eren stripped of his sticky gym shirt.
"Was that before or after you blew chunks in my parent's bathroom?" Eren quipped, tossing his shirt in his gym bag. A red, ball-shaped welt was forming on his chest right where Marlo got him. He wasn't even mad – it was a great shot.
Armin's face all but melted. "After…" he mumbled, shaking his head. "God, I can't believe I did that. I don't even remember drinking all that much."
"Don't worry. It happens," he reassured him, the beginnings of a devious grin was forming. "Maybe next time you'll take it a little slower now that you know you're such a lightweight."
"Har-har," Armin deadpanned at him, soon exhaling. "Thank god your parents are on vacation. If your mom saw me being such a mess, I don't think I could show my face in your house again."
"Actually, they came back a week early," he told him. "The weather was ass so they cut it short. I think there was a hurricane approaching. We're lucky we got everything cleaned up before they got back," Eren shook his head, reaching for his deodorant. "Anyway, about this dream?"
Armin sighed; he felt ridiculous even mentioning it, though it weighed on him. Eren wouldn't laugh at him, he knew that, but he couldn't help but feel so childish.
"Well, it was…strange. Reiner and I were playing beer pong on your billiard table. And he was asking me stuff about Annie," he said, earning Eren's peculiar stare. "About…about her liking me."
In the midst of putting his deodorant on, Eren side-eyed him. "What?" his tone sobered.
"I know. It's weird, huh?" Armin shook his head of the thought.
"What else did he say?" His voice grew with urgency.
"I-I'm not quite sure. That's all I can remember," he blinked, scavenging his mind.
"Armin, you were playing beer pong with Reiner," Eren assured him. "Felt like you were with him the whole night."
He rubbed his forehead. "See, that's what gets all confusing. The dream felt so vivid but everything he was saying about Annie and Bertholdt was too bizarre. It wasn't like him to say any of that."
Eren shrugged, lifting his shirt over his head. "I don't know, man. My dreams aren't like that, they're all jumbled up and nothing makes sense. I've never dreamed of an exact moment that just happened."
Armin furrowed his brows. "What are you trying to say?" he questioned.
"That this is a little too weird. I don't think you were dreaming."
His eyes widened a fraction, lips parting. "You think Annie really likes me?" he breathed, blinking at his friend.
Eren's eyes wandered off. "Well…she's dating Bertholdt, so…"
"Yeah. Right," he snapped out of it, resisting his shoulders from faltering.
"Look," Eren sighed as he slipped back into his jeans. "Maybe Reiner was just messing with you. You were really drunk, he probably just wanted something funny to laugh about."
"That's not exactly funny to me," his features contorted. "Can you imagine what would have happened if I said something to her?"
"What, that you like her?"
He blinked, side-eyeing a few students passing by. The locker room, thankfully, was empty once they left.
"Yes. That," his friend sharply whispered.
"Yeah. Wouldn't go down so well," he huffed. "Don't think Bertholdt would appreciate you coming onto his girlfriend—"
"Jesus, Eren— would you keep your voice down?" Armin insisted, his eyes scanning the room incessantly.
"Look, you were with Reiner the whole night," he reassured him. "And when you weren't with him, you were with me and Jean puking your guts out. You got wasted. That's that. Nothing happened."
Armin let out a deep sigh, his eyes hitting the floor. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he mumbled, kneeling down to open his gym bag. "Well, anyway, how was lunch? If it weren't for the test last period, I would've joined you guys. God, I hope I did alright…"
Eren shrugged. "I wasn't there."
"Oh." Armin stilled as his thoughts swam. "I didn't see you in the library. Were you studying too?"
"No."
He glanced up, staring at his friend. "So…why weren't you there?"
Eren shrugged, slipping his sneakers back on. "Haven't felt like going much," he admitted.
Armin frowned with perplexity. "Much?" He watched as Eren tied his shoelaces in silence, averting his gaze at every chance. "Have you been to lunch at all this week?"
He continued to ignore him, standing to rummage around in his gym bag. Whatever, it wasn't any of his business whether he showed up for lunch or not. He could feel Armin's intrusive stare penetrating his skin and, unwittingly, he locked eyes with him for a sheer second.
Eren caved.
"So what? I just needed some time to myself," he shortly replied.
"Is this about Mikasa?"
"What?" he blinked as his attention snapped over to him. His stare was suddenly wired. "No."
"Then what's going on?" Armin stood, his temperate voice now stern.
"Nothing. It doesn't matter," he turned away.
"Yes. Yes, Eren. It does," he asserted, abhorring to let it slide any longer. "Why have you been avoiding her?"
"I'm not—I don't mean it, alright?" Eren glared at his friend as he hastily shoved his gym clothes in his bag.
"Well, which one is it? You don't avoid her or you don't mean to?" Armin watched him, awaiting his response to only be met with reticence. "Don't you think I can see it? You don't hang out with her anymore, you don't sit next to her at lunch—"
"It's not on purpose—"
"No, it's far out of the realm of being an accident." His annoyance grew by the second. "Something is wrong here. You avoid her like she's not supposed to exist."
That caught his attention.
Eren's teeth clenched. "Of course she should exist—"
"Then act like it!" he demanded as he stepped closer to him, mirroring his friend's piercing glare. "She has no idea what's going on and quite frankly, neither do I!" Armin's voice had reached a hellish height.
His face twitched at Armin's words. He couldn't allow himself to fall into a blind rage to his best friend. He wasn't even wrong. He was being a far better friend to Mikasa than he had been these last few months. He didn't want to lose control and do something he'd regret. Not to Armin. Not to anyone. They exchanged a moment of shared, silent vexation. Eren could feel his inner conflict seep into the pores of his lungs and arise in his chest, he didn't want whatever was going to come out. All Armin had to do was leave well enough alone, stop prying and meddling into his skewed and illogical way of handling his own emotions. It had to be done. He had to distance himself from her. He wouldn't be able to face the disappointment he would cause her if she thought the only reason he was around was for his own satisfaction.
Eren finally broke the tension by grabbing his gym bag and stalking towards the doors. The air escaped Armin as his eyes followed, his features faltering before relocating its dismay.
"I thought you were better than this, Eren! I never knew you to be such a terrible friend!"
Suddenly, Eren halted.
Those words broke something in him – whether it chimed the bell of his empathy or drew the last straw, he could feel something inside of his chest splinter into a million little pieces.
Eren spun back around, charging up to him as he carelessly abandoned his gym bag.
"Finally grown a pair of balls, huh? Think you're putting me in my place?" his voice was low and caustic as he spoke straight at the boy.
Armin wouldn't back down. "If you thought I never had balls our entire friendship then you're only proving me right. Just because I don't fight the people who upset me doesn't mean I'm not defending myself!" Quickly, he shook his head. "No, you know what? This isn't about me! This is about how much of a dick you've been to Mikasa!"
"I told you it's—" Eren lost his words, grimacing. "I just have to, okay?!"
"Why! What could possibly be the reason, huh?!" he shrieked. "What makes you hate her so much you have to avoid her?!"
"How could you say I hate her—?!"
"Gee, Eren! Is it treating her like the plague or the nauseating face you pull whenever she talks—which one doesn't seem so hateful to you?!" he retorted. "I don't get it—none of us do! You two were always together and now you won't even look at her!"
"I just can't—"
Armin's hands abruptly clutched his shirt, lurching him forward. "Look! At! Her!" he barked in his face. "How could you possibly think not to?!"
At the sensation of his friend's grip, Eren enraged, snatching him and throwing him up against the lockers.
"I just can't, okay?!"
Armin bared through the pain, teeth gritting as he demanded an answer. "Why the hell not?! Tell me! Tell me why you can't!" he leaned forward, mere inches away from Eren's incensed visage. "Tell me!"
"Because it hurts!"
Armin silenced at his response, his indignant expression threatening to fall into perplexity. He studied the struggle evident on Eren's face, how his eyes no longer narrowed, but pleaded with him. How his animalistic scowl was forming into a painful frown. His breathing became jagged, and he could feel Eren's grip starting to tremble against him.
"Hurts?" Armin echoed, brows furrowing at the notion. "Why would it hurt?"
"Because…" he breathed in to battle with himself, but a frustrated cry escaped him, his head lowering to cope with the friction he'd caused. His brain fought with his vocal cords, only for as long as he could bare. "Because I love her," he languished, his grip easing away.
When Eren's eyes found Armin again, they were glassy and ashamed. His friend relinquished his former dismay, aghast at the sight of his vulnerability. He sunk out of Eren's grip.
"Eren…"
"There so much I want to say to her, okay?!" he snapped, his hand hovering over his mouth. His body fought him on the words he held onto to, innately, he didn't want them to exist in this reality. But it had become unavoidable now. "I've loved her from the start…way back when I first called her. When she asked for my name and she said it back to me, that's when I felt it," he back down onto the bench, seating himself. "I didn't know what it was back then, but now I do. Now I get it. But…I can't talk to her. She doesn't see me the way I see her, and after all the bullshit I've put her through, she won't even want to," he insisted, his lips trembling. He peered up at Armin. "Why should I ruin our friendship over my stupid feelings? Why should I prioritise how I feel over us?" He shook his head. "Yeah. After all I've done, it's the same result. I know. Now I can't even hear her voice without feeling like I'm dying. There's nothing I can do to fix this, Armin—not when she deserves better. I'm not…cut out for her," he said, lowering his gaze. Suddenly, his visage tightened. "You wanted to know so fucking bad? There you go."
Armin's eyes had grown enormous in the time Eren spent spilling his heart out, they scanned the boy's face as he took it all in. His thoughts swam around in his mind, creating a whirlwind at the centre of it.
"Oh my god…you…you're an idiot…" he muttered, an urgency swiftly overcoming him. "Don't you know?"
"Know what?" Eren mumbled at the ground.
Armin blinked at his obliviousness. "Holy shit," he planted his hand over his forehead. "Eren…go to her. Tell her you love her."
His eyes snapped up. "Are you insane?"
"No, you don't understand—you need to tell her!" he insisted.
"Are you listening to me? Didn't you hear what I just said—"
"For once in your life will you stop being so stubborn?!" Armin's hands instantly gravitated to his friend's shoulders, yanking him up from the bench. "Mikasa has to hear this, she…she—" he stammered, eyes flickering all over Eren's face as he bit his tongue. "Go! I'm begging you Eren, go!"
His lips parted. "But what if she—"
"I'm not telling you again! That voice in your head? Forget it! Listen to me—I'm real!" Armin pulled the boy forward. "Tell Mikasa you love her!"
He then let go of him, as if he were freeing him back into the world. Eren stumbled back, eyes locked onto Armin in awe. He knew something, something Eren didn't. The gears clicked and churned in his head; he could come to a million conclusions from his friend's words alone, but when it finally settled, when all the thoughts that bounced off the walls of his brain came to a screeching halt, it only came to one.
Holy shit… she loves me too?
Eren forgot his gym bag as he darted out of the locker room. No, he didn't even care about it. It wasn't a thought that scathed his mind. He pictured her face, conjured up all the words he would use to tell her exactly what he needed to as he ran through the halls of the school. If there was even a shred of hope in Armin's demands, he would take it. He would rebuild them, reconstruct their relationship from the ground up if he had to. If he had to beg and serve at her side to make up for all the damage he caused, he would do it.
Just to see hear her say she loved him.
Mikasa had Biology as her last class on a Friday, she usually stayed behind to talk to Hange for a while. He had time to catch her, he needed to. When Eren rounded the corner, he beamed emphatically. A few doors down from his locker stood Mikasa, gathering her belongings to head home for the weekend. He sprinted down the long corridor, carelessly dodging and weaving the groups of students that were on their way home.
This was it.
"Mikasa!" he shouted for her.
As he approached, she appeared startled to see him. "Eren—?"
"I…I have to tell you something," he spoke through his panting.
Her eyes hit the ground, features softening from its alarm. "Yeah," her head lowered, "I do too."
Relieved, he felt himself smile. He was right—holy shit, I was right! Mikasa loved him just as he thought. What was there to lose? How would he do it? Would he just tell her? Should he kiss her?
No, use your fucking words—tell her what she means to you.
He exhaled. "You're ev—"
"I'm going to the dance with Jean," she blurted out as she stared up at him. Eren maintained his expression, the words hadn't quite settled in just yet. "Sorry. I just, uh, wanted to tell you."
He compelled himself to blink, but his functioning had ceased. What did she just say?
"You're going with Jean?" his voice had emptied, reverting to a meek, pathetic sound.
She studied him for a moment. The longer she graced him with the sight of her eyes, the more blood-curdling became the scream he felt inside of him.
Mikasa finally nodded. "Yeah. I am," she glanced down.
He maintained his posture, in fact, he forced himself to stand straighter. "No. Yeah. That's cool. He's always…liked you." It was like chewing glass to talk it into reality. The senses of his surroundings had dulled. "Hope…hope you guys have fun."
She exhaled, nodding slightly. "Yeah," she stammered, "well, um, yeah." Suddenly, Mikasa glanced up at him. "What were you gonna say? I didn't mean to interrupt you."
With parted lips, Eren imposed himself to shake his head.
"I can't remember," he mumbled to her.
Again, she let the air escape her before pursing her lips. She shut her locker, keeping her gaze far away from him.
"It's alright. Guess it wasn't important," she replied.
He blinked, just once. "Yeah…"
Eren watched her idle for a moment, then she quietly disappeared down the hall. He was immoveable, as he stared ahead a fog settling over his thoughts. And as she rounded the corner and out of his sight, he could feel everything inside of him completely disintegrate.
JUNE 2005
"I think it's called Andromeda," Mikasa pointed up to the night sky, letting her hand fall back down. "After the princess from Ancient Greece."
"Yeah. She was saved by Perseus," Eren replied, blinking up at the constellations. His father was well versed in Greek mythology which, subsequently, meant he was too. Another one of Grisha's hobbies.
Everyone had decided to spend the night at Eren's after a day of swimming in his pool. Summer break was in full force, which meant Carla practically became a mother to an extra five teenagers for a couple of months. She didn't mind, loving the liveliness it brought to her home as Grisha worked long hours.
Connie, Sasha, and Jean continued to splash around well into the night whereas Armin headed home to keep an eye on his grandpa, leaving Eren and Mikasa alone to their own devices. They were out of their swimsuits and dressed again, laying down on his old trampoline and staring up at the night sky with their damp hair. They spoke about anything and everything, from how they were going to be juniors next school year to Mr Sprinkles' approximate age. He was a stray, after all. There was no telling exactly how old he was.
"I wish she could have saved herself," Mikasa said with furrowed brows.
"What's wrong with being saved by someone else?" Eren turned his head over to her.
She shrugged. "I don't know. It's just different for a woman to be saved by a guy."
"Well, it's not all bad. She got a husband out of it—"
"That's even worse," she chuckled, glancing over to him. "It's like, 'Hey, I just saved you. As repayment, you're gonna be my wife'."
Eren restrained a grin. "I don't think he said it like that."
"He probably did," she snorted another laugh.
"No, she could have fell in love with him because he saved her."
"Yeah, that's realistic," her brows raised. Eventually, she sighed, staring back up at the stars. "I don't know. Maybe it's just me."
Eren hesitated for a moment. "Because of what happened?" he gently replied, studying her profile. She nodded. "I'm glad you were saved. A whole lot worse could have happened."
Mikasa remained quiet, her focus fixating on reading the constellations above her. After a moment of watching her, Eren glanced back up at the sky, putting an end to the topic.
"Hey," she muttered, a slight crease to her brow. "Do you ever feel like you're not meant to be here?" she asked him as if she was stuck in a daze.
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Like…your birth wasn't meant to happen? Like you caused a disruption in the world and everything that happens to you is just a consequence for living?"
Eren blinked as he turned to her, the air of concern filing in. How could she ever feel that way about herself? The thought of her as any of those things was the utmost antithesis of what he would consider her. He couldn't even imagine a life without her, where he didn't talk to her every day, or see her smile, or hear her laughter. Life wasn't supposed to be one long journey of pain – she was supposed to be happy, just like he was. She was meant to find herself a purpose like he had.
"I…I don't think it's like that at all. I think we all have a purpose."
She finally turned to him, a blank expression upon her features.
"What's your purpose?"
Eren exhaled, shaking his head at the stars. "I just…I wanna be happy. I'm free to make my purpose whatever I want—and you are too—so I want my purpose to make me happy."
The corner of her lips slightly tugged. "That's sweet," she told him, returning her gaze to the stars. "I don't know what my purpose is. I don't know if we're even meant to have one. Hange told me we're just products of the big bang, all of our makeup is from a bunch of supernovas and we're made of iron and stardust." Mikasa blinked, allowing her breath to escape her. "I just don't get how we're made from something so beautiful, yet we're capable of being so ugly."
He felt his features ache with sympathy. While the rest of his friends were cheering and laughing in his pool, he could feel all of her pain seep through her body and bleed onto him.
"Yeah. That's true," he spoke honestly. "But I think it also means the good things we do—the beautiful—means a whole lot more in contrast. Whether we've caused disruptions or not."
Mikasa kept her eyes on the sky, and as he fixated on the curves of her face, Eren extended his arm and reached for her hand, lacing his fingers in between hers. Mikasa's head snapped over to him, her lips parting with discretion at his actions.
"You were always meant to be here," he said. "And I'm glad you are."
He thought she had froze until she gently nodded. She didn't quite know how to take his words, how to articulate all she felt for him without it being so unequivocal. The sensation of his fingers between hers was driving her absolutely crazy, but fear had her teetering over the edge, grasping at her as to not fall over.
"You're…you're like family to me Eren," she whispered. "You're home."
If now wasn't a good time to kiss her, when was? He had almost become an expert at keeping his feelings under wraps, but the way the moonlight fell upon her face made him feel like he is made of stardust, like he was simply a tide in her ocean and she was the moon, and she could push and pull at him to her heart's desire. She was everything to him, but telling her so could change the course of their entire universe.
Eren slowly peered back up at the stars, breaking their almost iron-force gazes. She gently released his hand and he eventually came back down into reality. He was only family. She didn't have much of her own, she never even had friends until she met him. If she didn't love him in the particular way he loved her, if she only loved him as she would a brother, then that would have to be okay. Because he was still a comfort in her life. He was still her home.
So why did his stomach hurt?
"Yeah…" he finally muttered, blinking up at the stars. "You too."
lover, you should've come over - jeff buckley
Chapter 8: fade into you
Notes:
hello! welcome to a rivetra only chapter! if you aren't reading my story for their relationship, that's okay, i hope this chapter can be somewhat entertaining or at the very least i hope you're into 'slice of life' type of stuff as this is essentially what this chapter is. i wanted to build their relationship as well as give you all a bit of a 'calm before the storm' so to say in terms of eremika, so i'd appreciate it if you gave it a chance even if it isn't your forte :) if you do end up liking the chapter, let me know! it's nice and long for all of the rivetra fans reading this because i know we don't get much to feast on, so enjoy it!
happy readying :)
Chapter Text
The journey to the clinic was rather hasty. Her morning schedule was cleared until ten, however she was a busy woman nonetheless. Her sesame bagel remained half eaten on the kitchen counter, her stomach gurgled from the speed of which she drank her coffee, she practically threw herself in front of a taxi in order to get a ride and did that embarrassingly hurried jog/walk down the footpath, all to arrive at the doors of the clinic before the staff even walked in.
It was an important appointment after all.
Petra sat buzzingly in the waiting room. The kind receptionist switched on the television in the corner – some long-running soap was on with little to no volume emanating from it, only delayed subtitles gave any sort of clue as to what was going on. Petra blinked down at her watch, inhaling as she glanced out the window. The clinic was all the way across the other side of the city. It was only test results; it would be a quick affair. In and out. Then she could be back at the office to meet with her client at ten like planned.
She glanced down at her watch again. 9:05am.
"Petra Ral?"
A contrived smile plastered against her features as she promptly stood up. The doctor welcomed her into his office, closing the door behind them.
"Glad you could make it, Miss Ral. How are you this morning?" he asked, sitting down behind his desk.
Petra nodded. "Fine, thank you," she replied, seating herself. "I have to get back to the firm shortly."
His pleasant visage jittered, fingers fiddling with the papers in his hand. "It's best we take our time with this," he gently responded.
She shut her eyes, regretful of her tone. "Sorry, I didn't mean we should rush. There's just this case I need to prepare for—it's the only thing on my mind right now," she explained.
"I understand," he waved her off. "Before we go over the results, I wanted to go over what we talked about in your initial consultation. Regarding your issues of suspected infertility, had you previously attempted any kind of testing while you were trying to conceive with your ex-partner?"
She felt her posture stiffen. "No. And we weren't trying to conceive at the time," she told him.
"Apologies. But the intercourse was unprotected, yes?"
Her fingers began to fidget. "It wasn't often."
He nodded, grabbing his pen and bringing it to his notebook. "So, there was contraception for the majority of it?" His words sounded more like a statement than a question.
"No, we didn't have sex often," she corrected. "But when we did, it…it wasn't used, no." Her eyes hit the base of his desk as the sourness of her memories surfaced. "He wanted a child. I didn't want to put my career on hold. So…it wasn't often," she quietly reiterated. It was a fight they would have every few weeks or so – one she lost only a sparsely.
"Hm," he tapped idly on the desk. "How many times would you say there was unprotected intercourse throughout your relationship?"
She exhaled, thinking it over. "Very little over the three years. I just found it strange that of the times we did have it, I didn't fall pregnant."
"And this was without birth control or the use of Plan B?"
Petra cleared her throat, forcing a smile. "I'm sorry. Again, I don't mean to rush you, but the results are really all I'm after today."
The doctor sighed, coming to a nod. "I understand, you're a busy woman. The results won't take much time to go over at all, actually," he readied the papers. "All the tests we conducted a few weeks ago, well, came back negative," he pursed his lips.
Petra exhaled, but the sight of his features turned her uneasy.
"Isn't that a good thing?"
He placed the papers down, intertwining his fingers as he shifted in his seat. "Petra, I'll be frank with you. I don't like being unable to give my patients a clear answer, but as there's no further tests we can do regarding your reproductive health, I'm led to believe the lack of conception may just be a result of your endometriosis."
Her features contorted with confusion. "I don't understand—are you saying that affects it?"
"I'm unsure of how much you're aware about your condition, but thirty per cent of women who suffer from endometriosis are infertile," he told her, prompting her lips to part. "We don't know what exactly causes it. We hypothesise that scarring may interfere with the process of ovulation, but since your case is relatively mild compared to others, we don't believe this to be the case for you." Sometimes, we just don't know what causes it." At the sight of her disbelief, he faltered. "This may be upsetting to hear. I understand your shock."
"No, no—it's just…I didn't know that…that could happen," she muttered, blinking as she slowly shook her head. "So…you're telling me I'm infertile?"
The doctor exhaled. "It seems to be that way, yes."
As the air escaped her, everything the doctor said thereafter began to drown out. It wasn't that she never wanted children—in some alternate timeline where she was with a dedicated man, way beyond the three years of emotional neglect given to her by her previous partner, she was going to have babies in her future. That was the plan all along. Establish her career first, create a family later. She didn't want to be a young, stay-at-home mother like her sister. She was destined for more and she felt that notion ache her bones from the word go. She thought she had time, but with the confronting reality that was actively dawning upon her, she had nothing. She was about to turn thirty and all prospects of a family weren't in the near future as she thought, now, they were completely eradicated.
Petra blinked. Suddenly, she sat up straight again, wiping the smear of disbelief from her face.
"Thank you, Dr Buchanan, but really, I should be heading off."
He watched as she stood to gather her coat. "Miss Ral—"
"Thank you for your time."
He rose from his desk. "Please, at the very least, come back and utilise our resources," he almost pleaded, taken aback by her sudden apathy.
Petra halted as she opened the door, glancing back at him.
"It's fine, really. I'm quite busy at the moment and I don't think it's necessary." She gave him a tight smile. "This was purely a curiosity thing. I'm not trying to conceive. But thank you for today's appointment."
Petra sat behind her desk, fingers run through her hair as she glanced over her paperwork. She was supposed to be reading her documents instead of merely staring at the words, but her brain wasn't quite in the right place. The workload would worsen if she didn't get back on track – she would have to come in on the weekend and get it sorted before the meeting on Monday, which was looking likely at this point.
Her hand released the documents as she leaned back in her chair, exhaling as much stress out as she could. It was a lovely placebo effect. She draped a finger or two over her lips as she stared through the glass walls of her office, observing her new colleagues as they went about their day. It was all the offices in the building that were walled with glass, made it harder for the seniors to screw their young, opportunistic secretaries. It gave more of an edge over her previous firm, though a see-through wall wouldn't stop some of the big names over there from doing whatever they wanted.
She was glad they weren't around anymore. While the company fell into ruin, they took off into early retirement at just the right time. These were the men she was supposed to worship if the politics truly dictated her, these were the men who aspiring lawyers should want to be. Big wallets, big tastes, big egos. All Petra seemed to need was her own volition and drive – she also didn't have a dick to swing around and knock people over with like they did. She did her job, avoided the plentiful shortcuts that came her way, and now she could proudly say: she made it.
And yet, while exactly where she wanted to be, something was calling to her, assuring her that there was more to be had.
A knock at the door broke her gaze, suggesting she finally try blinking for the first time in two minutes.
"Good afternoon," Erwin hovered in her doorway. "Is there anything you would like copied? I'm headed over to the machine now," he held up a stack of paper.
Her lips pursed as she shook her head. "I'm fine, thank you."
"Very well," he nodded, finding his way back down the hall.
Petra didn't mean it in a cruel way, however Erwin's presence truly made her think of only one thing.
"Oh, Erwin—" she manoeuvred out from behind her desk, following him out to the hall. "Erwin?"
He halted and turned to her inquisitively. "Yes?"
"Oluo and the others can't make it to the Fox's Den tonight." The boys had something a little different in mind for their Friday night.
Erwin huffed as he stared at the ground. "Our new tradition already seems to have broken," he chuckled. "They've filled me in about their Star Trek marathon. Quite frankly, I'm not too heartbroken about it." Petra glanced away, a budding grin on her features. "I'll still be there as I'm meeting with some a client. You'll be joining the others I suppose?"
She shook her head, leaning against the door frame. "I'm not too sure I'll be going anywhere tonight," she admitted.
"Held up here?"
"You could say that." Petra's eyes flickered in another direction, her visage attempting to remain composed.
There was re-evaluating to be done—about her life, about everything. In her audacious mind, it had to be all or nothing; if motherhood wasn't an attainable goal like she planned, then now, she was going hands off. Coasting through life without an ounce of control in changing its current direction seemed to be the go for Petra. Alongside work, there was fun to be had. She was a free woman, untied, unbound by the responsibility of kin. She wasn't one for mourning. Why let the grief of being childless deter her from having a good time? She had to keep reminding herself of that sentiment.
Erwin tried not to study her features too closely, picking up the soreness of it all. He unassumingly glanced down at the papers in his hands before the gush of empathy finally reared its head.
"Is something the matter?" he gently asked her.
"No…no," she nonchalantly replied, shrugging as she held her arms. "Just not sure if I'm feeling up to drinking my sorrows away tonight," she chuckled, quickly noticing the solemnity that overcame his expression. She faltered, smoothing out her sleeves. "Sorry. That was a joke."
"I'd hope so. My friend wouldn't be too happy to hear you're having a hard time."
There was the humor in his tone.
A smile emanated from her lips as she thought of the bartender. How sharp his features were, how challenging he was, how mysterious…
How she was still waiting for his call.
"I'm not too sure about that," she replied, brows raised doubtfully.
Erwin lowered his head as he grinned. "Yes, he's a little hard to read sometimes. Is he still withholding his name from you?"
"At this point, I'm convinced he doesn't have one."
He scratched his temple for a moment, trying to find the right words as he slowly made his way up to her. "Once you've known him for as long as I have, you come to realize he's not all that strange as you once thought," Erwin assured her. "His oddity is simply foreign to you right now, almost like a book with vocabulary you once didn't recognise. The more you read it, the more you come to understand it." He nodded at her. "He'll start to make perfect sense shortly."
"Well, your friend's very apprehensive to anything I put out there. The guy won't even call me," she incredulously laughed. "Something tells me I might be wasting my time."
She found it odd at how Erwin's features startled, almost as if he suddenly malfunctioned for a moment.
He adamantly shook his head. "I don't mean to scare you from him," he spoke quietly, almost as if he was backpedalling a mistake. Erwin quickly regained his professional composure. "But yes, he is rather complex. He has his way about things and he's incredibly stead-fast on his views. However, if I may get personal or a moment." Erwin lowered his gaze. "I don't allow just anyone to be as close to me as he is. I've never known another person to be so utterly devoted to those he cares about, to the point that he goes beyond the expectation of any ordinary man. And I'm safe to say he's taught me how to be better to those I care for." He glanced at her. "I don't mean to pry into your situation, nor do I want to push you to do something you aren't comfortable with, however he'll unravel in his own time. So, if you believe you're up for the challenge he poses, there will be no loss in winning it."
Petra blinked down at the ground, taking all of Erwin's sentiments in. No grown man had ever spoke of another man like that to her; this alluring yet vaguely threatening bartender had a chokehold even on Erwin's affections. If she wasn't interested in his mystique before, which she was, then she definitely was now.
Blinking, Petra's lips parted as a silence settled between them. "You…really admire him. And that was strangely poetic," she mumbled, her brows coming to a furrow. "I don't think it's just my head he gets into, Erwin."
He allowed a smile, glancing down at the papers in his hand. She wondered exactly what the bartender was like to have such an effect on Erwin Smith.
"I have to copy these," he gestured to the papers as he began to make his way down the hall. "I hope to see you by the bar this evening," he called out to her, leaving her to stand by her doorway.
With pursed lips, Petra stumbled back into her office, gently closing the door behind her as she stared at the case files on her desk.
After a moment, she inhaled deeply. Petra had never backed down from a challenge.
Levi watched as Anka stacked box on top of box of the new cleaning supplies on the counter. Every month or so he watched her form a Jenga tower out of them and take it to the back in one trip. Not once had she ever dropped them, serving trays of spillable liquids three times a week had her balance more on point than ever.
But on this particular occasion, Levi's urges had become unrelenting.
"Be careful with those," he blurted out a warning, arms folded and scowl wearily pulling at his features.
Her brows creased cautiously. "I've got it?" she spoke obviously, lifting the boxes and waddling off to the back.
"Hm."
With the lack of parenting these last few weeks – rather a lack of obedience on Mikasa's part – Levi's instinct to warn or teach or explain was unmet more than ever. He and Mikasa hadn't had a genuine conversation (if he could even call it that) since the night of Eren's party, and with her curbing any chance at rebuilding their relationship, the next young girl in his vicinity became victim to his cautionary tales and fatherly nurturing.
Shit, since when the hell did he ever have to resort to small talk with his own cousin? It was like a stranger took on her form and started living with him like nothing was amiss. The one time she spoke more than three words to him was when she told him not to worry about Eren anymore, because she wasn't going to either.
Good, she had finally taken his advice. It was like music to his ears, all he ever wanted was for Eren to be out of the picture. And he was.
So, why the hell was she ignoring him still?
"You're very cautious."
Levi glanced over his shoulder, finding Petra sitting at the corner of the bar. She was his own personal Bloody Mary, popping up out of nowhere and scaring the hell out of him. He could always find her there, waiting for him to relinquish his apprehension and give her a shred of himself. Though, with all his effort, he couldn't exactly recall a time he wanted to feel Bloody Mary's hands slide underneath the waistband of his pants.
"Don't remember saying your name three times," he said as he approached her.
"You know, there is another way to summon me." Petra's hand fell into a phone gesture, raising it up to her ear as she beamed at him. Levi desperately wanted to ignore her existence—just as easily as he could anyone else—but his hands immediately got to making her a drink. "Alright, alright. Maybe I'll summon you," Petra laughed. "Would you like a pen? Or should we see how many digits I can remember after a few drinks?"
"Stop, Petra," he stilled his hands.
Her cheery visage fell as she studied his peculiarity. "Did I upset you?"
Don't be an asshole, just be firm.
"No. More like I'm going to upset you. I don't know what idea you have of me in your head but—"
"But it doesn't match yours?" her brows raised as he exhaled. She was always one step ahead, taunting him with her…preparedness. He didn't know what else to call it. It was as if she knew exactly what he was going to say every time, it frustrated him just as much as it surprised him.
"How many times are you gonna make me warn you?" he questioned lowly, leaning forward as he scrutinized her. "Do yourself a favour. Walk away."
Now face to face, Petra's features jittered as if she held back laughter. "Someone should have told you that you've got a nice smile," she quietly told him, allowing her grin to overcome her as she attempted to derail him.
His brows furrowed. "Is there something wrong with you?"
"No," she chuckled, "and there's nothing wrong with you either. We've all got ideas about ourselves; it just so happens that the ones you have are in no way relevant to me. I think you're interesting and I can't help that, so let me give you a chance." As she scanned his face for any sign of conceding, her voice softened. "Is that something you've tried before? Giving yourself a chance?"
Levi leaned back, rubbing his forehead as he sighed. He hated this—hated how manipulative she was, how striking she always seemed to look, how it felt like she had a fervent grip on his balls every time she looked into his eyes. His mind pulled him in all sorts of directions; such a mess he was when it came to her.
"You don't know me, Petra."
"But I want to."
"Just because you want it doesn't mean I'll give it to you," he spoke soberly as he kept his head down, continuing to make her drink.
Petra paused, watching his hands as he stirred the gin and vermouth. "Do you want me?" she brazenly asked, studying his features as his eyes shot up at her.
Levi could feel his throat close up, his mouth began to dry out as he looked her up and down. Of course he wanted her, who the hell wouldn't? She was forthright in a discerning way; unlike him with all his abrasion and vulgarity. She was elegant, everything from her fashion sense down to her features were all mesmerizingly assembled. This woman was leagues above him, but she wouldn't take that as the final say – she wouldn't leave well enough the hell alone.
He forced his gaze back down to the tumbler, using the spoon to dab the concoction on the back of his hand before tasting it. He ignored her.
"If your answer was no, you'd have said it already," she grinned, leaning forward almost eagerly. "So…how do you want me?" her voice lowered into sweet sultriness.
"In ways that'll make you cry. How about that?" he spoke dispassionately.
Petra smiled even harder. "Sounds fun. Give me a play-by-play."
Shit.
"No. You don't want that." His stern expression began to wane.
"I wouldn't make a habit of thinking you know what I want," she leaned back, folding her arms.
"Told you last time. It gets me into shit."
"You seem to tell me a lot of things," she replied, her eyes scanning him as he continued to stir. "Anything you'd like to show me?"
His brows furrowed. "I'm not exactly interested in showing you how much of an asshole I can be. That's why I'm telling you."
Petra resigned with a sigh, fixating on him as he added more vermouth to his concoction.
"When's the last time you tried to prove yourself wrong?" she posed a question, scrutinizing his every move. It was the first time she heard him huff any semblance of a laugh.
"I was seven," he humored her.
"And what entailed?"
Levi exhaled. "Thought I'd stop being a pessimistic little shit, start hoping my mom would quit drinking," his lips formed into a brief faux-smile. When he realized he had divulged a sour part of his life to her, his features immediately sobered.
"Oh." Her intrigue vanished, capturing her into a bout of silence. That got her. "Kind of ironic you're a bartender…" she finally mumbled, leaning forward to rest her arms on the bar.
He pursed his lips regretfully. He didn't realize how much he preferred her smile. Good job, idiot. You made her miserable.
"You surround yourself with what you're familiar with," he replied, a coldness to his already withheld tone. Suddenly, his eyes locked with hers. "You're here often," he noted, becoming to feel cautious of her.
She shook her head. "When you work ten-to-twelve-hour days almost every week, you might feel like a drink or two by the time Friday comes," she replied, tapping her fingers on the counter. "You never felt like you needed to relax with a glass of wine?"
"I don't drink," he promptly told her, setting the spoon down on the bench.
Her lips pursed as she came to a shrug. "Sounds like you have a good reason," she responded, her visage softening. "You know, I meet a lot of troubled families in my line of work. Some of the most unfortunate people who weren't raised in loving homes seem to turn out with the most beautiful of hearts, even despite their heinous crimes. Some of the worst criminals I've defended have had a kindness to them that seemingly went untapped. I believe that if they had some warmth thrown their way earlier on, then their lives could have gone a lot differently than it did."
"Congratulations, Petra. You have empathy," he bleakly replied, focusing on her drink. "Makes me feel even more justified in rejecting you."
She fell flat into a deadpan. "Well, you're not."
"Yeah? That so?" he huffed at her, eyes down as he stirred the contents of the tumbler.
"It's not justifiable. Not one bit," she crossed her arms.
"Ah. So you are just used to getting whatever you want," he noted, pulling out a chilled glass.
"No," Petra sat up straighter. "It's because your decisions are influenced by self-inflicted malice," she retorted, squinting at him as he stared blankly at her. "Who's to say it's a true act of justice to hinder your own human experiences? How does selling yourself short equal justice?"
Levi forced a patronizing grin. "You're right. I should try murdering someone. Bet it's a great experience."
Instantly, her eyes rolled. "I don't think I have to cite the obvious here, not when you're just trying to find a reason to perceive me as wrong. So I'll let you in on a secret—" she leaned forward almost comically, staring into his eyes. "I'm not," she loudly whispered, being met with his humourless gaze as she leaned back. "I personally think it's a sad life to live if you don't stand up to yourself every once in a while. No one is born inherently unworthy of affection. So really, who are you, full of negative reinforcement and self-perceived biases, to decide whether you're worthy of an average human experience?"
Levi had settled his hands on the counter, watching her as she gracefully delivered her skilful tirade. He knew she made a good point—a great point, even. It sure did sound like she put him in his place.
But she didn't.
"That's a lot of thought you put into this whole situation. You up all night thinking about me and my biases?" he taunted, earning her unimpressed grin.
"Play the condescension game all you like, bartender. Your avoidance of answering just proves I've got you all figured out," she crossed her arms, leaning back into her seat with a satisfied smile. "Can't blame me, it is what I do."
He kept his eyes on her. "You're cute when you think you're making leeway."
"You think so? You're quite attractive yourself," she eyed him up and down. "And between you and I, it sounds like you think I'm making it too."
He huffed through his nose, shaking his head before returning to her drink.
She sat there, itching to get more out of him. More, more, more chipping away at his walls, more breaking down his apprehension. While he carefully poured her drink into its glass, Petra sat forward, leaning over the bar counter.
"Alright, bartender, tell me this. In what way do you think you'll get me to cry?" she questioned him as he kept his focus away from her, attentively pouring his tumbler. "Are you planning to go down the emotionally turbulent route, maybe break my heart? Or is there a certain sex position you'd like to have me in—"
His hand knocked the mixing spoon to the ground, his eyes darting down to it as he set the tumbler back on the counter.
"Whoops. You gonna pick that up?" she grinned at him, leaning over the counter to catch a glimpse at the fallen utensil.
A silence befell them; Levi stilled. With parted lips, he glanced back over to her beaming face, catching the figure of his best friend in the corner of his eye. At the sight of Erwin's approach, Levi cleared his throat, lowering his head and busying his hands with the garnishing of her drink.
"Good evening," Erwin nodded at the both of them, the scotch in his glass swirling with his gesture. "My apologies for interrupting, I just wanted to know if Pixis was around."
"He's—" Levi cleared his throat again. "He's entertaining. VIP section."
"Ah, thank you," his hand rested on the back of Petra's seat. "When you're ready, do you mind bringing us two of the man's favourite? Whiskey, I believe it is?" he requested, earning Levi's low-headed nod. Seeing as his friend was acting as peculiar as expected, he peered down at Petra as she politely smiled up at him. "Ral, glad to see you here. Looks like you're becoming more of a regular than I am."
"Yeah," she settled her gaze on the bartender. "Just can't seem to stay away."
Levi glared at Erwin. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
"If you're talking about the meeting I came for, my client and I have already finished business for the night. Thought I'd come and see what all the fuss was about, being that Petra here is one for conversation." Erwin's eyes shifted down at the woman. "Yes, I'm sure you're aware she's quite the intriguing customer," he noted.
Levi eyed him back, warningly.
"If that's a compliment, I'll take it," she spoke through a modest laugh.
"Well, of course it is," Erwin placed his hand on her shoulder, keeping his eyes firmly on his friend. "Levi likes the interesting ones."
Petra's eyes alit as she watched her colleague cheers to the bartender, an amused grin pulling at his lips. He downed the rest of his scotch before patting her shoulder, swallowing, and leaving the two in each other's company once again.
"Fuck sake," Levi begrudgingly exhaled, resting his elbows on the counter as he ran his hands over his face. If he could trust anyone to pull a childish move like that, it had to be his best friend—the giant asshole who loved to stir his goddamn pot.
Sighing, he took his hands off his face just in time to see Petra turn to him, a victorious grin spread far and wide upon her face.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Levi," her balmy voice was both soothing and yet painful to hear. "Does a last name accompany it?"
Another sigh came over him as he hung his head. "God, you're insane," he mumbled, eventually finding himself upright again. He glanced down at her to find she was still smiling. Brightly, in fact. Yeah, he definitely wanted to pummel Erwin. "Where do you wanna go?" he finally asked.
She leaned over, her visage stone serious. "Is that a date you're asking me on?"
"Don't push it." When he saw her place her hand behind her ear in exaggeration, tilting her head away as if she couldn't hear him, another exhale escaped him. "Yes."
"Well, I thought you'd never ask," she grinned.
"Uh huh."
"Do you like Japanese?" she queried.
"Sure."
"There's an amazing restaurant in Mitras' dining precinct. If you're free on Saturday nights, I'd love for you to join me," Petra rested her cheek on her fist.
"Wasn't I doing the asking?" he frowned.
"What, you don't like feminism?" she shrugged jokingly, leaning back in her chair.
He restrained his budding grin. "Fine. How's tomorrow night?"
She nodded, smiling at him. "I'll make the reservation," she assured him, allowing herself to simply take the sight of him in for a few moments. Then, she clicked into action, grabbing her diary and pen from her purse and starting to scribble in it. "My house is in…" she ripped the corner of the paper out from her diary and handed it to him. "Stohess Square. It's the third townhouse from the left. If you pick me up, then it's only a ten-minute walk to the restaurant."
Stohess Square was right next to Grand Stohess Park. He and Mikasa would train into the city to go there; he'd watch her play with the flowers and climb the trees, back when she was younger and found running around a grassy field appealing.
He blinked the memory away, glancing down at the paper. "You got a time?"
"How's seven?"
"I can do that," he said, lowering his hand to return her gaze.
What the hell was he getting himself into? He started the night attempting to break her heart and scare her off, now he was going out to dinner with her? As the thoughts rushed through his synapses, she continued to smile at him. She wouldn't break eye contact, forcing his brain to all but shut off. All he could do was look at her, study her creamy complexion, note the gold hue of her eyes. Dinner with her sounded… Alright, it sounded fucking amazing, but he failed to wrap his head around the notion that she wanted it. Wanted him.
His gaze broke once she stood, gathering her coat off the back of her seat. Levi scratched the back of his neck.
"Hey," he awkwardly glanced away. "You uh…want your drink?"
"Oh, I didn't come for a drink," Petra smiled, sliding on her coat.
"You didn't?" he frowned, trying to recall the point in the conversation where she actually asked for one.
"Nope. Wasn't sure why you were making one," she huffed. "Told you not to make it a habit." He pursed his lips, watching as she finally hoisted her purse onto her shoulder. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow night. See you later, Levi," she grinned over her shoulder, teasing him.
While he gently waved and stared mesmerizingly long, Petra left his presence. He kept his fixated eyes on her form, watching her as she strolled past patrons and out through the door, getting exactly what she wanted. Because she wanted it.
His face fell, and determinedly, he walked out from behind the bar.
"A pleasure to meet with you gentlemen again. Please, next time you're in Mitras for the sailing tournament, I urge you to come straight to the Den for some drinks and canapés afterwards."
Pixis overzealously shook the hands of his guests, waving them off and out of the VIP section with an enthusiastically broad smile. Erwin didn't bother to stand for their departure, sunk into the seat of the booth as he offered a simple wave. They had little to no interest in him to begin with, being they were oafish men, clearing out the supply of canapés and indulging on all the free liquor they knew they would get from a man as benevolent as Pixis. No class, no manners in sight. They had ordered plentiful drinks to litter the table, some of which were untouched and finding their way to Erwin. At least the bastards ordered some scotch.
"Jesus Christ," Pixis let out an exasperated sigh, seating himself back down at the semi-circled booth.
"You did well," Erwin told him, sipping on his newly acquired scotch.
Pixis shook his head. "Those shills don't know a thing about running a business, they haven't even got their noses in their own day-to-day operations. All they know is how to short-change the working man."
He slowly nodded. "That was quite a face you had to put on."
"Indeed. Lucky for me, I only have to deal with them once every year or so when that damn tournament is on," he tapped his knuckles on the table, bouncing his leg erratically.
"Those drinks should be coming fairly soon," Erwin told him, a grin emanating on his features. "You can view it as a reward."
"Aren't you a darling. I don't think I can hold out much longer," Pixis chuckled. "You're a smart man, I believe you'll trust me when I tell you this," his expression sobered. "If there so happens to be even a single person you feel can take everything you have from you, do not let them get you drunk. Alright?"
Erwin allowed an impressive frown to compliment his nodding. "Sound advice from a man favourable of a drink or two. I'll take it."
Pixis had caught something—no, someone in the distance with a steadying approach. Their features were sour, shoulders hunched forward as they came right towards them. It was Levi, either having a good day or a bad day, he often couldn't tell.
"Hmph," he studied him further. "Do I just happen to be painfully sober, or has he always looked that pissed off?"
Erwin didn't have to look to know exactly who the man was talking about. "He'll have some questions for me. Will you pardon his impending vulgarity?" he asked.
"I've pardoned worse," Pixis replied, shaking his head before he sighed. "Better soften the blow. Consider it my thank you making the last few minutes of my entertaining only a little less unbearable." He stood himself up, smiling widely at an approaching Levi as he opened out his arms. "Ah, Levi! Why don't you take a break? Come join us for a little while, my whiskeys shouldn't be too far off!" he called out to him.
As Pixis tried what he could only consider to be his best, Erwin sat still, sipping his scotch as he side-eyed his best friend's approach. He wasn't naïve, he knew there would be consequences for shoving Levi out of his comfort zone, but the end truly did justify the means. He was going to see that eventually.
Levi hadn't taken his eyes off of Erwin, even when he finally neared and grabbed the man by his lapels. He brought himself inches from Erwin's face, a stern look in his eyes.
"You idiot, why the hell did you tell her my name?" he grumbled, watching as Erwin seemed to hold back what looked to be the beginnings of a smirk.
"I believe there's a better question you should be asking. That is, 'how could I not give an attractive woman my name when she asked for it?'" He wouldn't break his eyes from Levi's. He loved his friendly dearly, and knew there wasn't a man in the world he couldn't seriously injure, but there was never a day in their friendship where Erwin ever found himself frightened of him. Only intrigued. "You know I hate to chastise, let alone chastise you, but were you merely born yesterday? You aren't one to be so obtuse—"
"Don't get smart with me, asshole. You know why I don't do that kind of shit. Now we're going on a date and it's all your goddamn fault!" his voice heightened, just as his grip on the man contracted.
Erwin sat completely astounded at the words leaving his friend's mouth. Levi was genuinely frustrated by this ordeal—an ordeal where he got to take out a beautiful lady.
His brows furrowed. "I'm failing to see how this is a negative outcome—"
"She's one of your colleagues. She's normal," Levi pulled the man closer, bearing his gritted teeth. "Can't you see I'm just gonna fuck this up?!"
As a few brief moments of disbelief flew by, witnessing the scornful look on Levi's features, he no longer felt the urge to laugh at the situation. Erwin stood from the booth, taking the man's hands off of him and towering over him.
"When will you stop using your insecurity against yourself?" his voice was low and stern, eyes piercing down at him. "I'm not out to get you and throw you into the deep end, Levi. All I believe is that it's paramount you move past your crippling fear of destroying everything you touch. You're hopping effortlessly through hoops in mental gymnastics, all to justify blackmailing yourself into unhappiness." Levi's mouth opened to speak, prompting Erwin to talk over him. "I understand you're having issues with Mikasa at the moment, but she's a teenager—they're at the mercy of their own inner conflicts. You had them. Hange had them. We all suffer greatly in our younger years simply because it's a rite of passage to do so. She's not a porcelain vase that you clumsily dropped at an antique store; you haven't ruined her all of a sudden like you seem to believe. And as far as I'm aware, you haven't ruined anyone. The only way you screw this up is if you lose out on your chance to prove how good you can be to a woman who is vehemently throwing herself at you." Erwin kept his eyes on the now befuddled man, watching him as he sank back down into himself, taming him of his own bravado. "And I also ask you not call me an idiot," Erwin muttered, leaning closer to his friend. "You know it hurts my feelings."
After a brief, bewildered moment of silence befell the two, Levi eventually came to mumble some semblance of an apology, soon lowering his head.
He withheld all he wanted to say; how he was a pool of misery that Petra was going to drown in, that he was going ruin her just like Erwin said he would think. He broke in a moment of anger, spilling out his hesitancy for Erwin to curtail. He didn't see Levi the way Levi saw himself; he saw a man capable of many great things. He raised a child how he wanted to be raised as opposed to the examples set around him. He was a reliable, fiercely loyal friend underneath the quips and low tolerance for eccentrics like Hange. He worked tirelessly to provide as he kept a home well enough to put biohazard cleaners to shame. Erwin had watched him for years as external forces wormed their way into his friend's brain and in result, Levi was blinded to just how magnificently human he could be.
"You just…you know how it is," Levi mumbled, finally breaking his gaze from Erwin's.
He sighed. "I understand, but it doesn't make it any less nonsensical to do this to yourself," he told him. "She's older now, she doesn't need you like she used to. See it as the time to focus on yourself."
As Levi glanced up at him, finding the man's features completely serious, he felt himself let out the breath he was holding. The stubbornness he gripped tightly.
Fine.
"Bravo, gentlemen," Pixis slowly clapped, standing from his seat. "What a soul-crushing performance you both have given me. I do hope whatever turmoil you're finding within yourself is soon mended, Levi. But in the meantime, if you aren't going to sit with us, I ask you go figure out where my whiskeys went off to."
Returning to his usual pout, Levi stared at his boss. "Think this is the first time I've seen you sober."
The man tightened his lips into a smile. "Tonight must truly be a night for firsts, then."
Levi couldn't tell Mikasa where he was going on a Saturday night, especially dressed the way he was. He figured it was better to conjure up some lie about Erwin dragging him to some ego-inflated event with all his lawyer friends. When she didn't seem to look twice at how dressed-up he was, he came to realize that he may have overestimated how much she cared about his day-to-day life at this point in time. Again, she wouldn't eat dinner, and as the days rolled on, she was looking thinner and thinner. His intuition was telling him something was wrong, to fix it all before it could never be fixed again, but maybe she just didn't like his food anymore. Maybe she was just losing baby fat. She was so damn irritable nowadays, for once he couldn't bring himself to open another can of worms just to be shouted at or have doors slammed in his face.
Maybe it was time to just let her be.
Levi stood at the foot of the bricked stairs, staring up at the New York style townhouse that loomed over him. It faced the massively squared courtyard of Grand Stohess Park, screaming to him that there was no chance, not even an alternate reality where he had enough money to live even remotely close to here. Petra's windowsills were embellished with potted plants, the windows sheeted with sheer curtains that allowed only minimal visibility.
He was on time—painfully on time.
Walking up the stairs to her door was like sealing his fate as the worst man to ever live. Not that it was an easy feat with all the asshole dictators and fascists throughout history, but tarnishing a young, successful woman's life because his dick told him to? Yeah, he was up there.
While cursing Erwin's persuasion, the front door had opened. Levi's brows furrowed at the sight of a short, wide-eyed, blunt-fringed woman almost colliding into him as she exited the townhouse. She stumbled back, muttering apologies as they exchanged glances. That wasn't Petra, but this was the right house—it had to be. It was exactly what she had written down. With her long coat on and her purse around her shoulder, the woman's lips formed into a restrained grin the longer she stared at him.
"Well, hello bartender." The woman scrutinized him almost comically. Yeah, this was Petra's place. "Pet—you've got company!" she called out, allowing her grasp to release from the door handle. The woman simply manoeuvred past him, grinning over her shoulder.
Levi watched her jog down the stairs, shoving her hands in her pockets as she ventured down Stohess Square. His vulgar curiosity to ask who the hell she is was thwarted by the creaking at the door, catching his attention before he had a moment to process anything. Petra unveiled herself from behind it, donning some deep green, satin slip dress. Her strawberry-blonde bob was straight and sleek, eyes smoothly lined with a light brown shade. A finely jewelled necklace blazoned her neckline, matching her square-dropped earrings. She looked amazing–just as he vehemently dreaded. Suddenly, his shitty turtleneck and grey slacks felt even shittier.
Levi enforced his usual poker face, staring blankly at her attire as he couldn't seem to place his eyes anywhere else.
"Don't mind Nifa," she shook her head endearingly. "She's just excited there's a guy at my door who isn't the mail man."
Levi hummed absently, failing to tear his eyes away from her dress.
Petra eyed him up and down, the corner of her mouth pulling. "I'll admit, I didn't think you'd come after all."
Shit, he might come now.
"That the impression I give off?" His eyes finally found hers.
She smiled at the ground. "I'm sure you're a man of your word," she told him, before jerking her head down the hallway. "I'll grab my purse and we can go."
He blinked at the ground while he awaited her return, clenching his jaw in a bid to hide the captivity that overpowered him. Plentiful mantras sounded off in his head, demanding he didn't screw this all up or scare her off – it was a very different tune to what was playing in his head last night, when his goal was to forestall her advances and turn her off of him. What a feeble-minded child he was.
Petra reappeared with her purse and locked the door behind her. She faced him, smiling at him once again.
Levi cleared his throat, and with the utmost lacklustre of expressions upon his face, told her: "You, uh, you look great."
"Thank you," Petra looped her arm under his, guiding him down the stairs. "It's nice to see you out of uniform."
"Good to be out of it."
As small talk and other pleasantries that befell a first date was said, they eventually reached the laneway adjacent to the rest of Mitras' fine-dining places. The restaurant was dimly lit and secluded, having to enter through a hallway with interesting turns and the odd stair or two. Reaching the end revealed its colossal dining floor abundant with a sea of life to accommodate it; all of the tables were occupied, the ambience was quiet yet lively, a band of tuxedo-clad musicians played soft jazz on the quaint stage in the corner.
Shit, it was really nice. Levi had never seen a restaurant this affluent before – he had only ever been inside of one restaurant within the Mitras dining precinct, and it was some B list Italian place he used to valet for. He didn't even eat there, just used the bathroom.
They were promptly greeted by a haughty hostess who called over an even haughtier attendant to take them to their table. Petra had organised a quiet table that had a window showcasing a panel of assorted plants and greenery. She smiled at him as they got seated, while he covertly attempted to inspect the cutlery for any dirt or watermarks. He was certain she didn't notice why he was staring down at the cutlery, only that he, in fact, was staring down at it without blinking.
"Good evening." A young waiter arrived with menus, placing them down on the table and opening them. "My name is Abel and I'll be your waiter this evening…"
The sound of Abel's voice faded to the background as soon as he started blabbering about the specials. Nothing was amiss, nothing had gone wrong, but Levi suddenly found his turtleneck itchy, his belt too tight. God, it was warm in this place, and yet Petra had goosebumps on her forearms. Did his socks always feel like they were strangling his ankles? Levi focused on trying to understand the names of the dishes on the menu, completely oblivious of the waiter's hands reaching towards his lap. Once he saw it creep into his vision, he hissed at the sight of it as he instinctively latched onto the young man's forearm.
The boy grit his teeth, painfully. "Sorry, sir— I'm just—your napkin…"
"Levi…?"
Levi blinked at the cloth dangling in the boy's hand, and finally he came to his senses. It was just a napkin—he was just doing that smarmy restaurant bullshit where they literally wait on you hand and foot. Alright. It's fine. Slowly, he released the death grip on the poor boy's arm, softening his expression as he returned Petra's wide-eyed ogling.
"Sorry," he muttered, lifting up his hands for the waiter to continue.
"N-No, my apologies for startling you," he nervously grinned, hastily folding the napkin and offering it to him. Levi took it, just before the waiter made his way over to Petra with her own cloth. "May I?"
"Of course," she replied, smiling up at him and scooting her chair back slightly.
Levi exhaled. He could feel his blood rush up his neck and into his head – what the hell was he doing here? Dressed like some schmuck, sitting in an ornamental restaurant with a woman tenfold out of his league. And the worst of all? There was no pricing on his fucking menu.
"Uh, excuse me." Levi glanced at the young man, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible. "Where's the prices?"
He wonkily smiled back at him. "There's no prices on the menu, sir."
"Yeah," Levi blinked, gazing at Petra momentarily. "I can see that."
"You know, I'd really like a pinot noir. Could I get one of those?" Petra smiled up at the waiter.
"Of course," he nodded at her, turning to Levi. "And for yourself, sir?"
"Is the water a mystery price?" he quipped.
"Uh, no. There's no charge for the water," he hesitantly laughed.
"Great. Then I'll have that."
The waiter pursed his lips, again nodding at the both of them. "Your drinks will arrive shortly," he announced before disappearing away from the table.
He fought himself on whether he should make up some excuse to get the hell out of here, tell her it was an emergency. Grandma fell down a flight of stairs and she's only got an hour to live. Can't remember turning the stove off, have to go before the house burns down. Whatever excuse was the least pathetic would work—then he could leave, land himself at Erwin's, and pretend the last hour or so never even occurred. Maybe then, she would stop coming up to the bar to tantalize him, maybe stop showing up to the Fox's Den altogether, and he could forget this whole ordeal ever even happened.
An inkling prompted him to look up, there of which he found Petra staring blankly at him, no longer smiling.
"Are you alright, Levi? You seem stressed," she noted, a gentle tone to her voice. His insides churned at her use of his name—both exhilaratingly and cruelly.
"I'm just a little out of my element here," he told her.
Her head tilted slightly. "Never been to a place like this before?"
"The canapés at the Fox's Den are as fancy as I've gotten," he said, pretending to scan the menu.
Petra placed her fingertips on the brim of his menu, gently lowering it.
"See anything you like?" she questioned, a slight pull on the corners of her mouth. Levi swallowed, averting his gaze from her fingers back up to her eyes. It took everything in him not to sound like a corny fuck and say that she was what he liked.
He shook his head, peering down at the menu. "Know what Goya is?"
Petra shrugged as she read it again. "I don't, but it sounds interesting. It's apart the set menu—should we to try that or go à la carte?"
"Go what?"
"À la carte," she repeated.
His brows furrowed. "You're French?"
"No, I'm not French," Petra giggled as she shook her head. "It's a dining option. We can order individual dishes off the main menu or have all the courses planned out for us based on the chef's set menu."
Right. He forgot they gave rich people variety in places like this.
"Well," he glanced back down at the menu. "Whatever you want. We'll do it."
Her brows raised. "Really?"
It wasn't like he had any idea what the hell was on this menu anyway. He just hoped it didn't suck the soul out of his wallet.
"Mhm."
Eventually, Petra smiled down at the menu. "Let's do the set menu. Keep it nice and simple."
Good. He liked nice and simple.
The waiter had returned with their drinks as swiftly as he had taken their order and sent it to the kitchen.
As the night went on and their food arrived, Petra took it upon herself to ease into a subtle interrogation. She was curious about him, maybe the mystique and wonder is what drove her to him in the first place. If he dared to divulge—not that he really wanted to—would she get bored? Would it be over?
"What do you do in your spare time?"
"Clean."
"How did you and Erwin meet?"
"School."
"Have any siblings?"
"No."
The stock-standard questions were easier to hit back with mundanity. Petra tried a new strategy.
"You mentioned your mom last night. What about your dad? What does he do?"
"I wouldn't know," he told her, keeping his eyes on the table.
Petra felt herself grin. "Is it a confusing job? There's kind of this running joke that no one seems to really know what their father does for work—"
"No," he simply shook his head. "No jokes." He watched her features fall into perplexity. "I've never met the guy."
"Oh…" Petra stilled.
That was a fun one. Slowly, she managed to get some of it out from him. In the most indirect of ways, he found himself explaining how he didn't know his father and that his relationship with his mother was on a bit of a permanent hiatus. Petra seemed to get the hint that he wasn't as fortunate as her, that her life was very different to his and that he didn't come from money or have loving parents supporting him all of the way just as she did. When her features crumpled with sympathy, he wanted to kick himself all over again.
"Enough of me. Let's talk about you," he declared.
"Well, what would you like to know?" she asked, sipping her wine before resting her chin on her intertwined fingers.
Shit. Everything. How was she still single? Was her life pleasant and normal unlike his? What did the inside of her bedroom look like? Would she still want him once she knew what he was really like? How would her hair feel between his fingers? Where did she like to be touched? Would she whisper in his ear when he was getting clos—
"What got you into law?" he asked her, setting down his fork.
"Oh, that's an easy one," she spoke after swallowing the food she was chewing. "Dad was wrongly imprisoned."
Petra stared at him, picking up her wine glass as she appeared to await his next question.
Levi stared back. "There more to that or…?"
She huffed a laugh, taking a sip and swallowing. "It's a bit of a long story. You don't mind?"
Don't mind listening to her voice for an extended amount of time? Her voice?
"Sounds like it's worth it."
Petra cleared her throat. "Well, it was over a case of mistaken identity, happened back when I was around twelve. They thought my dad robbed an elderly gentleman, but he just so happened to look similar to who was described in the eyewitness statements. To police, that was good enough. The community was relieved someone was caught so quickly and in turn, it made them look good. It didn't matter about the evidence stacked in favour of my father, like how I had ballet lessons every Saturday morning at 7:30 and that the robbery occurred between 7:15 and 7:25 – when my dad would be driving me to ballet," she rolled her eyes, still, a playful smile pulled at her features. "It was a real shit-show until my father hired his own lawyer instead of the corporate shill they called a public defence attorney, who wanted him to take a plea deal. When the other guy showed up, dad was out of custody that night and he was no longer a suspect to police. It was justice. And I was so grateful to that lawyer for being able to get my father's name cleared. I wanted to be that same person for someone else, be a voice for the innocent and ensure a fair trial for all, so I did." She picked her fork back up. "And I do."
Well shit, where the hell was she when he was in and out of juvenile detention?
"That's admirable of you. Bet it was real shitty having to deal with that," he said, eyeing her as she continued to eat. "And…you do ballet."
"Did," she corrected, grinning. "Once your hips come in, you're old news and I didn't feel like becoming bulimic."
"More of a trendsetter than a follower?"
Petra giggled, wiping the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "How about yourself? What got you into bartending?"
Family trade. And, well, the threat of homelessness by Kenny.
"Needed a job. Whatever paid is what worked," he said, sipping on his glass of water.
"There wasn't anything you wanted to study after high school?" she probed.
He glanced down. "I had other priorities at the time."
College was never an option, whether he had dreams or not. Millions of obstacles stood in his way: Mikasa needed him, he couldn't afford it, and even in a perfect world where the opportunity would have arisen, he didn't know what the hell to study in the first place.
"Oh." She noticed his apprehension, shaking her head and continuing to fork her food. "It's all gruelling, anyway. I didn't get to have much of a social life with how demanding it all was," she muttered. "As long as you're happy where you are, then there's no need for change."
Levi sipped his water again. Except, definitively, he could say he wasn't happy serving drinks to people who made quadruple his wage – working as a bartender didn't tickle him, he wasn't smiling every time he stepped foot through the door, ready to serve like he was SpongeBob fucking Shitpants or whatever that sponge thing Mikasa watched when she was younger was called. He was merely obligated to stay in a job that paid in order to provide a life for someone. That was what it all came down to, right? Money? Be able to survive? To have things and do stuff?
"Are you?" Levi questioned.
"Hm?"
"Are you happy being a lawyer?"
She nodded, wiping the corners of her mouth again. "I'm happy that I'm able to make an impact on people's lives," she replied. "Otherwise…there's not much to be happy with in a job like mine."
"Why's that?"
She lowered napkin. "Well, the hours can be hard. Cases like my father's can slip through the cracks—"
"No. That's not what I mean. Why do you want to make an impact on people?"
She found his question strange. "What else is there to do in the world? It's about making a difference to those who need it," she responded. "Was there ever a point in your life where you felt you couldn't stand up for yourself?"
His whole life was one long point of helplessness. Flashes of memories took him back to his earlier years. Being no more than six years old and earning a backhand from Kenny for knocking over his beer, a typical Tuesday night. Being eight years old and far too small to stop some asshat kid from rubbing his face in the dirt, years before violence became his answer for everything. Being thirteen and having one of his mother's escapades—no, customers taunt him about how 'tight' she was, or describe how pert her breasts were. He was everybody's fool until his worldview finally darkened, and with it came breaking teeth on kerbs, splitting knuckles on lacerated cheekbones. Petty theft, blackmail, property damage. So young and destitute, all Levi knew was those things helped him survive. They were how he stood up for himself because he was sure as shit no one else was going to save him.
"I figured it out on my own," he finally replied.
A crease between her brows formed. "Some people don't." Her eyes flickered between both of his. "Some people can't."
He struggled to pinpoint the type of person she was. Petra wanted to fix things above all else, wanting to mend and restore and patch up everyone's woes and wounds. As he sat there, allowing an uncomfortable silence to settle in, what was truly discomforting was how apt she was in her empathy. What she said the night before, about tapping into the kindness of even the most ruthless of criminals, it kept him awake all night. He felt as if he was strapped to her bench, being dissected and evaluated and learned about as she gained knowledge of a species much different from hers. Spending time in her presence felt shameful—he felt humiliated, as if she could see right through his tenacious exterior and call his bluff. That he was a sorrowful little boy wrapped up in brooding and scarred façade, and that it was evident from the start.
"The past brings pain. I understand. I can't imagine what your life has been like and I won't try to make guesses. But don't hold it all in." Petra stared seriously. "You're only human, Levi. An interesting one at that. I'm sure I can learn a lot from someone like you."
The smoothness of her voice warmed him. Empathy was a hell of thing coming from a woman who he'd bend at the knee for, and yet his brain was in a fog. She and Erwin may have been right, selling himself short now wasn't going to make him happy. But it was going to make him feel safe in his rigid bubble of misery where only himself came last, undisturbed in his hardship.
"You're a smart woman," he told her. "There isn't anything you can learn from a guy like me."
Her lips pursed into an endearing smile. "We can agree to disagree."
After gazing into her eyes a much longer than he could physically take, Levi excused himself to the restroom for a moment of clarity. It pained him to admit the effect Petra had on his mind was all too taxing for him to bear, at least in an unfamiliar environment. At the Den, he knew exactly how it all operated. The staff, the regulars, the shift schedule. He could take Petra on, perhaps reluctantly bend to her will as he did last night, in his own territory. But in a luxurious restaurant, while she wore that, and said those things, losing control now appeared a feasible reality.
He soon exited from one of the stalls. Even the room where people pissed had nicer furnishings than his home, even had a man idling with a pump of hand wash and fresh towels. Fuck this place. The guy heard him piss not forty-five seconds ago, and now Levi had to hold his hand out for a dollop of soap, look him in the eyes, and thank him. For soap.
When he finished, he didn't return to Petra straight away. Instead, he dug into his front pocket and pulled out his wallet. It was time to face the music—the eye watering, severely offbeat music. He headed right for the register by the bar, alerting the attendant of his presence.
"I'll take the bill please," he said, flicking through the cash in his wallet.
"Of course," the young man punched some things into the system, beaming at him the whole time. "Was everything up to your standards, sir?" he asked.
Breaking his concentration on counting, Levi's eyes snapped up at him. He was waiting for an answer. Happily. How ironic.
"Yeah. Loved it. Gonna name my firstborn after this place." Levi eventually replied.
The attendant grinned, trying to maintain a professional composure.
Suddenly, his features fell. "Oh, sir, it looks like the bill has been paid already."
"What do you mean it's been paid?" Levi's brows sank.
"Um," he nervously squinted at the screen. "It- It says the transaction went through a few minutes ago, sir."
Levi blinked. No fucking way. "Right. Yeah." He idled for a moment, staring profoundly at the poor boy. "Can I get a copy of that?"
The attendant promptly pressed a few buttons and whipped out a duplicate of the receipt. Levi took it, walking slowly away from the bar as he read it. The grand total came up to just over two-fifty, and the tip given was hefty. Initially, his first thought was Jesus Christ, that's fucking expensive. Then, the light behind his eyes dulled, and he was suddenly overcome with the feeling of embarrassment—no, of how offended he was.
Petra paid the bill behind his back, Petra made assumptions about him. What, he couldn't pay for a fancy fucking dinner? Sure he could—not without wincing a little, but he could still fucking do it. He didn't need a donation; he didn't need her pity, her fucking empathy. He knew he should have kept his damn mouth shut about his life and all the bullshit that came of it. What kind of loser talks about how poor he is on a first goddamn date?
He glanced back over to the table, watching her as she sat there, that stupidly beautiful smile still pressed against her lips as she glanced around and sipped on her wine. As he stalked back over to the table and caught her attention, she beamed at him even harder.
"You want to go somewhere after this? I know you don't drink, but there's this bar with—"
"Petra, listen. I don't need your charity. I could have paid for dinner myself," he assured her, tossing the receipt on the table.
Her brows furrowed; she glanced down at the receipt as it fluttered by her glass. "Well…that wouldn't be fair. I came onto you, remember?" she calmly replied.
"That isn't why you paid."
"It is—?"
"And what I said before about coming from nothing didn't magically sway your opinion of me? You telling me you had full intentions of paying tonight before all of that?" he grilled her, eyes narrowing down at her.
"Yes, of course I did," she faltered, blinking down at the table as she tried to compose herself. "Look, I-I get it's not easy for you to trust, but I don't exactly appreciate my motives being questioned—"
Levi huffed. "That's ironic coming from a lawyer."
She paused, her brows raising. "Does the fact that I make money concern you?"
"No. What you do with it does. Like I said, I don't need your charity."
"And quite frankly, I don't care to give it," her voice rose as she glared up at him, forcing herself up from the table. "That wasn't why I paid. If you want to believe that's what this is, then fine. I was enjoying myself but clearly, you're having a hard time doing so," she muttered, stepping out from the seat and gathering up her purse.
Getting up. Why was she getting up? Fuck—shit. She was about to leave because of him and his fucking presumptions. Of course he was ruining it, because what didn't he ruin? The bridges to his family were burned, Mikasa couldn't bear to look at him anymore. How was he going to explain such a ridiculous fuck-up like this to Erwin? Sorry, but she paid for dinner and my pride is too fucking precious. I'm a hack, you should have known this would happen.
Levi broke momentarily, a falter tearing through his gruff exterior. Stop. Stop it. Stop fucking this up and do something. You need to do something.
"Petra—" Levi stepped in front of her, prompting her to halt. She stared up into his eyes, inches away from him as she awaited his words. It shouldn't have gone like this, he only ever wanted to be so close to her if he could feel his lips on hers, not to stop her from running away from him. The floodgates released shame into his bloodstream—even now, she was so patient with him when it was so evidently undeserving. Do. Something. "Alright. Okay," he muttered, slightly nodding. "Thank you for paying."
Her chest fell with relief, the stern glimmer in her eyes settling. "I wasn't trying to offend you. I'm sorry," she matched his gentle tone.
He exhaled, shaking his head. "No. Don't apologize. I'm just…overthinking it," he mumbled to her.
"You don't have to do that," she assured him. "Not with me."
There was certainty in her eyes, a doubtlessness he could recognize from both her and himself. He saved the moment, sure. Smoothed it all out. But in the back of his mind, he was convinced the flames would eventually flicker too close to the curtains. They'd catch, ending their entire ordeal in embers and soot. The more he gazed into her certainty, the more conflicted he grew. God, she was so easy to stare at. Why couldn't he function normally for her?
"What, uh, what bar did you wanna go to? I wanna get out of here."
"Just some quiet one not too far from my place," she eventually smiled.
"Alright. And I'm buying you a drink." Or twenty. That should cover the bill. "For, you know, being a dick."
Petra huffed a laugh, taking his arm once again as she smiled up at him. "I think you're just trying to get me drunk," she joked as they walked through the dining room.
"Don't think I need to."
It was nearing ten by the time they set off back to Petra's home. The bar was yet another a fancy establishment, though a lot less intimidating than the restaurant. Absurdly, bars were what he knew best. He knew what to expect.
Their selection of alcohol was impressive enough to put the Fox's Den to shame (and Pixis adored his spirits), even boasting a humble drink menu for coffees and teas. It was almost comedic ordering a cup of tea at a bar, though he didn't find it mattered, it was a fucking good cup of leaf-water and Petra seemed more intrigued than embarrassed. That was a plus.
He did manage to buy Petra a few drinks, and when he'd thought she had enough, she started to buy her own. She wasn't disorderly or crude, in fact, she was one of the most pleasant drunks he came across—laughing at his dry humor and caressing his forearm, complimenting him almost every waking minute. But the moment her finely articulated words begun to slur into one another, Levi convinced her it was time to go.
Now walking home, Petra clung to Levi's forearm amidst the chilled air. Both had been ill prepared for the cold night, being that Petra decided to forgo a jacket to maintain the integrity of her outfit, which she half-jokingly admitted, and Levi's mind was so jarringly loud as he got dressed that he forgot to bring his own. The walk was helping her sober up, but Levi wasn't all that displeased with her wobbling and bearing her weight into him. Her skin felt narcotic to his buzzing brain.
"So, how long have you known Erwin again?" Petra asked him, squeezing his bicep as she huddled against the cold.
"Since we were in school." He glanced down at her. "You asked me this before."
"Yes, I know. But there's a few different types of school you go to," her brows raised.
He huffed through his nose, attempting not to grin at her playfulness. "Well, not the lawyer kind. Just middle school."
"Just middle school?"
"Just middle school," he stared down at her.
Petra's wide, intoxicated eyes locked with his, a slight parting of her lips as they shared their gazes. Suddenly, she broke into an infectious laughter, causing his face to shift in that unfamiliar way. A smile.
"You-you remember that guy a few weeks ago? Shaken martini?" she asked as her fit wound down. Levi nodded. "That's Oluo. Kind of like you and Erwin, we grew up together. We were neighbours, actually. Went to the same school, became best friends. Now we're both lawyers and he's divorced twice already," she scoffed another laugh.
"No. You're joking," his sarcasm resonated. "A guy like that? Divorced?"
"Alright, he's not all bad—"
"Twice?"
Petra paused patiently, humoring him with a bland smile. "Yes. He has his moments of...well, idiocy." Her features sobered ever so slightly as she glanced down. "He falls hard and he falls fast, and between you and I, he gets stuck on people that aren't good for him. But, well…he knows that. I guess that's why we've been friends for so long—he and I, we're similar. We both love to chase."
Levi thought about her words. "And when you get what you want? What happens then?"
She paused. "Sometimes it's rewarding. Other times," she hesitated, glancing down. "Not what I expected."
Levi brought himself to a halt, prompting Petra to release his arm and stop in front of him. They shared a long, cautious gaze as the gears in his brain continued to churn.
"What do you get out of this, Petra?" He asked as if he genuinely wanted to know. Suspicion did not lace his tone like all the other times the question arose. "What do you want out of me?"
Petra hugged her arms against the brisque air. "What everyone wants," she spoke gently after a moment.
"How do you know I can be that for you?"
"I…" Her eyes hit the ground. "I don't."
"Then why are we doing this?"
Petra silenced once again. Something about his demeanour was unforeseen. Of all the times he questioned her motives, he was careful, sceptical of her interest in him. Though as he stood there, hands relaxed in his pockets, his calm composure took the reigns and it derailed her almost entirely. She was always ready to curb his self-deprecation, after their first encounter, she was more than expecting it. But whether it was being forced to self-reflect, or it was her intoxicated state, she was left unable to answer his question.
Her eyes finally met his. "What do you get out of this?"
"A whole lot more than you ever will," he responded as if it were the most obvious of answers. "I don't know how to be something for someone. I've never been in a real relationship before, I don't know what it's like and what I'm supposed to be. I can't be a husband, can't give you everything you want—tell me, Petra, do you think that's fair to you?" His fists tightened. "You've got your own place. You're a damn lawyer of all things. You're smart, you're gorgeous, you're brighter than the fucking sun and yet you're wasting your time on someone who can't even have a nice dinner." Levi begun to frown. "Don't you care about yourself, Petra? Don't you think you deserve someone who can function like a normal fucking person?"
Petra's arms had fallen by her side. She remained fixated on him, her lips parted with astonishment at his honesty. She never knew someone to be so brutally candid about their faults or blunders. All she knew were men who took what they wanted simply because they wanted it, who could never admit any wrong doings or faults, and thought the Earth spun purely because they inhabited it. Her mind fell back to how his own best friend perceived him—how drastically different his take on Levi was compared to his very own.
Her voice was small. "Erwin says wonderful things about you—"
"Petra." Levi pinched his bridge, exhaling as he stepped toward her. "Listen to me. Listen to what I'm telling you. We don't go together. You come from something I don't know. You've got stability, you're well-adjusted. My world has and always will be shit. Nothing good will come of this for you," he gestured between each other.
Her eyes flickered between each of his, features scorched with both dismay and sorrow. "What…what happened to you?" she barely muttered. "Why do you think that way about yourself?"
She couldn't grasp his self-inflicted hatred, and he watched the effort it took to try flicker behind her eyes. Her sad, perplexed features contorted her perfect visage; it almost felt worse than all the times Kenny had hit him. No matter how he was to her, whether he was rejecting her, giving into her, or warning her of the abyss he was, Levi still managed to bring some sort of sorrow to her life. It was all so obvious—Move on, find someone better. You want the thrill, Petra. You don't want me. Share your life with someone worthy.
Why won't she listen?
Levi came to a sigh. "Come on. It's late."
Petra watched as he walked past her; her house a few hundred yards away now. She forcibly caught up with him.
"You are the only person I've met who has anything bad to say about you," she insisted, trying to keep up with him.
Levi kept his hands firmly in his pockets. "Erwin's full of shit. He's too optimistic."
Her brows furrowed. "Are you telling me there's no one else in your life that has anything good to say about you?"
Mikasa crept back up in his mind and how swiftly, in a matter of years, she went from being his number one fan to screaming at him and slamming doors.
"No. Not anymore."
"Then I'll do it," Petra grabbed his forearm, pulling him to a halt. They locked eyes. "Let me be one."
"Stop it. You're acting like a child," his voice hardened.
She blinked, her mouth agape with hurt. "A child?" she frowned at him. "When a man goes after what he wants, he gets applauded. But then a woman does it, when I do it, I'm a child?"
"That's not what I'm saying—"
"That's exactly what you said."
"I didn't mean—"
"What then?"
Levi huffed, shaking his head. "Look at that," he mumbled. "Is this what you want, Petra? We're already arguing—and you think I'm the one you want?"
"I'm not the one who keeps shooting myself in the foot," her tone strengthened. Now, she was outraged. "I don't care if you hate yourself. I don't care about how bad of a person you possibly used to be or all the skeletons in your closet," she insisted, stepping up to him. "Will you ever hit me?"
He frowned, caught off guard by her question. "Why would I do that?"
"No? Good. Will you ever force me to do something I don't want to?"
He blinked, perplexed. "No—"
"Good. And if we were together, will I find you screwing someone else?"
"No."
Petra threw her hands up. "Then there. I want you," she told him, point-blank. "I wanna know what you come from, tell me all your faults. Believe me, we all have them—I have them. So stop thinking I'm unreachable; some perfect specimen that you aren't supposed to get your hands on—it's unrealistic." Petra scanned his face as she regained her composure. "I'm just someone. That's it."
His bravado came to waver amidst her straightforward admission.
"Watch," he quietly told her. "Watch me fuck this up. Don't say I didn't tell you so—"
"Then do it, if that's what you truly think you'll do," Petra replied. "You need to understand that none of us go through life knowing exactly what comes next. It's a total free fall. It can all change—what we think is going to happen isn't always what does, but we learn from it nonetheless. We'll move on. It's one more experience under our belts and a chance to take things in another direction." She exhaled, lowering her head for a moment. "I let go of trying to control my life a long time ago. All I know is that…we don't know how to make choices we won't definitively regret. So, all I want to do is whatever I'll regret the least."
Levi sighed as his gaze fell to the ground. Her words were succinct; they held truth, and strength, and fearlessness in the face of a fearful man. It didn't matter how he presented himself, how naturally it came to him to intimidate others. His exterior could only shield how scared he truly was for so long; all he knew how to feel was fear. When he told her that no one feared nothing, it wasn't a sweeping generalization to combat what had asked him. Petra was reading him and he knew it. She was right. She was unequivocally right – she had him utterly figured out from the jump.
What would he regret the least? At face value, he would say entering Petra's life would be his utmost of regrets. He didn't want to tarnish her. But as he came to know her and how unashamedly human she was to his bleak comparison, he began to question whether he would regret pushing her away the most.
His eyes fell on her body, to the goosebumps that pricked her skin.
"You're freezing." Hesitantly, Levi extended his hand out to her. "We should get you home."
Petra glanced at it. She wanted an answer, some sort of acknowledgement that he finally grasped what she was saying, that he'll get over himself and give in to her like she knew they both wanted. Perhaps his concern about her was his way of going about it.
She eventually took his hand and allowed him to lead her the rest of the way home. As they approached, she could see her bedroom light on through the window, realizing she had forgot to turn it off before she left.
Almost as if they were on the same page, Levi gazed up at the window cautiously.
"Your light's on. You remember doing that?" He halted her just before the staircase, his eyes falling to the knob of the front door.
"If I say no, would you come in and spend the night just to be safe?" she dryly joked.
He glanced at her seriously. "Was it you?"
She exhaled. "Yes. I forgot to turn it off," she said, taking herself up to the front door.
Relieved, he followed her.
They stood at her door, taking turns at avoiding each other's gaze.
"Thank you for dinner," Levi shoved his hands back into his pockets. "I still don't know what Goya is but it wasn't too bad."
"I think it was a vegetable."
"Ah." He frowned, recalling what he had ate. "That makes sense."
When he finally made eye contact with her, he noted the ache on her face. Determinedly, she stepped forward and placed her hand along one of his forearms, squeezing.
"Levi…come in," she said, glancing between each of his eyes. "Please."
He glanced down at her touch, trying to keep his senses from spinning out on him. He loved the way her warmth felt bleeding into his, even if it was only the safest of caresses. Years of loneliness became so apparent—he loved to be touched. When his mother used to hold him as a young child, when Mikasa used to jump on him and hug him, he loved it. He loved all of it.
Listen to her. Do what she's telling you.
Do what you'll regret the least.
Levi allowed one of his hands to come out of his pockets, and gently, he reached up and cupped the side of her jaw with it. His thumb traced the length of her cheek as she watched him regard her with one of the straightest faces possible. As he brought her forward, Petra's heart thumped in her throat and eagerly she leaned into him, however his hand slid to the curve of her neck. Levi planted his lips on her forehead and gently, he kissed it.
"Goodnight, Petra."
Petra swallowed her bewilderment as he let her go, her hand falling back by her side. Almost robotically, she stared into him, unsure of any other movement she could make besides opening her front door and entering her home.
He watched as she finally did so, a blank look upon her face. Once the door had closed and he heard the lock click, Levi crumbled. Fast. His hand rubbed his cheek as he bit down on his tongue, internally cursing himself while he walked down the stairs.
"Why even have a dick? You don't fucking use it," he grumbled to himself.
fade into you - mazzy star
Chapter 9: freaks
Notes:
hello! nice to see you again :) i was very very heart warmed by all the love my rivetra chapter got (in all honesty, as we approach a climactic moment in the eremika side of the story, i was trying to get rivetra developed to a certain point as quickly as possible and the only way to do it was dedicating a whole ass chapter to them LOL). they really are one of my favourite ships and we were ROBBED. SO ROBBED.
i hope you enjoy this chapter, i really love reading all your comments and feedback so please don't hesitate to give me any! and as always if there's anything you'd like to see in the story, let me know! i love inspiration too. after this, we have one more chapter to go before this dreaded DANCE happens, so sit tight! :)
Chapter Text
Life was such a kick in balls, it wasn't even funny anymore. His nerves were going stir crazy while his mind buzzed in silent agony. For once in his life, Eren's mind was entirely mute. The semblance of a curse word fleeted here and there, but as he autonomously stalked through the corridors of the school, aimless in direction, he was bound by the gut-wrenching disaster forming in the pit of his stomach.
That careless look on her face when she told him, as if she was talking about her class schedule—he wanted to punch himself for still finding her beauty in it.
The sight of Armin with his ridiculously huge backpack and thrilled smile pressed against his cheeks infuriated Eren even further. He didn't understand, he couldn't even try to right now – how could Armin be so insistent that he share his feelings? How was he so confident that it would all work out? He led him straight into death.
Armin's features fell at Eren's miserable gaze. "What happened?" He had never seen his friend so wired before.
Eren gritted his teeth as he stalked by him. "You're so full of shit," he spat, rendering Armin perplexed. "The one time you're ever wrong—"
"Woah—what?!" Armin turned and followed him. "No, but she—!"
"Forget it." Eren halted, glaring down at his friend with a resentment he had never felt towards him before. "She's going with Jean."
Armin furrowed his brows, his voice softening. "With Jean? Where?"
"To the dance."
He blinked. "Hold on—she's going to the dance? With Jean?" The bewilderment in his tone heightened. "Are you sure—?"
"She told me herself." Eren's acrimony started to deplete. When her words echoed in his head, more waves of misery flooded in. His eyes must have watered or his lip may have wobbled, as when Armin stared at him, his chest collapsed with sorrow.
"Oh, Eren," he mumbled, "I'm so sorry. I just don't understa—"
"Just don't tell her what I said. Don't tell her anything."
He glanced away, holding himself composed as much as possible. He was well aware of the fact that he loved her, even despite his self-destructive way of dealing with it, but the notion continued to pound into him as if he didn't know at all. He was painfully conscious of his feelings for her now—no longer was it dawdling in the back of his mind, making him nauseous at the sight of her. Eren burned for her, clear as day. His heart was laid out on the table and now everyone was pointing and laughing at it. Even her.
Even Mikasa.
The days rolled on by and Eren, drowning in his despair, had to pretend he didn't notice the date of the dance was nearing closer. He used to preach to her before about how friends were the people you leaned on, a notion he himself didn't know how to practice at one point. Before Mikasa was a lot of other inner turmoil – he felt so much about the world and how it treated people that all he knew was balled fists and screaming matches with bullies, a fierce fight for justice. A strong sense of right and wrong was invaluable, but he was overcome with outbursts, riddled with tangents that were ready to burst at the seams at any given upheaval. When he wasn't fighting (or getting his ass kicked more like it), he isolated himself; embarrassed, upset, sulking. Armin would bike over to his house and convince him to come out to play, or skate, or let him in at the very least. Carla was thankful for Armin's years of persistence with her son. Eren didn't know how to make friends, but when found some, he knew how to keep them. Over time, he learned how to lean on them, to ask them to lend an ear and they did so. Years had gone by with Eren now knowing how to depend on his friends, a sentiment he taught Mikasa when she finally opened up to the idea of friendship.
Now, he succumbed to regression.
Sitting in the back of class, staring into the back of Mikasa's head, he felt as if he were that bitter, fiery child all over again. He wanted to walk out, go home, and bolt his bedroom door shut to never allow any pain back in again. She wouldn't look at him, she wouldn't talk to him. She pretended he didn't exist when they were both at their lockers at the same time. He watched her sit all the way at the other side of the classroom instead of next to him. She deliberately caught the next bus home when she saw the only seat available was on his left. Eren couldn't even bring himself to show his face at lunch knowing not only the heartache, but the awkwardness it would bring. More and more, Mikasa was turning into a girl he couldn't recognise. His best friend seemed to loathe him, all without uttering a single word so.
His misery must have been a pheromone. The usual trio of asshats that liked to mess with him decided to up the ante now that he was often alone and visibly brooding. It was like they could smell the anger emanating from him. Usually, Mikasa was around to talk him down from adding fuel to the fire, though on other days when her patience was wearing thin, she'd go handle them herself. It would annoy the hell out of him having a girl defend him like he was weak and helpless, but the way she turned into another Levi was almost as satisfying as it was frightening. He recalled a time she bent one of their arms back so hard, she sprained his wrist from her fervent grip alone. It all looked so effortless, he was never as graceful as her; Levi had taught her self-defence to an almost impeccable level, and Eren couldn't help but wonder what kind of life he had to endure to get that good at fighting. Well, now, Mikasa wasn't around anymore, at least not around him. And he could only ignore those trio of asshats for so long.
On a particularly hard day of watching Mikasa and Jean head off to lunch without so much as a glance in his direction, Eren opted to skip last period and head home. The busses didn't run at that particular hour and so he was stuck walking in the early October chill, the faintest of rain drops pelting him. Part of him was grateful – it hid the one or two rogue tears that trickled down his cheek. He wasn't one to cry nowadays, but regression was all he seemed to know as of late.
He entered his house and ignored his mother who had just come home from grocery shopping herself. Zeke was home again, taking a break from his study session to poke around at what she bought and make the odd comment or two about her purchasing choices. She never took it in the snarky manner he was intending to be, being blissfully unaware of just how much he seemed to criticise her. Eren had his qualms with his mother, though Zeke seemed to have something more intensive against her that Eren couldn't quite put his finger on. Now wasn't the time to come to his mother's aid – all he wanted was to be alone.
"Eren?" Carla spoke to him as he passed the kitchen, garnering no response. "Eren," she called out once more as he trudged upstairs. She exhaled, lowering the box of fruit roll ups she had in her hand and glancing over at Zeke. He was examining the back of a Cap'n Crunch cereal box. "Zeke, would you mind?"
"Hm?" He glanced at her, his glasses reflecting from the downlight. "I was just interested in this cereal you always seem to buy for him. Or is it father who likes this stuff?"
Carla blinked. "I think it'd be a good idea if you went and checked on Eren."
Zeke put the box back on the counter, folding his arms. "Yes, he did seem a little upset when he came in. He's quite the fan of ignoring you, but even that was more telling of something." He gandered at his watch. "Not to mention he's skipped school to come home."
Carla's head snapped towards the clock above the archway, her lips parting. "Gosh, I didn't even realize... I think it's best you speak to him." Zeke attempted to hide his impatience, his brows slightly furrowing. "He likes talking to you."
Zeke was meant to be back on campus again, but with the party still fresh and needing to be kept under wraps from his father, he had to ensure Eren wouldn't fess up or mention any incriminating details in his absence. Perhaps it was best to speak to him instead of Carla, after all, she was right. He would have an easier time confiding in his big brother as opposed to his irritating mother.
When he stepped into Eren's room, he found his backpack had been carelessly thrown to the ground. An icy breeze flowed through his open window, the sheer curtain swaying in the air. Eren hardly sulked – he was quick to anger no less, but getting tears to break through wasn't as easy as every older brother wished it to be. Though in the few instances that Eren seemed to cry, whether it be seeing the family dog get run over or when grandfather passed away, he opened his window, climbed onto the roof, and refused to be seen. Zeke found it wholly ironic, however, as while being up on the roof did hide him from his family, he was still sulking in full view for all the neighbourhood to see.
He drew nearer to the sounds of sniffling, and eventually, Zeke crawled out of the window and up onto the roof where he found him, red faced and glassy eyed.
"Gonna jump, little brother?"
Eren glanced away in an attempt to hide his tear-streaked face.
"Ah come on, there's so much for you to live for," he continued to jest. "You've got your video games, that interesting casserole your mother makes…your pretty best friend." When he was met with silence, Zeke second-guessed himself. "Not Armin. If that's what you thought I meant." Usually, Eren would have bit back by now, either with a quip or a simple demand to shut up. Zeke stepped forward. "Eren? What's wrong?"
Eventually, his brother hung his head, allowing his features to come into view. "I fucked up. I fucked everything up." More tears followed.
"That's a bit of a broad statement."
"I…I liked her, and she liked me." He sniffled again, grabbing at his head incredulously. "God, why didn't I do anything?! And I blamed…I blamed Armin, like an idiot. It's all my fault, not his, not anyone else's. It's all mine. Now she's moving on with another guy, my friends probably think I'm a fucking idiot, and I am. I was hurting her for so long, I didn't even realize it. What the hell does that make me?"
"Human." Zeke furrowed his brows. "We all mess up sometimes, Eren. It's completely normal."
"No," he instantly shook his head, using the back of his wrist to wipe his eyes. "I know that. I screw up all the time. But of all things…it shouldn't have been this. Why couldn't I just not mess up this one time?"
He sighed, almost rolling his eyes to the back of his head as he finally sat down next to Eren.
"Obviously, this is about Mikasa," Zeke said, earning his brother's pathetic nod. "You know, Eren, I believe all of this is a matter of perspective. Think of it this way. You've only known her for two or three years. That's what, twenty per cent of your life so far?"
"So?"
"So how long have you known yourself for?"
Eren grimaced, finding his question odd. "This isn't the time for your fake-smart bullshit—"
"Just answer the question," Zeke deadpanned, eyes narrowing at his younger brother.
He sighed, reluctant to answer. "My whole life?"
"Exactly. And you'll be stuck dealing with yourself for the rest of it, so you are the only person you should be focusing on. You have a future you should start to think about and you should make decisions pertaining to that yourself, with you in mind. That should be your number one priority, not a girl or a relationship. Don't allow someone else to get in the way of your life."
"So I'm meant to just forget about her? Act like she hasn't been a huge part of it?"
"Romantic partners come and go. If you have the capability to feel this way about one person, then you'll surely have the same capability to feel it for someone else. I assure you, Mikasa won't be the only girl you'll be interested in—"
"You're not helping," Eren said point blank.
Zeke huffed. "Not in the way you would like me to, no. But it's the truth."
"Well, it's not my truth," he retorted, frustration flaring up his tone.
"Are you implying she's the only girl you've ever liked?" Zeke probed, watching him collapse in on himself in embarrassment. Mikasa was the only girl he found himself drawn to. Sure, he could objectively say there were girls out there with attractive faces and cool personalities, but no one had him spinning in their orbit like Mikasa did. Zeke rolled his eyes, another sigh escaping him. "You and I really are so different, little brother. This whole 'true love' thing really seems to captivate you."
Eren wiped his tears some more. "Yeah. I…I love her," he nodded. "She's my best friend, I don't have to hide who I am with her. I'm angry about what people have done to her, but at the same time…I'm not." He blinked. "Being around her makes me calm, she makes me feel like a normal guy. And that…that's how it should be. You love someone, and you want to be with them because they make your life better. Not because they're hot, or you like their body, or you think their hair is nice." Eren's features slowly crumpled, he almost started to cry again. "Her hair is nice."
Blinking, mouth slightly agape, Zeke stared at his younger brother knowing he was completely out of his element here.
"I may not be the best person to help you with this. I get that people can make you feel certain things in certain ways, but what I don't understand is this pedestal you seem to place her on. As pleasant as she may be, Mikasa is still just another person on this Earth, just like you and I. The feelings you hold for her are evidently far too intense for someone like myself to grasp, so I won't guide you away from them, nor will I try to convince you that you're wrong for having them. All I can offer is perspective." Zeke managed to stand back up, peering down at his little brother. "Cry it out, Eren. Then do what you think is best. That's my advice."
Eren stared forward as Zeke left his presence, sniffling as another tear rolled down his cheek. Do what was best? Best for who? He had no clue how to do that or who he was meant to prioritise. Was it himself, like Zeke said? Or Mikasa, like he thought he should? There was no doubt in his mind that he loved her and that she needed to know, but there was also no doubt that she was finished with him. She was moving on – with Jean of all fucking people – and she evidently wanted nothing to do with him anymore.
Eren was stuck.
Well, at least until the next school day found him picking trash up on the bleachers during lunch hour. It was part of his punishment for the fight he got himself in with the trio of mouth breathers earlier in the week. Enough was enough and his patience wore out, no longer did he ignore their shitty remarks and pelted spit balls – the only downside to defending yourself was that if Principal Zackly was around to see it, you were all screwed.
Historia and Ymir decided they would keep him company. Well, Ymir saw him picking up trash and came over to heckle him, and Historia followed to stop her, naturally. When Eren quipped back lifelessly, continuing to pick up trash with the squeezy-prongs he had, the girls glanced at each other, confused. And with enough coaxing, Eren spilled.
"That's…really bizarre," Historia blinked, repositioning herself on the bleachers. "Armin seemed to think she had a thing for you too. I mean, she denied it to Ymir, but…"
"But Armin's closer with her than I am," Ymir interjected. "If anyone ultimately knows, it's that dork."
Eren's head snapped towards her. "Watch it—"
"I just…I don't get why you didn't tell her?" Historia questioned, leaning forward in her seat.
"The hell's the point?" Eren sloped his shoulders, tossing the prongs aside. "She's going to the dance with Jean. Telling her was just gonna screw things up even more."
Historia frowned. "But if you told her the truth and she liked you too, she would've dropped everything to be with you. You know that, right?" He thought for a moment.
Ymir sniffed. "Well, now she's with Jean, so…" she nonchalantly muttered. Eren groaned, rubbing his forehead.
Historia shook her head. "I don't think going to a dance with someone means you like them. They could just be going as friends."
"Yeah, you hear that, Eren?" A grin formed on Ymir's lips. "She might not like the objectively cooler guy after all. You still have a chance here."
He deadpanned. "There's no more chances, don't you see that? What if I tell her and she doesn't drop anything? What if she doesn't care that I like her?"
"Will you stop with the 'what if's'? They're what got you in this shitty situation in the first place." Ymir's expression fell into frustration, soon scoffing. "I thought dudes always went after what they wanted— I mean, do you really even like her at this point if you won't just tell her?"
Historia snapped towards her. "Hey, that's not nice—"
"No, I'm not sugar-coating this anymore." She was sugar-coating? "This idiot keeps fucking it up for himself and now all he does is mope around."
"You came to me!" Eren threw his hands up.
Ymir stood up, stepping towards him. "I can't believe I'm even saying this, but do you realize how weird Social Studies is when you're not arguing with someone? Sure, it's annoying as hell and I want you to shut up but it's you! There's no 'you' anymore and it's sad as shit. You're like a beaten puppy, Yaeger. You need to get a grip."
Eren scoffed, tossing the bag of garbage aside. "Jeez, you make it real hard to tell which team you bat for. You sure it's just girls you like?"
"Ha!" Ymir threw her head back. "Believe me, kid. The difference between me and Mikasa isn't only the rug munching—"
"That's enough! Both of you." Historia stood, glaring between the two. "Eren, I feel for you. I do. But Ymir's right—"
"Aha!" She pointed at him menacingly.
"She's just doing an awful job at conveying it," she pointedly stared at her girlfriend. "You need to communicate with Mikasa. I can see you feel bad about how you were treating her, and if you think confessing your feelings is going to cause more harm than good then…fine. That's okay. But I think you need to let her know how sorry you are about what you've done."
Eren exhaled, staring at the ground as he eventually came to nod. "I know. You're right. I want to, it's just…I've fucked this up so badly, I look at her and I can just tell she doesn't want anything to do with me."
Historia frowned. "It sounds like she's upset."
"Yeah," Ymir huffed. "Even more reason to apologize for being an ass."
Grimacing, Eren blinked at her. "You know, I'd tell you you're right if you weren't such a dick about it."
Again, she scoffed, folding her arms. "Woe is me, kid. At least I didn't fumble with the girl I love."
Eren deadpanned, opting to stay silent. She did have that over him.
Normalcy.
Between playing catch up on his subjects, navigating Mikasa and her newly formed alliance with Jean, and being avoided by a shameful Eren who was too embarrassed to apologize for his outburst, normalcy was what Armin wanted after the tiresome week he was having. Eren always struggled to admit when he was wrong – believing he was always on the right side of any conflict was a notion he thought Eren was growing out of. For a while there, he had him convinced. Minor squabbles were sorted more efficiently nowadays.
Though, this wasn't just another minor squabble.
His best friend had his heart broken by, well, his other best friend. All because the both of them took a magnitude of time to even hint at the fact that they were blindly obsessed with one another. Mikasa was a shell of herself, making decisions even he thought was strange beyond belief, and Eren was a moping husk of a guy, falling victim to his old habits and brawling with the resident meatheads to get his frustrations out. He was watching them fall apart by the hand of their own fear.
He wished Eren could choke down his shame for just a moment and talk to him about what occurred after he left the locker room; he wasn't sure what happened between them and he'd been too busy studying to try and find out. But he was sure Eren's outburst at him was a symptom of his lovesick blues and not a retaliation for causing it, that of which his friend seemed to come to the same conclusion. Eren had his tells, guilt coated his body like it were skin, and he would side eye Armin in the hall like a dog who was being told off by its owner, too ashamed to approach him and apologize.
Armin loved his best friend, and more importantly, he empathised with him despite his ridiculous behaviour. Love turned people into chaotic messes, doing and saying anything because it seemed to make sense in the moment, all in the name of protecting or projecting affections. Armin would keep their secrets – even if they both shared the same one. Trying not to lose his mind while doing so was the tricky part.
So, normalcy was where he found Annie, sat in the back corner of the library at an empty table, studying away like the workhorse she was. He was gravely relieved she wasn't around to see him spill the contents of his stomach in Eren's parent's ensuite, not only did he embarrass himself almost daily in front of her with his fumbled words, but that wouldn't have been something he could live down.
Not at all.
"Hey." Armin planted his books across from her, taking a seat. "I haven't seen you in a while. Where've you been?" he quietly asked. Annie hadn't been in the library for the last few weeks, the last time he studied with her was before Eren's party.
Annie continued to scribble her notes, her eyes switching between the textbook and her notebook.
"I've been having lunch in the cafeteria like a normal person for once," she replied.
"Oh. Nice. Yeah, I've—uh, I've just been here," he pursed his lips, using his index finger to awkwardly push the cover of his textbook open. His eyes flickered to hers. "All this catching up is exhausting but I'm almost there," he mentioned.
Annie remained silent, flicking over to a new page in her notebook. It was an odd sight; she readied her pen as if she were about to write, but it wouldn't touch the page. Was the lack of talking over the last few weeks making this more awkward than it had to be? Was his social skills unrefined from either burying his head in a book or screaming in his best friend's face over love confessions?
Armin cleared his throat. "So, how was the party?" he decided to ask. "For you, I guess. I don't remember it much on my end," he awkwardly chuckled.
Her eyes snapped up at him, pen stilled. "You don't remember much?"
Something about the inflection of her tone made him feel uneasy, almost as if he should have remembered the night. That maybe she secretly thought he remembered when in reality he remembered very little because he couldn't remember what he couldn't remember.
Armin blinked.
"N-No…?"
"Anything at all?" Annie cocked her head.
"All I remember was playing beer pong with Reiner, and…" Pausing, he opted not to tell her about the excess of puke he produced that night. "Well, yeah. That's really it. Why?"
As she bore her eyes into him, Annie eventually leaned back. What looked to be a wave of relief washed over her, but her features contorted with confliction. Armin was utterly lost.
"Nothing." She shrugged. "You were pretty drunk, is all. Didn't take you for a heavy drinker."
He couldn't tell whether she was scolding him or merely noting an observation.
"I'm not. That was the first time I…" Got drunk? Yeah, don't sound like a dork. "Uh…yeah. I'm not. Just…too much beer pong. It was an accident," he scratched the back of his head. When Annie remained silent again, more than just fear overcame him. "Annie, if I said anything—"
"You didn't say a thing." But she was on him. Quickly. She stared into him, straight faced and still enough to ring the uncertainty out of his bones, or so she thought. "It's fine. I was gone not long after you blacked out."
With that, Annie stood, closing her notebook and packing everything away in her backpack. Armin stared forward as she gathered her things and walked on. He racked his brain fervently to try and remember any little detail, any misspoken word, any lazily strung phrase, or borderline confession of love that he so desperately hoped he didn't say. He tried to remember anything—anything—as he shut his eyes and recalled.
He remembered going after Eren. The staircase. The back of Annie's head as she sat on it and…
Nothing.
Snapping out of it, Armin rose from his chair, slapped his textbook into his arms and followed suit. He finally caught up to her in the hall, panting ever so slightly.
"Annie—"
She spun back to him. "Do you follow everyone around like a lost puppy?" she asked, being met with his dumbstruck expression.
"N-No—"
She walked on. "Well, what makes me so special?"
Armin felt the air catch in his throat; if she was genuinely curious to his answer, it would cause more upset than she could imagine.
"Nothing. You're not—" he grunted at his blunder, shaking his head. "I'm not a lost puppy."
Annie came to another halt, facing him as he stared cautiously back at her. Her lips parted as if she tried to speak, the words dancing on the tip of her tongue, but she soon fell back into her usually aloof features. Her mouth shut.
"Don't have a nosebleed over it. Like I said, you didn't say anything," she told him, her eyes meeting the ground. "I've gotta go."
Annie stared into his eyes a moment longer as she tore away, leaving Armin to watch her disappear around the corner. It was all too strange; she had never acted like this before. Was he naïve to believe that he didn't say anything incriminating? Was it something he did, or maybe said to Bertholdt? Did he even speak to Bertholdt that night?
Armin swallowed. Whatever it was, it was driving a wedge between them.
The last thing she thought she would hear that day was Eren shouting her name. Her heart was at a divide. To hear his voice call for her was all she wanted for the rest of her life, but what good was it all doing? To keep falling for someone who barely saw her as a friend anymore? Who barely looked at her at all? She wished she was sterner with him, what with the way he ran up to her as if the last few months of acting weird never happened.
Instead, Mikasa just felt embarrassed.
Going to the dance with Jean wasn't out of malice towards Eren, but part of her willed it to be just to spite him. There was an element to her words that were intentionally cruel, as if she knew she was betraying Eren in some sort of way for going to a dance with his friend who he dearly despised. A big fuck you for not loving me, as if that would do anything. Mikasa wanted to be bold-faced and rigid, as callously apathetic to his emotions the way Levi could be. However, guilt swarmed her senses. She couldn't bear to be so cruel to him, not to someone who made her feel a way she never had before.
No, what was so wrong about moving on? She wasn't dating Jean, she would never date Jean. All she wanted was a distraction, more experiences and memories with someone that wasn't Eren in a bid to do as Levi said and just forget him. It was a mutual transaction. They both got something out of it – Jean got to go to the dance with her, and she got another chance at living her life without Eren around.
"You're ev—"
"I'm going to the dance with Jean."
She stopped wondering what he wanted to tell her the second he said he had forgot. For a moment, her mind wandered into delusional territory, partly convincing herself that he was going to pour out an entire three years of pent-up affection for her. Though, Mikasa had become better at controlling her itinerant mind. Maybe it wasn't a confession of love, maybe, he had much worse to say.
You're eventually gonna lose everyone you care about. You've already lost me. Armin's probably next. Sasha, Connie, Jean. Even if he's still weirdly obsessed with you, he'll forget about you sooner or later. Just like I have. Just like Levi will once he realizes you're just some hopeless fuck-up like the rest of your family. No one will ever really love you, Mikasa Ackerman. Especially not me.
The memory of Eren's face that day flickered in her mind.
"You're going with Jean?"
And what she wanted to say.
Yeah, is that okay with you? Won't you stop me?
The air fell out of her lungs, snapping her back into the reality that was facing the inside of her locker. It was time to stop holding on. It was over—she willed it so. She wanted to slam her locker door over and over again, maybe bash her head into it a couple of times. No more Eren. Screw Eren. If it had to become her damn mantra, then so be it. She wanted away from his flippant mind, away from these stupid lockers, away from the building she was forced to see him five days a week in.
No. More. Eren.
"Mikasa?"
She tensed, rigidly, at the sound of his voice.
Well, that was fucking ironic.
Apologies was what Eren had been taught to say at a very young age, given he always found himself on the delivering end. If he couldn't divulge his heart to her, if she was really moving on and out of his life, then the least he could do was apologise for it all. Even if the thought of her loving someone else made him crumble with rage. Even if the image of her being touched by another guy made him want to rip his eyes out. It wasn't important now, because Zeke was right – it was time to prioritise himself, his future.
Not before prioritising her first.
Mikasa ignored him. Expertly, in fact. The inside of her locker door lacked the some of its photos. She had taken down all the ones she took with him, leaving only group photos where his face was then precisely covered in Hello Kitty stickers. Seeing that almost sent him into a meltdown.
"Um… so…" Eren's eyes hit their corners as he glanced away, clearing his throat. Stop being such a pussy—just get it over with. "I know things have been different. With you and I." Mikasa gazed at him momentarily; he hadn't noticed how starved he was of her eye contact until she did. "And I know it's all because of me. I can't…tell you why I was the way I was, but I just want you to know I can't forgive myself for being that way to you. I'm sorry I did what I did to us, Mikasa. I'm sorry I fucked up our whole friendship and what we had. I know I'm an asshole, and you don't have to forgive me. I wouldn't." Eren peered down, sorrow emanating on his features. "You just need to know how sorry I am."
Amidst his apology, Mikasa had stopped fumbling around in her locker. She stared straight ahead as she ruminated, the gears clicking and churning in her brain. Eren hadn't apologized to her in a long time, at least not over something as serious as this. She didn't realize how utterly terrible he was at them.
Eventually, Mikasa turned to face him. His ashamed visage brightened ever so slightly.
"Do you feel better now?"
And then it reverted. As he studied Mikasa's stern expression, he didn't see her. He didn't see her softness, her mesmerizing eyes, the glee he was usually met with when they shared a glance. He saw Levi staring back at him. Pointedly, giving him his long-suffering glare, his absolute intolerance of the world and all that pertained to it.
Eren froze. "Huh?"
"Do you feel better now?" she repeated.
"Uh, I…" his lips parted. "I don't know…"
Mikasa slammed her locker shut. "Neither do I," she told him. "I don't know what I did to make you do all of that to me, Eren. You can apologize, sure. But can you tell me? Can you tell me what I did?" Her frustration boiled down into desperation. She waited so long for answers, why couldn't he give them to her?
The words danced on his tongue, forcing him to stammer as he mindlessly shook his head.
"Did I upset you?" she continued.
"No—"
"Did I hurt you?"
"No."
"Then is it you?"
Eren fell silent momentarily, disallowing his eyes to leave hers. Never in the history of their friendship had Mikasa even been so stern with him, so outraged by his sheer incompetence to just be truthful. To stop withholding, to stop messing with her head and just tell her. She needed him to tell her what she wanted to know.
"Yes," he mumbled.
"Did you do something? Is there something you're afraid to tell me?" she probed, features contorting with urgency. Her eyes began to water as he continued to hesitate. She wanted to punch him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted him to answer her fucking questions. "You can tell me…" she barely muttered, the gentleness of her tone was almost all too convincing.
Compelled to ease her dreary expression, Eren opened his mouth to speak, however, he soon faltered. From a few lockers down, the sight of a cautiously watching Jean made his words crawl back into his throat. They locked eyes in an unspoken conversation, and apprehensively, Eren glanced down. He was a fool, a weak, weak fool.
"I'm sorry, Mikasa."
She allowed her bated breath to finally escape her, studying the forlorn curve to his features. Mikasa, too, lowered her gaze.
"Yeah." She nodded. "Hope you feel better."
Eren watched her disappear from his peripheral vision, ashamed with himself once again. He finally glanced back up through his brow, locking eyes with a stoic Jean. Another unspoken conversation. Not only had life kicked him in the balls, but it pushed him over, kicked him again, and spat on him before leaving him there to rot.
And Eren swore, most of all, that he truly deserved it.
2003
"I still can't believe you thought we were dating at first," Armin chuckled at his friend, planting his slurpee down on the grass as he leant over.
Eren rolled his eyes, an incriminating grim forcing upon him. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."
Mikasa huffed, seated beside him on the hill. "It was a very weird call."
"You made it weirder," he raised his brows as the pair continued to laugh.
It had been a few months now that Mikasa joined the fold of their friend group. Contrary to her belief that it would crash and burn, everything was going…really well. She had never laughed amongst a group of people her age before, didn't realize just how much she had to contribute to a conversation. Nonetheless, she was still quiet a lot of the time, but when it was just the three of them, she found a comfort she never thought imaginable.
After the first time Eren took her up to the hill, Mikasa wanted to go almost every day. Levi was intrigued at first – the house was strangely empty, she was disappearing often after school. When he asked her where she went all the time, she told him all about the hill and how nice the view of the city line was, and to his surprise, she even took him up there. It reminded her of the park she and Levi would catch the train to when she was younger. She called it her happy place, expanding its horizons in her mind when the world became too much. The park would morph into a big, grassy field with blue skies and a summer breeze. Anything even remotely close to her happy place was good enough for the time being.
"Crap, it's six already?" Armin ogled down at his watch, his lips parting as he hastily stood up. "My granddad's probably worried about me."
"Aw, you're leaving?" Eren sounded more inconvenienced than grieved.
"He wanted me home for dinner, I've gotta go," he replied, turning to make his way down the hill. "I'll see you guys Monday!"
"Bye Armin—"
"See you later. And don't fall!" Eren shouted to him, as he and Mikasa leaned forward to watch his descent down the hill. Armin slipped a little towards the bottom, but made it down relatively safe, running off in the direction of his house.
"His grandpa's sweet," Mikasa mentioned, sipping on her almost empty slurpee. She chose watermelon.
"Yeah, he grew up while that Great Depression stuff was going on. He showed me how his mom made meatballs back then," Eren replied, recalling the memory. He shrugged. "Wasn't good."
Mikasa refrained from giggling. "I'll take your word for it." She then shook her cup, hearing only the straw rattle around in it. She frowned. "I'm out."
Wide eyed, Eren tore his lips from his straw and gestured his cup over to her. "You want some of mine?"
She blinked down at it before glancing back up at him. He wanted to…share?
"You don't mind?" she cautiously questioned.
His features narrowed in. "No? Why would I mind?" How bizarre of him. Not even Levi shared the same cup or spoon with her.
These last few months of getting to know Eren was interesting to say the least. She couldn't tell him (in fact, she couldn't tell anyone) just how big of a crush she harboured for him, and she felt like a creep as she imagined what it would be like to sip from his slurpee, taken by the intrigue of what his saliva would be like on her tongue before the flavour hit. Her thoughts were invasive. It wasn't supposed to be intimate – they were just two friends sharing a slurpee after all – though it would be something only they had shared. Only their saliva would touch that straw. It was as close to a kiss she might ever get.
Levi would be horrified.
"It's tangy apple. You should try it," he told her, gesturing the cup to her again. He was so casual about sharing, was he so gracious with Armin? Or another girl like Sasha? "You know, once we've shared a slurpee, we have to be friends forever," he then joked, rattling the cup to settle the frozen ice.
At those words, Mikasa flushed a bright red. Did he have any clue what he was doing to her right now? She hastily looked away, attempting to appear as casual as possible despite her embarrassment. She had no clue what to say or do – how could she be so damn nervous?
"Mikasa…? Did you want some?"
She cleared her throat. "I…I— um," she stammered, keeping her face turned.
Perplexed, Eren leaned over in an attempt to see what she has hiding. When he appeared in the corner of her eye, she cursed herself for being so obvious, glancing at him hesitantly.
"You okay?"
Mikasa nodded.
Eren's lips began to wobble, forming into a grin. "Why are you so red?"
"I'm not—"
"You don't like apple?"
"I-I don't mind it."
"Then have some," he coaxed, a determined smirk on his face.
Mikasa faced him again, withholding a laugh as she waved him off. "Eren, come on—"
"What? Just have some."
She giggled. "I don't know—"
"I don't have cooties," he scooted closer to her.
Mikasa laughed even harder. "Cooties? What are you, five?"
Eren leaned his slurpee closer to her face. "Come on, open up—"
"Eren—" she laughed, planting her hand on his chest.
He brought the drink closer to her face, sitting on his knees as he hovered over her. Mikasa fell back, cackling like she never had before as he all but forced his slurpee upon her.
"You'll like it! I promise!"
"Ple—Eren…" she gasped amid her laughter, grasping at his arms. "Come on!"
"What? Are you scared of a slurpee?!" he giggled along with her, manoeuvring his arms out of her hands as he got closer. And closer. "It won't bite—"
And closer.
Mikasa stopped laughing. She spontaneously sat up and out of Eren's grasp, crawling to her feet and tackling him onto his back. His slurpee spilled out of his hands and collided with the grass beside his head as she bore her weight on him, pinning his wrists against the ground. Eren was mortified, peering up at her stone-faced visage in utter shock.
"Woah—Mikasa! I- I'm sorry! I'm sorry—" Eren rambled profuse apologies, however Mikasa felt as if she'd just woken up to reality.
It was purely instinctual; the way she toppled him onto his back and held him there. One second she was laughing so hard she was teary-eyed, and the next, she was utterly emotionless as she rendered him immoveable. She hardly realized what she had done—even she was startled by her own actions.
Her hands suddenly released from his wrists, her lips parting with awe as she breathed fervently. "I…I didn't mean to do that…"
"Huh…?" Eren blinked copiously, breathing as he started to realize she wasn't upset with him.
"I didn't know—I…It just happened…" she replied almost frantically.
He studied her face, she was an even brighter shade of red than before, utterly embarrassed by what she had done.
Eren, however, was astounded.
"You're, like, really strong…" he mumbled from under her. "Freakishly strong."
His mutilated slurpee caught the corner of her eye, and as she panted, she frowned. "I'll, um…I'll buy you another one."
He awkwardly manoeuvred his head, peering at the mess above him. "It's okay," he replied, meeting her eyes again. "I didn't really like apple anyway."
Mikasa huffed another laugh, watching his features crinkle up into a smile again. She shut her eyes and continued to breathe, an attempt to regain her composure. Eren laid under her, mute, as she took a minute to gather her bearings. When her eyes opened to find herself still in the most awkward situation she had ever been in, she jumped.
"Sorry," she mumbled, getting off his body and perching beside him.
Eren sat up. "You okay?"
"Are you?" Mikasa blinked.
He nodded, brows furrowing. "I'm fine." Eren lowered his gaze as he rested his arms on his knees. "And I'm sorry," he meekly mumbled.
Her enormous eyes snapped towards him. "No, it's not—" she stammered. "I wasn't upset with you. I just…I think I panicked."
"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you panic," he told her, his tone sober. "After what you told me about that guy…I realize how it could…"
She felt herself frown against her will. She hated how that torturous part of her life came back to haunt her. The last thing she wanted was Eren to feel guilty, not for having fun.
"It's okay," she said, allowing her hand to ease onto his forearm. "I promise."
Eren glanced at her, his features sour with his own embarrassment. Maybe he came on a little too strong, got lost in the moment as he was so used to doing. She truly didn't mind. The more she got the know Eren, the more she loved his passion. In a way he…sort of reminded her of Levi. She couldn't explain why.
"You sure you're okay?" he pestered, locking his eyes with hers.
Mikasa nodded, and when the corners of her lips tugged ever so slightly, a wave of relief washed over him.
They both turned to watch the sky again, gleaming its orange beams across the city line, ignoring the atomic, green-coloured slush melting behind them. They listened to the sounds of traffic for a while, not uttering a single word. And eventually, with all the confidence it took, Eren boldly rested his head on her shoulder as she watched the sky fade slowly into dusk.
Mikasa fell into a smile, and she closed her eyes at the sensation of his warmth. She prayed this wasn't a dream, that Eren really cared for her the way he seemed to. And if it was, then.
She hoped she wouldn't wake up.
freaks - surf curse
Chapter 10: salty seas
Notes:
hello! love seeing you here.
thank you for being so patient, this chapter is quite a long one because I didn't want to break it into two and have you wait another chapter before the climax of this current plot. it's a mixed bag of the vets, rivetra, jean, and mikasa and armin's friendship. hopefully everyone's fancies is tickled!
happy reading!
Chapter Text
SATURDAY
Levi sat at Miche's dining table, blowing on the boiled horse piss he had the gall to serve as tea. He was certain it was a backhanded gesture for not drinking alcohol like everyone else was at these impromptu get-togethers, but took what he was given, nonetheless. Boiled horse piss it was.
Nanaba had taken the kids for the weekend to see her mother upstate, which called for a poker night of sorts now that Miche had an empty house to himself. Mikasa was planning to have a sleep over with Armin tomorrow night, and if he could leave Miche's house relatively unbothered, he may even invite them over for a second round. But as it currently stood, with Mikasa holed up in her room and blasting her sad, whiney music on a Saturday night, Levi was actually desperate to get out of the house and play cards with Miche and Erwin.
"Nya-hah! That's right—second game in a row, baby!" Right. And Hange. "Tell me, do you both cry yourself to sleep at night over just how bad you suck? You chumps are practically handing me your money!" Hange scooped the heap of poker chips towards her chest, brandishing a grin so wide it could have touched her ears.
She was right, they were. Like clockwork, Erwin and Levi typically allowed Hange to win a handful of rounds just for Erwin to swoop in and turn the tides, blowing her straight out of the water with his long-suffering poker face. It left her vengeful enough for the next night of poker where she'd actually focus and shut the hell up.
"Good thing they're just pieces of plastic. God knows what kind of useless shit you'd buy if you had real wealth," Levi tched, planting his cards on the table as she poured an empty wine bottle, its crimson drops dotting the bottom of her glass.
Erwin swallowed a sip of his scotch. "Shall we play for real this time?"
Levi huffed. "Might even try to win myself."
"Miche! Oooh, Micheee! Can you hear me from in there?" Hange drunkenly called out, teetering on her chair. "Would you be so kind as to bring another bottle of wine when you come back?!"
"Let the man take a shit in peace. It's the first time in a year that he's had the house all to himself." Levi set his tea down, a silence then ensued long enough for them to hear the toilet flush. Great.
"Oh good—he's coming back," Hange sat back in her chair satisfactorily.
"It bewilders me that we're able to play two games of poker in the same duration that he uses the bathroom." Erwin mused.
Levi turned to him. "You seen how that guy eats? Nothing surprises me."
"Hm, you're right. My condolences to Nanaba and the children. I can't imagine what it would be like finding your bathroom to be a danger zone once he's been in there," Erwin chuckled, sending Hange into a fit of laughter. He rarely made jokes, being that he wasn't very good at them, nor did he have any graceful deliverance. But if anyone was going to affirm the man's humour, it was going to be Hange and her asinine understanding of comedy.
And sometimes Moblit.
Levi grimaced. "Enough shit-talk. This tea is shit enough."
"How shitty of you!" Hange pursed her lips, holding back a cackle with as much effort as she could muster. The woman was unbearable sober, but she was all kinds of fucking irritating when she was drunk. "Shit-stain!" she blurted out, followed by a thunderous laugh. "You like that one, don't you, Levi?! I've heard you say it a few of times."
Levi blinked at her, expression as absent as her dignity.
"Yes, he is quite partial to that term. When he talks about that Yaeger boy, I believe?" Erwin grinned, swirling his scotch. "Your language gets rather colorful."
"What kind of civilised conversation is this supposed to be?" Levi brooded as he gripped the rim of his teacup, a hilarious sight from the perspective of his friends. "It's like you both enjoy giving me migraines."
Miche suddenly returned to the table, prompting Hange to hold out her hands to him and grasp at the air like a toddler. He used his molars to jerk the cap of a beer bottle loose, placing it down in front of her. Levi grimaced at the act.
"No more wine. Just beer," he told her.
"Aww," Hange frowned, inspecting the bottle like a child presented with a boiled vegetable. "You only had one bottle of wine? How could you have guests over and not supply an adequate amount of alcohol?!"
"Got plenty of other stuff. Not my fault you drink wine like a dehydrated dog," Miche replied, seating himself. The man was usually fond of few words, but with a few beers in him, he was suddenly the star of the show. It was refreshing for Levi to have someone around that echoed the same thoughts and sentiments as he did. Ironically, for the first time in his life, he found himself preferring the intoxicated version of someone.
"More alcohol is the last thing you need. I won't ever forget the sight of you sticking your tongue down Pixis's throat." Levi soured, bringing his cup to his lips. "Believe me, I've tried."
Erwin sighed like a disappointed father. "Yes, that was rather interesting to watch."
"Poor Moblit." Miche shook his head, dealing everyone their cards.
"Nope," Levi shifted in his seat, settling his cup. "He got some too."
"Oh," Miche halted for a moment, sniffing, before he continued to deal. "Nice."
"Oh, boo hoo," Hange rolled her eyes as she leaned forward in her seat. "What's so wrong about a person indulging in their sexual autonomy?"
"You being the person," Levi replied, staring forward. "Can't tell you how many times you've seared my retina by tongue-fucking people right in front of me. You treat the bar like it's your personal pig pen."
Hange grimaced. "Cut the defamation—I'd never make out with a pig. And it's my not fault you so happen to be working every time I'm there," she defended.
"You only come when I am there—"
"I'm young, I'm free, I've got my pick of all the fish in the sea—maybe you should try loosening up and enjoying yourself for once, huh?"
Miche scoffed at the notion.
"Are you implying I have to swap spit with people in order to have fun?" Levi raised his brows. "Not all of us are playing venereal disease bingo. It astounds me you're not infested with them."
"First of all, there's no shame in having an STD—"
"Ah, that reminds me. How did your date go, Levi?" Erwin interjected, swallowing his scotch.
"And secondly, what kind of educator would I be if I didn't practice safe se—" Hange halted as she spoke over Erwin, her eyes snapping towards him, suddenly aghast. "Did you say date?!" She tore her head toward the gruff, grumpy man sitting across from her, emanating the most dramatic, aggravating gasp. "Levi, you went on a date?!"
"Do you ever keep shit to yourself?" His deadpan was somehow grimmer than it was before, eyes burning into his friend.
Erwin gave him a tight-lipped smile. "As afraid as I am to admit it, your romantic intrigue is currently the most exciting development as of late. I was merely curious."
Miche withheld a grin. "Well, she didn't show up to the Den last night, so…"
"Oh come on, I'm sure it went great! Right?"
Levi peered around the room as his friends awaited his answer. Hange's enthusiasm was like knives to his ears, Erwin had that impassive mug on his face, and Miche's big ass nose poked out from under his fringe.
Fuck.
Levi awkwardly cleared his throat, unsettled in his chair. "She, uh, she paid for dinner," he mumbled, staring at the corner of the table.
After wishing for silence the entire night, he couldn't have received it at a worse time. They continued to ogle at him, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Why the hell did he say that?
"Jesus." Miche blinked.
"Okay." Erwin hesitated. "I wouldn't think of it too—"
"Hell yeah! Scored a hot date and a hot meal?!" Hange cheered over Erwin's words, leaning onto the table. "See? You like bingo!"
Discontent, Levi sighed. "I didn't want her to. I was fully prepared to pay for it myself, do the stupid man thing I'm supposed to do. But she took care of it while I went for a piss. The hell was I meant to do?"
"Where'd you guys eat?" Hange queried, earning his shrug.
"Some flashy place in the Mitras food place thing. Shit. I don't know." Levi shook his head. "It was Japanese."
"Ooh." She wriggled her eyebrows.
"What happened from there?" Erwin pried.
Hange forced back a grin. "Now, now. I'm sure Levi of all people won't kiss and tell."
"Or fuck and tell," Miche huffed.
"That wasn't what I was implying."
"Imply your ass out of my business. We're not talking about this anymore; I don't even know why I said it." Levi snapped, lifting his cup to his face as he grimaced. "All of you, do me a favour and stop talking. Let's play this goddamn game already so I can go back home, make myself a decent cup of fucking tea, and go to bed."
A throbbing in his temple prompted him to eye them all down. The three of them silenced as Levi sipped from his tea, placing it gently back down on the table. Complete and utter quiet, gracing him just as he liked it. Miche started scratching at the stubble on his chin. Erwin picked up his cards and analysed them, sipping from his glass. Hange was mindlessly drumming her fingers against the beer she nursed. He could hear himself swallow with how dead the air was.
"So… how fast did you finish?" Miche sniffed, causing Erwin to chortle against the scotch in his mouth.
A sigh of frustration overcame Levi as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Erwin, the next time you open your big mouth, I'm sending my foot straight down your fucking throat."
"Come on, she was begging for it every week. Then after one date, she stops showing up?" Miche withheld a grin, about to sip on his beer. "Had to be, like, twenty seconds."
Erwin continued to chuckle almost uncontrollably, scooting his chair back in an attempt not to spit all over the table.
Hange perked up. "You know, premature ejaculation—"
"Fuck off, both of you. Nothing happened and nothing was meant to," Levi glowered, his sights soon returning to Erwin. "Stop fucking laughing."
Hange cocked her head. "Oh, so she's upset you didn't have sex with her?"
"What, I have to fuck her the first chance I get?" Levi grimaced.
Miche blinked obviously. "You wouldn't want to?"
"Last I checked, she was a person. Not some inflatable doll for me to run home and blow a few loads in," Levi replied.
At his astonishment, Miche huffed, jerking his thumb at him. "You hearing this?" he muttered to Erwin who begun to compose himself. "Women go weak for that dark and mysterious shit you got going on, and you're opting not to drown in all the pussy that comes your way?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
Levi scoffed. "I don't like bingo."
Miche raised his brows. "So, you like having a dormant dick?"
"Stop talking about my dick."
"Stop cock-blocking it."
"Gentlemen," Erwin frowned at their vulgarity, composure regained as if he wasn't giggling like a damn schoolgirl for a minute straight.
Levi tched, shaking his head at the lunacy of it all. "What's with you people wanting me to just screw any willing chick that puts her hand up? You don't fuck people just to feel something."
"Sure you do." Miche shrugged.
Hange raised a brow. "I believe that's the whole point."
"Are you intimidated by her?" Erwin nonchalantly asked.
At the notion, Levi rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ."
"Is it because she's an established woman? Or do you seem to see a future with her that you don't intend on souring?" he continued, staring blankly at his friend.
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"That annoying thing where you start psychoanalysing me. You're pissing me off," he grumbled as he sipped from his tea.
"But Miche's right. As crudely as he put it, lots of ladies try their luck with you—something about being a bad boy, is it?" he flashed a grin at Miche, causing the man to snicker. "And yet you endeavour to keep your hands out of the cookie jar. Last time you 'rendezvoused' with someone was that little high school sweetheart of yours. That was half your life ago."
It was never something he would classify as a relationship, or whatever the hell Erwin called it. Athena just so happened to be someone who could understand the unstable hellscape his life was at the time. She was broken, he was broken; it made for great, depressing conversation and a surefire way for two teenagers to get to banging. Sure, he was partial to her. She taught him that sex wasn't this demoralizing transaction as his mother deemed it so, that people with bonds had it with each other and not just people with bills to pay. The life she led made him feel like he wasn't the only fucked up kid in Paradis Falls.
"I'm a changed man," Levi replied. "Call it fatherly instincts."
Erwin raised an equivocal brow. "Is that so?"
"Yes. Now drop it." He glared forward.
"Levi…" With a frown, Hange reached over the table and gently placed her hand atop of his. He immediately flicked it off. "Premature ejaculation—"
"Go to hell, four eyes. My dick works fine," he hissed.
"Well, lawyer lady doesn't know that." Miche sniffed.
"It's Petra."
Erwin squinted at the man, noting his defence of her.
Hange took a swig of her beer, quickly screwing up her face and shivering from the taste. "Well, I for one applaud your self-control," she spoke through grated words. "I think it sets a great example for Mikasa if casual sex doesn't turn out to be her thing."
Miche stared into the woodgrain of the table, sucking the air through his teeth in anticipation.
"No sex will be her thing." Levi's eyes paled as he bore into her.
"Oh, don't be such a prude," she flapped her hand at the air, furrowing her brows. "She's gonna start knocking boots one day—if she hasn't already. It's normal!"
"Be quiet, Hange." Levi warned.
"Don't worry though! I'm sure she's in safe hands. The school nurse hands out complimentary condoms and, oh! Eren took my Sex Ed class last year—Agck!"
Hange ducked under the table as Levi forced himself out of his seat, his chair legs grating against the floor as he hovered with a soulless glare. Erwin held his hand up to the man and signalled for him to sit down.
"Levi should take your class." Miche grinned. "Maybe then he won't blow it with lawyer lady next time."
Hange let out an unconvincing giggle, cautiously peeking her eyes up from below the table.
"Nonsense. Petra has been ecstatic this whole week." Erwin looked to Miche coolly.
"What do you mean?" Levi sat back down, the air of scrutiny to his features.
"She's been smiling almost incessantly."
"She always smiles. She's like the sun from the damn Teletubbies."
"When you're there to thwart her advances, maybe. But not so much in the office," Erwin sipped on his scotch.
"Then why'd she skip out last night?" Miche questioned.
"She has her first big case at our company and she tends to take her work quite seriously. Poor woman has been clocking in overtime all week," he spoke nonchalantly, sending Levi's nerves into a frenzy.
"You didn't think to mention that before?" he grumbled, his eyes narrowing even further.
Amused, Erwin peered at his friend down the length of his nose. "You appear upset," he noted, witnessing a glimmer of apprehension on his face, a flicker to the steadiness in his brow. Bingo. "Ah-hah."
"Shit, of course he didn't fuck her. He's in love," Miche teased, leaning back in his chair.
"Oh, it is written all over your face," Hange hesitantly returned to her seat, scooting forward. "Wow, you fall fast!"
Erwin withheld a grin. "It seems that way, doesn't it?"
Levi stood once more, prompting Hange to lunge behind Erwin on instinct. "Maybe I'm upset because I feel like I'm talking to a bunch of fucking teenagers. This is exactly why I didn't wanna talk to you people about this shit. You're all fucking imbeciles." With a bothered glower, he turned, bumping against the table carelessly. "I'm going to piss."
The three of them sat there as he sauntered off, the liquid in their beverages splashing from one rim to another. A gargantuan silence settled amongst them all as the bathroom door shut.
"Jeez," Miche huffed. "And we're the teenagers."
"I've never heard him swear so much before." Hange finally creeped out from behind Erwin, blowing a wad of her fringe out of her eyes as she returned to her seat.
"That's saying something," Miche added.
"You know I don't believe he'll actually hurt you, Hange," Erwin strangely noted. "As much as he might like to."
"Oh, no, of course not. I just didn't want him to break another set of glasses," she wearily chuckled.
"I thought he only did that once," Miche said.
"Uh-huh! When we were fourteen—not long after we became friends," she nodded with an emphatic grin.
Right, friends.
Erwin stared down the hallway as Hange and Miche started to recall memories of high school, tapping his finger against the brim of his scotch glass. He should have known better than to introduce the topic of Petra around other people. It was a delicate situation, however being there was around a fifteen-year gap between now and his last interest in a woman, Erwin may have found himself a little rusty in the art of navigating Levi's maze of thought-processes, ironically.
He recollected seeing Petra amidst her determination as she rushed up and down the halls of the office, just barely navigating herself out of an imminent collision with him. She was hasty and apologetic, but at the mention of Levi's name, her soldier-esque visage dissipated back into the bubbly—or should he say melting—face of a woman taken. Even if it were nothing short of a moment, it befuddled him that Levi didn't seem to share the same experience.
Erwin swallowed the last of his scotch, standing from his seat. "There's more alcohol downstairs, you said?" he asked Miche.
"Scotch is in the kitchen."
"That's alright. I might try something new tonight if your selection wills it." Erwin stepped out from the table. "I'll be one moment."
He left Hange and Miche to their own devices as he stalked down the hallway, stopping short at the bathroom door. The basement was going to have to wait. And so he stood there, hands situated in his pockets, awaiting Levi's return. He heard the tap run, the creak of the hand-towel holder, and the door unlock before he was met face to face with his friend again.
"Fucking Christ—"
"Sorry."
Levi lowered his forearm that had raised in defence. "I don't care what kind of kink you have. You can't listen to me piss, Erwin—"
"I wanted to talk with you alone, not indulge in any perceived sexual tastes." He frowned.
A scrutinous grimace formed at his best friend's words. "What do you want?"
"To apologize," Erwin replied. "Perhaps bringing the date up in front of those two wasn't my wisest of choices."
"No shit."
"Though, I am curious to how it all really went," he admitted, staring down at him with genuine interest. "Petra has been elated all week. You, however, seem extra pessimistic."
His brows furrowed. "I told you, I didn't wanna screw anything up."
"And did you?"
Levi inhaled. It was just the two of them, perched in the hallway, the light from the bathroom glowing on the giant bastard he called his friend. Erwin had seen him in many unruly states just as often as he hadn't. Vulnerable wasn't a new one.
"I thought I did. I thought I was gonna see her at the bar last night. When she didn't show, it made me realize all the dumb shit I said probably scared her off. Thought I fucked it all up, like I told you I would," he told him, his firm voice finding itself subdued.
"May I ask what was said?"
"It doesn't matter," he shook his head, his gaze settling on the ground. "She really working overtime?"
"I wouldn't lie to you. Based on her behaviour this last week, I thought it went well enough to bring the subject up. She told me she wanted to see you again, so I wasn't aware of any blunders on your part. I think this is the perfect opportunity to do not what comes naturally, but what you know you both want," he suggested, inspecting the man as he held firmly onto his unfeeling façade. Erwin exhaled. "Seeing you happy has always been one of my greatest endeavours," he lowly admitted, catching Levi's sudden stare. "I cannot achieve it without you."
His lips had parted at Erwin's raw honesty. The man was always in his corner, rooting him on, picking him back up where needed. But he always had some smartass quip or childish nickname for Erwin when he dare tried to push him out of his comfort zone. He was the smartest man Levi had ever known; how odd of him to keep doubting him like he had as of late.
Blinking, Levi slowly came to a nod. "You don't think you'll regret it?"
Erwin found his question strange. "I wouldn't say so. When has happiness ever been a burden?"
He folded his arms, his eyes gravitating towards the ground. "I wouldn't know."
The man came to a sigh, allowing a silence to settle between them. "We should get back to the others," he suggested. "Oh, and would you give the woman your number? She keeps waiting for your call, but I had to tell her how you've only ever contacted me during an emergency."
"I was avoiding that for a reason."
His brows raised. "That being?"
"The shitty teenager at my house."
Erwin smirked, ushering his friend along. "Then I guess you'll just have to tell her all about your stand-in daughter. Or purchase a cell phone like the rest of the world has."
It was almost midnight when they all decided to call it. By then, it was too late for any semblance of dignity to remain present. As the night had continued, they all engaged in a ridiculous card drinking game like they were college kids and soon enough, they had drunk themselves into a stupor. Hange lost first—which was a surprise to none—and passed out on the sofa for the rest of the night, while Miche and Erwin kept the lengthy battle going, much to Levi's dismay. One moment, Miche was talking almost complete sentences, then the next, he was face down on the table with a sickening thud, leaving Erwin victorious. Winning, losing, it didn't matter. All it meant was that a sober Levi was tasked with getting Miche to bed and jet-setting the rest of the 'adults' home.
Like always, it was almost impossible to figure out if anything was amiss with Erwin, seeing that he had the alcohol tolerance of a goddamn behemoth. He still spoke eloquently, blinked functionally. It wasn't until he stood from his chair to follow Levi to the car did he stumble and bump into everything, even knocking one of Nanaba's picture frames over before politely picking it back up. Cursing, Levi had slung a lifeless Hange over his shoulder while he dragged the staggering toddler that was Erwin to the car. He almost felt as if he were throwing a dead body into the backseat of his sedan, trying to fit Hange and all her gangly limbs inside. Even with a seatbelt on did she flop along the backseat, her glasses squished crookedly against her face.
Erwin was the first to be dropped home, seeing as he and Miche lived relatively close to the city. Levi watched him from the car, stumbling into the foyer of the apartment building, fumbling for his keys. Lucky bastard and his high-rise place.
As he drove off with a now snoring Hange in his backseat, Levi couldn't help but think back to what his best friend had told him. It bled into his memories of the date with Petra, forming a shadow over his eyes as he thought back to everything he'd said to her. How she didn't know him, how better she was than someone like him, how he compared her persistence to that of a child. What kind of miracle was it that he hadn't screwed it all up? In what world did he deserve a woman like her, who was adamant in seeing him again? The entire situation relayed in his mind as he cruised down the streets of the city.
Erwin's insistence.
"All I believe is that it's paramount you move past your crippling fear of destroying everything you touch."
"Seeing you happy has always been one of my greatest endeavours. I cannot achieve it without you."
Their date.
"What do you want out of me?"
"What everyone wants."
His reluctance.
"Listen to me. Listen to what I'm telling you. We don't go together. You come from something I don't know."
"Nothing good will come of this for you."
And her determination.
"All I want to do is whatever I'll regret the least."
Petra wasn't letting him go. He wasn't one to play games of tug-o-war, but with her, he gripped the rope as tightly as possible. She was pulling with all her force, ensuring she took all the length she could of it before she got her hands on him. He wanted her to win—he wanted her to succeed, but what felt like a lifetime of pain screamed at him that he wasn't good enough to be the prize, as if the Ackerman lineage itself injected a surplus of self-revulsion into his veins the second she showed up. He told her the very first night they met just how out of his league she was, that he wasn't going to play her game and pretend he could be. Now, he was toeing the line of either building more walls around himself, or letting them disintegrate.
Almost as if he were some character in an incredibly ironic story, the ride home had them driving through Stohess Square, nearing the park where her house was. Happy memories sat in that park, memories with Mikasa, of weekends afternoons, of bright, sunny days.
Levi's eyes were wide open as his hands clutched onto the wheel. As he drove under the city lights, he came to question himself. Between stopping at Petra's house and driving Hange back home to Paradis Falls…what would he regret the least?
His eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror. Hange wasn't in view, but her snoring was definitely audible. He was going to take her home, make sure her dumb ass was safe and sound with a bucket handy for her to spew in. He was going to do as he always did whenever she drank too much: lug her into her grotesque apartment while trying not to gag, take her shitty glasses off, and place a glass of water and some aspirin by her already cluttered bedside table. Then, and only then, would he allow himself to go home.
But that could wait.
Levi slammed on his breaks as he reached the intersection – with the road being near dead at this time of night, in this part of the city, he almost didn't think twice about the chance of causing an accident. Fuck it. If Erwin was convinced, then so was he. That big eyebrowed son of a bitch hadn't let him down so far and a lapse in clarity was well overdue.
He pulled a sharp U-turn and drove himself (and a flailing, unconscious Hange) towards Petra's house. He cruised along the outskirts of Grand Stohess Park and finally turned into her street, coming to a stop just outside of her place. Levi glanced back at his friend as he pulled the handbrake; even after his reckless driving, she was still out cold. Fucking animal.
With his fingertips shaking and blood hot in his cheeks, he forced himself out of his car, ignored the sirens blaring in his head as he crossed the street, and made his way up to her front door. He could see the glow of the television through her sheer curtains, thank god she was awake. Shit, he didn't even think about her being asleep at this time of night.
Nevermind. Just ring the damn doorbell.
Levi knocked on the door, finding the doorbell to be too abrasive at this hour. A few moments of stillness passed. He glanced back at his car, unable to see Hange through the window, before returning his gaze. More silence. And the more silence, the more he realized what a total freak he was being. Rocking up to her house so late at night with an intoxicated woman slumped in the backseat of his car? He was a few blood stains away from landing his own true crime documentary—
A voice.
"Maybe he's coming back with my mozzarella sticks."
"From an hour ago?" He heard Petra's laugh on the other side of the door. "No delivery guy gets paid enough to come all the way back—"
Before he could disappear into the night like a fine mist, the door had opened. Petra stood there donning sweatpants, a tank top, a short, a headband to keep her fringe back, and some sort of cream strategically lathered all over her face.
Oh, and she was absolutely mortified at the sight of him.
Another head brandishing a similar get up popped into view just behind her, cream and all. That Nifa woman.
"Levi…? I-I wasn't expecting you." Petra peered down at herself. "Shit—what are you doing here?"
Words had formulated to near perfection right up until she answered the door. Now? They were as absent as his sanity.
"Oh my god," Nifa whispered into Petra's ear. Loudly. "I think it's a booty call. He's here to hook up—"
She silenced at Levi's dead-eyed glare, shying behind Petra to stare him down.
"Nifa, go…pause the movie. Go," she ushered her friend out of the doorway. Nifa disappeared shortly after a side-eye of caution was offered, prompting Petra to step outside and close the door. She glanced up at Levi, folding her arms against the cold. "You're not actually here to hook up, are you?" she lowly questioned.
His hands attracted to her shoulders. "Petra. I'm sorry. I'm sorry our date was shitty and I was shitty. All that lavish crap makes me nervous and I don't think you got to have a good night because of me," he blurted out, staring between her startled eyes. "You did a kind thing for me and I ruined it, and I ruin a lot of kind things because my brain does this hilariously fucked up thing where it doesn't want me to be happy. That's something you need to know," he told her. "And I don't do big fancy dinners, or go horseback riding—not because I think they're bad, it's just because I never got the chance to do what other people do and I don't belong to those things. They're not me. That's another thing you need to know. And I don't want you to give me the things I can't give you, you don't need to be that because I can't. I don't need grand gestures or expensive gifts—I couldn't care less for the trivial shit people think they need from the person they're in a relationship with. It's not important. I just…need you," he said, his eyes falling to her neck. "I'm sorry if those are all things you want—if it is, I'll try. I'll try because you want me to. But if this is gonna further, then you need to know I don't function like you do. I don't know how to be – not as what you might expect of me. And that's something you have to know." Levi softened his grip on her shoulders, allowing himself to finally exhale through his rambling. "If that sounds like enough for you to call it quits, I get it. That's fine. Do what you think is best for yourself," he assured her. "But all I need is simple. All I need is you. Just spending time with me. Just us…being. That's how I see it…how I want it." When his eyes met hers, the walls within shot up once again. His visage hardened, his stare calcified at the thought of being so openly vulnerable to her. Eventually, he sniffed, jerking his chin. "You…good with that?"
Honesty was a quality he was so accustomed to sharing, but when it came to himself, it crumbled in his hands. Was this what he was always like? So pathetic, so needy, so wanting of another person all along?
Was she going to accept that?
Petra may as well have been a photograph with how still she was, her lips parted and eyes widened at his out pour. She felt her features tremor before they were encapsulated by a smile.
She nodded, increasingly harder. "Yes," she smiled fervently. "Yes," she repeated. "Simple will be nice for once."
"Okay," Levi relaxed, gazing at the ground as he lowered his hands from her shoulders. "Sounds like we have a deal."
Petra exhaled an incredulous puff, shaking her head. "God…and here I was bending over backwards to impress you. Do you know how long I was begging the attendant on the phone to land us that table on a Saturday?"
Levi shook his head. "You don't have to do that. Believe me, I'm not someone who needs impressing. You're already…enough," he compelled himself to admit, his eyes widening a fraction at it all. "Besides, that place was pretentious as shit."
Petra lowered her gaze, her lips wobbling into a simper. "Thank you," she spoke quietly. "For coming all this way to apologize."
He felt himself nod. "I just," he paused, "I did what I thought I'd regret the least," he told her, settling his gaze on the skin of her arms. When she glanced back up at him, smiling as if she was seeing the stars for the first time, Levi fixated on her eyes. "Petra...come to my place," he insisted. "We can make our own dinner. Or I can, and you can watch. I'll get you some wine. We can do whatever you want."
"We'll make it our own thing." Petra smiled. "I'd like that."
"Come tomorrow. If you can." He couldn't wait any longer. With Mikasa out of the house, tomorrow would be just fine.
She nodded. "Okay."
For the first time in five minutes, Levi could finally allow himself to breathe as his eyes settled into hers. It all happened so quickly, so easily without any hiccups or blaring sirens left to disturb his wants. He was alive – the world didn't end after all.
The longer he stared at her, the moment had slowly begun to fade.
"What is that?" He almost frowned.
"Hm? Oh, the lotion?" She raised her hand just shy of her face, compelling herself not to touch. "It's for your skin."
"Right." Levi blinked. "You, uh, do that for fun?"
"For moisture, actually."
"Hm."
"You wanna try?" Petra joked as seriously as she could, jerking her thumb towards her door.
His brow twitched a little. No, he didn't, and he had to get the gremlin in the back of his sedan home. But he couldn't tell her that for obvious reasons.
"There's, uh, a cat I feed. In my neighbourhood. So, I should probably get back and, you know." He blinked again, unconvincingly. "I don't like to keep him waiting."
Petra withheld a grin, folding her arms once again. "Ah, alright. Well, have a good night, Levi. You can tell me all about him tomorrow," she said, turning towards her door.
"Yeah." He nodded once. "Goodnight, Petra."
"Goodnight."
Levi watched her as she stepped back inside, gently shutting the door and flicking the lock. He eventually took himself down the stairs and across the road back to his car, replaying the sound of her voice like a soothing melody of sorts. When he returned to the drivers' seat, shutting the door as soon as he sat in it, he exhaled, his brows furrowing at himself. Levi took a moment to merely sit there, staring at the road ahead of him as if he had just returned from an out-of-body experience.
"Was that Petra?"
"Shit—" Levi jumped, glaring back at a dishevelled Hange who had sat up from the backseat. "The fuck? I thought you were unconscious—"
"Well, I was until you slammed the door on your way out," she replied, her tone unusually subdued. Levi breathed as he rubbed his forehead, taking a moment to revel in the fact that he didn't piss his pants. "That was brave of you," she continued.
Levi paused, grimacing in perplexity. "What?"
"What you said to her," Hange clarified. "You spend all this time being grumpy old Levi—it's nice to see that other side of you is still in there."
"How the hell did you hear anything? We're fifteen yards away—"
"Oh, I rolled down the window," she grinned, sticking her hand out of the car and slapping the door. Twice. He buried his face back into his hand. Fuck, he was so tired. "So…she's going to your place tomorrow, huh?"
"Yep."
"That's great! See, everybody likes bingo."
"Don't—"
"Alright, alright," she chuckled, leaning back into her seat. Hange then let out an exaggerated sigh, staring out the window at the townhouses beside them. "You know, I'm glad it's all going well for you, Levi. But, uh…if you want her to come over tomorrow, you should probably tell her where you live first."
"What?" Suddenly, Levi's eyes shot open, his fingers pulling on the release latch for the door. "Shit—"
SUNDAY
With all the mess that was going on within the group, Armin figured it was time to convene one-on-one with Mikasa. Eren was a wreck by all accounts, but seeing as she was his main target of avoidance, Mikasa had no idea what kind of spiral he was falling into. He wouldn't answer Armin's calls, he barely spoke in class, and he was nowhere to be found during lunch hour. If he wasn't stuck at a debate tournament yesterday, he would have been at Eren's house in an instant, ready to talk some more sense into him and pull him back together like he had in the past. If he could wrangle him up at some other point in the week, he'd give it his best shot. But for now, Mikasa was on his agenda.
They spent the day in the city of Mitras, taking the subway in as neither of them had their license. Armin was a little apprehensive learning to drive in his grandfather's decrepit station wagon, and Mikasa couldn't afford her share of gas money if she were to start driving the sedan (not that it would last an extra load of travel anyway). Armin covered lunch at some coffee shop as he owed her from the last time they hung out. They perused clothing stores with hefty price tags, snuck into the art gallery, and dabbled in obscurely flavoured smoothies. Taking the subway into Mitras wasn't typically a two-person ordeal – Eren was usually the third part to their adventure, dragging them into the big video game stores and browsing CDs with Mikasa in Hot Topic. Armin felt it just as strange as she did – not that they weren't good enough friends to spend quality time together, but that their usual routine was disrupted without him. And whilst they both recognized it, they let it remain unspoken.
Now, back at Armin's house, came wading through Mikasa's waters – he had to keep his promise to Eren while indirectly assuring her that a profession of love would be well received. It was a nightmare, but he wasn't one to talk. He could only speak with Annie as pleasant friends would, sometimes watch her from afar, working up the courage to let a compliment or two slip through the cracks. He wasn't sure what would be easier – letting her find the truth out through passing comments, coming to ignore him and his existence if she so pleased, or just admitting to his feelings and ripping off the band aid.
Both outcomes ended in the fact that she was still dating Bertholdt.
Armin shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind as he used his back to push open his bedroom door, his hands too busy wielding dual cups of hot cocoa. Mikasa sat on his fresh sheets, her boots off and hugging her knees. She lifted her head at his return, a bleak smile as she readied herself for her cocoa.
"Here you go."
"Thanks, Armin."
He set his mug down on the bedside table and walked over to close his door. "I think you've got more marshmallows than hot chocolate in there. I didn't really count, I just took a fistful like you said," he told her, returning to the bed.
"I like when they get all mushy," she admitted, staring up at him as he furrowed his brows.
His lips pursed as he hovered there with his mug. "That would have been really cute if you didn't sound so pathetic."
She huffed. "Ouch."
Armin sat on his bed just across from her, sipping on his cocoa as he got comfortable. He swallowed. "So…" he forced a shrug. "You're going with Jean. That's…a decision."
Mikasa blinked, her mug raised to her lips. "Please don't scold me about it."
He exhaled, shaking his head. "I'm not gonna scold you. I'm just surprised, is all. You don't like dances." Armin glanced away. "And you don't like Jean."
She sighed, nestling her mug between her hands. "He's asked me to every single one and I've always said no. Part of me just wanted to shut him up, the other part thought maybe it would be okay to give him what he wanted for once."
His brows furrowed as he studied her melancholic visage. "Anything else influence that decision?" he gently asked.
Mikasa turned from him. "And…" she paused, her features in a downturn. "I thought it was time to get past all the Eren stuff."
"No, I-I don't think you should do that—" Armin blurted, his eyes wide. Mikasa stared at his spontaneity, perplexity souring her features. "Um, did he tell you something? Maybe…something important?" God, this was excruciating, but he had to get to the bottom of this. He needed to know what happened when Eren ran out of the locker room that day.
"He apologized, if that's what you mean," she replied.
He felt the air escape his body. "Oh…yeah. That's what I mean." Don't dig too far, she'll know something's up.
Her eyes narrowed. "Did he tell you something?"
Crap.
"N-No, just… that. That he was going to apologize," he said, blinking almost rapidly.
"Well, yeah, he did." Mikasa sighed, her eyes lowering. "Maybe I was too rough on him. I thought he was just…saying stuff. Stuff to feel better about himself, to ease the guilt if he really even has any. But he's never liked apologizing, so I guess it took some guts to try."
Armin nodded. "Yeah, he…avoids it," he rolled his eyes. "But you're right. Eren tries for the people he cares about."
Her features settled into nothing short of spite. "I wish he cared enough to tell me why he hates me."
"Mikasa, I don't think he hates you…"
"After all he's done? You've seen it—you've seen everything. He might say one thing but he keeps doing another. He says we'll always be friends but if he looks at me like he can't stand me one more time, I…" The harshness of her tone faltered. "I can't do it anymore," she shakily continued.
Armin frowned, lowering his mug onto the bedside table. "I can't agree with what he's done, but our actions aren't always a reflection of our true thoughts. They're like…" he thought for a moment, "they're like our true fears. People avoid what they're afraid to face."
"But what's there to face?"
"He can't face los—"Armin froze, blinking at the girl as she awaited his response. He couldn't tell her Eren's fear of losing her, as ironic and nonsensical as it was seeing where he landed himself. God, this sucked. "Face…lots of things, nowadays," he eventually continued, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly.
Mikasa frowned, staring into the bumps of her melting marshmallows. "That doesn't sound like the Eren I know. He's never been scared of anything—I'm the one who had to be pushed, and he was always there to push me. If he doesn't think of me the way I think of him…" she began to wince. "It's okay. I can take it, I can," she followed through, a water forming in her eyes. "Just…all I want is my friend back."
Armin was thoughtless for the first time in his life. He wouldn't call himself the best of friends, but he certainly strived to be the best he possibly could. Whether it was talking Eren through his own feelings, helping Jean get back on his feet after his injury, going with Sasha and Connie to a new donut place, or listening to Mikasa talk about Eren like some beautiful supernova in her otherwise lifeless galaxy – he made sure he had all the right words for his friends to hear, because sometimes, that was all they needed.
But words seemed fruitless now. If he couldn't get either of them to be together like they both so desperately wished… How could he call himself a friend?
"I…I think you're closer to getting what you want than you realize." His voice was unassuming and arid as he bore his eyes into her hot cocoa.
"What do you mean?"
His eyes fell, prompting him to shake his head. "Nothing. I just…I thought that when Eren apologized, he might have been a little clearer with you is all." Armin cleared his throat. "He might still be."
"Like why he started avoiding me in the first place?" Her tone lightened. "Do you know?"
He blinked, staring directly at her. "I don't."
Mikasa exhaled, resigning to another sip of her cocoa. "I guess, if he can't tell me, I have to move on, right?" She wiped the rogue tear rolling along her cheek. "What's the point anymore? I look stupid chasing him in circles—"
"You're not stupid, you're incredibly smart, alright?" Armin tensed, his brows furrowing at her self-deprecation. "Emotions are just…really hard to operate. We're all trying, and we certainly aren't stupid for feeling them."
Her lip wobbled as she stared into his lap. "Do you feel them like I do? So much, I mean. Does whatever you're feeling just take over you?"
Armin hummed, rubbing the back of his neck. "To a certain degree, I guess. It all depends on the emotion. I like to think I can control myself," he said. "Is it always so intense for you?"
Mikasa felt herself nod, her vision blurring from more tears. "I don't know anything else…I feel it all around me." She finally glanced at him. "I've been crying…so much. I can't stop."
His lips parted. "Mikasa—"
"My life is so—I can't—" Words tried to fill the air, but all she encountered was strife. "I don't know how to be," she mustered, "not without misery."
He faltered at her words, taking quick action to set her mug aside and pull her into an embrace. And he came to realize that this didn't have much of anything to do with how Eren viewed her, but how Mikasa viewed herself. She had been nothing short of strong and reserved for their entire friendship. She was incredibly self-sufficient, a means of grounding for his overzealous worries, and a girl seemingly unphased by the curveballs of life. He came to know bits and pieces of her childhood, thanking whatever higher being everyone else did that he didn't have to experience one like hers. Levi had raised her to be completely capable of taking care of herself – but Armin had never seen her like this.
There were always these walls she capsulated herself in, no matter how close he managed to get, she typically fortified them. But behind the walls all along was the girl she truly was, screaming and fighting to get out, digging her nails into the concrete. It was like a cage too small encased her heart, and it thumped and swelled and bled against the titanium beams, near bursting point. But she locked herself inside this cage. She forgot where she hid the key. And now, almost hopelessly, everything she felt was trapped inside so tightly that the seams wept and her heart choked.
All he could do was hold her, because there wasn't much he could do from outside her walls.
"I guess we don't know how life goes," he mumbled. "We kind of live off the hope that everything will sort itself out."
Mikasa sniffled against his shoulder. "How stupid of us."
He blinked as he held her, his brows soon furrowing. "No," he pulled away. "It's not stupid, it's completely normal. But if you want it to change, you're the only one who can do something about it. Please, trust me on this—believe that you can sort this out. Even if it doesn't seem like it," he fervently insisted, his hands clasping her shoulders. "Even if you're scared. No more tears. Just believe."
Mikasa blinked through her stupefied gaze, staring up at him as he reared up on his knees and hovered over her.
"I…" she muttered, blinking furthermore. "Okay…"
Armin exhaled, coming to realize how intensely he may have come across. He reeled back his arms, awkwardly sitting back down on his knees.
"Sorry," he mumbled, glancing away. "It just freaks me out seeing you like this."
Mikasa lowered her head. "This is how it's always been," she quietly told him.
He exhaled, a bleak smile emanated from his features. "Could've fooled me. Guess you are changing. Especially with this dance."
She huffed, shaking her head as she wiped her tears. "I hope Jean doesn't let it get to his head."
Armin shrugged, passing her cocoa to her before grabbing his own. "I think you've made it pretty clear, but, uh…it wouldn't hurt to reinforce it."
She nodded in agreeance, sipping on her cocoa. "Sorry. For all the sad talk."
"You know I'm always here for you. It's good to get things off your chest," he assured her.
"I know. You're a great friend." Her dreary smile returned. "And, um…I'm sorry about what Levi did. I think he feels bad, too."
Armin huffed a soft laugh. "It's okay. I know Eren gets on his nerves."
"He could have really hurt you."
"I wouldn't have felt it if he did." His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, an emanating grin following suit. "And from what I've gathered these last few years, I think he hates me the least out of all our friends."
"He's always liked you," she chuckled; hearing so ran a flush of relief through his body. "And he likes doing the yard for your grandpa, too."
Armin grew amused. "Have you seen him trim the hedges? He's so precise. Once I pointed out how sharp the corners were and he got this weird smile on his face."
Mikasa erupted into laughter. "His tea smile?"
"Yeah, that one!"
When Petra arrived in Levi's neighbourhood, she was expecting it to be just as crude and dilapidated as he made it out to be. Sure, it was a lower-class area deep within a suburb like Paradis Falls, but she had seen much worse during her days as a public defence lawyer. The house itself was quaint, but tidy – nearing immaculate. It wasn't that she had low expectations of cleanliness from a man, but… Alright, to some extent, she did. Oluo was a pig and her ex-partner wouldn't even do his own laundry. She didn't strike Levi as one to embellish, but his home was nowhere near as awful as he made it seem.
His straight-faced expression was as present as ever; however, Petra could tell he was utterly terrified that she was in his house. It was amusing seeing a man so brazen and unphased take the time to make his home comfortable enough to her. She wondered if he always lit the odd candle or two on the kitchen table, or had his bed linen spinning in the dryer – not that she was snooping, just misguided on where the bathroom was (and perplexed that he had yellow gingham bed sheets).
He gifted her wine, as he said he would, and she came bearing a gift herself. It was a book. She knew full well it was a shot in the dark to bank on Levi being a reader, but he took it scrutinously, followed by an amused: "Hmph. Haven't read this one."
Success.
Levi was a wonderful cook – better than she was, so she took him up on his offer to merely watch. Her mother tried earnestly to make a decent cook out of her, but it never stuck as well as baking did. Ironically, baking was the one and only skill she took to quite effortlessly, it wasn't something she strived to master like ballet and figure skating, and her mother found it amusing how she clicked with something so similar to what she was worst at.
Petra liked to talk, and Levi liked to listen. He wanted to know more about her life; his questions were slick with monotone but under layered with intrigue. He listened intently during the recollection of her totally normal childhood, abstaining from sharing his own and dampening the mood. Instead, he opted to throw in some interesting high school anecdote about Erwin and a friend of theirs named Hange. Not that Erwin wasn't already quite the character, but his retelling of their stories made him and their friend Hange sound like most interesting people in the world despite his vague annoyance.
"Would I have seen Hange around the bar before?"
"If she was around, you wouldn't miss her." He brought his glass to his lips. "Trust me."
The night was simple, just like he said. Petra didn't realize how relieving it was to show up without any expectation of looking or acting her best, without the worry of his eyes falling upon another woman, or emanating disinterest whenever she spoke. Hearing all he had to say the night before hadn't truly settled in her bones until Nifa left in the morning, when she was then alone with her thoughts. There was something about Levi that she hadn't encountered before – yes, she could psychoanalyse the intensity of his self-loathing, that of which was so palpable that it seemed to essentially ooze out of him. But he didn't talk over her. He didn't roll his eyes or patronize the thought of her gift, didn't explain what she was talking about back to her as if she had no idea. She noticed the details of effort in the way he presented himself even outside of work. His home was well kept, he took interest in learning about her current case, he brought together a beautiful dinner.
He apologized.
Levi drove to her house, knocked on her door, and apologized for bleeding over someone who didn't cut him. That was something she never encountered before. Questions of awe swam in her head, astounded as to how a man she seemingly grew enamoured with could be so critical and unforgiving of himself. He could cook, he could clean, he could sustain himself without pinning the burden on someone else. He made her feel like a priority for the first time in her life without the zeal and suffocation that might come with it.
For a moment there, she took a page out of his book. She wondered of his true integrity, though only in her head. If he was this on top of it all, so attuned to treating her with respect, wanting to show her the enjoyment she could get from a home cooked meal, then…what was wrong with him? At what point did the line draw and Levi become the error-prone human he so emphatically warned her of? She could say his main flaw was the self-deprecation, but if anything, it saddened her more than it turned her off. He was by no means an eloquent poet – he was a little brusque and forthcoming with his words and he always sounded unimpressed, but was that the worst of it? She couldn't quite place her finger on the mark, in reality, she was cursing herself for seeking out a demise to all of this. It wasn't quite all she dreamed, but Levi was an unforeseen golden standard at this point in time and who was she to sabotage that?
So Petra chatted away, eating her dinner and pinning the heat rising up to her cheeks on her wine. Levi did nothing but blink as he never lost sight of her eyes, listening to her talk away, explaining some blissful childhood memory of her grandparent's ranch. When dinner finished up, Petra was hasty to help with the dishes, much to his dismay.
"You don't have to."
"It's the least I can do."
He didn't put up much of a fight, designating her to the drying while he did the washing. They cleaned their hands at the end and Petra retrieved from her car the horror movie she rented from Blockbuster. It was some flick about wax statues in a museum that teenagers didn't know how to stay the hell out of.
"Do you scare easily?"
"Not by people made of wax," he said, inspecting the DVD cover as he sat on the sofa.
"I didn't think so," she crossed her arms. "You've probably seen a lot worse."
He glanced up at her before handing the DVD back. "What gives you that impression?"
Petra shrugged, her voice becoming hesitant. "Maybe I shouldn't make assumptions. I'm sorry." His brows raised, and to that her features softened. "I mean, you might have some irrational fear of clowns or something innocent after all."
He stared at her for a moment, allowing a brief silence to fall between them.
"Fearing clowns isn't irrational," he replied, lowly.
Her lips formed a grin. "That's what you're scared of? Really? That's what does it for you?" she huffed a laugh.
He glanced up at her, unimpressed. "What's so hard to believe?"
"Sorry, I'm sorry—I just," Petra let slip another giggle, "I didn't expect someone like you to be scared of…clowns." She smiled at the glimmer of amusement in his eye, almost as if he feigned disgruntlement. "What's the story behind it?"
"They're ugly as shit and most of 'em are on a registry."
"Jesus, what kind of clowns have you met?"
"I don't wanna get into it."
Petra folded her arms. "Oh, come on. You can't just drop this on me?"
Levi exhaled, his eyes coming to a roll. "Alright. Fine. Erwin's eleventh birthday party. His mom hired this colossal clown guy and the bastard wouldn't stop following me around. Said I had to cheer up."
"He wanted you to have a good time," she smiled endearingly, placing a hand over her heart. "Did he make those balloon animals?"
"Don't know. He had to go to the hospital."
"Oh. What happened?"
Levi silenced, occasionally blinking at her as she awaited an answer. "I don't know."
"Something tells me you know."
He then raised his brows, shifting in his seat. "So I take it there's nothing that scares you."
"Well, no one fears nothing, right?" she cracked another grin. "But if men in thousand-dollar suits don't scare me, then men in dollar store face paint won't scratch the surface."
"Guess I'll just have to wait and see." His features then solidified. "And I don't want this clown revelation to be your next hot piece of gossip. You go to the grave with this," he persisted, almost as if he were lecturing her like a parent. "Shit, I shouldn't have even told you."
Petra smiled, coming to a nod. "Your clown phobia is safe with me."
With her third glass of wine going down smoothly amidst the movie, another trip to the bathroom was needed. It was quite dated with its blush pink basin and exaggeratedly shaped toilet; it reminded her of grandparents' home back when she was a little girl, before they renovated and made it look equally as nauseating.
As she pulled up her jeans, glancing idly at the floor, Petra stilled.
On the tile sat a strand of long, black hair. Her eyes narrowed as she examined it closer, flushing the toilet absently. The strand was definitely too long to be Levi's.
No, it was okay – it was just hair. She figured he had longer hair at some point, right? That was a plausible possibility, what with all these new hair trends nowadays. Even though he was clean cut. She blinked at it as she compelled herself to wash her hands, coming up with a million and one other reasons as to why a hair of that length was tucked away in the corner of his bathroom.
Maybe he has a sister. Or it's his mother's. His friend Hange, she probably had long hair. Maybe a stranger was passing by and had to use the bathroom. Or it blew in with the draft.
Petra caught herself in the mirror, a furrow had already creased her brows. She soon realized the mirror was a cabinet – not by looking at it, per se, but by opening it without a second thought to his privacy. It was just snooping, it was harmless. It wasn't like he would know. So long as she refrained from touching anything, Levi would be none the wiser. At some point she would have to conjure up a voice of reason in her head, slap some sense into herself, right? But at the sight of a second toothbrush in the canister, an eyeliner pencil, a bottle of indigo nail polish, and not forgetting those damn gingham bedsheets – there was no reason anymore.
It was like walking into the past, piecing together the evidence of her ex-partner's infidelity all over again like some ironic jigsaw puzzle. Only this time, she wasn't years deep into a stale relationship. Staring at the contents of the cabinet, Petra came to realize almost immediately that she didn't have it in her to go through it all again. She couldn't ignore the signs again or blabber up excuses to convince herself that the picture wasn't painted so. She was in a prime position to curtail out of this budding romance and simply be done with men. Levi was just another guy, just another asshole with himself at the forefront of his mind, and she'd be damned if she let him go without a piece of her mind.
She shut the cabinet and promptly left the bathroom. Levi was still seated in the lounge room, reading the back of the book she had given him to pass the time. Petra halted at the foot of the room, glaring at him as he eventually turned his head, merely staring back at her.
"You're with someone," her voice tensed as she stood as erect as ever. "You didn't think I'd notice?"
His brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"The toothbrushes, the nail polish, those sheets in the dryer?"
He paused. "That isn't—"
"You have a girlfriend. This whole time you…" Her eyes widened with realization, suddenly, she scoffed. "God, no wonder you kept pushing me away. You didn't know if you wanted to do this, did you? Didn't know if you could play two women at the same time?"
With his mouth slightly agape, Levi stared at her.
Petra tried not to melt into a rage at the fact that he wasn't talking, wasn't defending himself like the slimebag he was. He wasn't spitting out some promptly concocted excuse there and then, or falling into some meltdown now that the jig was up.
At long last, Levi came to an exhale, his eyes closing as if a headache overcame him. He stood up and placed the book on the coffee table, walking past her and out of the room. When he reached the foot of the hallway, he glanced at her over his shoulder completely unamused.
"You coming?"
She blinked incredulously. "Are you serious? Aren't you going to admit to it?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Petra. Just come on."
The air escaped her – now she was confused. There was no guilt or shame in his features as he stared at her, waiting for her to follow.
Petra hesitantly approached him, allowing him to lead the way. He stopped just shy of a door on the right; to their left, what looked to be his bedroom. Dark, gloomy, his bed fitted with creaseless grey sheets and not gingham. She turned to him again, lips parted as she tried to make sense of the situation. Levi said nothing as he opened the door, allowing it to swing out as she glanced inside.
The walls were a soft purple, decorated with posters of musicians and water-color paintings. In it sat a lone, single bed with pale-pink bed sheets, a desk filled with schoolbooks, glitter pens, and enough CDs to put a Hot Topic out of business. Cheap silver jewellery sat on the nightstand right next to a well-loved stuffed rabbit.
Petra stilled at the sight of it all.
"Shit…" she breathed, "you have a kid..." Her wide eyes blinked as she glanced back at Levi. "Why didn't you tell me you had a kid?"
Levi folded his arms. "Not exactly something you mention on the first date," he told her, instilling his features to be of stone. "You get to decide if it's something worth sticking around for. I understand if you won't."
Immediately, Petra shook her head, her eyelids shutting. "No, if a kid is what you come with, I have no issues with that – that's not the problem. It's just that…I mean, why wouldn't you tell me?" She frowned at him. "Why would you hide something like that?"
"I didn't hide it. I just didn't mention it."
Her features fell. "It's basically the same thing—"
"Look, I didn't know when or how to say it. I wasn't sure how you were going to take it," he admitted, unfolding his arms. "I thought I'd let you figure it out. That way if you disappeared after tonight, I could delude myself into thinking that was the reason."
Petra exhaled – curse his avoidant way of thought. "What kind of person would just up and leave without saying why?"
"A shitty one," he replied. "Or one who knows what's good for her."
She planted a hand above her brow, shutting her eyes again. "So…her mother? Is that something I might have to worry about?"
"She's not my kid, Petra. Her parents are dead."
Her eyes sprung open. "Oh."
"She's my cousin," Levi exhaled. "She's seventeen, she's a pain in the ass, and she's my world. I won't ever put anyone else above her," he unabashedly told her. "You have to know that. You have to know that if this becomes more than what it is now, no matter what, she will always come first. So if you don't want to deal with that, that's fine. I don't expect you to and I sure as hell won't hold it against you. But if you stay, just know that it won't change."
Petra swallowed, slowly coming to a nod as her brows furrowed. "I understand. You're not irrational for thinking that way. If I had a child that I…" Petra trailed off, shutting her eyes. She placed a hand over her cheek as she thought – if anyone was irrational right now, it was her. "God…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions, you just…you really freaked me out."
He lowered his head. "Well. I'm sorry," he said, staring at the floorboards. "Least now you know the bedsheets aren't mine."
A grin overcame her as she exhaled a laugh. "I wouldn't judge you if they were. They're cute."
"Well, they're not." He blinked. "So."
"Look, Levi," Petra's features fell. "I just…I don't want you to feel like you have to hide things. You'll never have to."
"I wasn't—"
"You know what I mean," she emphasised. "You don't have to not tell me things. Your honesty is something I admire; I don't want you to withhold it from me," she assured him, nodding.
Levi came to a nod, another instance where his stony façade started to crack. "Okay," he replied, quietly, prompting Petra to untense with relief. Then, he glanced at her. "You, uh. You didn't dry the dishes properly."
"Oh, okay. That was quick."
"Yeah."
She forced back her grin. "Anything else?"
"Yeah." He blinked at her, falling back into a silence. Petra stared, expectantly. "I've already read that book you gave me."
"Damn."
"But it's not wasted. It's been years since I did, and uh, I've never had my own copy."
Petra leaned against the doorframe, folding her arms. "That's okay. I think I'll just take it off your hands."
Levi paused, his brows slightly furrowing. "Really?"
"No," she laughed, "I'm just kidding."
"Ah." His eyes wandered for a moment, and when they returned to her, his brows had furrowed. "Why were you looking through my cabinet?"
Petra's cheeks grew red, almost instantly, a nervous laughter escaped her. "You're going to think I'm delusional."
"There's a lot of things I think about you. Delusional isn't one of them."
Her hand raised to the heat of her cheek once again, a grin of shame overcoming her. "There was a hair on the ground. It was too long to be yours, and then crappy memories got the better of me and I kind of lost it for a minute..."
Levi's lips wobbled but ultimately his impassivity overruled. "Jesus."
"I never claimed to be perfect. That's your perception of me," she grinned.
Levi gestured his head towards his bedroom, soon making his way to it. Petra followed him as he flicked on the light and took her over to his dresser, picking up a photo frame and handing it to her. A young girl had her arms wrapped around his neck, squishing her cheek up against his as she plastered on a cheesy grin. He merely side eyed her, a slight tug to the corner of his lips. Petra could feel a warmth bubble up in her chest.
"This is her?"
"That's her."
"Oh…wow."
Levi furrowed his brow, glancing between her and the photo. "What?"
Petra ogled at the photo, studying the young girl's face. "She looks just like you."
Armin stared up at the white ceiling of his bedroom, painted by the soft, greyish hue of the moonlight. It was all a blur without his glasses or contacts. The night was just the right temperature to allow a rare breeze in through his opened window, the sheer privacy curtains flowing in the gentle wind. Mikasa laid beside him as she faced the wall, clad in delicately coloured pyjamas. It was always amusing to see her wear them after spending the whole day lathered in eyeliner and greyscale. Her bedroom still had remnants of her old, girly style, like her interesting bedsheets with the little flowers on it, and the lilac wallpaper that swallowed the room. He had only ever known the Mikasa that donned an edgy look, with her chunky cross necklace and her nose ring, though in past photos (well, what little there was) she used to be quite the average dresser.
They had turned the lights out a little more than ten minutes ago. If it weren't for the fact that she was sleeping in almost every class, Armin would have been fooled into thinking she was sleep-deprived by how easily she settled into bed. She was barefaced now, her jewellery all set aside. And damn, her feet were cold.
"Can I ask you something?" Armin whispered, gently nudging his friend in the back.
"Mhm…" she hummed, barely awake.
"Is Eren all you care about?" he questioned, prompting her to become more attentive.
"…I care about all our friends," she replied, voice gravelly with sleep. "Especially you."
"You know how I mean it."
Mikasa paused; he could barely hear the sound of her breathing. "I wanna say…not anymore."
His brows came to a furrow, his skin itched with anticipation. "If you could have one thing from him, what would you want?"
She had grown silent again, leaving him on the precipice of hope. Maybe he wouldn't feel so bad about betraying Eren's wishes if it was all for good reason, right? He was hurt now, and with Mikasa going to the dance with Jean, there might not be any motivation left for him to confess. It was all in her hands, it all came down to her to just do something. Say something. She had to.
"I want my friend back."
Armin felt the hope in his chest crumble. It was as if he watched all these chances fly by him and he missed absolutely all of them. Eren had given up. Mikasa was trying to move on. At the essence of it all, they both just wanted each other back. They were both willing to forgo being lovers if it meant the connection they had would return. Armin could only wonder; would they be better off as just friends? If finding their footing in each other's hearts was this chaotic and tumultuous, was it no longer worth the effort? They were always so happy together – if anyone was a witness to their spark, it was him. It was Armin who sat next to Mikasa at the movies as she and Eren whispered jokes about the characters to each other. It was Armin who watched Eren buzz with excitement when he finally got to share a class with Mikasa back in Sophomore year. It was Armin who joined them on the hill, watching them take turns to stare at one another without the other noticing. It was Armin who rooted for them, who wanted to crash their heads together like cymbals, who wanted them to just do what he himself was so afraid of this whole time.
It was Armin who laid in his bed with Mikasa by his side, letting time go by, remembering it all. All the memories, all the fun, all the carelessness. Where the biggest drama they had encountered was someone else's love-triangle, or a new album had sold out before they could get their hands on it. When the misery of life wasn't who loved who and who didn't, but the stress of a Biology test or that the cafeteria ran out of pudding cups before they even got in line.
It was all so uncomplicated back then.
But then a shift in the universe happened, now everyone was wrapped up in their own sorrow and yearning. Something happened that one-night last summer, when he left Eren and Mikasa together on the trampoline and everyone else in the pool. Nothing was the same ever since.
Maybe he could be a shift in their universe.
Tell her.
"Mikasa…?" Armin rolled his head over in her direction, glancing at the black tuft of hair that was the back of her head. He could hear her soft, rhythmic breathing. She didn't respond. "Shit…"
MONDAY
The atmosphere at the cafeteria table they all shared had become strangely dull. Mikasa was always the quiet one of the group, however Armin joined her in being so. Connie and Sasha spoke at an average volume instead of the usual guffawing and hand-slamming jokes they had come so accustomed to spouting. Eren was, of course, nowhere to be seen. And Jean was going over the plan for the dance on Saturday, to which Mikasa simply nodded, offering little input.
"So, I'll pick you up around 6:30?" Jean said. She wasn't sure if he was asking her or telling her, not that it mattered. She nodded. "Great," he smiled at her. "The uh, the corsage…what color did you want?"
"The what?" Mikasa blinked.
"Corsage. The flower thing that goes on your wrist, all the girls wear it," he explained, much to her pointed stare. He pursed his lips. "Okay, no corsage. Got it."
Mikasa nodded once more, returning to her food. In the last few days, her appetite seemed to fluctuate towards the better. Some color had returned to her face, her cheeks no longer as hollow. She wasn't sure what attributed to it, whether it was having a sleep over with Armin or her body finally accepting that it did, in fact, need sustenance to survive. Nonetheless, she wasn't complaining. She hadn't felt that nausea in her stomach for almost a week at this point.
Until now.
"It feels like he's avoiding us," Sasha told Connie, a bothered curve to her brow.
"Yeah, I tried talking to him last period, but he just kept shrugging. Dude's not okay."
Mikasa could feel that familiar churning in her gut once again, immediately, her eyes snapped to Armin in a silent plea for help.
"He's okay, he's just…going through something right now," Armin interjected, catching Mikasa's sharper stare. "Probably."
Connie frowned. "Like what?"
"I…I don't know. It's just a guess," he quietly replied, returning his gaze to the tray of food in front of him.
Jean shrugged. "Watch, after a few weeks, he'll be back with us again chewing someone's ear off about how stupid their opinion is. He'll bounce back like he usually does."
A pout came to Sasha's lip. "I don't know…Eren's never acted like this before. I know he used to shut us out sometimes but something's different – it's been like this for way too long." Her eyes followed over to an almost cowering Mikasa, her head kept fairly low. "Mikasa?" Sasha softly called to her. "Do you maybe think it's time you talked to him? If anyone can make him feel better, I think it's you—"
"He just needs time, Sasha," Jean interrupted. "The more we get on his case about it, the worse it'll be. You know how he is."
Connie shook his head. "Yeah, but Eren's always around for us when we need him. Sasha's right, the hell kind of friends are we if we don't talk to him about what's going on?"
"Has anyone?" Sasha questioned, glancing around the group. Jean merely stared at her, Armin joined Mikasa in lowering his head, and Connie shrugged. Because Connie never knew anything. Sasha's eyes settled once again on her – she had gone white in the face, almost as if she were wincing. "Mikasa?"
As if she couldn't bare it any longer, Mikasa shot up from her seat, cupping her hand over her mouth.
"I'm sorry, I—I feel sick—"
Disturbed, they watched her as she left the table in a haste, disappearing into the crowd and exiting the cafeteria. Armin glanced back at them all, half inclined to go after her, half inclined to set the story straight himself. It wasn't until he saw Jean's features shadow over with discontent did he watch the boy closely.
"Jeez…she's really gotta see a doctor about this food thing," Connie commented. "Maybe she's got a parasite."
"Will you quit it already?" Jean glared at Sasha. "She doesn't wanna talk to Eren."
She faltered. "I-I'm just trying to help. I didn't wanna say it in front of everyone but something's going on between them, we can all see it. Neither of them are happy like this. I mean, shouldn't they try and get past whatever fight they're having?"
Armin turned to her. "Yes—"
"Don't you think there's a reason they don't talk anymore?" Jean snapped, cutting him off. "Eren started this bullshit and now he has to deal with the consequences. She's done with him and that's that."
Connie and Sasha ogled at the boy, her lips forming into a disheartened frown.
"Did Mikasa say that? Or did you make that decision for her?" Armin narrowed his eyes at him, the grip on his fork tightening.
At his pushback, Jean silenced, eventually standing up from his seat.
"Whatever. I'm gonna check on her."
Armin watched as he followed the path Mikasa went down, a bitterness burning in his chest.
"The hell is his problem?" Connie grimaced, glaring into the vast of the cafeteria.
"I…I just wanted to help," Sasha mumbled, succumbing to her hurt.
Connie rubbed her shoulder, leaning her into his side. "S'okay, Sash. She knows."
Fervently, Armin rose from his seat. "Stay here."
They did as he said, picking up on eating their lunch again amidst the doom and gloom. Armin B-lined for the exit and found Jean stalking through the hallway almost as if he anticipated being followed. He had glanced back as Armin made his way up to him, a stern glare to his otherwise soft visage.
As Jean saw him over his shoulder, his eyes came to a roll. "I'm just making sure she's alright."
Armin walked around and halted right in front of him, forcing him to a jarring stop.
"You're happy about this, aren't you?"
"About what?"
"About them," he grimaced up at him. "You think you're winning some trivial game between you and Eren."
Jean leant forward. "There is no game—he cut her out of his life for God knows what reason and now she can't even hear his stupid name without malfunctioning," he retorted. "Eren's been screwing this up from the beginning. I'm just the one who stuck around to pick up the pieces and I'm not gonna let her think he's the only person who can care about her, because he's not. I care—I care a lot more than he ever has," he gritted his teeth. "So, tell me, Armin. Tell me right fucking now how I'm the bad guy."
Peering up at him through the top of his brow, Armin inhaled and exhaled. Deeply.
"Fine. You're right. You aren't the bad guy. Eren's screwed up big time and he's only got himself to blame. But this timing, Jean? Swooping in while she's broken? While they both are?" His head shook with disbelief. "It's like I don't even know who you are anymore. I've never had to think twice about what you do, but the second Eren slipped up, you were right there like you had to take your chance."
"I'm not—"
"You're not the bad guy, no—I think you're just as human as Eren is, as I am, but you aren't the good guy like you seem to believe. Because you know the truth, Jean. You know how he feels about her." At those words, Jean stiffened, his terse visage struck with an air of caution. Armin glanced down at his hands. "Maybe I'm not the good guy either. They both…tell me the same secret, begging me to keep it because they're scared they'll lose each other if the other doesn't want them. I make promises knowing I can't let myself go back on them, even if it'll solve this whole thing." Then, he stared up at his friend. "But you don't have secrets, Jean. You haven't promised anything to anyone. And if you really cared about how she felt, if you really put that at the forefront of all this…you would have told her the one thing you know would make her happy." The confliction in Jean's gut was palpable, fighting his friend's words with an immoveable gaze. "But you won't, and your reasons are different than mine. Because no matter who's secret I tell, I'm betraying someone's trust. But you?" Armin raised his brows. "The second you tell her what she wants the most is real, you know you'll never get to have her."
"Because why shouldn't I?" With his fists balled, Jean shook his head. Armin had never spoken to him like this before—to anyone for that matter. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be treated like some manipulative criminal. "Why is it me who has to make the sacrifice here? Look at what he's done. I've never hurt her, I haven't done any of the crap he's pulled. So why not me?" He stepped forward, looming over his friend. "Why is it so wrong for me to love her too?"
Armin understood. He could feel the pain of the unfairness swirling about in Jean's chest from a mile away. He didn't envy his position; watching the girl he loves be wronged by someone who could barely stomach to look at her, wondering why all the care and attention in the world wouldn't make her see just how much he cared.
But he kept a straight face. Jean was one of his closest friends, and Jean deserved nothing but the truth.
"Because she doesn't love you back," Armin quietly spoke, watching his features darken. "Not in the way you want her to. Take her out all you want, take her to the dance. Make your move. Pour your heart out to her if you think she has to know you feel, but Mikasa won't feel the same way, and she won't because she loves Eren more than anything. More than you, more than me. Even more than Levi. It doesn't matter how badly Eren's gonna screw up or how miserable she feels when he's not around. No one makes her feel the way he does. And sometimes, as much as I wish it weren't true, I don't think anyone else can."
Jean had collapsed in on himself, no longer was he glaring down at the boy, fiercely defending his stance on it all. He was almost hopeless, a painful furrow to his brow.
"Can't you out of all people see how fucked up that is?" His voice was hoarse with desperation.
Armin frowned at the ground, allowing himself to exhale. "Yeah. But there's nothing you can do to change it."
After a while, Jean shook his head.
"We'll see."
2003
FRESHMAN YEAR
High school had been a breeze from the jump. Jean, all of fifteen, had no trouble finding his footing in a place like this. His father told him he was about to walk into the best years of his life, and so far, the man was yet to be proven wrong.
By now, Jean had befriended some of the older kids, like that big guy Reiner and his tall, funny friend Bertholdt. Soccer try outs were about to open up for the season and he hoped to god Eren wasn't going to win a spot over him. He'd known Eren since elementary school – they were friends, then enemies, then friends again, then enemies again, before they settled into an in-between. They were friends who lost their cool at each other almost daily, at least that's how their relationship was described. With Eren's friendship came Armin, and with Jean's came Connie and Sasha, and together they formed a tight-knit group of losers back in middle school.
Jean had always been the outlier to their group. He had gained more traction with everybody else and was…popular, so to say. If there were one thing his parents did right, it was gifting him a conventionally attractive face. It was easy for him to branch out, make new friends, actually talk to the girls that flirted with him. But in the end, Jean always found his way back to his group of rambunctious and outcasted friends. Whether it be sitting with them at lunch, skating with them on weekends, or heading back to Eren's ginormous house after school, he wouldn't trade his time spent with them for the world.
It wasn't until the first English presentation for the semester did he notice her.
See, Jean was never the one to chase. It was the girls who sought after him, flirting with him by his locker, laughing at everything he said. God forbid he ever wore a cap to school, he couldn't count how many times some girl would snatch it and make him run after her for it. Don't get him wrong, he adored the attention. It was flattering to know he never had to look too far to take a girl on a date or to a dance.
Then, Mikasa Ackerman came into the picture.
Well, sort of. Not quite yet.
Typically, the alternative kids stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the averagely dressed. They were a shining medallion that bullies of all ages wanted to take for themselves, crafting their finest of insults or pushing them around like wild animals. But not her. No, she slipped under everyone's radar. Not even Jean noticed she was in his class for the entire semester at that point. He thought he knew everyone in English—or at least knew of them, until the ever-ghostly Miss Ackerman was called up to read her essay on a topic she was passionate about: why college education should be free.
Her hair was dark with a fringe fashioned into blunt bangs across her forehead. Her knitted cardigan sleeves flared out, revealing her abundance of silver bracelets. A ring sat pierced into the cartilage of her nose, and she wore eyeliner as black as her platform boots. Most gothic kids went full throttle with their morbid look, but it seemed she only dabbled in the style, fostering a softness to her seemingly edgy appearance.
Jean sat in the middle of the room, watching her read from her paper as she presented to the class. Her voice was delicate yet firm, and he was astounded as to how her dull eyes could hold such a captivating shine. Everything about her was so excellently proportioned, from the upturn of her nose to the roundness of her eyes. Her cheekbones, the bow in her lip, the delicacy of her neck. She was this walking oxymoron of gentle and relentless. The words in her essay were cutthroat and straight to the point, but with a sophisticated flare that made her arguments seem all the more compelling.
For every class from then on out, Jean found himself searching for a seat as close as possible to her. Whether it was next to her or behind her, he had to keep her in view. She always sat there like she was so bored with the world, writing her notes in glitter pen rather than a ball point, her cheek always resting on her fist.
But not once did he talk to her.
Admittedly, Jean knew he was a little out of his element. He never found himself in the position of chaser. He was usually the one who was chased, never having to try and flirt with a girl who had no prior interest in him. Jean stayed back, merely observing her where he could, until the next semester had her and about five other kids transferred into different a English class due to overcrowding. It was the only place in the school he ever saw her, and at one point he even believed he may have been hallucinating her existence.
So, Jean never saw her after that, nor did he hear of her from other kids in the school. It all went back to how it was before she ever stood up in front of the class and read her essay. And it was like that for another month, at least until Armin mentioned his new Social Studies partner.
"She's really smart. I thought she was new to town until she told me we went to the same schools for the last eight years. Guess I never noticed her."
Jean thought it was just another sniffling nose nerd he was talking about, a real krelboyne. It wasn't until he whipped out his notes from Social Studies did he recognise that purple glitter pen.
"Your partner is Mikasa Ackerman?"
Armin looked impressed. "Trust you to know all the girls around here," he grinned.
Though his features were stone cold serious. "We had English together last semester. She's…uh, cool."
"Did you know she has the same lunch block as us?" Armin smiled, much to Jean's surprise.
"She does?"
"Yeah. I can't believe we've never seen her before."
It wasn't long after their conversation did the walls come crashing down.
Eren had got to her.
Jean had never seen that blockhead look so happy. He brought her to the skatepark like he'd won the nobel prize and needed to show it off to the world. Of course it played out this way—Eren never caught the attention of any girl, but when he finally did, it just so happened to be the girl Jean had been secretly crushing on for the last half of the year.
He and Reiner halted their game of basketball to see her standing there, inundated by his friends' questions and introductions while Eren smiled at her through the corner of his eye.
"Who's that?" Reiner caught the ball from the hoop.
Jean decided to play it cool. After all, he was the chaser now.
"I don't know."
"Guess we'll go see. Come on," Reiner slapped him on the back, walking them towards the group.
Sasha bounced on her heels. "Aah! Do you know how long I've wanted another girl here?!"
"Do you skate?!" Connie practically screamed in her face.
"So, you've lived in Paradis Falls this whole time?" Bertholdt questioned.
Eren held his hands out like they were the goddamn paparazzi. "Will you guys relax? She can't answer your questions if you ask them all at once."
"Hey, I'm Reiner." He jerked his chin at her. "You look a little too young to be a Junior."
"I'm a freshman," she replied.
"Oh. That makes sense," he glanced down, earning Bertholdt's eyeroll. "Welp, we might not have any classes, but these guys will take care of you. Right?" He slung his arm around Jean's shoulders, teetering him back and forth. Jean was growing taller by the minute, but with the powerhouse Reiner was, he felt like a frail old lady at times.
Suddenly, her attention was on him.
They stared at each other for a moment, the heat rising in Jean's cheeks, and she cocked her head like she recognised him.
"You're Jean, right?"
Jean slowly nodded. "Yeah…how'd you—"
"We had English together last semester."
"See? Even Jean didn't notice her and they were in the same class!" Sasha spluttered. "You really are a ghost!"
Eren furrowed his brows. "Man, it looks like you've had classes with everyone but me."
And it pained him to see Mikasa smile at him – it was the first time Jean had ever seen her smile.
"Maybe next year," she said.
"Yeah, maybe. Come on, we've gotta get you on one of these boards." Quickly, he dragged her away. "So you've never skated before..."
The air escaped from Jean's lungs. Reiner shrugged, walking backwards with the ball as he returned to the court.
"Well, she's cute. Dresses like she's going to a funeral, but still cute," Reiner commented.
"Yeah…" Jean muttered, watching her as Eren laid down his board and encouraged her to get on. "She is."
In the months succeeding Mikasa's arrival in their group, Jean had grown frustrated at his lack of shot-shooting. He thought Eren would have laid claim to her already, or vice versa, but there was no mention of them dating or even liking each other past his own suspicions. With Mikasa always around either Eren or Armin (or both), it made asking her out ten times harder than it had to be. That was until he saw her alone in the lunch line one day – she never usually ate what the school offered, opting for her own home-packed lunch. Something about a brother or cousin wanting her to eat cleanly.
Now was his chance.
Jean sauntered up to her, empty tray in hand, exhaling as he compelled himself to play it cool.
"Mikasa," he jerked his chin at her, taking a page out of Reiner's book whenever he came mere meters away from Historia. He'd never done this before. He even felt the courage to cut in line just to be next to her; luckily the kids behind them didn't mind so much. Being well-liked had its perks. "You, uh, you in line?" he asked her.
Mikasa glanced around at her location almost comedically. "I am."
Dumbass, ask a better question.
"Yeah. Nice." And stop floundering, just get to the point. "So, look. I was thinking you and I could catch a movie or something this weekend."
Her brows furrowed. "Just us?"
"Yeah."
For a moment, she stared. "…Why?"
What? Why? What did she mean, why? How was he supposed to answer that?
"Because…why not?" he proposed.
Mikasa grew puzzled, evident by the frown plaguing her face.
"What about everyone else?"
"Why, uh…why would they come?" Jean squinted, unsure of what the hell was going on. God, this was backfiring.
That was when it all clicked. Mikasa's eyes widened, prompting Jean to stare cautiously at her.
"Oh, are you…are you asking me out?" she quietly asked, leaning forward so he could hear.
His first thought came to be that no one had ever asked Mikasa on a date before – with a reaction like that, it came as a wonder as to how nobody was game enough to give her this typical, albeit painful, high school interaction.
"Uh—y-yeah, I am."
She blinked at him, on the verge of grinning. "Why?"
Jesus, she asked that a lot.
"Because I…I like you."
Mikasa winced for a sheer second, but forced a bitter smile in some sort of act of pity. She inhaled, nodding as if she understood.
"Oh, uh, okay… well," her eyes hit the ground. "I think you're cool and all, like a really good friend, so…"
Snickers emanated from behind them. A girl stood in disbelief as her friend whispered and giggled into her ear. Was he…being rejected? Crap, he was being rejected—he was totally being rejected.
For god's sake, play it cool.
"Hey, look, it's whatever. It's not, like, serious or anything. Just thought you were cute. But yeah, you're, like, cool too." Why was he sweating? Was it normal for his mouth to taste like metal? "And, you know, friends is what we are first, right? That's the important thing."
Mikasa nodded, pursing her lips in relief. "Yeah. Thanks, Jean… um, the line's moving. So…"
"Yeah. It is." And he wasn't going to stay in it. "Hey, uh…don't…don't tell Eren about this, alright?"
Her brows furrowed as perplexity laced her features. "Why would I tell Eren?"
Now, he was confused. He peered down at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world, because truly, he thought if he had inklings, then surely, she did too.
Mikasa exhaled as she gently closed the front door, springing all the locks into action. It was an interesting day to say the least and all she wanted to do was crash on her bed and drift off into sleep again.
She let her backpack fall from her shoulder and onto the ottoman before placing her overnight bag on the floor below. The house was eerily quiet for a Monday, as it was typical of Levi to finish work in the afternoon and get straight into his bout of deep cleaning. She usually came home to the sound of a vacuum cleaner blaring or the washing machine violently spinning their clothes around in suds. Now, all she heard was the muffled sounds of the world that surrounded their home – the creak of the trees, the odd car or two that drive down their street.
Mikasa was heading for her bedroom when she spotted a figure in the lounge room. She came to a stop as she tilted her head, allowing the room to come back into view as she slowly approached.
Caressed by the afternoon light that peeked through the venetian blinds was the sofa in which a sleeping Levi sat on, his head leaning back and lips slightly parted. His arms were folded as they always were. Her cousin was more of an insomniac, it was always a rare event to catch Levi deep in a nap of all things.
The longer she stared, the easier it became to envision her younger self perched right beside him, cuddling into his chest, holding onto him for dear life. He used to let her stay up every Friday night to watch Sailor Moon, and after telling her off for sitting too close to the television, they'd both fall asleep on the sofa until he woke back up and took her to bed.
Mikasa felt her eyes begin to sting. Why did it have to change? Why did he have to be such a hard ass all the time? Was it her who made this happen—could she have prevented it? The young girl inside of her still yearned for her best friend, still wanted nothing more than for Levi to be by her side just like he used to. Growing up, everyone would tell her that she tapped into a side of him no one else got to see. Even she could recognise it. But the more she grew, the different it all became.
Eren was in her life and that caused as many disruptions as it did pleasantries; her relationship with Levi began to stale the more she spent time with Eren, but life with him had made her happy. People wanted to befriend her after years of solitude and it turned out to be the best decision she ever made. She couldn't have asked for a better group of people to call her friends, who she could hang out with after school, laugh and pass the time with. Feel like she was almost whole.
Almost.
Mikasa stepped into the loungeroom, her vision blurry from the tears that welled in her eyes. Gently, she sat herself down on the sofa next to him, studying his face for the first time in a long while. Levi always looked so young despite his age, and being short didn't help, but the finest of lines creased ever so slightly between his brows now. A mark to signify thirty years of frowning.
He wasn't some young kid anymore, though Mikasa didn't know if he ever felt he was. If he ever got to be. He didn't mention much of a childhood before her and what he did mention, she saw the majority of with her own eyes. The lens she looked at life through was so different before; from her tiny stature, Levi was all encompassing, a protection against everything that could ever even think of harming her. He wasn't too much older than she was when he started to build a life for themselves. Two very different teenagers at two very different points in time. She couldn't begin to imagine the fear he must have felt doing it all on his own. Now, he was her equal in a sense. She was almost eighteen, adulthood was just around the corner. She was almost as tall as him, and constantly were they mistaken for siblings, started arguing like they were, too.
She wanted independence, she had independence, and yet the little girl inside of her just wanted him to shut up and hold her one last time. One more embrace that wasn't preceded by an outburst or a breakdown, where he wasn't disappointed in her choices or felt the need to enact affection out of necessity rather than pure instinct.
All she wanted was one more touch.
With the silent tears that streaked her face, Mikasa softly leaned her head on his shoulder, allowing herself to close her eyes. Another tear had fallen as she encouraged herself to simply fall asleep like she so desperately wished to do, and quietly, in the back of her mind, while the sounds of life outside halted for no one, she hoped she would wake up before he did.
salty seas - devics
Chapter 11: a night to remember
Notes:
two words: you're welcome.
(also, jeankasa haters, PULL THROUGH. TRUST ME. PULL. THROUGH.)
(double also, this chapter is the longest i've 1. ever written ever, and 2. ever written for this story. it's very turbulent, very RELIEVING, and very sad. you have been warned.)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Time didn't seem to pass in the darkness of Eren's bedroom. Even as the sun shone throughout the day, his curtains remained undrawn, shielding him from its offensive bliss. He laid under his covers, drifting in and out of slumber from the moment he woke up to the moment his mother put a ridiculously large load of clothes in the washing machine. With every rotation it slammed hard against the shared wall of the laundry and his bedroom, awakening him with its violence. For hours he simply remained still, half-blinking as he watched every minute on his alarm clock tick by.
It was almost six o'clock now, and as he laid utterly lifeless, he tried his absolute hardest to forget the fact that it was the day of the dance. That it was almost exactly the time for them to make their way to the school gymnasium, have their fun, and do what teenagers did afterwards. Eren didn't mind these functions – it was another chance to let loose and have fun with his friends, to let his mother have her way with styling his hair before he ruffled it back up in the car, to sit on the bleachers as he imagined what it would be like if Mikasa joined them just that once.
Sasha and Connie would bait him onto the dance floor, usually with the promise of embarrassing Jean in front of some girl he was attempting to dance with. Armin was never far behind. All he had to do was stop pretending he didn't know most of the words to all the pop songs of the late nineties and mimic whatever dance move Connie was doing (only because he was inexplicably good at it). So, after almost an hour of dancing and sing-shouting in total elation, he would retire to a seat where he could catch his breath, watch all the couples sway to Truly, Madly, Deeply like they did every year, and wish someone he held dearly to his heart could have enjoyed the night just as much as he did. Zoning out into the sea of teenagers, he could imagine her making her way towards him, gently smiling.
Mikasa never liked dances, so he never thought to ask or encourage her to show up to one. He truly wondered what she would look like in a dress, one that really complimented her. One that suited her dark and timeless style, just another addition to her unique wardrobe. And he knew she'd hate it all, probably fold her arms and pout like Levi would at times, muttering how much disdain she held for "crap like this." Mumblings of a feminist tangent would ensue, one that Eren could slowly come to understand the more she explained but never fully actualize it – he wasn't a girl. But by the sounds of it, it didn't seem like a fun experience.
He didn't quite understand; why would she ever give in and go to a school dance? If years of Connie, Sasha, and Armin hassling her to simply give it a shot didn't work, what did Jean have that they didn't?
That he didn't?
What could have possibly changed her mind in those months of his absence? Was it out of spite? Did she truly hate him as he felt she did?
Would she have said yes if he was the one who asked?
The red digits on his clock clicked over to 05:58PM. And almost as if on cue, someone had barged through his door, grumbled, and waddled over to tear open the curtains. Eren winced at its brightness, cursing under his breath as he lazily shielded his eyes from the influx of light. He reared his head to see his mother jump slightly at his presence, a load of his folded laundry in her hands.
"Jesus—have you been here this whole time?" Carla almost shrieked, eventually glancing down at her watch. "Eren, it's almost six. What are you doing in bed?"
He slumped back down into his pillow, his eyes slowly adjusting. "Nothing. Don't have anything to do," he groggily replied.
"Well, the dishes could be a start. I'm about to get dinner going," she jerked her thumb down the hallway. When her son lacked any sort of rebuttal or sarcastic entertainment of her quip, she quickly became disheartened. "Maybe you could invite some of your friends over? You haven't had them around in a while."
He could almost laugh. "They're going to the dance."
Carla stilled for a moment, feeling as if she fell directly onto thin ice. "Right…Yvonne mentioned something about that."
Mrs Kirstein and Carla had been friendly ever since he and Jean became friends in elementary school. She was a nice lady—an amazing cook—and it left Eren puzzled as to why Jean was always so short-tempered with her.
"She told me, you know," Carla muttered.
"No. I don't know."
A sigh escaped her, followed by a swift roll of her eyes. "She told me Jean was taking Mikasa to that dance."
"That's great."
"Is it really? Because I'm starting to think it has something to do with how you've been acting lately," she challenged him. "You've been closed off. You won't take Armin's calls, you're fighting those boys again, and you've been in detention more times recently than the entirety of middle school—not even your brother can seem to get through to you."
He grunted. "So?"
"So?" Stunned by his apathy, his mother scoffed. "So, why didn't you ask her?"
"She doesn't like dances," his tone hardened.
"Then why would she go?"
"I don't know!" Eren snapped, shooting up from his pillow.
Carla was no stranger to her son's moments of intensity. Somewhere along the line, Eren grew to view the world as a place that wasn't fit for him and his ideals—that he wasn't listened to by anyone, so if he was ever going to talk, it had to be with his bleeding heart. Otherwise, what was the point? He was stuck within his own dichotomy. To wear his heart on his sleeve, or keep his mouth shut.
Carla gently placed the load of folded clothes at the end of Eren's bed and sat on the edge closest to him, her features settling as he laid back down.
"I get that the last thing you'd like to talk about is what's making you feel this way, but Mikasa's been a part of this family for years now and I haven't seen her in months." Her voice softened. "What's going on?"
It wasn't that he always fought with his mother – he believed that, very down to his core, he had the best mother in the world. But the softness to her otherwise definitive tone had reached right down into Eren's core and upheaved all the tears he had left to cry.
With reddening eyes, Eren breathed. "She doesn't need me. She never did."
She frowned at him. "Well…I like to think no one really needs anyone in this world. You'd be very surprised to know what the mind, body, and heart can endure. It's all a matter of wanting, and I think you want her."
He slowly rose up once more with a glimmer of surprise to his visage, his hair ruffled from a day spent tossing and turning.
"You…you knew?"
"Are you kidding me, Eren? A girl like her? Laughing at everything you say?" His mother almost scoffed, blinking at him. "You and your father can be so similar at times. You know, he came to the bar I was waitressing at around eight times before he realized I was hitting on him too."
Eren lowered his eyes momentarily. "You were a waitress…?"
"Honey, not important." He then furrowed his brows. "Of course I could see how much you cared about her. She's a great girl—and you're a good boy."
"But I'm not. I don't deserve her. I don't even have the balls to tell her how I really feel," he faltered. "Maybe she woke up and realized I'm just not worth it anymore."
"Eren, listen to me," Carla shifted forward, placing her hands atop her son's shoulders. "I think you're very special. Not because you've done anything extraordinary or you're god's gift to the universe, but because of the simple fact that you were born into this world, and I think Mikasa has always been aware of that," she told him. "You don't have to be better than anyone. You made friends being nothing but your authentic self, as obstinate and unconditional as you may be—there's nothing but love in your heart. You are…so good," she cradled his face with her hands, tensing her grip. "And you deserve goodness."
A tear rolled down his cheek and divided at his mother's thumb, prompting her to gently swipe it away.
"Mom, I…I've been avoiding her. I shot her down every time she wanted to hang out. I disappeared from her life because I thought liking her was going to screw up everything we had as friends," he wept. "But it wasn't any better—it was stupid. I've been so damn miserable without her. And when I tried to apologize, I only made it worse," he sniffed. "I'm such a fucking idiot—"
"No," she shook her head, "you're not an idiot—"
"Yes, I am—"
"No—"
"I am!"
"You're not!" Carla tensed her grip on his cheeks once more, staring directly into his red, tearful eyes. "You're just a kid. And you're my kid. And you might walk into the patio door sometimes, but I don't believe for a second that I raised an idiot," she insisted, soon releasing him from his grasp as she succumbed to a sigh. "When I was younger, I made some questionable choices too. We've all been there. Like, believe me, your aunt? Wow, just…wow…" her brows raised, a pitiful shake of her head soon following. Eventually, her gaze lowered as the gravity set back in. "But…when were at this age, life is all uncharted territory. There are situations we've never had to deal with before, feelings we don't often feel, and we only do what we think is best—even if it's as selfish as protecting our own heart. That anxiety you might feel? Yeah, it's a bitch. And it makes us act like cornered animals. But hindsight is a marvellous thing, and given we've got time, there might just be a chance we can amend our mistakes and make it up to those we've hurt. You do that for the people you care about," she nodded at him. "Mikasa is a wonderful person and I think that girl has a lot of room in her heart, maybe enough left to forgive you. But hey," she raised her hands in faux defence. "I'm not saying it's an easy road. She might not be so ready to accept your apology right now, and that's okay. Everyone needs time. But really, Eren…I think she's just doing the same thing you are. I think she's just trying to survive."
He came to a sullen nod.
Survive. Mikasa was a pro at it by now. From the very second her parents died, it was exactly what she had to do. Survive being parentless, survive being taken advantage of, survive being starved, scared, alone.
"She's survived so much already," Eren mumbled, wiping a tear that trickled down.
"I know," she nodded. "I know it. Your father knows it. The most important thing is that you know it too, because to her, it matters."
"No," Eren shook his head. "She doesn't want it to. She's always wanted to be more than all that," he told her. "Before us, she never had any friends. She was too scared to make them, thought all they'd ever think of her as was someone who suffered. And I know she has, but…she's so much more than what happened to her. She's someone. Even when she can't stop thinking about it, I hope she remembers that."
Carla came to smile through her furrowed brows. "I think that's why she loves you."
Immediately, his gaze shot up.
The heat deepened in his cheeks as he pulled a face at his mother. "God—why does everyone keep thinking that? I don't get how you all magically know this but I don't. I mean, wouldn't I be the first to know? Wouldn't it be obvious?" he stared at her, almost desperately. "Wouldn't she tell me?"
"Do you ever listen to yourself? If you've told her half the things you've told me, then it isn't even a question that she could be in love with you." At the disastrous confusion on his visage, Carla grew serious. "Eren…how do you think she sees you?"
On that summer night, back when they laid on the trampoline together, she told him how she saw him. That he was family. That he was home. He always saw himself as nothing short of a fuck up, but Mikasa had a knack for trying to convince him otherwise. He was overzealous, irritable, always landing himself in heat – she was around to see it all, and yet Mikasa still believed in the opposite. She wouldn't even allow him to call himself an idiot in her presence.
Eren blinked at his mother.
Why him? Why was he so lucky to see a side of her no one else did? When he used to see her around school, way back before they were ever in each other's lives, there was nothing behind her eyes. She always appeared so empty, so lifeless. So easy to slip into the background.
And yet for Eren, she never did.
Not in the cafeteria line when he was fifteen.
"Hey, your laces are untied."
"Oh. Thank you."
Not at some middle school assembly when he was twelve.
"Ackerman?"
"Hm?"
"They're calling you up. That award—it's for you."
Not colliding with her on the playground when he was eight.
"Oops—sorry! I'm just looking for my friend Armin—"
"That's okay."
Mikasa was always in his life, even when she wasn't meant to be. Even when she wasn't ready to.
She was all he ever thought about – every single thing she said or did for him was seared into his brain. How she defended him from classmates who liked to rile him up, how she would neaten his hair out of his eyes since he'd been growing it out, how she'd run with him to catch the bus because they got stuck talking to Hange. He loved to replay all those little moments in his head because that's where he got to watch her all over again. See those bright eyes as they'd talk, that satisfied grin when filling her slurpee to the brim of the cup, her sweet, world-altering laugh when he could muster up something funny to say.
Eren was the luckiest guy on Earth, being so fortunate to see a side of her no one else did. That he once didn't. Now, Mikasa was about to walk into that dance with Jean by her side, and showing him that side of her that had Eren completely infatuated.
And he was doing absolutely nothing but rotting away in bed, wishing it was him.
How many more people could he let down? He could picture Armin's face, that feat of desperation and hope that laced his visage back in the locker room, the stern clasp he had on his shirt. Armin was the smartest person Eren had ever known, and so insistent like he knew something he didn't.
He recalled back to that dreadful moment.
"I'm going to the dance with Jean."
And what he wished he said.
"Don't. Don't go with him, go with me. I'm sorry I ever hurt you. You're too good to deal with all of my shit, but I promise I'll change because all I want is to be with you, Mikasa. Can you let me? Can you let me love you? I've always loved you—couldn't you tell? Couldn't you tell this whole time?"
With wide, stupefied eyes, Eren blinked. Couldn't you tell this whole time? Those words replayed like a siren in his head.
Couldn't you tell this whole time?
He breathed as he recollected it all; Mikasa touching his hair. Taking alcohol away from him. Burning him CDs. Laughing with him. Crying to him. The slurpee. Her red cheeks. Telling him everything that haunted her. The study dates. The ice cream. The hill. Her—staring up at him with big, delirious eyes.
Why Levi hated him so damn much.
Her voice from all over the years begun to echo in his mind.
"Eren, I made it for you."
"You're leaving?"
"I've never said it out loud before. I don't know what'll come out."
"Did you wanna get ice cream over the weekend?"
"You're…you're like family to me, Eren. You're home."
"Are we still friends, Eren? Is that…what you see me as?"
Holy shit. Couldn't he tell? Couldn't he tell this whole time?
It was screamed at him from the skies above, it was the most obvious thing in the goddamn world! Armin tried to tell him, she tried to tell him. He wasn't just some hopeful bastard amped up on delusion and running through the halls to waste his breath – she loved him. Mikasa loved him.
And she had all along.
The air escaped him. "I…I couldn't tell…I didn't…" he mumbled, and eventually, he snapped out of his daydream. "Oh my god, she…she fucking loves me—"
His mother sighed with relief. "Oh, thank god."
"This whole time she…" And as quickly as the realization dawned on him, so did the perplexity. "God—why didn't she tell me?!"
"I'm sure she tried," Carla muttered under her breath.
"Huh?"
"I said my guess is as good as yours," she nodded, smiling at her son. "But honey, don't worry about that right now. Worry about what you're going to do about it."
Eren wasted little time ripping his sheets off and getting out of bed. "I have to go. I have to tell her—!"
Carla sighed as she stood up, watching the fresh pile of laundry topple over. He ransacked the pile and found a shirt to pull over his head, all while his mother watched wearily by the door. He was as amped up as he always was when he set his mind to something – like the sheer determination and excitement that swallowed him whole when he was ready for soccer tryouts, or the time he set out to beat Armin's high score in that Tony Hawk game he always played. But just as emphatic as he was in his highest of moments, his lows were as equally all-consuming.
Her brows furrowed. "Hey, Eren…" She caught his attention when he momentarily glanced at her, continuing to change his clothes. "Whatever comes of this whether it be good or bad, but especially bad…I want you to remember you're just a kid. And the last thing I want is for you to take this out on yourself," she told him, prompting him to halt. "Wounds will heal, and life won't be the same as it is a year from now. You'd be surprised to see how different we'll all be by then. So, please…will you take it easy on yourself?"
With parted lips, her son came to a nod. But Carla wasn't truly sure he would be capable of managing another self-implosion. She didn't know at what point during her parenting of Eren did he turn out to become so wilful, both positively and negatively. He seemed to be born with utter determination – hopefully, it treated him well tonight.
She left his room eventually, but not before Eren could call out and stop her.
"Mom?" He presented himself by his door.
"Hm?" Carla turned.
"Thank you," Eren blinked. "I love you."
With softened eyes, her lips began to tug. "I love you too."
With every pop of that damn bubble gum, the hair on the back of Annie's neck pricked. While she sat at Hitch's pink desk studying for their partnered English presentation, Hitch laid on her bed, smacking away at an over-chewed sliver of gum and flicking through some bloated supermarket magazine. Naturally, it would have astounded Annie that someone as vain as her neighbour managed to land herself into an advanced English class, but knowing the girl a little more personally than the rest had her knowing she was academically gifted up the ass. She only strived to play dumb and unassuming, something about finding out more gossip that way. No one could get anything past her, a side to her that Annie could almost say she admired. Almost akin to a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Hitch was a junior given the whole advanced English deal, but above that, she was Annie's next-door neighbour – the first person she basically met in the town of Paradis Falls back in freshman year. They were polar opposites aside from one scathing, ever-apparent trait they had in common: they hated everyone. Well, almost everyone. The only difference was that Hitch was more sly and cunning with her handling of the general population, all hidden under a gorgeous smile and a Brandy Melville tank top. Whereas Annie decided that shutting the world out was far more pleasant than facing them all.
"Are you going to pick up a pen anytime soon? Or did you just invite me over for ambience," Annie sighed.
Hitch rolled over and onto her stomach, the pink bubble emanating from her lips coming to a pop.
"Give me a sec, will ya? JT just blasted some tabloids in a lawsuit about that fake affair story they tried to sell." She then lowered the magazine, scrutinizing the back of Annie. "Besides, do we really have to study right now? It's a Saturday."
Annie glared over her shoulder. "You invited me over wanting to do exactly that."
"Yeah, I said "to study or something," which could really mean anything."
"Is that so?"
"Duh." Hitch tossed her magazine on the nightstand, sitting herself up.
Annie sighed as she stared ahead; she wanted to study, get most of this damn work out of the way already, but she found herself slipping as of late – not just to Hitch's poor attempts at persuasion.
She turned in her seat. "I guess that brings about the question: why aren't you going to that dance?"
"Well, I wanted to but…no one hot asked me. They were all gross or wore cargo shorts," she shuddered, grimacing. "And there's no chance in hell I was going alone."
"How merciless the unspoken rules of high school popularity are," Annie absently quipped, taking down another note.
Hitch stared at her, unimpressed. "You're the only person in this room with a boyfriend. If anyone should be going, it's you."
"I'd rather pass my time in oncoming traffic."
She scoffed. "Ugh, so dramatic, and for what? Didn't Armin tell you he was going?"
Annie hesitated for a moment; her eyes piercing into the frilly white curtains of Hitch's window.
"Why would that concern me?" she finally asked.
Hitch raised a brow. "Because if Bertholdt won't go, at least you'll have someone there to hang out with?"
"Don't need anyone to hang out with because I'm not going."
Resigned, Hitch focused on the back of her friend once again, and even then could Annie feel her glittery eyes penetrating her soul. She was on edge – she had been ever since Eren's party. Avoiding anyone and everyone was key to making everything seem okay from the outside, but she should have known better than to confine herself in a room with Hitch while feeling like this.
She could smell blood in the water.
"So, is Armin just, like, keeping you company now that Bert's not around?"
And she was digging her claws in.
Annie exhaled, halting her scribbling pen as she withheld a response.
"No? Hmph, alright. Thought you were both just a little lonely. He does seem to hang around you a lot more nowadays."
Her eyelid twitched. "Are you getting at something, Dreyse?"
Patronizingly, Hitch shot her hands up in faux defence. "Huh? Is there something to get at?" she feigned innocence.
"You tell me," Annie glared back at her.
With a condescending smile, Hitch merely shrugged, cocking her head at her friend. Immediately, Annie shot up from the desk, causing Hitch to slightly jump.
"Your dumb, pink bedroom is burning my eyes," she muttered as she began to collect her things. "That, and you're stupidly irritating. I'm going home—"
"Woah, woah! Now I know your fuse is short, but it's unlike you to start running away, huh, Annie?" she teased, faux frowning in an attempt to hide her budding grin. "Don't tell me there is something going on between you and Armin?"
She halted, a set of molten eyes permeating through Hitch. "The fuck are you doing?"
"Hm?" she peered down at herself, innocently. "Just sitting."
"No, you're being a conniving bitch! I know you can't go five seconds without stirring up needless drama, but for once in your life can you think about anything other than your ludicrous need to entertain yourself?!" Annie had snapped – her teeth gritted, her eyes narrowed, her fists balled, and it took everything in her not to lunge across the room and smother her friend with one of her dainty, pink pillows.
A horrible, scathing silence ensued. Hitch ogled at her from her bed, her mouth slightly agape as they stared at each other.
"Uh…okay…that was a bit of an overreaction…" she uttered; her voice now subdued from its provocative shrill. She watched as Annie's chest rose and fell. "Are you okay?"
She hadn't been 'okay' a day in her life, but this? She had no idea why it overwhelmed her so intensely. Her breathing slowed as her brow begun to shake – her anger jittered into confliction.
Annie exhaled. "Nothing's wrong," her restrained voice murmured. She finally turned back around, continuing to pack up a lot less hastily this time.
Hitch's features fell into a frown. "I was just messing around…"
"Whatever."
Her concern blossomed as she hung her head. "Does it really have to do with Armin?" she quietly asked, the sardonic nature of her tone no longer present.
Annie stopped packing her things, sighing as her head lowered.
"I…" she shut her eyes as she faced Hitch once again, coming to shake her head. "No."
"You can tell me—"
"No, Hitch, I can't. I can't tell you anything."
"I promise I won't tell anyone—"
"Bullshit. All you do is gossip like a fucking housewife."
Hitch faltered. "Yeah, about other people. But not you, Annie. When have I ever talked about you?"
Annie thought for a moment. Of the four years she knew the girl, she had known her to be a prolific meddler, getting into any and everyone's business. But it seemed it all took a pause whenever her and Annie's friendship came into the mix. She failed to recall an instance where Hitch, well, ever took whatever sparse divulging of her life and blared it out to the entire cohort.
Eventually, Annie shook her head. "Fuck," she breathed, glowering at the ground. "Fine." She took herself over to Hitch's bed and sat on the edge, staring directly into her friend's eyes. "Every single thing I tell you goes with you to the grave. Not a word can ever be mentioned of it. Not even to me."
"Jeez, alright. Scouts honour."
"No. You have to promise me."
"I promise, Annie, Jesus. Will you just get on with it? You're leading a girl on here."
And finally, she found herself relinquishing with a sigh. "…Do you remember Eren's party?"
Hitch urgently gasped, fluttering her hands in haste. "No way! Eren has a crush on you?! Did Armin tell you!?"
"What?" Annie grimaced. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh…maybe that was someone else," her features fell as she tried to recollect. "Because last week, I overheard Ymir tell Historia—"
"I don't care. Just stop talking."
"Rude."
She sighed again – an action she found herself succumbing to a lot around Hitch. "Something happened at Eren's party. Armin…drank a lot."
"Oh god, yeah. When I was making out with that frat guy, Eren found us in the bathroom, and he was literally holding Armin up like a puppet. He was, like, totally gone."
"Yeah, well, before that…he wasn't."
It hadn't even been a minute since Annie returned to the staircase with a glass of water. The air had become thick with the humidity from everyone's breathing, their annoyingly loud laughing and conversations, and their grimy body sweat from the profuse alcohol intake. She loathed these kinds of things – ragers, parties, whatever these stupid kids wanted to call it. In her head was the voice of her father, ridiculing her for wasting her precious studying time at some house party, convincing her that it was hours of her life she couldn't get back. She only came for Bertholdt—he missed everyone despite the fact that he got to be in their hometown while she couldn't. She had to see these so called 'friends' he missed every day, stuck in a school building she couldn't bear to be in.
The move from Point Marley to Paradis Falls was unexpected. Her father, or, well, the man who raised her, found better money in this crummy town. A dollar more an hour. How fucking prosperous. At least moving here lead her to Bertholdt, another Point Marleyan native. His father was in the military, hopping back and forth between bases. They managed to stay put in Paradis Falls long enough for Bertholdt to graduate before they called it quits and headed back to Point Marley. His mother was ill. Deteriorating. And she wanted to go home.
So with Bertholdt and his family gone (the only family she felt she really had), everything became so difficult, thoughts wandered into confusing places.
Snapping her out of her daydream, Mikasa wooshed past her, her leg bumping Annie's shoulder. She didn't mind the girl, felt they were similar to some degree. Annie's brows furrowed as she saw an escaping Mikasa headed straight for the front door, her arm wiping something from her face. She didn't have a moment to think before Levi followed suit down the staircase, knocking into her shoulder just as well. Her older cousin – a man she felt even more akin to. Annie had been at their house a few times when Bertholdt and Reiner used to drag her along. Something strange must have happened for Levi of all people to be here, especially with his obvious disdain for Eren. And speak of the devil, not a minute later did Eren come almost sprinting down the stairs. By this point, Annie had scooted closer to the wall.
Behind her was then the sound of jagged footsteps, a hand sliding against the wall as whoever was approaching made their way down. Annie felt their hand grip her shoulder before she was able to turn her head, most likely some drunken asshole trying to get past her.
When she glanced up and behind her, she locked eyes with a half-lidded Armin. A jolt of electricity imploded in her chest, an unforeseen adrenaline rush. She suffered from those a lot more as of late.
"Oh. Hey," she glanced up at him warily. "You alright?"
Armin stumbled down a few more steps, plunking himself beside her. "I-I'm fine…" He smelt like a beer keg, his eyes blinking one at a time. Jesus. "N-No, you know what…I-I'm…I'm not fine…"
Annie sighed. "You can have my water—"
"No!" Armin shook his head emphatically. "I-I can't do this anymore…" His hands gripped her shoulders and he stared directly into her eyes. "I'm nuh'gonna be like Eren 'n' Migasa…I can't keep hiding it anymore—you'hve no idea how much I…" Suddenly, his expression fell blank. Annie could feel flames rising up into her throat. "Screw it."
Armin leaned forward as he pulled Annie towards him, his lips colliding into hers. She could only watch with wide, hopeless eyes as he continued to kiss her, his hands sliding up to hold her face. It wasn't like her—whether it was the humidity getting to her head or the sheer absurdity of the situation, it wasn't like her to kiss him back. And yet she did.
Annie broke their binding and separated herself from him, shocked with what they had both done. Disturbed and completely thoughtless on what to do, another surge of adrenaline had overcome her. She grabbed him by the shirt and threw him back into the banister, coming face to face with him with gritted teeth.
"Don't you ever—" she halted, searching his eyes for an answer to this mess. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" she raged tersely, keeping her voice low.
"I jus'…I don't…" Armin continued to mumble, slipping in and out of consciousness. His eyelids kept fluttering open as if he was losing the battle.
Annie released her grip and stood. She had to go. She needed to fucking leave this place. She needed to find Bertholdt and get the hell out of here. As she fearfully searched the house for prying eyes, she came to realize that no one was gawking at her. No one had witnessed anything. All wrapped up in their own bullshit, she may as well have been all alone with Armin.
Part of her almost wanted that.
God, she hated coming to these stupid parties.
"Holy shit…" Hitch's slackened jaw hung as she gaped at Annie, blinking sparsely. "Armin, he… Wow. Didn't know he had it in him—"
"Seriously? That's what you have to say?" Annie furrowed her brows.
"I have a butt-load of things to say about it, believe me. But I just…I can't believe he did that."
Annie stared at her lap, frowning. "He was wasted. He just did something stupid."
Hitch almost scoffed. "No, Annie..." she shook her head. "You don't drink—you don't understand what it's like. When you're drunk, you feel like a superhero. Everything you're too scared to do when you're stone cold sober becomes the easiest thing in the world."
She held little reaction. Part of her wanted to disregard what he said to her, to believe that he just saw her as someone he was too comfortable with and simply made a fool of himself. The other part of her knew not to kid herself.
The eagerness of his features flashed in her mind.
Annie hesitated. "You think he…"
"Is, like, totally into you? Uh, yeah. Clear as day, dude," she scoffed. "Have you told Bertholdt?"
Guiltily, she lowered her head. "No."
"I mean, I don't judge you for not telling him. I wouldn't. But…do you think that's something you probably should tell him? If some chick started smacking lips with your guy, wouldn't you wanna know?"
Steadily, Annie took a deep breath in. "Hitch, I kissed him back."
Immediately, her eyes widened. Hitch froze like a deer in headlights, staring at her friend in utter disbelief. "Oh god. Oh wow. This is not as simple as I thought it was."
"Simple?" she scoffed. "If only." Annie stood, shaking her head with dismay. "For the first time in my life, I don't know how the hell to feel."
"Well, good thing you can feel. I was a little worried for a sec."
She glared over her shoulder. "Do I really have to ask you not to be such an asshole while I'm confiding in you?"
"Ugh, rude," Hitch grimaced. "Look. This shit is hard. Your heart's in one place and your mind's in another. You wanna stay with Bertholdt but you also have feelings for a guy who used to let his grandpa cut his hair until, like, a year ago." Annie's eyelid twitched. "I'm with you no matter who you choose, but…if you want something with Armin, you need to cut it clean off with Bert. You can't…two time him."
Annie couldn't bring herself to formulate a response. She didn't want to be with Armin, at least not in her right mind. Years of anguish and brutality showed her all she really ever wanted was Bertholdt, a gentle presence in her otherwise brutish world. He was affectionate, understanding, patient – nothing like the meathead Reiner was. A man that was the total opposite of her father provided safety, security, and it allowed her to be the girl she truly was. To laugh. To use her arms for embracing, not violence.
But when Armin came along, it seemed she found it all over again. Another pair of soft eyes beaming back at her, a voice that only grew harsh when scolding his friend for being such a blockhead. What did this all make her? A whore? An indecisive two-timer? A horrible, no good, very bad person?
Annie shut her eyes. "The fuck is wrong with me?" she muttered, gripping at her scalp.
"Jesus, Annie. I've never seen you like this…" Hitch stared at her, brows furrowed with shock. "Do you, like…want a hug or something?"
"No."
"Oh. Good. 'Cause that would've been, like, really awkward."
She allowed herself to inhale, stabilizing her rampant mind. "Armin says he only remembers playing beer pong with Reiner. At this point, I'm inclined to believe he has no memory of what he did whatsoever."
"I mean, that kind of works in your favour, right? One less witness to the crime?"
"You mean to the unbearable weight on my conscience?"
"Huh. Yeah, I guess so," she then chortled. "I thought you'd be good at smothering that feeling down. I don't know. Something just made me feel like you are."
Annie rolled her eyes. As she glared out the window, she could only wish Hitch was right.
How painful to have a bleeding conscience.
Mikasa wished she had some sentimental dress of her mother's deep within the bounds of her closet, something monumental for her to wear, something to give this night real meaning. But the ever-present thought dawned on her—what was the point? This wasn't a monumental occasion; it was a lame school dance designed to rile everyone up and feign importance in their lives.
She imagined what she thought her mother would say to her, somewhere in another world.
Oh, Mikasa. You look so beautiful in that dress. I'm so proud of you for finally going to some school dance that I weirdly insist you go to. Oh, you know how I feel about bloated high school traditions made only to boil you down to an object of a man's desire. Eren's going to love—
Her eyes burned into her reflection in the mirror, halting her rambling mind for just a moment as she forced herself to snap back into reality. Between using the perceived image of her mother as a sock puppet for her distaste and still finding Eren in the deepest corners of her mind, how could she imagine such silly things?
Tonight was a new start. Brand new beginnings. A new chapter for her to reinvent herself a little. And despite how childish and absurd it was, dressing differently—perhaps brighter—would help her achieve that. Deep down, just above the desire to not show up at all, was the desire to dress like herself. But with an albeit forced view of things nowadays, succumbing to Sasha's offer of lending her a dress was paramount to the vein of trying to be different.
Her eyes never left her reflection, granted, she wasn't exactly sure who was staring back at her. In a slim, periwinkle dress, Mikasa almost felt the urge to introduce herself to the stranger in her mirror. Her arms were bare for the first time since summer ended, and her neck…well, it held the most important thing of all.
Mikasa reached behind her head and unclasped the leather-bound necklace that her mother's pendent sat on. Its deep green color was no match for the brightness of her dress, nor did she feel dignified in wearing it tonight. She laid it to rest on her nightstand just in front of her old picture frame. She leant over and took a glance at it – it was a photo Erwin had taken of her and Levi at one of Nanaba's birthdays, one of the few photos they shared together. Levi hated being on camera. She must have been around ten years old in it, but even he looked relatively young; clinging onto his neck, her face squished right up against his.
She would smile at that photo, endearingly, and walk out of her room to keep her head low and voice mute as she entered his presence.
Things were just…different now.
Levi peered a set of narrow eyes through the gap he made between the windowsill and the sheer curtains. He wasn't expecting anyone over, but when a knock at the door ensued and Jean's suavely-dressed ass was standing on his porch—his widened, startled eyes glancing back at him—he doubted whether he wanted to really open it.
This better be good.
When Levi opened the door, he eyed Jean up and down once more, the beginnings of a grimace playing on his face.
"What's this?"
Jean blinked, patting himself. "Oh, uh, it's a suit—"
"Don't play stupid, Kirstein. You go to a funeral or something?" Confusion etched into Jean's features before suddenly, they fell into awe. "No?" Levi stared at him expectantly. "You want to?"
"No, I-I'm…just here to pick up Mikasa," his voice had become low, bewildered, and his eyes were widely smitten.
His brows furrowed. "For what?"
Almost comically, Mikasa had been standing beside Levi almost the entire time, a glower to her visage. But on top of her pout was glimmering eyeshadow sitting behind a set of sharp eyeliner wings. Her hair was slicked back into a frilly bun, her bangs almost glued atop her forehead with hairspray. Upon further inspection, Levi glanced down to find her dressed in some blue slip dress, the lightest color she'd ever worn in years. And Jesus Christ, were those high heels on her feet?
He was petrified.
"You…you look amazing," Jean uttered breathlessly. Levi side eyed him.
"Care to tell me where you two are going?" He stared down at Mikasa again.
"Not really," she mumbled as she slipped past him and out the door.
Jean blinked rapidly as he took his attention away from Mikasa and back to Levi. "It's the Night to Remember dance. The school has one every year. This is Mikasa's first…" he told him, attempting to keep his voice as unwavering as possible.
"Sure is." Levi stared at her once more, eyeing her up and down. She glared back in response. Goddamn it. "Well, let's not make this a night I wanna forget. Just get home at a reasonable hour, alright?"
As Mikasa rolled her eyes, he saw Jean exhale with relief, almost as if he'd received permission to court her or some ridiculous shit.
"Yeah, no problem," he nodded at Levi.
Then, Jean graciously extended his hand out to Mikasa. Levi watched as she stared down at it, slowly inhaling, and gently took it. At the act, Levi's eyes widened unlike they had ever before, and with his awestruck gaze, he watched them walk down the driveway and towards Jean's car.
Mikasa glanced up at him. "Nice suit."
"Thanks. You too." Jean instantly shook his head. "Uh—dress, I mean your dress. It's nice too."
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
If that was happening… then that meant…
Levi's mouth formed into an uncanny smile.
Mikasa wasn't just walking down the driveway with Jean, she was walking with someone who wasn't Eren. It hadn't hit him until now given he aimed to forget Eren's exist so much that he practically did. Jean? Eh, not his first candidate, but a whole lot better than a goddamn Yaeger. At least Jean was, well, good in all aspects pertaining to a normal life. Played sports, wasn't loud or insufferable, hell, he'd probably be a heart throb if he wasn't such a loser like the rest of them.
Mikasa's sights were no longer set of Eren. And eventually, entirely, Eren would be completely out of the picture. Levi didn't have to watch her spend tears over that little twerp anymore, or hear her talk about some shit joke he made during lunch, or even invite him over to their damn house.
This was great—no, this was fan-fucking-tastic.
He had to tell Erwin.
The sky was thick with the overcast of clouds as faint spits of rain fell upon his shoulders. Eren couldn't regulate his rampant thoughts, much less his breathing as he sprinted in the direction of their school.
Almost as if he were lost in a daze, Eren watched memories play back in his mind as he ran across the road, a car blaring their horn at him as he cut them off. It didn't scare him, nor could it deter him from getting to that school gymnasium. All he could think about was just how much he wanted her; taking himself back to memories of their time spent together. Like the time they watched the sunset and he found the comfort of her shoulder. Or back to the moment where all of this mess started—when they laid on his old, childhood trampoline, awestruck by the stars that dotted the night sky. She called him home, and when their skin sparked at the sensation of each other's touch, that's when he couldn't fool himself any longer. That was when Eren knew that all along, what he felt for her wasn't just adoration, it wasn't just the fondness you felt for your best friend, all this time he was feeling an undying love. That it wasn't the stars in the sky that captivated him, it was the galaxies in the reflections of her eyes, and once he truly saw them, it was far too late; he had already succumbed to the revelation that she was never simply another best friend. The constellations, the supernovas, the stardust, the iron, it was all there, staring back at him all along.
She was all of it.
There were so many missed opportunities, so many chances in the world to tell her just how much he burned to feel her lips on his. His brows curved as he remembered what he was going to tell her that day, running through the halls like an idiot, desperate to find her just as he was now. He'd write it in scripture if he had to, on the walls of every building in Paradis Falls just so she knew.
You're everything to me, Mikasa. I can't believe I've been so stupid—you're all I wanted this whole time and I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. From the second I first heard your voice, I knew I wanted you in my life. I couldn't see it before, but I see it now. I love you. I've always loved you. And I need to know you love me too.
Would she have dropped everything like Historia said? Would he even be in this situation right now if he had simply got a grip and told her the truth? If he didn't freeze up? Would he have not melted away in bed all day, wishing it was him who got to hold her, and sway with her, and look into her eyes like she was worth ending the world for?
Fuck Jean, fuck the dance, and fuck moving on like Zeke said.
He had to find out.
There was a warmth in his chest, a fire burning amongst his ribs as he finally set foot on school grounds. He was dozens of yards away from the entrance of the gymnasium when he saw them—Mikasa, Armin, and Jean walking up the steps.
When he saw her.
"Mikasa!" Eren shouted at the very height of his lungs, but to no avail. He continued to sprint in order to shorten the gap, watching her and Armin disappear inside as Jean held the door for them. "Mikasa!"
Jean's head snapped towards his direction, peering into the distance as he tried to locate the familiar voice. His hand let go of the door, allowing it to shut as he stepped forward. Eren locked eyes with him as he neared the entrance but took no halt. He continued to run up until he was mere metres from the stairs, determined to run right past him and into the building where Mikasa was. That was until Jean stepped in front of him and bared the force of Eren's collision, forcing him to a complete halt as he stepped back.
"The hell are you doing?!"
"What are you doing?" Jean eyed him down.
Eren exhaled through his teeth, glaring at his friend. "Get out of my way."
He needed to get to Mikasa, no matter the cost. Whether it was he and Jean's friendship or even Jean's respect itself that was on the line. He needed her.
Jean ran his hand over his mouth, stress coursing through his veins. "You can't do this. You've done enough to her, Eren. Just let her move on—"
"I know I fucked up but I can still fix it—"
"It doesn't need fixing!" His voice swelled with rage. "You don't get to swoop in and convince her everything's okay every time you screw up! You can't keep putting her through that, it's not good for her!"
"How would you know what's good for her?!" Eren shouted back, stepping up to the taller boy. His eyes welled up with tears of white-hot rage. "You think because she came with you to some lame fucking dance that now she's in love with you!?"
"Will you stop?!" Jean demanded of him, soon sighing in a bid to compose himself. "This isn't about me or you, this is about her—and what she needs is not whatever the hell you're thinking," he told him, staring between his delirious eyes. When he witnessed the almost negligible wavering of Eren's determination, he shook his head. "She deserves better than this. Trust me."
"I'll give her better! I have to talk to her, damn it—she has to know!"
"Know what, Eren? Why you were avoiding her? How little respect you have for her?" he tantalized, glaring down at him. "Let me tell you what you need to know. Mikasa's eating again. She's not crying as much as she was when this all started. She thinks we can't tell but we can—we all can. She's moving the hell on from the bullshit you can't seem to stop putting her through. So it doesn't matter what you have to say, maybe it used to, but not anymore, Eren. Whatever it is, no matter how badly you think she has to hear it, it's only gonna send her straight back into the hell you created. Is that what you wanna do to her? Is that how fucking little you care about Mikasa?"
The sternness in Jean's features only told the truth, and Eren could feel his whole world crash down around him. Not eating? Always crying? Was this really the reality he made her face? Was this now the same girl who would always look at him with such content?
What the hell had he done?
Eren felt himself shudder, tears blurring his vision. "I…but I thought she…" his lip began to tremble. "I…I need her to know so I can—"
"It's not about what you need," Jean insisted, shaking his head into his hand. "Why can't you ever see that?"
He glanced up at his friend, utterly broken. "Because I can't live without her. She doesn't know how much she means to me…Jean, she doesn't."
He witnessed a flicker in Jean's otherwise grim expression. "Eren," he spoke almost with pity. "She does. You made it clear to hear."
Confusion puzzled his features, momentarily, before he finally understood what his friend had meant. Mikasa understood as well as she could with no explanation that Eren didn't want her around, couldn't stand to be near her. She wasn't the person in his life she thought she was, or who she thought she could be. He had made it clear the very second he thought cutting her out of his life was going to fix everything.
Eren inhaled sharply, teeth gritting with agony. "I…I was stupid. It was all wrong, I just couldn't face it." Again, he stared up at Jean, wide-eyed and desperate. "But I can now. And she…she needs to know the truth…she needs to know how I really feel. How I've felt this whole time."
His eyes melted into the door, watching as more students filed in. Happy. Laughing. Arms looped around another.
"No. She doesn't." Jean muttered quietly, shaking his head as he stared at the ground. "Go home, Eren. Let her have this one night."
Maybe he was right. He always knew Mikasa would have fun at these dances, simply because she was surrounded by the people who cared about her the most. She would realize soon enough that she enjoyed letting go and being encouraged to dance, to not worry about how she looked or if any attention was on her. She did deserve this one night. With Armin, with Connie, with Sasha.
Eren glanced at his friend. "With you?"
Remorse laced Jean's features; he soon lowered his head. "Yeah. With me," he replied, quietly.
Eren choked back his cries as he imagined the worst – Mikasa truly moving on, finding in Jean what she couldn't in him. The very thought made him feel sick, but if it became the reality, he knew damn well he couldn't take it.
"Then…I can't watch that happen," he told him. "If she doesn't know…all I'll feel is more of this…this fucking pain. And I know—I know I did this to myself, but I can't be at this school and watch you two…" Eren faltered, dropping his head as his teeth came to grit. "I just can't watch her live without me anymore."
The front Jean put up wavered yet again. Something in his heart snapped at the sight of his friend's despair.
"You're just going to leave us?" Jean blinked, almost as if he were outraged. "What about your friends? What about Armin?"
"What the hell else am I supposed to do?!" he snapped. "I know I deserve to see you with her for all the misery I've caused but do you really think I'm just going to sit there and take it?!"
Jean faltered for a moment. He truly thought that any day now, he was going to sit and watch as the girl he loved would finally fall into Eren's arms. He swore to himself that he could persist, bear the brunt of his own heartache as it stared him straight in the eyes. But in the depths of his mind, he knew there would be a time where he'd have to remove himself from it all, stay away from them as much as possible so he had a decent chance at moving on. Could he really blame Eren for wanting to run? Wasn't it his own fallback plan this whole time?
Jean sighed. "I've known you forever. It may not seem like it, but I care about you, Eren. I do. I just…" his gaze fell. "I care about her more." At that, Eren felt the air escape him. "Do whatever you have to. Disappear if you really think that'll help. But you're not going in there and turning her world upside down. Not again."
The tears continued to well in his friend's eyes. That was it. That was the end of it all. He screwed up far beyond fixing, and if he dared try now, all he would be doing was ruining her life even more. His mother was right, hindsight was a marvellous thing – he could see it all in total clarity now, the chance he had at happiness, the chance he had to be with the only girl who ever cared about him. But he didn't have time. The clock stopped ticking and that part of his life didn't have a moment left to spare, even if he cared. It didn't matter.
His chance was long gone.
"Can you just…" Eren breathed, staring into nothing. "Just tell her I'm sorry."
At his words, Jean came to a meagre nod.
Eren wouldn't stay much longer. Jean watched as he turned back around and walked to the end of the school grounds, ensuring that he wasn't going to change his mind and come running back, desperate as ever. But he didn't, and Jean waited until Eren disappeared from sight.
Maybe forever.
The doors behind him opened.
"What are you doing out here?"
Jean perked up at the sound of her voice. He turned, finding her head sticking out of the door as she peered at him in confusion.
He walked up the stairs where he forced a shrug. "Just…talking to a friend," he mumbled. The more he took her in, the more sensitive his nerves became. God, she made him buzz.
She opened the door wider for him. "You coming in?"
"Yeah, Mikasa," he nodded. "I'm here now."
Jean mumbled something about getting them drinks before he took off in the direction of the punch table. He seemed a little shaken, but she wasn't exactly her most stable self right now either. Glancing around, she found the gymnasium completely decorated with blue banners, balloons, and streamers. There was a DJ all the way in the back, and the planning committee had even gone as far as to rent a huge disco ball, that of which didn't seem so structurally sound.
Her body seemed to vibrate from the anxiety of finding herself all alone. When Jean wasn't tailing her, she let Armin go on without her, standing there in some sort of awkward purgatory of retrieving Jean or following her friend. She didn't want him to think she was desperate for him or something ludicrous along those lines. Simply put, she needed all the friends as she could have around her as she walked into this lame yet stress-inducing dance. She debated going out there to find him – he was probably talking to some girl who flagged him down on the way in. She didn't want to 'cramp his style' or get in the way of anything as wonderful as Jean moving on from the crush he harboured for her.
Now, Mikasa stood amongst the tables, staring into the high-shine floorboards of the gymnasium as she disconnected from the world around her. Any moment now, she endeavoured to glance up and find Eren standing there, wondering why she was all alone. Asking her if she wanted to join him, maybe for a drink, maybe for a dance.
Stop thinking about it. It's not going to happen.
She inhaled deeply, shaking her head before she searched around the building. With her eyes now wandering, they settled on a delighted Sasha, enthusiastically waving her hand and beckoning her over. A wave of relief washed over her and quickly, she went over to her friend.
Mikasa had never met the guy standing beside Sasha before, but it wasn't much of a stretch to assume he the guy she'd been fawning over for the last few weeks.
"Mikasa! You really came!" Sasha trotted forward and wrapped her arms around her, swaying her from side to side.
A gentle grin overcame her. "I wouldn't lie to you."
As Sasha pulled back and rested her hands on the tops of Mikasa's shoulders, she beamed emphatically, utterly happy to see her.
"Have you met Niccolo?"
"I don't think I have."
"It's nice to meet you, Mikasa," he politely smiled. "Pretty safe to say Sasha loves you."
"Yeah, likewise," she replied, and from the corner of her eye, Sasha paled. "I mean—it's nice to meet you too. That's what I meant."
Sasha choked back a scream as she forced a wobbly smirk, blinking up at Niccolo. Saving them from what seemed to be Mikasa's first of many blunders of the night, Connie returned to them bearing two cups of punch.
"Here, Sash." He handed one over to the girl, sipping on his own as he shoved his hand in his pocket.
As she took it, she searched him for the missing puzzle piece. "Where's Niccolo's?" she frowned.
"Oh, you wanted me to get one for him too? I thought you just meant us," he spoke bluntly.
"For all of us. The three of us!"
"Well, you didn't say that!"
Niccolo fought back a grin. "It's fine, I can go get one. I'll be back," he told her, rubbing her shoulder before he left.
Connie sipped on his punch, completely unphased by the molten glare Sasha was giving him.
"That wasn't nice, Connie."
He shrugged. "He's got two legs."
At his remark, Sasha white-knuckled his punch cup and snatched it out of his hand, shoving it at Mikasa.
"Oh—"
"Hey, that's mine!" he shrieked.
"You've got two legs," she jerked her head in the direction of the punch table, her eyes narrowing at him.
Mikasa took a sip of her newly acquired punch, grimacing at the abundant pineapple flavouring. Connie exhaled through his nose, grumbling before he took off.
As he left, Sasha sighed, letting her soured features fall. "He's been such a jerk to Niccolo."
Mikasa blinked. "I think he's worried."
"But I don't understand, shouldn't he be happy for me? I mean, we've known each other since we were little. He's watched every guy I've ever liked never like me back. And it's not like he has some secret crush on me, so what the hell is the big deal?"
"I'm sure he is happy, Sash, but you're his best friend. All he's ever known is being close to you. Now that Niccolo's around, I think he's just worried about being forgotten."
Sasha faltered. "I…Oh, of course not. I could never do that to him. I'm just…excited. Niccolo seems to really like me and no guy has ever liked me."
"Sasha, you're a catch. You're cute, you're funny, you can eat your body weight in chilli dogs and I think that's technically considered a talent," she told her. "It was inevitable that someone was gonna fall for you and Connie knows that better than anyone. So he might freak out a little, but it's only because he's scared of losing you. Maybe he just needs some assurance you're not going anywhere."
Sasha took the girl's words in, eventually coming to a nod. The air escaped her as she glanced back up at Mikasa, feeling compelled to hug her once more.
"Thank you," Sasha muttered as she squeezed Mikasa tightly. She then pulled away, pouting through her smile. "Crap, I think I'm falling in love with you," she joked. "Gosh, seriously, with Eren gone, I can't afford to lose you too."
Mikasa was pulled into another embrace, and while the sentiments by her friend initially felt warm, her visage couldn't help but fall at the mention of his name. Eren was gone, there was no need for her to run, but would there be a day where she couldn't take the horrors of her life anymore? Where 'dream-state' or flashbacks would swamp all of her waking moments? Could she hold a straight face as she told Sasha she wasn't going anywhere, and come to believe it herself?
"Thank you for being my friend," Mikasa told her, her eyes wide open at their embrace. "I'll always care about you, no matter where I end up. Will you always remember that?"
Sasha hastily pulled back, staring at her. "You're not moving away, are you?!"
"No, Sasha."
"Oh," she blinked, her brows furrowing. "Then what do you mean?"
"Look who I found." Jean's voice caused them both to snap their heads up.
On either side of him was a smiling Niccolo and an irked Connie, and from behind them emerged a gleeful Armin. She had never been more grateful to see her best friend. As he was about to hand Mikasa the cup in his hand, Armin realized she was already holding onto one.
"Oh. You have one," Armin blinked. "Guess I'll just take this one, Jean."
"Huh?" he glanced between them. "Oh. Alright."
It was too far of a stretch to say the cohort looked like a bunch of ants from far up on the bleachers, but they did seem really small to Historia. It had been a couple hours since the dance started, it was entirely in full effect now. It was a struggle to even get Ymir to come, but the compromise was that she only had to do one dance and that they had to stay far as hell away from everyone else.
Historia was more than happy with that outcome.
"Do you think we're good people?"
Ymir glanced down at her. "We try, don't we?" Historia nodded. "Well, you try."
"You're a lovely person. You just like to hide it."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't get sappy on me, babe. Seeing Mikasa and Kirstein together is already making my punch taste sad," she told her, causing her love to frown. Ymir hated to see it. "I should have told her how he felt," she continued, sipping on her punch. God it tasted awful. "But I guess I didn't want that psycho ripping my head off a little more than I wanted to see him happy. So I guess that answers my half of your question."
"It wasn't our place to say anything, even if they're just like how we were," Historia replied, her eyes settling on Mikasa from afar. "I feel really bad for them."
"We aren't pussies, though," she came to grin. "We have them, but we aren't them."
Historia rested her head on Ymir's shoulder, sighing. "You're so obsessed with vaginas."
"And I walk my talk," she smirked down at her. "We can go behind the stands on the football field and I can show you."
"No, I'm too sad for that right now," Historia frowned. "And last time I got a rash from the grass being freshly cut."
Ymir slung her arm around her girlfriend's shoulders, rolling her eyes once again. "Alright, buttercup. You've gotta stop letting other people's misfortunes affect you. You know how unliveable life would be if you felt the weight of the world's misery on your shoulders?"
She leaned into the girl, still watching the ground below her. "You're right. I just…I can't imagine what it would be like if we were still like them. The thought of never having you…it's awful. But Eren and Mikasa are living it."
"Look, babe. They're just two idiots, that's all. They either find their way to each other or they won't. Everyone else can try and light the paths for them, but at the end of the day, it's them who have to walk it."
"See? You are poetic," Historia smiled, her eyes drifting towards the moving object in the crowd. She could see Jean making his way up to the DJ booth, reaching into his jacket pocket as he did. "I guess we know how Marco felt. He was 'us' in our version."
"He was you. And you were Eren. I never spoke to the guy, he's too much like a golden retriever and I felt kinda bad for laughing at him when he ate shit in the hallway," she replied, rubbing the girl's bicep. "But, you know. It was funny."
Historia succumbed to a grin. "It was kind of funny."
Mikasa sat alone at one of the crudely decorated tables while Armin disappeared off to the bathroom, still breathing somewhat heavily from all the dancing he convinced her to do. She thought she'd hate coming here, seeing everyone in love, trying to impress one another, watching dorky guys make their way up to the Hitch Dreyse's of the social ladder and try their luck at scoring a dance. But none of that mattered. Whether she was dancing with Armin or picking at finger food with Sasha or listening to Connie spit fire a bunch of jokes about radishes for some reason, it didn't feel like anyone else was around. She thought as soon as she stepped in, they would smell the discomfort on her like they were wolves and she was prey. That they would stare at her, just ogling at her very existence, wondering why she was there—why she thought she belonged with them. But with her friends, the people she loved and cared about more than any discomfort, no one else seemed to matter.
And yet she could only seem to wish that Eren was here, having fun alongside her too.
As she sat there, sipping on a flavour of punch that wasn't nearly as revolting as the pineapple one, the last song finished and everything grew quiet. She stared at a couple on the table in front of her, they sat directly across from each other as they held hands. They leaned in closely, their lips moving as they spoke words of fondness, most likely. Their eyes half lidded, their hearts beating in their ears. Her brain focused entirely on them, feeling the love they emanated as if she was feeling it herself. At the same strength of their love, her heart was in immense pain, gazing into their most intimate moments. As if she were just looking into some gate that led to an alternate universe, and through it she could see Eren and herself in their place. Maybe she was delusional—she'd take that over another second of pretending she didn't love him anymore. She wished he kissed her on that hill. She wished he held her tightly as they laid in his bed. She wished he would have asked her to this stupid dance once and for all.
Her eyes began to sting. Maybe it was time she just went home, forget all of this ever happened. She could finally say she tried going to one of these things, so now she never had to go ever again. She could just go home, get out of this ridiculous dress, cuddle up to Mr Sprinkles on the sofa and sleep the rest of the night away.
Yeah, that sounded good.
As Mikasa stood up, the next song played. And she was certain she was going home…
Until the sound of a familiar pipe organ played.
Her eyes widened a fraction, suddenly she was taken back to the quiet evenings in her room where she played that very song from her stereo. Her favourite song. The one she sat on her bed and listened to as she thought of—
"Mikasa."
Her eyes travelled up before her head turned.
Jean was standing there, a serious pull on his features.
Her brows furrowed. "They're…they're playing Blue Light. They're playing Mazzy Star." She stood out from her chair, glancing over to the end of the gym where the DJ was holed up.
"I know. I asked them to." Mikasa turned to him, finding his hand extended out to her. "You, uh. You wanna dance?"
She blinked rapidly at his gesture, racking her brain to know if this was really happening. Jean stared at her with his usual stoicism, a feat of caution and hope lacing his features. She was hesitant, so damn hesitant. All she wanted was to go home. But she thought if it were Connie or Armin doing this for her, would she say no to them?
Jean had always told her; friends is what they were, first and foremost. And he was a great friend. She trusted him wholly, just like she trusted he wasn't going to let anything get in the way of that.
Mikasa hid her apprehension and took his hand, allowing Jean to lead her into the middle of the dance floor. He gracefully pulled her into his hold, gently, he steadied the both of them.
"I-I've never slow danced," she mumbled. "I didn't even know I could dance until tonight."
"Just think of it like when we're practicing on the board," he told her, allowing his hands to slide up against her waist. "I hold you, you hold me. And you let me guide you."
Mikasa nodded, inhaling deeply through her nose before she placed both hands on either side of his arms. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as he swayed them from side to side, loathing the dryness in her mouth.
Jean was holding her, and she was holding him, and her favourite song was playing while they danced together in their school gym. She couldn't have pictured herself in a stranger scenario. Her eyes flickered towards the table where she previously was; Armin had returned from the bathroom now and he was sitting in her seat, watching them. The light that blared down at them made it harder for her to see her friend in the bluesy darkness of the gym, but she could feel his eyes burn into her skin, all while shame wrought her veins. She didn't want to know what he was thinking.
When she glanced back up at Jean, she hated that she half expected to be holding onto someone else. And she hated the feeling in the pit of her gut right now, just like she hated how he looked down at her like he didn't want to let go. These lyrics were lyrics she only thought about one person to, and he wasn't here. She kept closing her eyes to rid the image him, persisting to stay present with Jean, here and now. But how could she? How could she forget Eren when she spent countless nights listening to this song, thinking of what it would be like to lay in the darkness of his room with him? He was everything to her – she could only fool herself for so long, dance with someone else as much as she could, but in the end, it all came back to him. It always came back to him. No matter how hard she tried to move on, there was no one like him. No one so perfect for her like the boy who made her feel alive.
The eyes of the whole world started to rip at her skin. It felt like the entire room was watching her dance with somebody she didn't love, like she was a liar. An imposter. That feeling of carelessness, of fun that she was having with Armin and Sasha and Connie, it all disappeared. She caught some girl in the corner of her eye, one that Jean was talking to last week, just grimacing at them as they danced. Mikasa could tell she would do anything to be in her position right now, and she wanted to be in hers, too. Because she couldn't do this, she didn't want this.
Amidst her panic, she failed to realize just how much she had been staring into Jean's eyes, seeing the image of Eren flicker onto his face. Jean had mistaken it – of course he did – for something it wasn't, completely unaware that she wasn't looking at him, but rather looking through him. His hand travelled from her waist up to her neck and he gently caressed it, allowing his thumb to glide against the softness of her jaw. The sensation was enough to knock all the sense in the world into her and heave her back into reality.
Her chest tightened, her breathing hitched, her eyes shut tightly–
Out.
Get out now.
Mikasa frantically pulled away, her breathing erratic as Jean's features fell into perplexity. They shared an extensive gaze as she tried to calm herself, her hand reaching up to her chest. It was like the air was cement, like it was a billion degrees in this stupid gym and everyone just kept. fucking. staring.
Not even Mazzy Star could ground her now.
Mikasa tore through the crowd of slow-dancing teenagers to flee the gymnasium. She went for the exit that Armin was the furthest from in a bid to not be followed. She burst through the swinging doors, desperate for air to enter her constricted lungs. Mikasa gripped the guardrail of the platform in an attempt to calm herself down, shutting her eyes to rid the image of Eren once again.
Is this what dying feels like? Jesus Christ.
The sound of the doors opening caused her to jump, her hand still emblazoned over her chest as she tried to breathe. Jean had followed her.
"Hey, you alright?" He made his way up to her, panicked himself. When she felt his hand on her arm, she stepped back, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry," she forced out, pacing her breaths. "I'm sorry, Jean—"
"It's alright, take it easy. I just…I wanna make sure you're okay."
As her breathing finally began to slow, she nodded her head. "I'm fine. I'm fine." Mikasa swallowed, hanging her head as a steady rhythm found her heartbeat. Jean slowly approached her again, prompting her to place her hand on his chest. She forced a smile. "I'm okay. I promise. Just…needed some air," she glanced up at him, nodding as convincingly as she could. She studied the look in his eyes, her features wobbling as she recognised it as the same one Eren seemed to give her – the one that made her feel light on her feet. Jean was silent. Strangely silent. "Really, I'm okay," she assured him, but he gave her no answer, continuing to lose himself in her eyes.
After a moment, Jean gently reached for her hand that pressed against his chest. Her breathing had found a peaceful cadence, but the uneasiness she felt was proving otherwise. Her contrived smile fell at his odd behaviour, and she watched him as he kept hesitating to speak. She could feel his heart racing from under his chest, her eyes flickering down to the grasp he had on her hand.
"Jean?"
And as it happened so quickly, she could only watch as he brought her forward, held her face with both of his hands, and pushed his lips against hers.
At their collision, Mikasa instantly forced him away, stumbling back into the guardrail as she slapped her hand over her mouth. Her head slowly shook, but her body was still with shock as Jean stared at her, wide-eyed, and almost as aghast as she was.
What the hell did he just do?
"Shit…" he breathed. "Mikasa, I—" Halting, he exhaled, turning from her as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Fuck."
"No…" she mumbled, continuing to shake her head. "No Jean…that's not what I want."
He nodded as he slowly paced, indignant of himself. "Yeah. I know." He bit at his lower lip, rubbing his chin as the guilt jarred him. "It's what I want."
Mikasa stood there, unsure of what to do. She couldn't believe it—she couldn't believe he did what he just did. She was such an idiot for landing herself in this situation, why the hell didn't she just go with her gut?
"I'm sorry," was all she thought to say. "I'm sorry, I don't—"
"Don't apologize." He snapped his head towards her. "God, why are you apologizing?"
She didn't even know. Her shoulders shrugged. "You matter to me…but…"
"But not like him?" He stared at her, finding her speechless. "If Eren was going to be with you, he'd have done it by now."
The thought of Eren enraged him to his very core. He didn't get it—after all he was doing, being there for her, taking her out, trying to show her a good time, he didn't get why Armin was right. He didn't understand why she didn't want this as much as he did.
Mikasa faltered at the bitterness of his voice.
"So was this your plan? Tear me down until I cave in and decide to love you?"
Jean blinked rapidly, taken aback. "What? I— How could you say that?"
"Everyone warned me, Jean! Everyone could see it from a mile away!" Mikasa balled her fists, grimacing at him. "I gave you the benefit of the doubt—you're a good friend, you really are, and I put that above everything else like you said you would. But you screwed me around. You just wanted something out of me—!"
"That's not what this is," he eagerly assured her, stepping forward. "Believe me, you don't think I tried to keep it all separate? I…" Jean shut his eyes, exhaling as he tried to compose himself. "I just lose it around you, okay? That's it. That's what it is. There's no long-winded plan to butter you up and keep you for myself. I don't want to make you love me against your will. I try to treat you like I treat Sasha, like one of my best friends. Because you are. But…" he began to frown. "But when you're not, you're…you're someone who's always in the back of my mind. Doesn't matter what I'm doing. Driving to school, trying to sleep." Jean lowered his head, his brows furrowing with hesitation. "I see you in my dreams, Mikasa. You're who I want to be with. For…for the rest of my life, even. You're all I see."
Her features crumpled, vigorously, she shook her head. "Don't. Don't do that to me."
"No, I…I need you to hear this." He came closer to her, almost pleadingly, as she backed up against the guardrail.
"I don't want to," she glanced away, her lip wobbling. "I can't."
"Because it's not coming from him?" Mikasa froze at his words, exchanging a look of despair with him. "I know you want him. Love him, or whatever. You think he has no idea how close he is to having you, but the reality of it all is that he's too weak to do anything about it."
"Just stop—"
"Stop what? Telling you the truth?" Jean huffed, shaking his head. "That's not who I am. You need to know that you deserve better than someone like him. You don't deserve some idiot who won't even—"
"He's not an idiot!" Mikasa bit back, her voice strengthening against his. "He's not!" Jean watched as her eyes watered, shaking her head at his words. She faltered. "Why does everyone call him that?"
Jean parted his lips in dismay – her change in demeanour was rapid, from vehemently defending Eren to feeling sorrowful of how he was perceived. What was so good about him? What did Eren have to make her feel so intensely for him that he didn't?
"What do you really see in him? What? Because the whole world wants to know—what could you possibly see in a guy like him?"
Trembling, Mikasa's eyes hit the ground. "Say what you what, Jean. But you don't know anything about me–not like Eren does. All the bad stuff, all the things that haunt me. And he doesn't treat me any different. He doesn't see me as some poor victim of a life I didn't choose to have. You're just in love with…with this image of me, one that you made. He distracts me from everything that's shitty in this fucking world and he makes me happy." Finally, she looked to him, tears falling from her eyes. "Why can't I have that?"
Jean faltered, a curve to his brow as he crumbled at her sorrow. "I want you to have that…" he spoke gently, hopefully, shortening the gap between them as he held her arms. "I can give that to you."
Mikasa frowned up at him, blinking away at her tears. "You belong to someone who will give it back," she told him, watching him depress. "And I'm sorry. But that isn't me."
He lowered his head, inhaling as he fought with himself to release his grasp. He allowed his hands to softly trail up and down the smoothness of her skin.
"What don't I have?" he quietly asked. "Tell me what you need from me and I'll be that."
Mikasa exhaled, shaking her head. "There's nothing bad about you, Jean. Some girl is going to be lucky to have you," she assured him. "She'll want a guy who can keep a level head, who believes in things without dying on a hill over it. She'll want a guy who wins, who leads. Who gets everything they want. Some girl is going to love you for all of that." She stared up at him, studying his sombre features. "But it's not what I want."
Finally, Jean looked at her, staring into what felt like her soul. "You want…some guy who can't keep his mouth shut?" He asked her, truly unable to know if he'd be content with her answer. Guiltily, Mikasa nodded. It was all he needed to let her go for the last time, his arms returning by his side. Jean exhaled. "Alright," he mumbled, giving her space again.
She lowered her head, holding her arms. "I'm sorry," she repeated, attempting to ease his pain. "I am."
Jean shook his head. "I can't hold it against you."
"I wouldn't blame you if you did."
"No." His features warped with sorrow. "As much as I want it to change…we're friends. Like I said. That comes first."
She wanted happiness. As much as he wanted to be the reason she felt it, from the depths of his heart, he knew he wasn't. Like Armin said, he only had the key for it, at the sake of his own.
Jean planted his hands on the tops of her shoulders. "Eren wanted you to know he was sorry. For all that shit he put you through. That maniac came running all the way here to find you because he wanted you to know," he quietly told her. Suddenly, he stared her in her incredulous eyes. "Listen to me, Mikasa. Don't waste anymore time. If I were him and you loved me, I'd wanna know," he assured her. "I'm sure there's a ton of things he'd like to say to you, but on the off chance I'm wrong," he felt himself shrug, "there won't be a loss. You're still his best friend. The one thing that guy cares about the most in this world is his friends."
Mikasa inhaled, her brows furrowing at his words. She slowly came to a nod. "You're right," she said, her tone indicating nothing short of revelation.
"Yeah. I know," he breathed, conflicted with himself. Jean looked down, face riddled with that returning guilt. "I'm sorry I kissed you. I just thought…" he dropped his gaze, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter."
"I get it," she quietly told him. "I'm sorry if you thought I, um, you know…" Jean watched her as she spoke, as if reality hadn't come crashing down hard enough. "I won't hold this against you."
"Yeah. Appreciated." He nodded, soon folding his arms. "Come on. Let's get back to the others."
However, Mikasa stood still.
"Jean," she called to him, catching his attention as he turned, his hand on the door. Mikasa nodded at him for a final time. "Tell the others I'll see them later."
By the time Eren got to the hill, it started to pour down with rain. With tear-stricken features, he trekked all the way up there in a bid to calm himself down before he dared to show his face at home. But upon arrival, he bore his eyes into the patch of grass that had worn away – the spot he and Mikasa always sat at, sipping on slurpees and laughing until their heart's content. It didn't prove to be as effective as it was in the past, in fact, it only made everything so much worse, and defeated, Eren went home.
His mother watched hopefully as he entered through the door, expecting a familiar face to follow him in, but upon noticing the glassiness of his eyes and the downturn of his features, she faltered.
Eren hadn't cried in his mother's arm since he was little.
There was something so cathartic about losing himself to all his pain in the safest of arms possible. He felt compelled to tell her absolutely everything, from his realization that night last summer to how horribly he treated the girl he loved, all while she stroked his hair. Differently to how she would usually handle all of his woes, she stopped offering solutions, merely explaining how she understood his frightened yet wrong actions. Carla gave her son warmth; she gave him unconditional aid to the fracture of his heart, despite his own doing. His mother was like a band-aid, like chicken noodle soup for the soul, a warm blanket for his cold, rigid body.
"I love you so much," she whispered against his forehead, her lips pressing onto his skin as she embraced him. "This won't last forever, I promise."
Reverting back to the child he used to be partially angered him – his lack of growth is what caused this mess in the first place, but his outrage was futile in the presence of his mother. Eren used to be so emphatic around her, whether he was joyous or irritated, he made it known to her through shouting or arguing. In recent years, he found himself winding down. His tongue was held or his voice was low. There was no rise out of him, even when provoked by her motherly poise.
Carla would eventually encourage him to take a shower while she reheated his dinner. Thankfully, Zeke was back in Point Marley and his father was filling in for the late-night practitioner at his clinic, so Eren could be a suffering mess in peace, only his mother to bear witness to his pathetic nature. He wanted a conversation to be had about switching to another school, hopefully one that was in a district zone as far as possible, but it was one for tomorrow when he wasn't so miserable.
After picking at his food for twenty minutes, Eren retreated back upstairs into the darkness of his bedroom. He laid flat on his bed staring up at the moonlit ceiling, and flatlining. For the first time without the presence of Mikasa, his mind remained utterly quiet, almost as if seventeen years' worth of pandemonium had finally come to an end. Like he was the one person left in a stadium that was only just filled with crowds. It was completely foreign to him to lack the imagination he usually had – he thought he would have made up alternate scenarios of his encounter with Jean by now, one where he probably knocked him clean out and won the girl, something cliché like the movies. But Eren had given up on his childish way of thinking, too little too late perhaps, though it was better late than never. If what happened wasn't a wake-up call to get his life back in order, even without Mikasa, then what would be?
His cell phone sat on the nightstand, suddenly buzzing. Eren felt half inclined not to answer it, knowing it would just be his father telling him he was getting in the car, a habit of his to let either Eren or Carla know he was on his way back home. His first wife, Zeke's mother, died suddenly in a car accident. He never really spoke of her and neither did Zeke, but strange habits formed out of his grief, like how he ended every phone call with 'I love you', even after the shouting matches he and Zeke partook in whenever they disagreed over the phone. Or why he wouldn't turn the car on until everyone had their seatbelt on, or why he waited three seconds after the light turned green to move forward in an intersection (the last of which Eren hated the most—they were constantly honked at for it).
The buzzing continued for a while despite his wishes for it to quit. Part of him just hoped he would give up and call Carla instead, while the other felt guilty for shutting his father out.
Eren reached for his phone, eyes glued to the ceiling as he flicked it up and answered.
"Yeah?" He sighed into it.
"Hey."
Eren felt it natural to hear the pleasantness of her voice in his vague state of mind, but when he realized what was actually happening, it was as if all of his senses came back to life. A sudden rejuvenation ran course through his blood, and swiftly, his eyes shot open from their lifeless state.
But he was mute.
"…Eren?"
"Mikasa?" His hands begun to shake. "You're calling…?"
She huffed on the other end of the line. "Yeah. I am."
What was happening? What the hell was happening? How could he be at such a complete loss for words? After sprinting for ten minutes straight with the perfect script lined up and ready to go, he was more dumbfounded right now than he'd ever been.
"H-How was the dance?" he decided to ask, stupidly. Couldn't he think of anything better to say? Like how the stars aligned when she looked at him, and how idiotic he was for ever letting her think she was unworthy of being the constellations for him? My god, this was another goddamn chance.
"Eren…do you wanna come over?" She seemed to ignore his question.
His stomach dropped. "…Really? You're being serious?"
"More than I've ever been."
Of course. Of course he wanted to go over, but he was puzzled, so fucking puzzled.
"I thought you hated me."
Her end of the line was quiet. Eventually, he could have sworn he heard her sigh.
"No. I don't hate you," she sorrowfully replied. "Will you come over?"
Blinking, he nodded, knowing full well she couldn't see him. "Yeah… okay," he agreed. "Wait, what about Levi?"
"He's not here. He won't know."
That was a relief, though his stomach still churned.
"Mikasa, I…I don't feel better. I didn't say all that for me, it was never for me. It was for you. You needed to know how much I hate myself for putting you through all of that," he blurted into the receiver. "And I need to tell you—"
"Eren," she stopped him. "Just come over, okay?"
With the air escaping him, he foolishly nodded once more.
"Okay."
It didn't take long for Eren to snatch his board up and race downstairs. His mother had made herself comfortable on the sofa, watching some game show as he trudged through the house, urgent as ever.
"Eren? Where are you going?" She sat up, brows furrowing with concern.
"To make it right," he told her, letting the door slam behind him.
Uncertainty plagued him, but his body took him as fast as he could possibly go, drenching himself in the October rain once again. It was a relief to hear she didn't hate him, though he wasn't so sure he could believe her. Why wouldn't she hate him? After all he put her through, he deserved nothing more than her resentment. It wasn't like her to throw herself back in harm's way, not without a good reason.
You'd be very surprised to know what the mind, body, and heart can endure.
Eren skidded to halt just in front of her driveway. He wouldn't allow endurance to be an excuse for the misery he bestowed on her, all he could do was what he set out to do the second he went running into school grounds – make it right.
He picked up his board, continuing to be pelted by raindrops, and took himself over to her front door. Inhaling as deeply as he could, Eren prayed to whatever God he didn't even believe in that Levi wasn't about to answer, and raised his fist to knock on the door.
But before he could, it opened before him.
Mikasa's expression was completely absent as she locked eyes with Eren, the door widening to reveal the rest of her. His lips parted at the sight of her dress, and out came the breath he bid himself to hold – he'd never seen her in anything like it. Gone were the dreary layers of black, black, and black, encompassing her figure in sheer blue fabric. Her frosty eyes were glittery, her hair was sleek, the skin of her arms were visible for the first time since summer, reminding him of their smooth, opaque appearance.
"You're drenched," she said.
The sound of her voice jolted him back to life, his wet hair clinging to his forehead. "I know."
"You didn't drive?"
"Dad had to work tonight. He…drove past me on the way here, actually." He then swallowed, stepping forward. "Listen, Mikasa. I have to tell you something."
"You should come inside first."
Eren faltered at how casual her tone was. "This can't wait any longer—"
"Eren," she stopped him, staring up at him through the bottom of her brows. "Please. Come in."
They shared a tense moment of silence – neither of them would give in, and she was startling when she was serious. As entrancing as her beauty seemed to be, her stern features brought even more worry to his mind. Would she have called him over to tell him she and Jean were more than friends? Would she act on the disdain she would so rightfully feel for him and rub it in his face?
No, Mikasa wasn't like that. She could anger, she could grit her teeth and call you exactly what you were, but she was far from a nasty person. Mikasa knew patience, and because of her, so did he. She instilled it in him the very second she spoke his name, even if the word vomit that was his complete and utter admiration was bubbling up to the surface. Maybe she was about to sit him down and grill him for everything he'd done, and he would agree ten times over that he more than deserved it.
So Eren stepped forward, completely enraptured by her as he mindlessly sat his board against the wall, and entered her home. He closed the door behind him and followed her down the hallway where just outside her bedroom door was a pair of heels. It made him realize quite quickly that without any shoes on, Mikasa was much smaller than he typically saw of her. Those platform boots she wore to school everyday had her creeping past the height of Armin and just up to his own nose. But as she walked him to her room, she glanced back at him, having to look just a little higher than usual.
As they entered her tight-knit bedroom, soft music emanating from her stereo, she barely closed the door behind her. Her Hello Kitty bedside lamp lit up the room, gleaming its gentle orange hue. Mikasa went over to her stack of CDs as Eren, with all his nerves buzzing around in his body, sat down on her bed, swallowing to ease the dryness of his mouth. While her back was turned, his eyes travelled over to her ankle-length dress, the light altering its periwinkle into more of a lavender. He was still in awe of the fact that she was even wearing it, still shocked that she could look amazing in absolutely anything she wore. Without feeling too sick to his stomach, he could only imagine how Jean must have felt seeing her like that the whole night. How it was meant to be him before it was ever going to be that asshat.
"That color looks really nice on you."
"Jean said the same thing," she replied, casually sifting through the CDs on her dresser. He pursed his lips.
Alright. Okay. He deserved that.
When she finally settled on a CD to listen to, she swapped it into her stereo and turned back around to face him. Her hardened, aloof stare had dissipated as she met his eyes, engulfed by the same expression of tension that plagued his. Eren suddenly alit at the sound of the song – it was that Mazzy Star track she once told him was her favourite.
"I remember this. You burned it for me," he told her, the corner of his lips slightly upturning. "It was on the first CD you ever gave—"
"Do you mind standing up?"
His brows curved at the type and suddenness of her request. She was acting stranger than ever, harbouring an odd calmness whenever she spoke. He couldn't settle in her presence like he used to. No, was he over thinking it? Maybe she wanted to be shown his respect so that he would stand as she chewed him out, or maybe she just didn't want his damp clothes on her bed.
"Sorry," he stood, inhaling as he peered down at her.
Still completely unreadable, Mikasa slowly stepped over to him, staring directly into his eyes as she did. He gently reared his head back from how close she suddenly became, losing his breath at her proximity. Her room was pretty small after all.
"You didn't come with us tonight," she finally spoke, almost as if she were disappointed in him.
Eren side-eyed her dresser. "I wasn't planning on it."
"Well," she lowered her head. "You missed out. We all got to dance."
"Even you?" he asked, receiving her nod in response.
"But not you."
"Guess not," he mumbled.
She finally found the courage to glance back up at him, witnessing the hesitancy in his features. He stared back at her, noting the newfound tenderness of her expression – the slight pout of her lips, the furrowing of her brow, all while her gaze was ungodly fastened to his.
Mikasa inhaled.
"Do you want to dance, Eren?"
Something crumbled within his chest the second the words left her mouth. His hands came to shake at the very thought of placing them on her.
As she stared up at him, beautifully cautious, Eren nodded his head.
"Yeah."
Her chest fell as she exhaled the breath she fearfully clung onto to. She tried to steady her jittering hands as they eased up onto his shoulders, swallowing the beat of her own heart in the pit of her throat.
Eren let his hands meet her waist, stepping ever so slightly closer to her as they swayed along to the music. His mind, as always, fell silent in her presence, allowing a state of mind worth putting tunnel vision to shame. All he could do was focus on her. Not a couple hours ago was he desiring this very instance amidst the carnage in his mind, feeling like he knew what it felt like to die. He was just rotting away in his room, convinced he missed his chance at redeeming himself to the girl he loved more than anything. Now, peace overcame him. In her grasp, staring into those eyes – how couldn't he fall into serenity?
No, what was wrong with him? This was his final fucking chance. All he had to do was open his stupid mouth and talk about how she was the first thing to come to his mind when he wakes up in the morning. How he couldn't stop seeing her all over his room and everywhere he goes. How shitty he's been to her and how he'll die atoning for it if he had to.
All he had to say was—
"I…um…I wanted to tell you something. Something about the dance," Mikasa spoke up, snapping him out of his trance. His heart sank. Is it Jean? Does she love him? Is this all just a way to soften the blow? Did they fuck? Oh god, did they fu— "So…I actually had a really good time. Everyone showed up, I met Niccolo, Connie and Sasha were dancing around like idiots." Eren huffed. "And I didn't realize how much I'd love dancing with Armin," she finally smiled, her gaze settling on his chest as she recollected the memory. "I didn't expect him to be such a fan of Kelly Clarkson, either. I think he likes Since U Been Gone a little more than the next person, only because I couldn't hear the music over him screaming the lyrics, but…it was nice to see him enjoying himself. And, you know, stranger things have happened."
Eren couldn't help but also smile, smitten by the joy on her face. "Yeah. They have."
Her head lowered, her features finding a seriousness. "When you're having that much fun, you kind of forget that other people are around you. Even though I thought I'd hate going to something like this, I still felt alright. I didn't feel like the odd one out or like I was being watched the whole time. Every time I held hands and swung around with Armin or laughed so loud with Sasha, I didn't care about anyone else. They didn't even exist to me. And so… when Jean and I finally danced…" Eren stopped breathing, searching her face for any shred of satisfaction, any dead giveaways that what he was about to hear was going to utterly destroy him. However, Mikasa shook her head. "Something felt wrong. It was like the whole world was staring at me like I'd done something wrong. Like I wasn't supposed to be there. And I tried to hide my face, I tried to close my eyes, but while I was standing there, holding him…" Finally, she glanced back into his eyes, her breathing hitching at the sight of his anticipation. "The whole time, I…I wanted to be holding you."
Eren's eyes were immoveable from hers. His body was on complete and total autopilot while suddenly, every coherent thought he seemed to have were fighting each other in a free-for-all. It was one thing to be fed crumbs of what could possibly be, have friends try to steer him in the right direction in the hopes that he would get the point, but when the love of his life, the girl herself looked him straight in the eyes and said it blatantly so, it was like his entire being fell into a vortex.
Here he was holding her, swaying her, definitively sure she was worth ending the world for, and he was stunned into total silence.
Mikasa's brows slowly came to a furrow, her nerves worsening by the second. Moments continued to go by and nothing had come of her honesty. It was exactly what she dreaded, what years of apprehension was about.
"I…you…" he finally croaked out, blinking at her as the air escaped him yet again. "Mikasa…wh-what am I to you?" he asked her like the fool he was.
She breathed, her grip on his shoulders tightening. "You're…you're all I've wanted for so long." It all unravelled from her chest, no longer was she holding it in. "Do you hear what I'm saying? I…I wanna be more than this, Eren. I wanna be more than friends."
Hearing her words took him to another plane of existence. His awestruck features settled into something far more than bewilderment, something his heart couldn't describe. Her beauty, her eagerness, her touch – he was completely infatuated as he stood slack-jawed in disbelief.
Mikasa wanted him the same way he wanted her.
There was no more fear, no more doubt, no more questioning in his mind. No more whispers, no more interferences, no more hoping and waiting and wondering if she would ever love him the way he loved her.
The way he always loved her.
But Mikasa found the bearing of her heart fruitless, her hope was beginning to wane. All he was doing was staring at her, assumingly disgusted she dared to turn this into something it wasn't.
Mikasa forced her hands to fall from his shoulders. It was only fair she received the same fate as Jean did.
The universe was just being fair.
"I get it. I'm sorry." She stepped away, turning her back from him.
Snapping himself out of it, Eren shook his head. "No, wait—"
"It's alright. I deserve it. Just forget this—"
Mikasa felt herself be whipped around – her eyes were open for no more than a second before the sensation of Eren's lips discovered hers, his hands holding her face for dear life. The force of their collision sent her backing up against the dresser where perfume bottles and photo frames tumbled over.
In utter shock, she found herself pulling out of their kiss, locking eyes with him as he bore his own into her. The air became thick. She was always fond of his passion no matter the aspects it resonated in, but that one action? That one decision to use it on her?
That was how she loved it the most.
Almost in unison, they returned to their united state in haste, holding each other's faces as a hunger formed in the pit of their guts. This was all they ever wanted, what years of chasing, and yearning, and dreaming amounted to. Her lips were softer than he ever could have imagined, and it pained him to have to pull away, but he couldn't get ahead himself.
For the longest of time, he had something to tell her.
Eren separated his lips from hers, allowing the chance for them to regain their breaths. He rested his forehead against hers as his hands still cradled her smitten face.
"You've always been everything to me – you've always been more than a friend," he spoke quietly, struggling to keep his lips from hers. "It was this. This is what I was scared to tell you…it—" A lump formed in his throat. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry—"
"Stop. It's okay."
"It's not. I fucked this up so bad. I didn't realize what I was doing to you, putting you through all this bullshit. You deserved none of it. I thought I was being mature by pushing you away, but in the end I'm still just a worthless fucking kid." Mikasa faltered at his words, rearing her head back. "But you know what? I'm not gonna lie to myself anymore. I love you. Fuck, I need you. For so long, I've needed you—"
"Eren—"
"I should have told you sooner. I should have told you the second I realized it. I'm so sorry, Mikasa. I'm sorry for what I've done—for everything. You don't have to forgive me. If you need time, I get it." His hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her closer to him again. "But come back. Please, come back to me. I can't go another second without you."
As her mouth sat agape, Mikasa blinked up at him, studying the agony in his features.
"I..." she breathed, seldom blinking. "I'll never leave." Eren shut his eyes in relief, the air escaping from him. "I promise." She raised her hand to gently caress the side of his face, her eyes studying the alleviation of his visage. "After all this time you… How could you be scared?"
Eren lowered his head. "I…I had no idea you felt this way. I thought I was the only one. And if you didn't feel the same…I was worried you were gonna think I was only around because I liked you."
"No. No, Eren." Mikasa shook her head at him, raising his chin to have him look her in the eyes. "You think I burned you CDs for fun? It took me so long to learn how to do that."
"Yeah…sorry about that." He rubbed her arm, attempting to hold back a grin.
"I've…I've always felt this way about you. All I've ever wanted was to be with you, Eren. You make all of this worth living for. The things you do to me, I…I can't even explain it. I can never want anyone the way I want you," she told him, staring up into his eyes.
His lips parted again, drawing himself closer to her as relief came over him. "I like hearing you say that."
Mikasa nodded in response, the faintest of smiles resonating on her features as she became entranced by his eagerness yet again. She gazed directly at Eren's lips as he pushed a lock of her hair aside, his eyes half-lidded. Their lips met once again by her own volition, and at the sensation of their kiss, time stood still. What was seconds felt like hours in each other's embrace.
When they pulled away, they didn't seem to truly separate. Mikasa studied his face. Eren lost himself in her eyes. It was a lethal game neither of them were willing to lose.
"I wish you had kissed me sooner," she told him.
He came to nod. "I'll make up for it."
Eren pressed his lips against hers once more as Mikasa deepened their kiss. Still bound together, she shifted out from against the dresser and backed up until she got to her bed, sitting herself down as Eren hovered over her. Gently, he leaned her back until she was lying flat, unable to stop himself from crawling on top of her. Mikasa's hands glided along his arms until they reached the sleekness of his neck, her fingertips sliding into the back of his hair.
One more time, Eren pulled away, allowing himself a moment to take her beauty in. She stared up at him, a redness to her cheeks. Both of them were flushed, each other's warmth finding them in the usual coldness of her home.
They smiled at each other.
The drive back from Erwin's was a lengthy one, being that the city's nightlife was ripe on a Saturday evening. Traffic was a bitch as usual and Levi found his eyelids getting heavier as he stared into the back of some guy's souped up Audi.
Erwin was his usual self tonight, listening intently to Levi's strife only to throw curveballs in his way of thinking. But Levi had little to grumble about tonight – Mikasa was finally listening to him. She was moving on from Eren like he told her to, and slowly but surely, she was going to be how she used to. She would talk to him again, ask him questions, take quick goddamn showers. He knew it was stupidly hopeful to wish she would in some way regress back to her child self, stupidly impossible as well, but some irrational part of him thought maybe, just maybe, Mikasa would wake up one morning and remember that above all, he loved her more than anything in the world. That she wouldn't mistake his concern as a bid to control her life, and that she would allow him to be truthful to her like he always was.
That when something or someone was no good for her, she would believe him.
He wouldn't admit his true thoughts to his friend. He could barely admit it to himself. So while he sat there gleefully for once (well, as gleeful as Levi Ackerman could ever find himself), almost raving about how Mikasa was taking one of the other dorks to some shitty school dance instead of Eren, Erwin curbed the conversation.
And Erwin, like his usual self, managed to trap Levi into divulging more of his romantic life with Petra.
"Well, she knows about Mikasa now."
"As she should."
Levi lowered his eyes. "You know anything about her past?"
"Nothing outside of her studies or credentials. Why is that? Did something come up on your date?"
He shook his head. "Sounds like she was wronged. Shitty ex-boyfriend or whatever, might be some scars there." Then, his eyes snapped over to Erwin's. "How the fuck did you know about our date?"
He paused for a moment. "Do I really have to say?"
Levi let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Between you and Hange gossiping like high schoolers, I won't have to mention anything soon enough. You'll just fucking know like the annoying little flies on the walls that you are. Tch."
Erwin withheld a grin. "You sped to the woman's house with Hange in your back seat – what did you truly expect?"
"Some dignity."
How ironic.
When he arrived home, he killed the ignition to his sedan and stepped out into the rain. He wondered when he would get to see her again – the creamy complexion of her skin, the brightness of her smile. Wondered when he'd find her touch on his body if the gods ever willed it. It was a quick and easy descent into rumination because he would never admit it to be daydreaming. Though, Levi knew quite well how fast it could all disappear on him, how nothing lasted forever no matter how badly he yearned for it.
Disappointment was nowhere near foreign to the man, and as he locked his car and walked up to his porch, it had never rung so true. Sitting up against the wall of his home, rainwater lazily trickling down it, was a skateboard. Not Mikasa's, not Jean's, not Connie's, or Sasha's, or Armin's.
Eren's skateboard. With the shitty stickers and the burgundy wheels.
Levi figured it was ridiculous of him to shove down that feeling of uneasiness when he watched Mikasa and Jean stroll down his driveway. Despite his hope, he could never shake the truth that he was realist. He knew something was off from the get-go, knew Mikasa couldn't just 'get over him' like he fucking told her to.
Quietly, Levi took his keys and readied them to unlock the door. But before he did, something compelled him to try the doorknob first. Finding it spun and opened, he grumbled at the fact that Mikasa forgot to lock it behind her. He came to rationalize the situation, even as that same uneasiness overcame him – maybe all the brats were about to show up and Eren simply got here first. Maybe Eren was grabbing some things he left behind a few months ago, never to return to their house ever again.
As he stepped inside, careful not to make any noise, he loathed how quietly still everything was. Usually, it was blissful to come home to such a peaceful, inoffensive condition, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. All the lights were off, the TV was off, and as he closed the door behind him, shutting out the blaring sound of the rainfall, he came to realize the only noise he could hear emanated from Mikasa's bedroom. There was that soft hum of music that was familiar with her presence, and with the house entirely dark now, he could see the light from her room painting a sliver of the floorboards in the hallway.
Maybe they were studying. Quietly. Efficiently. They must have been paired up for a project against her will and now they were trying to get on top of it, probably due on Monday or some crap, hence the timing. That was exactly what he was about to walk in on, just as he had many times in the past. Eren used to come over to study all the time.
The closer Levi was nearing to her room, the more uncertain of his theories he became. He could hear a creak of the bed, the low mumbling of voices, giggles even. No, it was the music, that's what he was hearing. It had to be.
As he reached her door, a sizeable gap allowing him sight into her room, Levi's wired eyes fell upon the bed. Mikasa laid flat across it as Eren hovered on top of her, nuzzling his lips into her neck as she giggled and squirmed, gasping for air. He watched her head fall back with laughter and her eyes squeeze shut as Eren continued to leave a trail of kisses along her neck and jaw, his hands exploring her body as he tickled her.
Levi grimaced.
And to think he was having a good day today.
With all the disgust in the world, Levi forced the door open, slamming it against the dresser. Eren tore away from her, almost falling on his ass as he jumped from the bed. With wide, terrified eyes, Mikasa shot up at the sight of her cousin, absent of any more of her fucking giggles.
"Shit yourself, Yaeger?" Levi glared something fierce, grimmer than anything he ever looked upon Eren with. "Don't worry if you didn't. If you don't get the hell out of my house within the next five seconds, I'll see to it personally that you're shitting into a bag through your stomach for the rest of your goddamn life."
"Hey!" Mikasa grit her teeth.
Steadying himself, outrage overcame the boy. "No, you know what—what the hell have I ever done to you!?"
Levi huffed some semblance of a laugh, his features remaining stoic. "It's a little loud in here. Didn't exactly catch what you said over this music. Maybe, for your sake, you didn't say anything at all," he warned.
Mikasa watched as Eren, quite stupidly, jammed his finger onto the 'open' button of her stereo and halted the music. Her forehead fell into her hand as she shook her head.
Levi stared at him.
"You weren't—you can't just—why are you always ruining everything?!" Eren spluttered, balling his fists by his side.
"Don't talk about ruining, kid. That's all you Yaeger's do. You ruin people."
Taken by perplexity, Mikasa blinked. "What the hell are you even talking about? You're not any making sense!"
"What do you know about me, huh? About my family?" Eren continued. "Stop acting like you're the only person who cares about her! I care about Mikasa just as much as you do!"
Levi stepped up to the taller boy, rage contorting his features. "Listen to me, shit-stain. The only thing you care about is getting your dick wet, just like every guy your age. You don't give a shit about her the way you think you do. You never have." His hands suddenly gripped Eren's shirt as he yanked him forward, their faces mere inches away. "So get your scrawny ass out of here before I give your dad another patient to play doctor on."
Almost as if a surge of electricity ran through her, Mikasa jumped from her bed, scrambling to get in between the two. "Stop it!" she demanded as she forcibly separated him from Eren, pushing him back. "You have to stop! I'm not a little girl anymore—I can't fucking breathe when you act like this!"
"Don't talk to me that way—"
"What is it with you?!" She doubled down. "Why are you always trying to make sure no one can come near me? You act like you're my father, but the truth is you're not! You never have been! It's like everything you do is to show you're doing a better job than Kenny or your mom ever could. Well, I'm not your redemption story, I'm me—I'm my own fucking person! When will it ever get through to you?!"
Abhorred, the words that left her mouth cut him. He had no doubt in his mind that she was sitting on that for a while, that her true feelings finally had its way and came to light. Even Eren seemed taken aback by it all. And yet, despite his pain, despite years' worth of love for her being absolutely trampled on, he couldn't bring himself to find restraint in light of her anger like he typically could.
All he knew was fury.
Levi got in her face, his forehead butting right up against hers. "God fucking damn it you are the most spoiled brat I have ever met in my life. I have done everything I possibly fucking can for you. Everything! It was all for you! I work my ass off to put a roof over our heads, I make sure you're nothing but safe, and fed, and cared for and I try to be there for you when you're crying over this fucking hack and I get nothing! You don't let me in—you don't let me be the person I'm trying to be for you! You think I wanna play second fiddle to this piece of shit?! After all I fucking sacrificed for you?!"
"Fuck you! Fuck you! Don't hold that over my head—I never asked for any of that! You wanted to be the hero, that was your choice! Everything you've done, I don't need it! I don't need anything from you! So for once would you just stay out of my fucking life?!"
Mikasa breathed fervently through gritted teeth, but faltered at the sight of his blanking expression. All emotion had drained from his features in a matter of seconds. She couldn't figure out why he seemed so abruptly calm, why he looked at her with such absence instead of rage.
Eren too startled at the sight, even more so than he did at the aggression they both harboured for each other. An aggression he had no idea Mikasa was so capable of, even more so mirroring it almost perfectly from the man who raised her. He wasn't sure what was happening, what had overcome Levi or what was about to. Instinctively, Eren stepped up from behind her, readying himself despite his unwaning bewilderment.
Levi never tore his eyes from her. "Fine," was all he said, voice far removed from the ire that soaked it just a moment ago.
She watched as he turned and left her room, listening to the sound of his footsteps quietening through the house. The front door open, and not longer after, it closed, leaving the both of them in absolute silence. In the aftermath of what just happened.
Mikasa stood there, chest rising and falling with the adrenaline that coursed through her body, all while Eren was still, plagued by an abundance of uncertainty, of disbelief.
Staring at the ground, tears began to form.
Why…did she say all of that?
blue light - mazzy star
Notes:
so uh...sorry...about that...
but hey, you made it to the end! i just wanted to say thank you, as well as that i'm about to share a few things with you guys so i hope you'll stick around to read it. promise it won't be too long!
1. i've pretty much had the last 2 scenes mocked up and written since the inception of this story. you have no idea how great it feels to finally have it finalised and posted for you guys to read (as chaotic and toxic and heartbreaking as it may be...) it's obvious that writing co-dependency seems to be a favourite of mine, but i feel that in both the source material and fandom itself, we don't really get to see a relationship between mikasa and levi, or at least one they're capable of having. i think it's an untapped gem to have these two characters interact and in such a close and familial way, even with how tumultuous it can all be. that's the beauty of it all!
2. wanted to clear something up for those of you who might be either shocked or confused: jean wasn't trying to force himself onto mikasa, despite it, yes, very much looking that way. it was meant to be written very vaguely, like a grey area of sorts, because that's what it all seemed to be for these two characters. you are more than welcome to interpret it the way you want, i just wanted to explain that it isn't the fact of the matter. he was simply misreading the situation because ya boy is pretty damn delusional when he's in love, he thought mikasa was growing to like (love?) him now that she seemed to be moving on from eren and going to the dance with him. he knew he fucked up mere seconds after he did it and is pretty regretful.
3. the ACTUAL jeankasa stuff is pretty much done, minus the impending aftermath of jean's actions obviously. i have plans to sprinkle it in here and there but it's not going to be a main plot-point anymore (unless you guys WANT to see that? because what i have planned for jean can be easily spun into a jeankasa thing again, don't TEST me.)
4. i hope the annie and armin bombshell wasn't too out of place! i was trying to build up to it while focusing on eremika and rivetra, but i think it was pretty obvious armin did something he couldn't take back at that party lmao. hitch's proper introduction was a blast to write, she's one of my favourites and she's got big plans in this story for much later on.
thanks so much for reading! i'll try and get the next chapter out as soon as i can but bear with me ok, sorry to make you all wait so long. let me know your thoughts about this chapter, i'd love for any constructive criticism if you have it (don't be mean tho, DAMN).
bye! x
Chapter 12: how to disappear completely
Notes:
Hello and thank you so much for waiting for this chapter! It's another really long one, so take your time. And while it starts off on the slower side, ***I want to give a a HEAVY trigger warning the end of this chapter. If you're at all susceptible to depictions of suicide attempts/suicidal ideology, I don't recommend reading what's marked after the trigger warning.*** I've also updated the tags to include this warning now that we've come across this part of the story. Your mental health is very important! Please take it and anyone who's struggling with such things seriously!
Otherwise, please enjoy the rest of the chapter! See you at the end for some more notes :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
1998
Birthdays, at least in the Zacharius household, were not only a friend-worthy affair, but a familial one. Nanaba was turning twenty-four and with her and Miche's recent elopement, the high school sweethearts had invited absolutely everyone over to celebrate her birthday—and their casual, impromptu wedding reception. Hange, Erwin, and Levi (and by extension, Mikasa) now crossed paths with all of Miche and Nanaba's extended family. Fourth, fifth, sixth cousins with a plethora of removals. Grandparents conking out by six-thirty, great uncles laughing overzealously enough to deafen the whole room, and aunts that scowled and refused to talk to each other over some trivial family matter – all were in attendance.
The clink of drinks chimed amongst the abundant laughter and conversation. Miche put the football game on to appease his uncles while Nanaba had her ears whispered in about popping out a few brats.
"We only want one. And that's to keep you all happy, anyway," she laughed with her tight-lipped mother and aunts.
Levi leaned against one of their salmon-pink walls and held the can of Sprite Mikasa forced into his hands just minutes ago, telling him to keep it safe while she ran off to play with a bunch of Miche's nieces and nephews. Typically keeping to herself, they were the only kids he'd ever seen her interact with, partly because he encouraged (told) her to in a bid to distract her from drinking anymore soda. Levi only allowed her soda at the occasional event, not that they were really socialites anyway, and Hange was typically the one to sneak her a can. He didn't want her teeth to rot from all the sugar and cost them hundreds, maybe even thousands in dental bills. Money that they definitely didn't have.
He continued to watch her from across the room as they all flicked bottle caps with Miche, and while Levi stood there, he pretended he wasn't merely enduring the girl standing right beside him, batting her eyelashes for his attention.
Miche's second or third or whatever cousin, Darla, had been eyeing him off from the moment he got there. Despite the equally massive nose—as it seemed to run in their bloodline no matter how far out it branched—she was by no means unattractive. Some nice guy would probably suit her and her bubbly personality. The aspect that repulsed him most aside from both the unwanted attention and the fact that she looked just a little too much like the man he'd called friend for almost a decade…
Was that she was sixteen.
"So what's life like in Paradis Falls, huh? I bet it's real nice. I'm from Michigan—have you ever been?" She teetered back and forth on her toes, a grin pressing against her rosy cheeks.
Levi side-eyed her. "No."
"You should totally come over some time! I can show you around. The snowfall in the winter can be so romantic," she almost swooned, edging herself even closer to him.
With furrowed brows, he stepped further away from her. "You shouldn't be inviting older men back home with you."
"Oh, I don't mind what grade you're in. My friend dated a senior last year and he was, like, totally nice," she giggled, tucking her hair behind her ear. Was this really happening? "What kind of school do you go to? Is it a private one?"
"Work. I go to work." His voice calcified.
"Wow, studying and a job? You must be such a high achiever." She fanned her face.
Jesus Christ, did he really look that young? Were people watching this happen? He couldn't have seemed more disinterested in his life, and yet here she was, eager as all hell to bring a story back to her little friends in Michigan.
Levi exhaled, finally turning to her. "Listen to me, kid, I don't go to school. I'm twenty-three."
"Huh? You're…you're twenty-three?" Her brows furrowed, and she scoured him up and down in disbelief. "Really?"
"Yeah. Really. I'm a grown ass man and I sure as hell don't want anything to do with some teenaged brat," he grumbled, earning her sour expression. "In fact, if anyone almost ten years older than you lets you fawn over them like you've never seen a guy in your life, then run. Just get the hell away from them. All they wanna do is use you for their own gratification and you won't like how that ends. So—" Levi came to a halt, finally captured by her almost shell-shocked stare. He eventually blinked; his features relaxing as he restrained himself. "You know. Just…date people your own age."
His friends often jested about how 'fatherhood' had changed him. When Mikasa came into his life five years ago, he discovered a plethora of new fears to worry about. Knowing he was completely out of his element, he foraged through local libraries to read up on books about raising children, more specifically girls. It was unsettling to find a lot of books mentioned how statistically speaking, a number of them would be subjected to sexual assault in their lifetime and what someone had to do when raising a child who had been.
Mikasa never seemed to talk about what had happened to her, as far as he knew, she either repressed it or was too young to remember it. Both of which were for the better. Nightmares seemed to be the extent of any symptoms, though she could never recall what they were about, at least so she said. Through those books, he discovered victims—and he loathed to think of her as such instead of the happy child she was—sometimes fell into the trap of finding themselves attracted to older men. More specifically, the representation of the person who abused them with the subconscious thought of reclaiming their autonomy. What these sick bastards could do to people made Levi ill at the very thought of it. Screwing her up, dementing her beyond fixability…
His gut churned. He didn't intend for all the psycho-babble he learned to come spilling out in front of Miche's cousin for Christ's sake, but there was something so disturbing about a lamb giddily strolling toward the slaughter, that it upheaved all the concerns he had buried deep inside his mind. Had he been anyone else—
No, if she was who Mikasa would be at sixteen…
Levi rubbed his forehead, shutting his eyes as Darla awkwardly revelled in his oh-so-wise wisdom. What a fucking shit-show of a conversation.
She finally exhaled, shoulders sinking as she studied him. "You know, you really don't look twenty-three."
Unimpressively, he eyed her over the hand that rested on his face.
"Yeah. Been told."
Darla pursed her lips, momentarily glancing around the room.
Then, she leaned in.
"I-I don't mind older men. I'm not scared of them, really, and you sound like you care. I won't tell if you won't—"
"Didn't you hear what I just—?" Levi tched, rearing his head back as he grimaced at her. He immediately started to search the room. "Where the hell are your parents?"
"Oh, come on, seriously?" Her delicate voice boldened. "Don't be such a jerk." He tore away from the wall, shaking his head as he stalked off. "Hey! Where are you going?"
"Follow me and I'll tell your father just how much you like older men."
Levi weaved his way through swarms of his friends' family and found Erwin playing photographer by the window. The flash on his disposable camera went off and Nanaba's sisters smiled and thanked him, giggling to each other as they went on their merry way. Miche asked him to go buck-wild with taking pictures, finding it a hell of a lot cheaper than hiring a photographer. Little did he know the big bastard loved all the attention it brought him, in that courteous, respectful way of his.
What a dork.
As Erwin turned around, his upturned lips flatlined at the sight of his friend's disgruntlement.
"Remind me to grow a beard after tonight." Levi settled beside the man, exhaling as peered around the room to find Mikasa again.
"That'd be quite a sight," Erwin refrained from chuckling. He met Levi's eyeline, spotting the dark-haired girl as she sat leaned over the table with Miche, flicking a red bottle cap. "Would you and Mikasa like a photo together?"
Bored, he continued to watch her. "What, like I need more evidence that I'm alive?"
"No, for the sake of memories. As you know, she won't be ten years old forever," he replied, peering down at his friend who remained silent. "I'm inclined to believe there's a day you'll look back at this photo, such as when she's a teenager or a busy adult, and you'll feel the desire to come back to this very moment."
After the conversation he just had?
"How heart-warming. Write it in a book."
Sighing, Erwin came to roll his eyes. "Mikasa will also get to look back at your photo and wonder if she could recall your cynicism being as endearing as you thought it was. Perhaps after she's come back from visiting you in a nursing home."
Bastard.
"Yeah, well, she likes me so far. I'll believe it when I see it."
"Hmph. Very well, then." Finding his direct approach fruitless, Erwin scanned the room in search of a particularly reflective pair of glasses. "Hange?" He called out.
"You called, Erwin?" The woman uncannily swung her head out from the behind the wall in the kitchen. He didn't even speak that loud—how the hell did that freak hear him?
"Hey, what are you doing?" Levi unfolded his arms, his sullen expression softening.
"Would you like to take a photo?" he called to her again, holding up the disposable camera and waving it in the air.
"Would I?!"
"Are you kidding me, eyebrow?" Levi glared at the man.
His friend turned to him, smiling contently. "It pains me that you'd pass up the opportunity to immortalize cherished memories. Tell me, if you've only the chance to snap one photo, would you rather it be with Mikasa or Hange?"
"Blow it out your ass," Levi grimaced, watching an inbound Hange bee-lining for them. He gritted his teeth. "Fine. We'll take a shitty photo."
"Excellent," Erwin's grin widened, just in time for Hange to appear in front of them.
"So, is this a group thing or what?" she questioned.
"Actually," Erwin handed her the camera, patting her shoulder in the process. "Levi needs you to take it."
"Huh?" Her head snapped towards the man. "You want to be in a photo?"
Disgruntled and defeated, Levi deadpanned at her.
"Yeah."
"Hah! Jeez, fatherhood really has changed you."
Right. That reminded him.
"Mikasa, get over here. We're taking a photo," he called out to her, catching her attention as she flicked a bottlecap right at Miche's forehead.
She shuffled out of her seat and strolled through the waves of people, coming to stare up at him with her wide, unassuming eyes.
"A photo? Of what?"
"Us."
Mikasa gasped, her eyes lighting right up. "Really?"
Levi hummed at her amusement. "Savour the moment, kid. This opportunity won't come up again," he told her as he guided her into an open gap in the room.
They stood beside each other, Levi's hand resting on her shoulder like some half-assed rendition of American Gothic. As Hange readied the camera, she quickly pulled back, her face scrunching before she glanced up at Erwin.
"Er…they don't fit. Someone's head's gotta be cut off," she mumbled, gesturing the camera back towards him. "Erwin, I'm not much of a photographer. Maybe you can do them justice."
Levi frowned.
Perplexed, he took a look at their positioning through the viewfinder. She was right. They did, in fact, look a little odd.
"Would you mind bending down, Levi? You'll need to be shorter so we can get you both in the shot," he instructed. Hange nodded in agreeance.
"First time in my life hearing that," Levi mumbled, peering down at Mikasa.
She grinned as he got down on one knee, watching him pull her closer towards him. He'd always wore a scornful, lifeless scowl—a permanent lowering of his brows as he saw the world for what it was. But when he happened upon her beaming smile, it was in that moment both Erwin and Hange saw his eyes come alive; like they'd suddenly rejuvenated from their cold, dark place in the ground.
"You ready?" Levi asked her, the corner of his lips tugging ever so slightly.
"Uh-huh," she nodded. She clung her little arms around his neck, squishing her cheek against his as she let out a giggle.
"Aww, you two just look so cute!" Hange fawned, clutching her heart. "Go on—keep smiling!"
"At the camera, please," a focused Erwin added, holding it up to his eye.
As Levi faced the camera, Mikasa hugged him tighter, and falling victim to her idyllic affection, he was unable to withhold his genuine smile, watching her through the corner of his eyes. It never really seemed to matter what had happened moments before, what kind of shitty mood he was in or if someone had pissed him off. Her joy was infectious, her tenderness so sweet, and she was all so generous in giving it to him. Mikasa had changed his life for the better, even if he was still a moody, rigid asshole to the world before him. The last five years was what life should have felt like all along.
Happy.
There was a bright flash, and just as swiftly as it came to be, the moment was over.
"Nice!" Hange held her thumbs up to the girl.
"Very nice indeed."
Levi felt her grasp sliver away as she ran towards Hange, giddy for another photo. As reality came seeping back in, he stood back up.
"Can we take one too, Hange? I want one with you!"
"Awh, really?" She clutched her heart again. Everyone was a sucker for Mikasa. "Of course we can! Here, jump on my back!"
"Yeah!" Mikasa cheered as Hange crouched onto the ground.
She carefully crawled on just sheer seconds before the woman sprang back up again, teetering back and forth. They both bellowed with laughter as Hange bounced around with her. Levi returned to Erwin almost as if he stumbled into bliss, strangely unphased by the possibility of Hange dropping Mikasa and cracking her skull open.
"Good choice, although I would've liked to see how well you photographed with Hange," Erwin jested, beginning to ready the camera. "I'll have these developed sometime later in the week. I know you'll want a few copies."
Levi's eyes never tore from his little girl, that same slight tug to the corner of his lips. Like always, he had come to doubt Erwin during his bouts of stubbornness, even while he knew he was the only man to ever understand him. Erwin, once again, was right.
This was a cherished memory.
"Yeah. Two copies."
SUNDAY
Mikasa awoke to utter stillness, a heaviness swelling in her chest. She rubbed her eyes before slowly leaning herself up from her pillow. When Eren's arm fell from her shoulder, the air in her lungs hitched. It was an atypical sight to see him fast asleep in her bed, still wearing his clothes from yesterday. She too was still wearing Sasha's dress – how could she forget to take it off? Even with Eren's affections secured, the cloudiness of her mind still persisted, sucking the joy out of what was meant to be her most precious moment. It only took a matter of seconds for her to fall comforted by the fact that she wasn't alone, grateful that he'd stayed the whole night, but with both their nerves rattled and raw, the allurement between the two teenagers had subsided for now. Eren felt like he'd just escaped a near death experience while Mikasa herself was quite deep into the trenches of misery; it was safe to say their budding romance was on the backburner for now, just while the whole mess of the situation was still neck deep.
The feeling she awoke with was indescribable, like she'd been gutted entirely from the inside out. Five years ago, she could have never imagined a conversation like that playing out before her and Levi, wouldn't believe anything would ever come between them. Their bond seemed truly limitless—no, it wasn't something she'd even call a bond. What she and Levi had was inherently built in from the very start. Such a deep-seated, biological binding both by blood and mind. He was such an important piece of her life—an extension of each other by all means—so, why couldn't the part of her that was 'him' stay connected? Why couldn't he see how badly his ignorance of her feelings was killing her? Resentment still ran course through her blood despite her despair, indignant at his ruining of what was the one moment in her life she'd yearned of for years. But did it make what she said to him justified? As godawful and vindictive as it was? Lambasting his efforts, his natural instincts that kept her alive for the last twelve years…
Was it all worth the damage it caused?
Her eyes tracked over to the alarm clock on her nightstand, letting her know she only managed about three hours of sleep. Mikasa tried her best to stay up into the early hours of the morning to await the man's return, but once six o'clock came around, her eyelids all but forced shut. Not even her hyper-anticipation of him sulking through the door and storming into his room could keep her vigilant.
With Eren's hand now resting motionlessly on her waist, Mikasa gently eased it off of her, slivering out of bed as smoothly as possible. He stayed up with her longer than he even needed to just to assure her she wasn't alone. He had always been a heavy sleeper; it wasn't strange to find him bursting into class in the morning with his backpack and skateboard still in hand, only getting to school in the nick of time because he slept through his alarm.
When Mikasa quietly stepped out of her room, the hallway felt like a void. The house was eerily quiet, much colder than it usually was. She couldn't shake the image of Levi from her head. How he stared at her, that soulless, disappointed gaze, like twelve years of what they built together had indescribably gone to waste right in front of his eyes. Her throat began to swell.
Mikasa shook her head, realizing she was staring into the woodgrain of his bedroom door. A tinge of hoped struck through her heart as she stepped across the hallway and immediately opened it, being met with the sight of his creaseless bed sheets, his half-drawn blinds, and dustless nightstands.
But not him.
A frown wilted her features. She closed his door and peeked through the window of the backdoor, but the backyard was completely empty. She took off down the hall and rounded the corner to the kitchen, but it was still. She walked over to the bathroom door, placing her ear against it before she opened it, but he wasn't there to scold her for barging in.
Mikasa couldn't understand – why wasn't he home already? Where did he go? He'd never walked out on her before, never thought he was capable of leaving her behind like another Ackerman to run from. Now, the panic set in. What if she went too far this time? That there was no coming back from this?
Was loving Eren the one thing that was able to drive them apart?
Crestfallen, she stumbled over to the window by the front door, her sullen eyes watching out onto the street. In a cruel and ironic twist, the morning sky was radiant and sunny; compared to the thunderstorms of last night, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. And what bothered her the most was that Levi's car had been sitting in the driveway all night, his keys and wallet still on the ottoman. He never took it, preferring to trek through harsh rain than spend another second in their home, existing within the same four walls as she did.
Now, it was a waiting game.
She wouldn't give up on him. She would play if that's what he wanted from her; to wait for him to change his mind and find his way home. To stick his punishment out. And if he wasn't going to return to her, then she would search for him. Maybe that's what he wanted, after all. For Mikasa to show how much she really, really cared, that her words had hollow meaning and were callously cruel for the sake of it. She would tear the city apart looking for him, and that was a promise.
"You okay?" Eren's voice came from behind her, her eyes still fixated on the drying rain on the sidewalk outside. When she didn't budge, his frown deepened and he neared himself closer. "You were up all night. Maybe you should get some more sleep."
Mikasa stood motionless. "I'm fine."
He let a shaky breath escape him, unsure of where to place his eyes. "Alright, well…you wanna get some ice cream later?" he proposed, forcing a lighter tone. "That'll take your mind off things."
"I can't. Levi will be home soon."
His eyes hit the corner of their lids. "Should you really be here when he is…?"
"Yes," her voice hardened.
At first, Eren too thought he'd just stormed out to grumble over a cigarette; that he was going to step back in, kick his ass out, and then scold Mikasa for hours on end. Maybe demand she do chores all day today as punishment. But as the minutes turned into hours, and the hours continued to roll, they both came to realize Levi wasn't coming back.
Eren had never seen her act that way before, in fact, he'd never known her to be without Levi. The influence he had over her, the hold he obtained on her mind, it was…consuming. He knew the girl for all her strength, and yet with Levi withholding his presence, she was rendered a dormant, spiritless zombie. Even last night did he watch as she choked back tears, completely unresponsive to his efforts to soothe her distress. All she could do was sit on her bed, staring into her lap as she waited for him to walk back through the door.
Eren inhaled. "Do you wanna talk, Mikasa? About last night?" he asked her, brows furrowing at the ground. "About him…or us?"
Her silence was deafening, though she couldn't hold it for much longer.
"I can't," her restrained voice broke into a whisper.
Disheartened by her anguish, Eren gently turned her around to face him, revealing the hesitation that warped her features. He studied all the complexities that came with her otherwise mesmerizing face; her darkened under eyes, her bare lips, her tear-stained cheeks. God, he loved her more than he ever could have thought. He was adamant about lots of things in life, but the one thing no one could ever change his mind on was that misery did not belong to her. It tarnished her delicate eyes with reddening rims, her lips with its downward pull, her complexion with glistening tears. It diseased her, and sickness did not suit her.
As Eren stared down at her, Mikasa lost herself in his gaze just as she had the night before, only this time, it was momentary. The brain fog was all too quick to reemerge, cloaking the image of Levi's disgust in its shadows.
His anger.
His indignation.
His blank, emotionless face.
"Okay, but…you can't spend the whole day watching through the window and waiting for him to come back. It won't make it happen any faster."
He was right. From anyone else, it would have sounded condescending, but from Eren it all but screamed some sense into her. It was all she knew to do even back when she was little, when Levi would work late and Caven would come over to babysit. Mikasa couldn't help but stare out the window for what seemed to be hours, waiting for his car to come pulling back into the driveway. She would await his inevitable return because nothing excited her more than having him walk through the door, even if it was a waste of her time. She knew that there was nothing she could do to stop him from working his long shift and coming back in the early hours of the morning, long after she'd gone to sleep. Caven made her well aware of that fact. But even then, there was still a tiny piece inside of her, a shard of hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd come back home earlier this time. Because at least back then, she didn't have to guess whether he'd be back at all.
Mikasa closed her eyes, and eventually, she came to a nod. "Yeah. I know."
At the struggle that plagued her features, Eren's hands raised to her shoulders. He pulled her into his arms, squeezing her firmly as she brought her face to cradle into his shoulder. She was taken again; she loved his scent of cotton and vanilla, though this time it was subdued by the rainwater that dried into his clothes. And for the moment, her worries seemed to dissolve in his grasp.
Something in his pocket started to buzz, prompting him to pull back. He retrieved his cell phone and checked it, his face deadpanning at the screen.
"I'll be back. I'm just gonna call my mom, she's been texting me non-stop," he sighed, closing it and shoving it back into his pocket. "Mind if I use your phone?"
Mikasa nodded her head, watching him disappear into the kitchen. Uncontrollably, her body willed her back over to the window, and her eyes settled on the concrete once again.
As she watched a mother and her young son walk by, she could overhear Eren's frustrated voice from the other room, begging with his mom not to hide things from him. It was a strange conversation, but Mikasa had nothing left in her to try and investigate past the obligatory showing of concern. His parents always seemed to embarrass him in the sweet, unassuming way that they did, and over time, it became one of those things she peculiarly wished she had the misfortune of dealing with.
Sure, there was no doubt Levi could be irritating, but it was always in that grating, uncanny way of being his unusual, authentic self. Like trying to parent her friends to the point of intimidation, or yanking her out of bed for a surprise sparring lesson. With Eren's parents, it was different. It was almost cute seeing them embarrass him in such an innocent way; she was jealous of the normalcy it innately harboured.
Upon Eren's return she could hear him sigh, either at the taxing conversation he just had or her persistence to stare out a window all day. He came back over and planted his hand on her shoulder again, snapping her out of it.
She turned around. "Is everything okay with your mom?"
"Yeah. My parents are just being weird."
Her brows furrowed. "Oh. Why?"
"They always are when there's secret adult shit they don't want me knowing about," he shrugged, rolling his eyes. "It's fine."
She nodded, breathing deeply to rid the drowsiness of her head. Then, her eyes widened with an idea.
"Maybe he's with Erwin," she said, seemingly to herself. Her feet immediately took her toward the kitchen. "I'll be back."
Watching her go, Eren begun to inhale. "Okay. Sure. I'll, um…I'll be here."
Eren heard her hope slip quite quickly during those phone calls. Mikasa was unable to get any answers from the people she and Levi knew.
First it was Erwin, who had no clue where he was. He found the happening "quite odd," but assured her he would be back in no time. Then it was Hange, who tried to hide the worry in her voice and instead offered to keep Mikasa company until he got back. Then Nanaba said she and Miche hadn't spoken to him but would call if they did.
The despair on her face crushed him.
His eyes clamped shut. Shit, this was happening all so quick. He hadn't even taken a second to process what was going on. What he was feeling right now wasn't right, he was meant to be elated – Mikasa forgave him, better than that, she told him she wanted him. This was the rare, happy ending to what was the game of navigating their turmoil. Just yesterday he found himself at the end of his tether, convinced he and Mikasa would never speak again. He was certain he'd have to pull the plug and move schools because he wouldn't be able to see her everyday feeling the way he felt. Eren knew he didn't deserve her love not one bit, yet he understood quite clearly that in this moment, here and now, that they were back on common ground. They were meant to be content.
So why did Levi have to screw it all up?
Why did he barge in and ruin that special moment between them? The first time they kissed – the first time he'd ever kissed anyone – was perfect in and of itself. Even if he was a blabbering, pathetic mess, she still grabbed his face and brought her lips to his. Mikasa saw past his mistakes and for some ungodly reason she still wanted him. He was in total bliss when he got to stare down at her as they laid on her bed, watching her melt into a smile at the sight of him. He never thought he could make it happen, but she looked so…happy.
Couldn't Levi feel happy for her?
Eren used to believe Levi somehow knew how much of a fuck-up he was before he himself ever did, and that it was the sole reason why Levi never liked him, why he was so cold and combative whenever Eren was around. Ever since Levi came to his brother's party just to rip Mikasa out of his presence, Eren had sat and wondered for weeks as to why he couldn't see just how much he burned for his cousin. That he wasn't some nefarious douchebag just hanging around her until the day she relinquished and let him score. But after what happened last night, a revelation hit him. It became all so clear.
From day one, Levi didn't suspect Eren would make monumental blunders. He wasn't anticipating the day some semblance of 'true colors' would emerge from the boy and confirm every single suspicion he had. Levi knew, from day one, that Eren too saw Mikasa as his world. Levi knew Eren needed her a whole lot more than she thought she needed him—that he loved her undoubtedly, and that he just too dim-witted, too blind and foolish to see it. Levi knew that long before Eren ever did, and with that in mind, he realized that her older cousin wasn't just 'being protective'. He wasn't guarding her heart or saving her from more trauma.
Levi, of all things, was jealous.
From all over the years, he thought back to the multiple instances of Levi's dismay. When he called, if the man got to the phone before Mikasa did, he'd simply grumble about telemarketers and hang up. It was customary to watch him fall into an almost concealed grimace at the sight of the two together, or for Eren to feel a set of searing eyes melting into his back before he'd turn his head and find Levi watching him.
Eren had nothing to do with what Levi truly felt inside—not him personally. And he could see that now.
"You don't give a shit about her the way you think you do. You never have."
He came to scowl at the recollection of his words. Such a hideous misinterpretation of his intentions. Such a liar. He never wanted this to work—he detested Eren upon first glance, never wanting to allow him a chance to peacefully enter their lives. There was no open arms, no welcoming embrace like his parents had given Mikasa. His own father hugged her like a long-lost daughter. All he was met with was repulsion. Disdain.
Eren never knew the man in any other way.
JANUARY 2004
Eren crouched down as he ejected the disc from the DVD player, preparing its case. His eyes flicked over to the clock mounted to the living room wall; it was getting late now, that movie seemed to go on forever.
In the six months they'd known each other, Mikasa was a reoccurring guest in the Yaeger home; his mom loved her, his dad smiled more whenever she came around, and Zeke wasn't home often enough to scare her away. Having her over felt completely natural to Eren.
Tonight, however, seemed to be the first time her presence alarmed him.
See, since becoming her friend all those months ago, Eren felt a distinctive tickle in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw Mikasa. It started on the phone when she first asked his name and every time he saw her after that. Usually, it took a few minutes after she was gone for the feeling to go away, though its emergence was sudden whenever she was around. How swiftly she came to be one of his best friends astonished him, he would even say he trusted her just as much as Armin. But that excitement – that seemingly innocent tickle?
Now it felt like a stab wound.
Mikasa had shown up unannounced, no bag, no books in her hand, no coat on despite the weather. That was the first alarm bell to ring. Mikasa never came over unless Eren directly invited her himself. He'd once told her she could swing around whenever she wanted, but she was textbook polite and said she didn't want to intrude on their family time. As he ogled at her on his doorstep, he wondered if he simply forgot he asked her to come over that night, but strangely, she started apologizing for surprising him.
Next up was her demeanour. It was more subdued, and etched on her face was the tellings of a battle the thoughts were having in her head. She zoned out, fiddled her fingers and held her arms often, and sparsely allowed her eyes to meet his.
And lastly, the weirdest thing of all, was that she refused his offer of a snack. Even her favourite that his mother kept good supply of, spicy roasted chickpeas. That alone was enough to freak him out.
Mikasa would eventually admit her reasoning for coming over as they sunk into his living room sofa. It took her a while; she kept trying to distract him with mundane questions like asking what he had for dinner or if he would ever grow his hair out just for fun. Initially, what she set out to do worked but he caught on, remaining steadfast in coaxing the truth out of her.
She and Levi had a fight.
His mouth hung open. "Like an actual fight?"
"No. Like an argument."
"Oh."
She wouldn't tell him what it was about, only that it was the first time it ever happened in the plethora of years he took care of her. She seemed pretty shaken by it, which came as quite a surprise to him. Typical Mikasa was unapologetically fearless; she was often reserved and quiet, stoic like the badass protagonists in action movies. He wondered if 'terrifying' could also be an appropriate word, seeing as she turned into a whole other person when his bullies were around, twisting arms and demanding they keep away (he didn't want to admit he was jealous of how easily they feared her). There was always this sense of mystique around her, like something else was floating around in her mind, keeping her awareness sharp and her senses acute.
But when she wasn't wearing her brave face or they weren't laughing and joking around in the comfort of his bedroom, she was otherwise plagued by the reoccurring thoughts and memories of her life before. She once described it as like wearing a coat that wouldn't come off, and it was all she felt people saw her in. A coat of shame, of disaster. He never thought she was one to be affected by an argument of all things, even if they were close enough for him to discover a more sensitive side to her. To Eren, it didn't matter whether the past made her cry or that spatting with Levi brought her down, Mikasa was still that tough badass—still his best friend.
Still the same girl who made his stomach feel funny.
As the clock ticked back at him, Eren glanced over his shoulder at her on the couch.
"You, uh…you wanna sleep over?" he proposed, clicking the DVD back into its case. "It's getting kind of late."
Mikasa willed her features to still. "Won't your mom mind? It's a school night."
"So?"
"So…" she glanced to the side. "Maybe she won't want me to."
His brows came to furrow. "It's not like we're gonna party all night. We'll just play some Tekken and go to sleep."
Mikasa shrugged. She couldn't bring herself to go back home to Levi and at this time of night he'd want to pick her up anyway. The last thing he would like was to drive all the way over to Eren's house of all places, especially since she told him she was going to Armin's.
"Alright. Sure," she eventually agreed. She could manage some Tekken and talking…if Carla really didn't mind.
And she didn't, in fact, when Eren ran the idea past her (more like flat out told her that Mikasa was staying over), she was even excited.
Mikasa blinked at the woman. "You really don't mind?"
"Of course not, honey. You're always welcome here. I just hope Eren's tossing and turning doesn't annoy you too much," she chuckled from across the kitchen counter.
The teens stilled, their eyes widening as they stood absolutely mortified.
No, God, what?
Mikasa itched her nose. "Oh, I—um. I didn't know we'd be sharing—"
"She doesn't have to sleep with me, mom. Jeez," Eren glared at her, scratching the back of his head. He then turned to Mikasa, noticing her watch him through the corner of her eyes. "Not like… Like I wouldn't care if you did, it's just, I don't know if like—"
"Yeah, I…I don't know. Maybe's that's…"
"It might be, like, awkward or something."
"Yeah." Mikasa then blinked at Carla. "Awkward."
With her mouth slightly agape, Carla stared between them, almost as if she were compelling herself not to laugh. Then, with a purse of her lips, she cleared her throat.
"Well, alright then. Mikasa, I can set up the couch for you," she said, rounding the corner of the island.
"Thank you," a polite smile pressed against the girl's lips, relief settling in her chest.
But Eren watched as when his mother reached the archway of the kitchen, she suddenly came to a halt.
"Oh, shoot. Maybe not," she turned to them, expression as vacant as ever. "Your father works late tonight, he'll come straight through the front door and he'll still need to have his dinner."
"It…" Mikasa glanced at Eren almost worriedly. "It should be fine."
Immediately, the woman shook her head. "He'll be banging around in here for a while, I just don't want him waking you up when you've got school so early tomorrow," she insisted.
Eren's lips parted, and not-so-gracefully, he stared at Mikasa through the corner of his eyes.
Inhaling, she slowly came to a nod. "Okay…I-I guess we can share," she relinquished, glancing at Eren. "Right?"
He shrugged. "Yeah. I don't care."
And endearingly, Carla smiled.
Fuck.
The rest of Sunday passed agonisingly slow, even with Eren around to keep her sane. In a sweater and some trackpants now, she wasn't sure how much daytime TV her brain could endure, and Eren really did try his best to make her feel better. Mikasa still refused to leave the house on the off-chance Levi would return, so he took it upon himself to venture out and bring the ice cream to them. He staggered through the door with his board in one hand and plastic bag in the other, presenting to her both the ice cream bars and spicy roasted chickpeas, as well as a movie for them to watch later on. It was as if the old Eren had finally came out of hiding after all this time, feigning for her a sense of normalcy they both craved right now.
In another world, she had woken up this morning knowing what total bliss finally felt like. She and Eren had found their footing and she could revel in the sentiments they came to share last night, feeling that for the first time in her life something was finally falling into place. It took a lot of tears and misunderstandings to get there, but she was nothing less of sure that it was all worth it. This was meant to be the best time of her life, but as she sat there with Eren by her side, just as she had yearned for the longest time, she was unable to feel anything but misery. The bleeding hearts, the tears of joy, it all felt like she'd been slighted of the one thing she always wanted.
Levi was unfair. Levi was cruel. To turn such a beautiful moment into one filled with vitriol, with viciousness – forcing Eren to defend his true intentions, forcing her to step between both the boy she loved and the man who raised her, that was cruel. Levi was delivering on his threat from weeks ago, that he could walk out the door and never come back if that's what she truly wanted.
We'll see.
Mikasa couldn't face Eren with the burning passion she felt just the night before, her senses had become blunted by the anguish that took her. Levi's words did nothing but run on repeat in her head, taunting her.
Shaming her.
"I have done everything I possibly fucking can for you."
Writhing guilt through her bones, compelling her to face the reality.
"You don't let me in—you don't let me be the person I'm trying to be for you!"
That the words of spite she threw back at him were not coming from the heart.
"After all I fucking sacrificed for you?!"
But from the woman she now was, begging to be released from the box he held her in. The box he so definitively labelled 'my little girl.'
The words she so unkindly graced him with last night masqueraded as her will and danced like convincing imposters—like con artists to the sound of her pleas for freedom, for a new perception much different than the girl he thought her to be. One of who she truly was. A miserable, lonely Ackerman desperate for the love of the only boy who had ever made her feel alive. Miserable people is what she once said they were; she knew now more than ever that, last night, he had finally come to see that.
Mikasa turned her head to glance at Eren as they sat on the sofa. His eyes slightly squinted as they remained focused on the garbage heap they were calling a reality TV show. He broke his gaze after a moment, turning to face her just as well. The outer corners of his lips tugged slightly, features relaxing as if he'd found a moment of peace.
She studied all of it – from the blue-green complexities of his irises to the cocoa hue of his hair, all the way over to the bow of his rosy lips.
Eren had left her just as such, perhaps hiding in plain sight over the months, though still absent from her world as Levi now was. The two most important people in her life had both disappeared, both for reasons she was well intertwined with. Was it worth pushing the bounds of her friendship with Eren into something far more deeper and intimate? Was feeling alive worth losing the man who gave her a second lease on life? If nothing would last forever, not even the love Levi harboured for her, was there a point in free-falling what their fates would be? It was one thing to face unrequited love, but what would it feel like to have loved and lost? Could she allow his rope to wrap tighter around her, knowing the marks it would leave would be all too painful?
Could she be more than friends with Eren, and live to tell the tale?
Mikasa felt the sensation of his warmth invigorate her hand as he grabbed it. Blinking at him, he came to smile more in spite of his slowly but surely furrowing brows.
"You okay?" he asked her, watching the flashing images of the television reflect in the glassiness of her eyes. Almost as if he read her mind, he clutched her hand harder. "I'm not planning on leaving," he said, a gentle determination to his voice.
Through the beginnings of tears, she glanced down at their hands, brows coming to a furrow.
"Are you sure…this is what you want?" Her tone wavered. It damn near killed him to hear how meek she had become. Taking to her question seriously, Eren shifted in his seat, turning his body toward her.
"More than anything," he assured her. "It's you, Mikasa. It's always been you."
In a desperate bid to compose herself, she bit down on her lip, unable to grace him with her gaze. Mikasa had heard it in her dreams, in her wandering imagination, in the confines of her mind in her most desperate of moments.
Now, she heard it from him.
"Eren," she breathed, coming to a nod. "It's always been you, too."
Relief fell on him once more, he wanted nothing more than to pull her into an embrace and so he did. At their connection, Mikasa found her composure diminishing, the floodgates of tears bursting open and trickling onto his shoulder. She clutched the back of his neck as she tried to curb her sobbing, wondering why on Earth was it always his shoulder she felt compelled to cry on? Through all this time, through many moments of crackling facades and failed fronts, it was always Eren who had the misfortune of seeing her for what she really was. Not a woman like she thought, not a strong-willed survivor like he thought her to be.
Just…a little girl.
Eren pulled back from her. He hesitated to speak for a moment, his brows furrowing.
"That day I came running to you after school—do you remember that? When you told me you were going to the dance with Jean?"
She took a moment to regain her composure, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Eventually, she nodded.
"Yeah. You wanted to tell me something, but you—"
"I never forgot," he beat her to the punch, earning her widened gaze. "What I wanted to say...I was going to tell you the truth, like everything I said last night. That I was done running. That I needed to stop pretending I could live without you."
Her heart sank as the dawn of realization hit her. "And I said I was…I—I talked over you..." Her stupefied features crumpled into terror. "Oh my god… Eren, I'm so sorry—"
"No, I should've told you anyway. Maybe it could have avoided this mess."
"I…I was trying so hard to get over you… But if you had told me, I would have stopped. I—I wouldn't have gone to that stupid dance..." She imagined what it would have been like if Eren finally told her his feelings that day. How she would've grabbed his hand and ran with him—somewhere, anywhere. As long as they were together, she would go anywhere. "I would've left with you in a heartbeat."
"What?"
Astonishment fell upon him, causing her to grow concerned.
She edged closer. "What…?"
Eren couldn't blink. "Historia. She…she said you'd do that," he clarified, yet her visage remained perplexed.
"Historia?"
Seemingly, he snapped back into it. "Oh. Yeah, she and Ymir know."
"Oh, that's…" Mikasa blinked, her lips parted as she thought. "Really? Even Ymir?"
"Moment of weakness," his eyes deadpanned as he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "But when I said you were going to the dance with Jean, Historia guessed that if I'd told you how I really felt, you would've dropped everything to be with me." He shrugged. "It's weird that she was right. I feel like I'm about to wake up any second now and none of this is real." Eren then stared at her, a serious pull on his features. "This is real, right?"
"It's real," Mikasa's lip formed into a pained smile. She guessed if anyone knew what it felt like to masquerade their true feelings, it would be Historia. "Now I get why Ymir came up to me at your party. Why she wanted me to tell you the truth so badly."
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, god, seriously? She can't ever keep her mouth shut."
"Well, I wish she didn't. All she did was tell me to shoot my shot. Would have been nice to know how you felt."
Eren hummed unimpressively. "Good to know she sticks to her promises, at least. Armin too, but that isn't really a sup—"
"You told Armin?" Mikasa interjected, her jaw falling open.
He sighed. "I know. All these people knew the truth when I should've told you first."
"No, Eren—I told Armin…" she blinked wondrously. "He's known for, like, two years—"
"Two years?!" He gaped straight into her lap, the air escaping him as he recollected both he and Armin's 'discussion' back in the locker room. How Armin struggled to stay vague, why he wouldn't just spit it out… "Holy shit, were we seriously the only ones who didn't know?"
"Yeah…I guess we were…" she breathed, shaking her head. Then, she locked eyes with the boy. "We have to buy him so much ice cream."
Slowly, Eren started to grin. A chuckle quietly escaped him, causing Mikasa to fall victim to his contagious laugh. She found herself eventually falling into a laughing fit—whether it was sleep deprivation or a bid to feel anything other than misery, Eren watched her as he usually did when it happened. Through his own glee he studied the crinkles around her tearing eyes, how harmonic her smile was to the rest of her features. And the sound of her laughter itself, well…she could make him listen to the most beautifully crafted symphony in the world, but it couldn't dare compare to the sweetness of her voice.
Not even close.
He watched her eventually die down, taking a moment to wipe the tears welling in her eyes as she caught her breath. She loved Eren's ability to turn a bad day into something better, even if it was as minute as sharing an amusing moment with him.
"You look tired. You should get some sleep," he insisted.
Mikasa's eyes fell to her lap, the remnants of her fit still pressing a smile against her lips.
"I want to stay up. With you."
Inhaling, Eren nodded. "Okay," he softly replied.
The boy shifted his body to face television as she did the same, reaching over and resting his arm around her shoulders. Mikasa leaned into him and scooted closer, finding ease in his already comforting grasp. Her head instinctually laid upon his shoulder, and together, they continued to watch the screen.
Mikasa would fall asleep in his arms anyway.
When nightfall came, it marked a whole twenty-four hours with Levi gone. With the girl fast asleep on him, Eren persisted to stay awake, sweating over the idea of the man happening to come back at that very moment. Levi's territorial nature over Mikasa was a fearful one, but Eren couldn't bring himself to falter. He wouldn't let it go on any longer, not if he had a say in it.
Eventually, Eren couldn't keep his eyes open and he'd succumbed to sleep at around eleven. When Mikasa woke back up, she delicately removed herself from his hold, manoeuvring him to lay flat along the sofa so he'd be comfortable. She gently laid his head on one of the cushions, sliding her hands out from behind the base of his neck. Mikasa wanted him to rest as much as possible – they had school tomorrow, and like they discussed earlier, Eren would have to make a quick stop at home to change his clothes.
She tip-toed backwards, studying the way the television's bright glare illuminated his tender features, how it lit up the arm that draped across his abdomen. When she first met him, he looked so young, almost exactly like his mother. Grisha's genes seemed to kick in around his birthday earlier in the year, or maybe it was the way his grown-out hair was framing his features. As he grew, it took a lot more to pull his eyes open so wide and emphatically like they used to, like the adventurous boy he was finding awe in almost everything. But in some instances, those rare moments, Mikasa could catch it happening, and in that stare was his mother's pleasantness, her gentle, elegant eyes.
Like clockwork, she stumbled into all the rooms of the house, searching for her caregiver in her post-slumber bleariness. He was absent in all, and when she finally got to the chilled stillness of his bedroom, she found only his bed sitting perfectly wrinkleless. Over the last twenty-four hours, she came to hate the sight of his neatly pressed sheets, another gruelling reminder that he'd left her without a second thought.
That night, Mikasa would sleep in Levi's bed, hoping that by the next morning, drawn home by some sixth sense of his personal space being intruded on, he would hurry back to wake her and demand he get the hell out of it. Or instead, that sixth sense would alert him of her despair, of how much she truly missed the man who would hold her too.
Just like Eren did.
MONDAY
Armin was scribbling ferociously when the lunch bell rung, teeth coming to a grit as Ms Lynne demanded everyone stopped writing. Students around him skidded back their chairs and crowded the woman's desk up front with their Algebra tests. Armin let his eyes glance through his eyelashes for a sheer millisecond—he couldn't waste any precious time gawking if he wanted to get this last question done. Ms Lynne was completely occupied taking everyone's tests that he continued to scrawl strings upon strings of numbers. He had one answer left and he was almost finished writing it, he couldn't afford to lose out on any points. He was so close, so very, very close…
"I said pencils down, Mr Arlert."
Armin shrieked as Ms Lynne materialized from thin air, scowling down at him with her hands on her hips. He winced, finally settling his pencil down and handing her his paper.
"Sorry."
She almost snatched the page from him.
"I have half a mind to deduct your points from that last question—"
"No, please—!" He shot up from his desk. "I-I was just…I already answered it, I was just re-writing it to make it neater."
Ms Lynne eyed him down in silence before returning back to her desk. He wanted to sigh in relief, but what came out was an anxious whimper.
From the corner of his eyes, he spotted Hitch by her desk, hugging her books and side-eyeing him. She remained unusually silent in their short exchange, pursing her lips and lowering her head. In fact, she was unusually silent all day. He watched her bolt out of the room not long after they made eye contact—no witty remark, no flavourful diss.
It struck Armin as strange, but what didn't these days? He should have been relieved it was time for lunch, but his nerves rendered his stomach weak. The test was over and done with and he believed he did relatively well, even if it took a piece of his sanity with it.
Over the last few weeks, he'd grown to be so on edge; Annie was avoiding him and/or mad at him, Eren was, well, in the same boat actually, he hadn't seen Mikasa since she disappeared from the dance, Jean was shaken up but wouldn't tell him why, Connie wouldn't stop with the radish jokes. It was like the Mercury was in fucking retrograde—the entire planet just seemed to fall into hell and there was nothing he could do about it but watch.
As his nostrils flared out a shaky breath, Armin gathered his textbooks and left the classroom, avoiding a lock of gazes with Ms Lynn. While stalking back to his locker, he noticed the back of his best friend amongst the students in the hall. His nerves fired once again. Armin hoped Eren was a little clearer-minded this week after what happened between them. As eyeroll inducing as it was to see Eren guiltily avoid him, he was still gravely upset by what happened. Armin missed his best friend, believing that making amends with Eren was what would get each other—if not the world—out of this funk they were all in.
As he drew closer down the hall, he halted at the sight of Mikasa coming into view just in front of Eren. She spoke up at the boy, shaking her head as a wrinkle sufferingly creased between her brows. It had become so typical for her to appear so miserably, but Armin could never get used to the sight. In fact, it was killing him.
Mikasa and Eren—they both felt it, they both loved each other and yet they were both too fearful and stupid to say anything. Like he couldn't say anything to Annie.
Where was the reason in keeping their secrets if all it did was put them through a perpetual cycle of heartache? What was the point anymore? Armin knew he wasn't a good friend; he couldn't believe he ever was if he truly thought letting them fester in their own fears was better than shoving them into the awkward grounds of the truth. God, how could he be so stupid? Of course he knew better than to let his fears take hold of his rationale. This whole time he wanted to make sure he wasn't hurting anyone's feelings, but seeing her frowning right then and there made him realize it never made sense to prioritise that. What made him a good friend wasn't enabling fears or being the vague middle-man in their lack of communication—
He glowered.
It was what he was about to do. It was stopping this once and for all.
Armin inhaled through his gritted teeth; a wired, bug-eyed stare plagued his features as he forcibly made his way up to his best friends, his shoulders bashing against oncoming students.
"And Hange still hasn't heard—"
"Enough!" he bellowed as he stood before them, catching their startled gazes. "I can't take this anymore! Why the hell won't either of you just make it easier for yourselves and say something! I'm sick of keeping both your secrets—it's the same damn secret! Do you know how it feels to be caught in the middle of this?! It's eating me up inside trying to be true to both of you but this crap has gone on long enough! I'm sorry but I'm not doing this anymore!" His fervent eyes snapped over to Eren. "Eren, tell her!"
The boy stood still, visibly aghast.
Armin growled. "Fine—Mikasa! You do it!"
She blinked at him, understandably mortified.
An exhaustive whimper escaped him. "Rrghh! Damn it—why can't either of you just admit you love each other?!"
Eren and Mikasa gawked as Armin clutched his head in frustration. Passersby witnessed the fiasco, offering peculiar looks and giggles as he continued to break down, pacing back and forth between a few meters or so.
Alarmed, Mikasa averted her eyes up to Eren.
"What were you saying about him keeping promises?" she quietly muttered to him.
Eren watched as his friend buried his face in his textbooks, rambling into their hardcovers.
"I think we broke him."
Mikasa hummed. "Didn't he have his Algebra test last period?"
"Oh yeah."
Suddenly, Armin halted. He lowered his books and abruptly stared between the two in perplexity, watching as they merely blinked back at him.
"Wait. I-I don't get it…what's going on?" he questioned, scouring their faces for any rhyme or reason. "Why aren't you mad? You…you aren't even trying to kill me—"
Without a single word, Eren and Mikasa held up their intertwined hands. His eyes widened and his mouth subsequently fell open. If he simply had his breakdown a little more to the left, their grasp would have been in full view the entire time.
"Wha…b-but—" Armin pointed to her. "You looked sad and—" Then directed his hand over to Eren. "You…" He was utterly speechless, and all he could do was merely ogle at them.
Before he started to laugh.
They watched as he relaxed his shoulders with a giant sigh of relief, succumbing to a laugh that grew heartier and demented by the second. Again, students stared as Armin fell into a type of morbid scream-laughter combination, staggering over to a locker and slapping it over and over again.
Eren paled. "Holy shit."
Mikasa broke her grasp from Eren and placed her hands on Armin's shoulders, steadying him.
"Armin, you're scaring us."
"Yeah, come on. Snap out of it," Eren stepped forward.
As his maniacal guffawing finally begun to die down, he couldn't help but take in the sight before him. From what was friendship purgatory with all the waiting and watching of everything playing out, he basked in the reality that he was staring at Eren and Mikasa again—in the same vicinity. Right by each other's side.
Together.
"I can't believe it," he finally muttered, his eyes flicking between the two. "I…I look like such an idiot."
Mikasa huffed. "You're not an idiot."
His friend nodded. "Not at all. I was thinking unhinged."
"Eren." She deadpanned over her shoulder.
Armin's features uncontrollably fell into awe. They were talking to each other normally. Candidly. It was like old times again hearing that gentle warning in her tone as she spoke his name, watching him glance down at her with a budding smirk of satisfaction. Holy shit, something was falling back into place. Mercury wasn't in retrograde after all!
He shook his head in bewilderment, and tenderly, Mikasa started to guide him down the hall toward the cafeteria.
"I can't believe it," he repeated, his eyes burning into the ground. "It took you both two years."
Mikasa lowered her head. "If anyone should be feeling stupid, it's me."
"You feel stupid?" Eren blinked at her, brows furrowing. "Welcome to my life."
"Hey."
"I feel like I can finally breathe…" Armin exhaled. It was all so relieving, but never in a million years did he truly see it coming. From last seeing Mikasa at the dance and Eren sulking around school last week—he felt like he'd missed a chapter of his all-time favourite book. His visage contorted. "So who the hell broke first?! What made it happen? I have to know!"
Eren hadn't even questioned it until now, but…what did make Mikasa call him over that night? Even he glanced to her expectantly.
"I did," Mikasa announced as she averted her eyes, lowering her head again. "Look, Armin. I know this has been pretty rough for you. If I had known how much it was getting to you, I would've kept my mouth shut." She frowned at him. "I'm sorry."
Eren's features drew with guilt. "Yeah. I, uh…me too. I really should have listened to you sooner."
Armin stopped walking just as they reached the cafeteria doors, peering between the both of them.
"That's it? That's all you both have to say?" His features fell into dismay.
They too halted and stared at each other, eyes broad and cautious as students passed by them.
"We'll take you out for ice cream?" Eren smiled through furrowed brows, Mikasa following with a nod.
His eye twitched with confusion. "I wanna know how it all happened!"
Again, Mikasa lowered her head. "It's a little convoluted," her inflectionless voice murmured back.
"Yeah. Seriously, I didn't even think I'd be at school today," Eren continued, and unwillingly, he recalled the fury on Levi's face that night. "Or walking."
"Wait, what?"
"We'll tell you everything over ice cream, okay? After school," Mikasa told him, forcing a smile.
Damn it. His kryptonite.
Armin sighed as he succumbed to a grin. "Yeah, alright… Trust you two to do things the hard way, huh?"
Eren huffed as he led them into the cafeteria. "It's either a curse or a stupidly gifted talent," he muttered broodingly.
"Wait…then…" Armin frowned at her. "If you guys are fine now, what were you so upset about before?"
He watched as her features succumbed to sorrow, that same, miserable pout from before.
Eren begun to scowl. "It's Levi," he lowly replied. "He and this other stuff go hand in hand."
Armin's brows shot up. "Oh..." Shit. That wasn't good.
Mikasa quickened her pace to their usual table, head down in silence. As Armin achingly watched her speed ahead, Eren took the chance to pull him aside, letting her go on without them.
"Hey—"
"It's bad, isn't it?" Armin asked, earning Eren's temperate nod. "Shit. I mean, I would've thought Levi knew this was coming, but…"
"He's missing."
Armin made a strange noise. "I—what?"
"Levi's missing."
"Missing?" He gaped. Maybe Mercury wasn't out of retrograde. "Since when?"
"Saturday night. He left and now no one knows where he is." Eren continued to scowl. "He just…fucking left her." Speechless, Armin watched as he then shook his head. "But—look, we'll talk about that later. It's not what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Okay, then…what is it?"
With furrowed brows, he stared hesitatingly at his best friend. "I know I've been a dick to you, so…I wanted to say I'm sorry. My head's been all fucked up these last few weeks and I wasn't treating you right. I wasn't treating anyone right," he shamefully exhaled. "I was such an asshole to you for trying to get me to man up and I…I wish I did. I wish it was me who broke first and told her how I felt like you wanted me to, but it just…" his eyes trailed to the bottom of Armin's shirt. "It backfired on me. After I left the locker room to tell her, I couldn't even get the words out before she said she was going to the dance with Jean."
Tentatively, Armin nodded. "So that's why you were upset…" Eren, regretfully, kept his eyes down. "Even I was shocked…"
"I never should have blamed you. You only told me to do what you thought was right and you weren't wrong," he frowned, his eyes settling onto the ground. "I still don't believe it. It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that she likes me and not…" Eren trailed off as he glanced towards the table. Jean was sitting there with his head lowered as Mikasa took her seat.
Armin followed his gaze. "Him?"
Eren nodded, inhaling deeply before turning back to him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blown up like I did. You're my best friend, you mean a lot to me and…and my emotions shouldn't get in the way of that," he continued, watching Armin stand in utter stillness. "So…do you forgive me?"
In his friend's remorseful gaze, Armin could see the effort he already needed to see. With pride like his, apologies were a struggle for Eren even though, ironically, they were the one thing he was often expected to say. His threshold for pain was unlike Armin's; where he could endure a state of unrequited love and silently burn for a taken girl, Eren could never live in a reality where Mikasa wasn't his. He believed it was something to do with the almost easy life Eren was fortunate enough to live, that when the things and people he cared deeply about were taken from him, all that he was so used to having around, he would cease to function. He would spiral into an existence driven only by his purest emotions, lashing out at anything and everything in his path. Even those he loved.
Over the years, Armin had come to understand that his best friend felt in absolutes, and more precisely, he functioned rigidly by the notion of justice. He felt justified in that moment to accuse Armin of being wrong about Mikasa's feelings. He felt justified in running away from the girl he loved. And he felt 'justified' in throwing a milk carton at Jean's face.
But Armin came to realize that wasn't the case after all. All Eren was, in his passionate, furious glory, was scared. Scared that Mikasa was moving on without him, so he lashed out at Armin. Scared that his fondness for her would drive a wedge in their friendship, so he pushed her away. Scared that Jean was making yet another move instead of mindlessly misspeaking, so he threw some milk.
All his determined, fearless friend was, was scared.
"Eren…" he frowned, glancing up at him through his lashes. "Your apologies are getting better, but I think there's still some work we have to do—"
"Hey, come on—will you just…" Eren watched as a grin crept up on his best friend's face, and infectiously, his own lips started to pull. "Oh."
"You know I'll always forgive you, Eren," his tone sobered. "Maybe next time you feel the way you do, try to remember the people around you want to help."
Regretfully, he exhaled. "I know. I wish I answered your calls. I could've used someone to talk to."
"Me too," Armin painfully smiled. "I really missed having you around, these last few weeks have been so disorientating. Everything's just been falling apart and…I missed having you by my side."
"Really?" Eren's eyes widened, earning his friend's earnest nod. "Well…I'm not going anywhere. Not anymore. I promise." His eyes trailed over to their usual lunch table, to where Mikasa sat amongst their friends. "I've got a second chance here…with her. With all of you."
Armin watched his friend lose himself to the sight of her.
"So don't let it go to waste then," he grinned hopefully, pep once again finding his voice. "And more importantly, try to stay out of your head. You know how much you mean to each other, and I know we all make stupid mistakes sometimes, but you can't let it come between you two," he stared at him as if it were crucial, the tug on his lips softening.
Eren inhaled, forcing himself to nod. "I won't. I can't." He started to frown. "I don't wanna feel how I felt again."
Armin pursed his lips into a smile. "I don't want you to either." His hand placed gently onto his shoulder. "It's good to have you back."
And the boy beamed in return, as genuinely as his features could move, it echoed the comfort he felt being by Armin's side again.
"I missed you, man."
"I missed you too," he replied, before playfully, his eyes rolled. "Oh, come on, Eren. Don't get all soft on me."
"Yeah, yeah, alright," he grinned, shoving him jovially. "Come on, let's eat."
They ventured off into the lunch line before eventually making their way over to the table with their trays. It was strange being in the cafeteria after so long of avoiding it. A minor form of anxiety began to flare up in Eren's chest as he approached – like the time he left his pencil case in History class the hour before and had to interrupt a class full of seniors to retrieve it.
But in the rare instance that Connie and Sasha lifted their heads from their food, they beamed at the sight of Eren, and a familiar warmth puddled over that hideous anxiety.
"Eren! You're back!" Sasha gaped with a smile.
"Hey man, long time no see!" Connie lit up.
Jean let his gaze finally lift, but his eyes settled on none other than Mikasa. He watched as she glanced over her shoulder to welcome Eren with one of her placid smiles, and like Connie and Sasha, her features alit. When he finally allowed himself to survey the boy, Eren's sights had already been steadily fastened on him. He stood still, holding his tray like a statue as he peered down at him with what looked to be indifference. Swarming and swirling behind those cool eyes was what Jean could only assume to be confliction, perhaps even disdain for his apologetic spilling of truth. I care about you, Eren. I do. I just…I care about her more. What kind of person could ever forget a truth told like that? He could see it written all over Eren's otherwise composed visage.
How unnerving.
"Eren?" Armin glanced up at him, already taken to his seat on Mikasa's left. "Come and sit already."
Jean was the first to break their iron-locked gazes, his eyes settling back onto his half-eaten sandwich.
"Finally joining us again, blockhead?" he spoke lowly, busying his hands by scrunching up some clingwrap.
Eren never wavered his stare.
"Guess I am," he solemnly replied, finally seating himself down next to Mikasa. "Jean-boy."
Yeah. That was more like it.
"Hah," Connie snorted. "Still can't believe your mom calls you that."
"Oh, look," Armin listlessly muttered. "Glad to see nothing's changed between you two."
"Yeah." Jean stared into the cucumber in his sandwich, pretending he couldn't feel Eren's eyes boring into his skin. "Seems that way."
Eren couldn't shake the indescribable feeling he harboured when taking in his friend. All he could sense was the shame oozing out of the boy's skin, shame for putting his feelings for a girl over their friendship. Eren, however, couldn't admit to being resentful, strangely, because he wasn't. He could be unreasonable, he could be obstinate, and stubborn, and aggressive, but he couldn't be a hypocrite. He couldn't turn his cheek at his faults, nor play a game of willing blindness. Jean did what Eren too would have done if chasing Mikasa meant burning all the bridges he ever knew. Because Eren cared about Jean, he really did.
But he cared about Mikasa a whole lot more.
From underneath the table, a pair of fingers intertwined and clung to his limp hand. Eren finally broke his fixation on Jean to steer his sights to Mikasa; she gleamed at him as well as her tired eyes could, wearing that mesmerizing smile that always managed to ground him back down on earth.
Jean eventually dared to glance up, witnessing the two. The blood in his heart pooled. His lips parted to speak.
"Hey, why are you two looking at each other like that?" Connie furrowed his brows.
"Shhh," Sasha leaned in, ogling at them as if she were peering behind some bushes. "I think they've finally made up. Let the rekindle their friendship in peace, alright?"
"Oh, right."
Eren snapped himself out of it, gradually falling into a grin as he blinked at his friends. Mikasa took it as a chance to pick a strawberry off his tray.
"So…how was the dance?" he asked them.
"Oh my god—you missed out on so much, Eren!"
Connie nodded. "Yeah man, it was pretty sick."
"Niccolo and I had our first dance and—"
"Not that part." Connie's lips formed a flat line. "But the rest was pretty cool."
Armin forked at his food. "I could have sworn I saw Ymir dancing at some point. Not sure how Historia managed to make that happen."
While they continued to fill Eren in, Jean kept his eyes firmly on Mikasa. She tried her hardest not to succumb to any eye contact as she chewed on her stolen strawberry, but for a split second, she cracked. And when her eyes locked with Jean's in a game of mercy, she pursed her lips into a polite smile.
But Jean did not smile back.
Perhaps it was the familiarity of sitting in an ice cream parlour with Eren and Armin that lifted her spirits, or that when she dropped her strawberry ice cream in front of the whole store, Eren busted out into laughter and gave her his. It was a worthwhile distraction having them both by her side through yet another shitty, tumultuous happening in her life.
Mikasa watched a total of seven different emotions flicker through Armin's features as she and Eren told him absolutely everything (minus the finer details of the kissing part). The boy was completely stumped about Levi's strange decision to disappear. He too wondered why Eren was walking upright and breathing after being stumbled upon making out with the man's figurative daughter. There wasn't much of anything they could do. Armin insisted she give him some time alone so he could find his way back home, but like she had for the majority of her life, she couldn't stop herself from desiring his return. She couldn't control her need to stare out that window.
They spent the rest of the afternoon up on the hill before Eren walked her home. The house was, as it often was nowadays, chilled and lifeless without Levi's presence. It was time for Eren to go home now, Carla was getting worried about his extended absence and so when he returned in the morning to change his clothes, he promised her he'd be back that night. As far as Mikasa knew, he hadn't told his mother about what was going on with Levi, but she thought that inevitably he'd spill the beans Carla would phone her up to check on her. She was caring like that.
"You sure you're gonna be okay?" he asked, lugging his backpack over his shoulder.
"I'll be fine. I promise." She looked hopeful, even. "He'll be back any second now."
With pursed lips, Eren gave her a nod. "Alright. Just make sure you get some sleep tonight."
"I'll try."
"Well…guess I'll see you later, Mikasa," he said, flashing her a temperate grin.
Mikasa's chest fell as she watched him navigate the locks on her front door, twisting the knob to open it. An urgency overcame her, as if as soon as he left her presence, she wasn't going to see him again. Not if she didn't do something first.
"Eren, wait."
He peered over his shoulder, studying the alert broadness of her eyes as she stared at him.
"Yeah?"
Slowly, her brows begun to furrow. "You're just…you're gonna leave?"
He turned to her. "I thought you wanted me to—"
"I do, but I thought…" Heat rushed to her cheeks as her throat began to swell. "Be-before you go. You know." Shit, why was it so hard to just say it? With everything that had been going on, neither of them had tried to initiate a kiss since Saturday night. Either her state of mind was in absolute ruins or they were around their friends who definitely didn't have to see that. She watched the gears click and churn behind Eren's eyes as he stared at her, confused.
The perplexity on his features finally fell. "Oh—right."
Eren dropped his bag and started approaching her. Her eyes lit up, the corners of her mouth pulling with anticipation as she watched him get closer and closer and closer. Mikasa felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her up into his chest.
He squeezed her, patting her back, before pulling away and offering her a jovial smile.
That's…that's it?
As his hands rested on her arms, all she could do was stare up at him, unable to convincingly smile back. That wasn't what she wanted—not that she didn't want it, but…seriously? A hug?
No, things were different now. Mikasa couldn't allow herself to wish for things to simply happen, she learned that nothing worked that way. She recalled the last two years of yearning for something like Saturday's events to happen, for Eren to eagerly, hungrily place his lips to hers and pull her in like he did. But nothing of the sort would have come to fruition if she hadn't said what she wanted. Her life was in her hands—she had lived too long allowing things to just happen to her, happen in front of her.
She was the only girl who could control her life. Her own key to getting what she wanted.
"Eren."
The plainness of her voice chilled his core. "Yeah…?"
"That's not what I meant," she told him, watching his smile deteriorate with caution. She had to withhold her grin as his lips parted, completely in awe of the effect she could have over him. She never realized it until now. "I…" Her lungs filled up with air. "I want you to kiss me."
Eren's mouth fell open as he succumbed to a nod. "O-oh. Yeah, duh. I knew…I knew that." Yeah, he didn't know that. As she stared at him, she watched the flushing of his cheeks, the jittering tugs on the corners of his lips. He cleared his throat. "Like now?"
She blinked at him. "When else would—"
"Yeah, no, I can do that," he replied, absently rubbing her shoulder. His eyes flickered elsewhere. "I just, like, didn't know if you wanted me to do it now. You know, 'cause, with everything that's going on and…and you dropped your ice cream before—"
"Eren."
"Right, yeah, sorry."
Eren pulled her back in again, and this time, his lips found hers. As awkward and fumbling as he was unlike Saturday night, Mikasa could have sworn time stood still nonetheless. The longer they stayed connected, the more relaxed she could feel him become, taking his hands and sliding them up to hold her face. To breathe, he finally pulled mere inches away, much to her disappointment – if it could go on forever, she'd make it so. With his hands still holding her face, his gentle eyes fell upon her features as she studied his.
"I should ask for this more often," Mikasa muttered, completely entranced as she stared into his eyes.
"You don't have to ask at all," he quietly replied. "Just look at me like you do and I'll know."
Her smitten lips formed into a grin, exhaling the build up of adrenaline in her chest. Mikasa leaned forward once more and took another kiss from him, this time more briefly.
When Eren's hands left her, she felt her body floating through time and space it seemed. He took his backpack and opened the door wider as she walked forward to let him out. One last time, leaning back in through the doorway, Eren snagged an unsuspecting kiss from her, another goodbye. She reared her head back a little at his suddenness, breathing out a laugh.
Mikasa fell into bed that night feeling a little lighter than usual, convinced that Levi would come home during the early morning hours. He was a night owl after all. She fell asleep to the thoughts of everything she would say to him—how she was sorry, how she loved him. That Eren was a good kid and he'd kept her company the whole time he was gone, and that maybe, just maybe, he could see Eren for who he was and not what Levi thought him to be. She was growing a little more hopeful of the possibility that if she could plead her case convincingly enough, her cousin would finally come to understand it all didn't have to be the way that it was. It was all going to be okay.
But when Tuesday rolled around and she awoke to an empty house yet again, her mending spirit splintered once more. The house was still piercingly cold, his bed just as empty as it had been these last few days. With a heavy, burning heart she dragged herself to school that morning, unable to focus on anything. At the threat of falling tears, she found herself leaving class to cry in the janitor's closet again. Hange wanted to talk with her at lunch, something about staying with her until Levi got back, but got pulled into a last-minute meeting. And so sitting down beside friends that laughed and chatted around her never felt so alienating. Everything seemed to be going so right and so wrong at the same time.
When she returned home, it was still quiet. Still lonely. At the chirps of his meows, Mikasa gave Mr Sprinkles whatever was left over in the fridge. She sat at the table as he ate on the floor beside her, occasionally glancing at the clock. She feared. Constantly. An accident could have happened, one completely out of his control. No wallet, no identification on him—he could have been laying stiff and alone in some fridge at a morgue. Or he truly decided to leave, that there was no coming back to a girl as ungrateful as her. That he decided to start a new life interstate, run away once more. He was smart—bad with words, but able to pull off anything he put his mind to. If anyone could withdraw all their savings at the bank with no identification on him, somehow, Levi was the man to do it.
At ten p.m., Mikasa pulled up the venetian blinds to one of the windows in the lounge room. In the moon-lit darkness of the night, she laid herself down on the sofa, propping her head up on the arm rest as she stared directly through the window. From that spot, she could see the roof of Levi's sedan and anyone who decided to walk to the front door. From that spot, she could see Levi come home.
If he did.
CONTENT WARNING
WEDNESDAY
There was no impulse to get ready for school. No drive to listen to whispers of anxiety, telling her one absence was going to ruin her education, no motivation to let her friends know she wouldn't be around today. It was almost painful to resist the downturn of her lips as a hot, stinging warmth blurred her vision. Standing at the foot of Levi's bed, there was only one thing on her miserable mind.
He still isn't here.
It wasn't what she thought it would be, living life on her own. At some frustrated moment in her life, Mikasa once wished she had her own home far away from Levi. That she wasn't subjected to his strange cleaning habits or persistence to stay on top of her schoolwork, or that she wasn't watched like how a hawk would survey their nest. That she would finally be rid of his looming presence despite how gravely she loved it when she was a child. How safe it used to make her feel.
Almost everything was a chore – from walking back to her room, to undressing for a shower, to merely standing in front of the mirror. She gripped the basin as sobs jolted her wet and shivering body, as if she hadn't just spent an hour weeping under the showerhead. His absence was all too unbearable, it had to stop at some point. There had to be some emergency 'mercy' button she could just whack and have him come back through the door. The burning pain in her chest and the throttling of her cries had her feeling like a little girl all over again, scared and alone and desperate for Levi to hold her. Nothing could seem to mend the misery that consumed her.
After dressing, she tried turning on the television to distract herself from it all, but at the sheer sound of the grating laughter of a talk-show audience, she threw the remote control at the screen, causing the batteries to go flying about. She tried reading one of her favourite books, but the thought of doing it alone brought her into a wailing mess – Levi always wanted her to read to him, no echo of a cracking spine or abundance of soft powdery pages could bait her into enjoying it without him.
She couldn't sit, she couldn't sleep, she couldn't think, or breathe, or exist without anguish swelling her brain and upheaving guttural cries, rambled pleas for Levi to just come home. Just fucking come home and be with her again, make her wipe down the counters with white vinegar or help her make her bed to almost utter perfection, spar with her because he wanted to make sure she could defend herself. One last time, she just wanted him to interrogate her about where she was going, who she was meeting up with, what they planned to do. She wanted to sit in their kitchen with her friends as Levi made them all breakfast like they were his children too. Just one more time did she want to hear him tell her how proud he was, how far she had come from being some timid brat who struggled to read to being one of the top students in her class.
And it was all because of him. She attributed everything to him. He made her smart, he made her clean, and once upon a time he made her just as happy as Eren did. He made her who she was, encouraged all she ever wanted to be—how could she ever, ever live without him?
Mikasa cried herself out on the sofa, waking at the end of the day to the same stillness as before. In her half-slumbered state, she could hear the phone ring, but was too exhausted to go and answer. She wished Eren had stuck around, wished he was sitting beside her, encouraging her with his strong determination to wipe her tears and remember who she was. He always emboldened her like he was giving a pep talk to a locker room full of Riverbank Titans or was leading an army into battle. He would tell her not to spend her tears, to stop wasting her energy being so miserable and instead, get up and do something about it. That was the type of spirit Eren brought to her life. That was the boy who—
A jolt of electricity summoned her to stand. Eren was right. Well, the Eren in her head, that was. After hours of sleeping and crying and sleeping and crying, Mikasa realized there wasn't a single thing she had done to try and find Levi herself. Besides calling around and coming up answerless, what had she actually done to find the man? She told herself if he wouldn't come home, she was going to find him.
So what the hell was she waiting for?
She stepped out of the loungeroom in a haste, her eyes tracking over to the clock on the kitchen wall. It was six in the evening now.
The Fox's Den.
Levi was at work—he had to be. There was only one instance that he ever missed a day and that was forced upon him, otherwise he was there. He was always there. Even when he was sick, even when he had to leave her in the care of someone else. Levi would never miss work.
Mikasa scrambled to change her clothes and get her boots on. She gathered up her bag and her scarf and she almost flew out the door into the winter darkness. She buzzed with newfound energy as she ran to the subway station, panting by the time she stood on the platform and waited for the next train into the city.
"Stay behind the line. Don't get too close."
"Okay."
She was going to find him. She was determined—if he had to make a fool of herself to everyone there, make a whole damn scene just to retrieve him, then she damn well would.
He was coming home.
Half an hour of travel went by with nothing but Levi on her mind. From the side she sat on, she could see the city lights illuminate Grand Stohess Park. She rarely ever ventured to or even from the city at night, even in her tunnelled state of mind, she couldn't help but appreciate the beautiful sight.
"I can see the park! Can you see it? Can you see it, Levi?"
"Mhm. Almost there."
When her stop came and the doors opened, Mikasa bolted out of the carriage and up the subway stairs. The city was somehow even bigger at night. Droves of business associates came from many directions, either leaving work or heading to dinner. Taxis were lined up by the dozen and the traffic was loud and unstopping. Mikasa, however, remained steadfast in her travels. Using their trips to Stohess Park as a general guide, she did her best to remember the few times Levi had pointed out his workplace to her when they walked past. It wasn't far.
After ten minutes of searching, the Fox's Den's signage called her over to a familiar entrance. A man stood across from it, smoking as he waved off a taxi. She beelined straight through the doors, finding herself in an empty foyer, her eyes meeting a large staircase.
"Wow! That's where you work? The stairs are so big…"
"Yet Hange's managed to fall down them twice. Tch, idiot."
Her boots took her straight up the stairs, she'd never seen what it looked like beyond them, only ever seeing the foyer from the outside. When she reached the top, the entrance to the venue stared back at her. Assuming she'd find Miche working the door, an unfamiliar face scoured her up and down, his bulbus arms folded over his rotund stomach.
Mikasa pursed her lips as she headed for the door, but his hand immediately stopped her, jolting her back.
"You're a brave one," he scoffed, eyeing her up and down. "Let's see some ID."
Her lips parted. "I'm just trying to find Levi."
"Sorry. Don't know who that is," he folded his arms again.
The air escaped her. "Levi—Levi Ackerman. He's one of the bartenders. I need to see him—"
"Not a chance, kid. I'm not losing my job over some little punk and her lovers quarrel," he bit back.
Mikasa felt her features contort. "Wh—? N-No, he's my—he's family—"
"I don't care what he is," his voice hardened. "No ID, no entry."
No. Fuck. She was so close to finding him, so close to getting him back home. This couldn't be where it ended.
"Move or I'll make you," she glared at him, eyes narrowing with repugnance.
His greasy features pulled up into a smug smirk and he huffed with sharp force. The man didn't bother gracing her with a response as she merely eyed him down through the bottom of her brows. Her lip started to wobble.
Fuck it.
Mikasa didn't hesitate as she forcibly pushed her way to the door. For a moment, the bouncer let her have her way in utter disbelief that she attempted to do so. She felt his hand grip the back of her jacket collar and instinctively, she sent her elbow straight back into the man's gut. He coughed and buckled for a moment, allowing Mikasa time to swing the glass door open and step a single foot inside.
In the mere seconds she was able to search her surroundings, she couldn't quite find Levi amongst the patrons and fellow bartenders. Her eyes inspected the bar in what was only a quick glimpse, but no one of familiarity stood out.
"Come here!"
A pair of brutish arms bear hugged her from behind, lifting her up into the air as she was pulled out of the venue.
"Hey! Let go of me!" she growled, wriggling and kicking as hard as she could to slip his grasp. Why couldn't she fight him off? From ramming the heels of her boots into his shins to the restrained blows her elbows kept trying to deliver, she couldn't shake the hold he had on her. Had her loss of appetite as of late made her weak? Could she ever fight off a man this big?
The bouncer turned around once he was past the door and threw her to the ground, straightening up his shirt.
"You really fucking tried that, kid?!"
Mikasa, bruised from the drop, lifted herself up on her forearms. She gritted her teeth from the pain, cursing herself for eating nothing all day. Her head was light, her arms felt weak.
Nonetheless, she stood to her feet. And in a split second, she charged at him again.
"Mikasa—" Erwin had hastily emerged from the door, stepping between the bouncer and her quickness just in time. He used his weight to bear her force, holding her back with more effort than he assumed he needed.
"Tell him to let me in!" her teeth continue to grit through her words as she squirmed in Erwin's hands.
The bouncer grimaced at her. "Listen, you little shit! How many times do I have to tell you—"
"There's no need to be vulgar," Erwin's deep, solid spoke over him. "In fact, I recommend you don't be. Your employer doesn't exactly appreciate his staff mouthing off to children." Erwin's eyes settled upon him for a long, hard moment. "I'll take it from here. Let's go, Mikasa."
"No, Erwin—!"
"You're too young to be here." He pulled her along.
"No, wait! I have to see him!" Her voice broke, the indignancy she held had started to whittle into desperation. Into fear. "Erwin!"
He kept headstrong despite the heart aching nature of her pleas. She eventually gave in just before they made it down the stairs and back out onto the street, the city ambience crashing against her ears once again. She knew if it were Miche at the door like she anticipated, he would've dragged Levi out on his ass for her. She was so close…so damn close—it wasn't fair. None of this was fair.
Erwin stood in front of her on the sidewalk, his hands planted on her shoulders. He studied the despair that wrought her features, the burning redness in her glassy eyes.
"Take a breath," he said to her. "Let's talk."
Mikasa lowered her head, teeth continuing to grit as she breathed. "He still hasn't come home. It's been days now," she told him, finally glancing up at him. "Did you tell him to come back? You saw him in there, right?"
A sigh escaped him. "I didn't," he replied, his hands falling from her shoulders. "I don't typically spend my weekday evenings at bars. I came here for the very same reason you did, in fact, I've been here every night since you called but my search has come up futile. Hange and Miche have been searching all over town trying to find him. The truth of the matter is that, unfortunately, I don't know where Levi has made off to. Especially if you don't either," he said. His eyes lowered. "I'm sorry, Mikasa."
A tear glided along her cheek. "Thank you for looking," her lifeless voice mumbled. "I…I said some really horrible things to him…things I wish I could take back."
He watched her for a moment, eventually coming to a gentle nod.
"I believe he'd wish that too." Erwin sighed painfully at her trembling. "He'll come home soon, dear. It might not be for a while, but he'll find his way back."
Her eyes met the ground. "Do you think I should call the police?" she asked. "I mean, he's missing. I should report that, shouldn't I?"
Erwin pursed his lips. "If it were anyone else, I wouldn't hesitate. But as you know, he's not exactly fond of law enforcement and with a record like his, I fear they'll assume he's dangerous. Not to mention that in the eyes of the law, a thirty-year-old man is free to roam as he pleases," he insisted, leaning his hands on his knees to reach her eyeline. "I have faith nothing has happened to him. You know just as well as I do how capable he is. He's lived through much worse."
Mikasa came to a nod. "I know. It's just…where could he possibly be? Where is he sleeping?"
"Perhaps a motel."
"He didn't take his wallet."
Erwin tried to hide the concern that statement made him feel, but Mikasa could see right through the iron-clad man.
"He's savvy. I highly doubt he's foraging for food in dumpsters or sleeping on park benches by any means." He almost wanted to laugh at the strange thought. "He will come home, Mikasa. I can't find myself believing the notion that he'd ever abandon you, but what I do believe is that you're the one person he would lay down and die for. And for that simple fact, he will come home."
The air escaped her as another tear fell. At almost all points in time, she would agree with what he said without hesitation. Now, second thoughts plagued her mind.
"Okay," her quiet voice murmured.
Erwin stood back up. "Speaking of, I think it's time you head back yourself. It's a school night." The man reached into his pocket, pulling out some loose bills and coins and quickly counting them. "I'll get you a cab—"
"No, it's fine," she shook her head. "I'll just catch the subway. It's how I got here."
He stared at her, a tinge of worry souring his face. He hesitated to let her leave on her own, but ultimately remembered she wouldn't allow it any other way. She was an Ackerman after all, he was well acquainted with their stubborn nature. He came to a quiet, defeated sigh, but nonetheless, he shoved the money into her hand anyway.
"Here."
"Erwin—"
His pressed the money harder. "Do a grocery shop. Cook yourself a hearty meal." His eyes glanced her up and down momentarily. "You're looking thin, and I don't like the way you let that bouncer throw you and with all the sparring I used to walk in on, I know Levi taught you better."
Her brows furrowed at his words, and ultimately, she stayed silent. Levi never let her accept money off of other people, just as he hadn't. But within her core, she was just too tired to keep fighting. And reluctantly, she eased her grip, taking what he had given her. Erwin said his goodbyes and watched her walk down the street before returning to the bar.
On her lonesome way back to the station, the ball in her throat continued to swell, causing her to choke on her tears. She didn't care that she was walking the longer route, because where her feet took her to was automatic. Before realizing it, she was walking through the iron gates of Grand Stohess Park, welcomed by the faintest of purple flowers peeking through the shrouded darkness.
Far up ahead on the path, visions of past memories played in front of her; Levi holding her hand as she dragged him towards the large sugar maple tree. Watching him perfect their crude, makeshift kite hustled together with paper bags and chicken wire before letting her run off with it.
Het boots lugged her over to the particular park bench he always sat on as he anxiously watched her climb that gargantuan tree. She could recall the way her kid-sized picnic blanket housed all her plastic, bright pink teacups. How her much smaller plastic spoons and forks would hover atop the blades of freshly cut grass, earning Levi's tight-lipped disapproval. How she would tie her set of yellow, web-like fairy wings to his back and encourage him to have a tea party with her.
Mikasa's eyes burned into the moon-lit grass, her lip trembling as she eventually glanced up at the tree. Being there didn't feel the same as it used to. The park was a treasure trove of exciting memories, of the times where she would pick flowers to take to him. Of the times where she would swing upside down on one of the tree branches, holding his hands as he readied himself to catch her. Where they would sit down and stare up at their floating kite, and Levi's sullen, brooded features would finally relax, and he would smile down at her as she beamed up at him.
There was nothing left for her here now. In this park, without him, there was nothing at all. All she wanted to do was shut her eyes and disappear, because maybe then, he would finally go back home. Maybe then he'd be able to live the quiet life he deserved without her there to screw it all up. That's what he wanted, right? One less person to stress him out, drive him mad? One less Ackerman to disappoint and disgust him? She knew she took his adolescence away—there were things he wanted to do, someone he wanted to become, and it all would've happened if she were never in the picture. He was intelligent; never mind his stunted upbringing, he could make something of himself from nothing.
Her birth marked the downfall of his life. She may have taken his twenties away, but he didn't have to worry about that anymore. Mikasa understood her place in the world—who she was to him.
Eventually, Mikasa picked herself up from the park bench and headed towards the gate. There was total fog in her brain as she strolled through the darkness, numbness in her fingers and feet. She soon found herself at the stairs that led down to the subway, but couldn't remember going down them. Apparently, she was at the end of the platform for the train that took her back to Paradis Falls. Small town, small train, small platform tucked away at the far end of the station. It was empty and lifeless, echoes of public travellers from yards and yards away were distant and faint in her ear.
Mikasa's blank stare pierced through the tracks on the ground below her. The gravel between them spotted her vision as a haze fell over her eyes. Something called to her, like a wave of relief dancing just over a picket fence, beckoning her to feel it, urging her to find it. It wanted to take that hefty weight off her shoulders, the weight of her vile words, the weight of her vile heart. Relief, in fact, was punishment. It clicked in her brain that all she had to do was punish herself in order to achieve such alleviation, such bliss. No one would have to deal with her shitty tears, her selfish outbursts, the embarrassing joke she called her life.
She, and they, would be free.
Mikasa lowered herself into a crouching position, jumping off the platform and landing between the tracks. Slowly, she stood back up, gazing down into the dark tunnel before her. Not a single thing moved from the corner of her eye, no one around to play hero or shout for help. Just how she wanted it. The tunnel was a void that was staring back at her, a void like her life that sucked everyone around her into it. How miserable it looked to ever trek down there, how alluring. Automatically, her feet took her down the tracks and into the darkness, one hesitant step at a time.
A distant horn sounded, but the ringing in her ears was far too loud for her to startle. Starting from the deep abyss of the tunnel, the walls began to illuminate. She wondered if Levi would ever feel the same relief she was destined to, if such news would ruin his day before he got over it like he always did in that strong, stoic way. He got over all the misfortune and tragedy he ever came into. She wondered how long it would take Eren to move on. A few weeks, some months, maybe? Would he feel relieved too that the mess she was, was finally out of his life?
Were her parents up there watching, waiting for her?
Would they let her come home?
Around the corner came a blaring, luminous light; its brightness causing her eyes to squint. Her hand raised and her fingers laced around the scarf on her neck. A severe beating palpitated her chest as the horn, now much louder, bellowed throughout the tunnel. This was it. This was what seventeen years of hope and misery and defeat was amounting to. A terrible, awful existence going out in a terrible, awful way—truly living up to her family name. The horn continued to blow, the brakes screeching against the train's swift force.
Then, it hit her.
The gust of wind from the train's mass, spiralling swiftly through the tunnel and caressing her neck. Goosebumps spotted her skin, and suddenly, Mikasa wasn't so sure of what she was doing anymore.
What are you doing?
Familiarity echoed throughout her head – Levi's voice, Eren's voice, both – asking her with such disappointment, such perplexity and urgency, what she was doing.
Mikasa felt as if she landed straight back into her body, staring down six thousand tonnes of unwavering, unforgiving steel. She scrambled against the gravel as she turned around, running as fast as her legs could take her back over to the wall below the platform. The train was still coming, it's horn and brakes screaming at her as she tried jumping up the wall.
Shit, shit—
She slipped, unable to form a good grasp.
One more time, come on.
Again, she jumped, her arms slapping the top of the platform floor. In her struggle, she could see the image of Levi standing there, peering down at her like he was critiquing her sparring skills, expecting better from her. Expecting stronger. But her grasp still wasn't firm enough, and pathetically, she slumped back down.
Mikasa felt the world go silent around her. If panic hadn't gotten to her before, now it was truly settling in. The train was close, too close for her liking, too close for her to think of a way out of her shitty mistake—her stupid fuck up.
Then, the cogs in her brain clicked into place.
Do it, Mikasa.
She took herself over to the adjacent wall, and with all of her might, she sprinted for the platform. Mikasa lunged herself up as swiftly and as forcefully as she could, clambering up the wall and rolling over onto the platform. Change and loose bills spilled out of her pockets as she fell back, watching the train zoom past her.
Seconds.
She was mere seconds from losing it all.
Mikasa breathed erratically, her lungs swelling with fire and relief as the train was coming to a screeching halt. Her reflection ogled back at her in the shininess of its steel.
"The hell was that? Are you alright?" The jingles of an armed security guard sounded before the man was right by her side, staring down at her in disbelief. "What happened? Did you fall?"
Her eyes melted into her own image, heart still racing, lungs still twitching for air.
She nodded.
At some point, Mikasa called home to let Levi know she was sleeping over at 'Armin's house' that night. Luckily, they didn't have some fancy, modern telephone like Eren's family did, so caller ID wasn't able to ruin her little white lie. He told her she should just come home, that he'd pick her up and maybe they could forget it ever happened. That her dinner was still waiting for her in the fridge and that he didn't want it to go to waste. But after figuring out during their argument that Levi wasn't merely being cold to Eren he was to all new people, that he genuinely didn't like the boy for being around so much and taking up a lot of her time, Mikasa stood her ground.
"Not tonight. I'll be back tomorrow, I promise."
Levi sighed from the other end. "Alright. Fine."
Eren and Mikasa spent the rest of night playing Tekken on his PlayStation if not talking about the simple things, like school assignments and the next time they'd all hang out as a group. The teens knew the painful moment was coming when they'd have to climb into bed together at the same time. Never in a million years did Mikasa think she'd ever dread that moment happening, but Eren was right…it was so unbelievably awkward.
It was almost eleven by the time they stiffly stumbled into bed together. Eren laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling as Mikasa laid on her side, staring past him through the darkness and directly at what she made out to be his laundry basket. She had never done this with Eren before, in fact, the sheer anxiety that rippled through her body was enough to swamp out any joy she should have felt from this.
Even in the darkness, he could see what he could only describe as discomfort on her face, like the sheer sight of him gave her a stomach-ache. If he was a girl who had to share a bed with him, he'd probably be a hell of a lot more uncomfortable.
His brows furrowed, and eventually, Eren sighed as he peered back up at the ceiling.
"Sorry about my mom."
Mikasa took her time responding, falling into a short silence.
"Hm—what?" she slightly shook her head. "What do you mean?"
"About this," he replied. "I didn't want you to feel weird."
"I don't. I…I thought you…thought it was weird," her voice quietened.
He shrugged. "I mean, sort of, but not really. We're friends."
Mikasa's fingers somewhat gripped her pillow, just enough for Eren to hear her skin grate against the fabric. Her body started to tense even more than it already had.
Friends.
"Yeah. I know." She seldom blinked. "That's why it's not weird."
Eren exhaled. "Right. Yeah…" Eventually, his mind began to wander. "Do you and Armin sleep in the same bed?"
"What do you mean?"
"At your guys' sleepovers and stuff."
Every few weeks or so, Levi went over to Armin's house to cut his grandpa's hedges, so Mikasa would stay the night so they could make hot cocoa, watch his Simpson's box set, and talk about Eren. She didn't know he was aware of it happening, more importantly, she hoped he didn't think he was being excluded.
"We do. Yeah."
"Oh," he found his words had baited. "See? It's fine. Friends can sleep together," he replied, shrugging once more. "In the same bed, I mean," he corrected, brows furrowing even further.
"Uh…y-yeah," she choked out as naturally as she possibly could. Mikasa couldn't tell if she was shaking purely from nerves or if her body was just tensing so much. What the hell was happening? Why did it have to happen now? Was she really this damn nervous?
The worst part of it all was that Eren had seemed to notice.
"Are you cold?" he glanced at her.
No.
"Yeah. A little." Damn it, why did he have to look at her again? "Uh…sorry."
"It's fine," he assured her, scooting closer as he rolled his body over to face her. "You'll warm up in a sec."
From that sheer gesture alone, Mikasa couldn't even begin to comprehend what the hell was going through her own head, because it definitely wasn't coherent. All she could do was stare back at him, hands tucked under her chin, eyes wide as all hell.
He frowned. "Man, you're really cold."
Why couldn't she function—what was happening to her? Why couldn't she just deal with his face being inches away from his and not freak out over it like a loser? Was she really this inexperienced? Instead of gawking at him like an owl, she could have made a damn move on him already! Would he even want that? Would that be okay?
Was the opportunity presenting itself right in front of her and all she could do was fucking malfunction?
Eren grew startled by her uncanny expression. "What's wrong?"
Mikasa slowly but surely inhaled to steady her nerves.
"Just…been a long day."
He frowned. "Yeah. Sorry it's been so shitty. Maybe you'll feel better in the morning."
She cleared her throat, breathing was helping. "It wasn't all bad. I like being here," she admitted, willing herself to lay still. "With you."
"I try to be a good friend," Eren came back at her quickly with that thoughtless, smug tone of his. "And I think I am. At least Armin says so."
Ironically, she came to a pained smile. "I'd say so too."
His features softened. "Thanks, Mikasa."
With her heart sinking, she decided to roll over and face away from him in an attempt to feel her embarrassment. Whatever crumb she gave him, any slight leeway into turning this into a very different direction, always seemed to come up fruitless.
"You warm now?" He asked her.
"Mm," she hummed, her eyes still wide awake. "Hey, Eren."
"Yeah?"
"Talk to me. I don't think I can sleep."
His eyes travelled along her shoulder, thinking of more to say. When he broke his silence, she almost laughed at what he came up with.
"When I was really little, our dog used to snore in the middle of the night and I always thought it was a monster," he rolled his eyes. "I was such a dumb kid."
She huffed. "I think it's cute," she replied, smiling tiredly. "I used to have nightmares."
"Oh."
"Yeah. They were pretty horrible," she spoke so nonchalantly, a far cry from the nervous trembling of before. "Levi always heard me making noises, and he'd always pick me up and take me back to his bed," she said, as Eren listened intently. "He used to hug me really tight until I fell back asleep."
Mikasa hummed again, remembering it all.
Eren swallowed, his brows furrowing at the thought of their relationship. Levi always confused him—he sounded like a great guy through Mikasa's lens of life, she seemed to unearth a softer side to him. A really deep, extremely hidden, almost frustratingly hard to find side, that was.
"I think you guys are gonna be okay," Eren quietly admitted.
"Yeah. Me too," her gentle voice replied.
After a moment, he continued to do as she wished, speaking to her until she fell asleep.
"Do you still have nightmares?"
He saw her arm move to wipe something from her face.
She shrugged. "Only sometimes."
And in his room so quiet that a pin drop could deafen them, Eren began to inhale. Hesitantly.
"I can hold you, Mikasa," he softly spoke. "If…you want me to." Eren stilled, the beating of his heart quickening at her silence. "Do you want me to?"
Mikasa smiled through her already drawn tears. Thank god she wasn't facing him anymore.
"Yeah. I'd like that," she unwaveringly replied.
Eren scooted forward, and cautiously, he let his arm drape over her body. She definitely couldn't have been cold now.
"We'll keep the nightmares away, huh?"
Mikasa huffed a short laugh. "I think I'll be okay," she spoke through it, allowing her eyes to close. "Goodnight, Eren."
He smiled. "Night, Mikasa."
how to disappear completely - radiohead