SEPTEMBER 2012
Eren was angry. It was no surprise; he had felt angry a lot lately, constantly. He began to see this state as his new normal rather than something to worry about.
It was simply inconvenient given the current circumstances.
Inconvenient and slightly concerning as his anger continued to escalate. With each passing minute—hell, with each passing second—theincessantticking of that stupid clock on the wall felt like arelentless assault onhissenses, growing inintensity.
Tick-tock… Tick-tock… Tick-tock...
Poke… Poke… Poke…
He tried to calm himself down. Honestly, he did. It was just that annoying clock…
Tick-tock… Tick-tock… Tick-tock…
Poke… Poke… POKE!
If this class doesn't start soon, Eren knew he would do something he'd regret—no questions about it, absolutely no doubt. Something with lasting, irreversible consequences, for sure.
He clenched his fists so tightly that he felt his fingernails dig painfully into his palms. This pain grounded him, yet he still wished he could apply more pressure without worrying about breaking the skin. Sadly, this fragile organ was prone to bleeding, so that option was out.
He couldn't make a mess—not here. People were already watching him. He could feel their eyes on him, their silent judgments weighing heavily on his shoulders. They already thought he was insane; he was sure of it.
Eren wasn't sure how he managed it, but he had already made an impression as a complete screw-up—and it only took him a day.
Maybe it was the fact that he showed up late to the inauguration ceremony, looking like a homeless pizza delivery guy—whatever that means, Armin. Or perhaps it was his derisive snort when the Commandant-Rector of the Police Academy referred to them as "young, bright, and possessing a strong sense of justice." It could also be that he angrily slapped away his sister's hand when she tried to fix his hair.
The possibilities were endless, but the outcome was clear: today was his first day at the Police Academy, and he was already a screw-up.
Even now, as they were all dressed in the same standard uniform of dark grey pants and a plain dark blue T-shirt emblazoned with a police emblem on the right, Eren still managed to stand out—for all the wrong reasons. He looked dishevelled, with messy hair, dark bags under his eyes, and a twitchy demeanour that added to his unapproachable persona. The two recruits who bravely approached him to introduce themselves this morning quickly backed off, discouraged by his unpleasant attitude, and as a result, no one else dared to make the same mistake. Word spreads fast.
He took a deep breath and exhaled as if trying to smother the fire slowly kindling inside him. He repeated this action, fully aware of its futility. The anger, a relentless coil in the pit of his stomach, refused to be extinguished, no matter how hard he tried.
Armin had tried to explain it to him once—well, many times—but that first time was the only time Eren really listened. His friend laid it out in all his medical wisdom, using simpler words and concepts for Eren's sake. Ironically, and not surprisingly, Armin had a far better understanding of what was happening inside Eren's head than Eren did himself.
This is not a personal weakness! There are numerous studies now linking unipolar depression with anger attacks, Eren.
Blind rage is just another form of extreme shock, Eren.
And you don't have to be in danger for your brain to believe you are, Eren.
Intense anger can cause a person to act without considering the consequences. It can mess with your reasoning ability to the point where you can only focus on survival instincts, Eren.
People can do the unthinkable if they think their lives are threatened or desperately want to survive, Eren.
Are you listening to me, Eren?!
Eren truly did, at least the first time. He listened carefully to every word and piece of advice. He genuinely tried to work through his triggers, which Armin deemed the essential first step in addressing Eren's anger issues. However, when Eren sat down to list the things that made his skin itch and blood boil, the list quickly became depressingly long. Once he ran out of space on the paper, he crumpled that pathetic list and threw it in the trash can without ever sharing it with anyone.
The whole exercise felt pointless. After all, it was Armin himself who said that these anger attacks—whatever they were—didn't need to have a rational explanation or any rhyme or reason because Eren's mind was so fucked up that logic no longer applied.
Well, Armin phrased it differently, but Eren was sure that was the essence of it.
Eren felt surrounded by triggers. He didn't know where to begin; the entire world seemed like a source of irritation. Even a beautiful, clear blue sky could become a problem, as he would notice that one annoying ray of sunshine trying to blind him. The maddening itch beneath his skin was a constant presence, always lurking, ready to come to the surface at any moment.
"Eren?"
"What?!" he snapped, turning sharply toward the girl beside him. The fact that his sister didn't flinch, recoil, or react in any way was a clear indication of how far he had fallen. This reaction was expected; it had become the norm. Eren was always angry; he always snapped. Yet, each time, his sister met his fury with a worried expression. There was no resentment or hostility—only a gentle voice and eyes full of acceptance.
Eren hated it.
"Are you feeling okay?"
"Fine," he lied, perhaps not very convincingly, as her expression remained unchanged. Her brows were still furrowed, and her lips pressed tightly together—clear signs that Mikasa Ackerman was deeply worried but trying not to show it.
"Right…" she said uncertainly, her eyes searching his face. "I was talking to you for the past few minutes, and you weren't reacting, so… I just thought..." She didn't finish her sentence; instead, she started worrying her lip nervously, a habit he knew too well.
Eren hated it. And what was worse, he hated how her concern only fuelled his growing anger, creating an unbearable tension in the air.
"Got some things on my mind. It's nothing."
"Are you sure?" she asked gently. "We can step outside and get some fresh air if you want. I'm sure no one will mind; we've been waiting here forever. Or we can just go out to the hallway to get some water or something." Her tone was casual yet somehow insistent, and he understood exactly what she implied.
Eren, I'm worried you'll lose your temper if I don't get you out of here.
Eren, I'm concerned for your safety and for everyone else's.
Eren, I'm afraid you might hurt someone...
He clenched his fists tighter, feeling them shake—and he knows Mikasa could see it.
"Seriously, I'm fine. I'm just…" He searched for a way to calm her worries. "…really bored. We were supposed to start an hour ago. Where is that 'special instructor'? This is getting ridiculous."
That excuse seemed reasonable in his mind. After all, who wouldn't be irritated after waiting aimlessly for so long? He had every right to feel frustrated.
Except… he's not the only one who is waiting.
As he looked around the small gym room, currently hosting about thirty young, fresh-faced cadets from the Police Academy, Eren struggled to find anyone who looked as frustrated as he felt.
Some cadets sat on the sparsely placed benches along the walls, glancing at the clock from time to time, bored but calm. Others had formed small groups of three or four, fully engaged in their conversations and seemingly oblivious to the passage of time.
Then there were those two strange guys who had started doing push-ups, determined to get some physical exercise, regardless of whether or not a teacher was present.
And then there was Eren, who felt like he was about to fucking lose it.
He couldn't seem to sit still; his body buzzed with a restless energy he didn't know how to channel.
He could feel Mikasa's gaze on him constantly. She was his only company— the only self-sacrificing person here. She sat so close that he could sense her tension and high-strung demeanour. Yet, when she spoke, her voice remained calm.
"Well, they replaced Instructor Shadis at the last minute, didn't they? Maybe our new teacher wasn't even aware of it, so it's taking him some time to sort everything out or get here. He's supposed to be part of the Special Corps, right? From the military? It must be a tough adjustment."
Eren scoffed, his frustration evident. "Then maybe they should have told us that or sent us home early instead of making us sit here like useless losers. It's as if they think we have nothing better to do. They really don't give a shit about our training, do they?" He was aware that his voice sounded increasingly angry, and he knew Mikasa could tell.
Her brow furrowed even more, probably not fully listening to him as she scanned him carefully, concerned that he might spontaneously combust and bring the building down with him if she took her eyes off him for even a second.
"Eren, we really should step outside for a moment—just take a little break. It won't do you any good if you're so stressed when we start…"
"Would you stop with this? God, you always make a big deal out of nothing! I'm just restless from sitting on my ass all day. First, that stupid Legal Knowledge class dragged on forever. Now, when we're finally supposed to learn something useful, our teacher can't be bothered to show up. Everyone would be upset about that; it's normal! Once we start the stupid training and I get to punch something, I'll be fine!" he said, probably with more force than he should have.
Some heads turned, and some eyes squinted in disdain, likely judging Eren for snapping at his wonderful and gentle sister, Mikasa. If only they knew the truth. He couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces after Mikasa handed them their asses in training. Maybe then they would stop viewing her as a fragile little flower and see Eren as a tyrant who tramples on her.
"You shouldn't have to punch something to feel better," Mikasa said softly, her eyes filled with concern. "We talked about this…"
"No, you and Armin talked about this. Unless you come up with some new magical solution, just shut the hell up."
One would think that after years of constant anger and frustration gripping his throat at every turn, he would develop a healthier way to cope with his rage.
One would be mistaken.
The only outlet he knew was physical. He needed to punch, to hit—just something or someone. He didn't care as long as he could feel the impact on his knuckles and get his blood pumping; it was a temporary distraction. Fighting was the only thing that worked, even if only for a short while. Mikasa and Armin simply didn't understand.
"You can't seriously harm anyone here, Eren. You know that… right?"
Eren felt a pang in his chest at the genuine uncertainty in his sister's voice. She clearly couldn't tell what he was capable of anymore; maybe he didn't know either. But he would be damned if he admitted it!
"Of course I know that. What do you take me for?" he snapped, pretending he wasn't feeling the weight of her words pressing painfully on his chest.
Mikasa scooted closer on the uncomfortable wooden bench they were sharing. Her knee knocked against his, and soon, her tiny hand reached out to cover his. Eren jolted with discomfort as her warm hand made contact with his, and he noticed how much whiter his fist had become from the pressure, even when compared to Mikasa's naturally pale skin. He felt her hand squeeze his tightly, and when he looked up, her deep eyes shone with concern.
"I just worry about you," she admitted.
Eren forcefully shrugged off her hand.
"Yeah, I know. That's all you ever fucking do anymore. It's suffocating, Mikasa!"
Her shoulders slumped immediately. She looked as if she has been punched. Maybe Eren would feel less guilt if he had actually done that. But he can't help it—her constant mothering and treating him like a baby really grinds on his nerves.
"I know you're having a bad day," she began quietly and cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal that might bite.
Eren huffed in response, "I'm having a bad year."
"Eren…"
"Just fuck off, Mikasa."
He stood abruptly. He couldn't take her shit anymore. Swiftly, he walked to the other side of the room, ignoring the curious glances from the other cadets. He reached an empty bench and slumped down onto it with an angry huff. Eren stubbornly stared at the wall in front of him, prepared to maintain his gaze on the empty surface for as long as necessary. He had no intention of turning back to see Mikasa's reaction; he already knew what it would be, and he didn't want to deal with it right now.
His thoughts were interrupted by a mocking voice.
"Well, if it isn't my favourite sore thumb sticking out yet again."
…Out of the frying pan into the fire.
Why was that idiot here now? Wasn't he just on the other side of the room, chatting it up with the other recruits? Probably bragging about how wonderful he thinks he is.
A body flopped down right next to him on the bench. When he turned his head, he saw Jean fucking Kirstein, with his unruly mop of brown hair and a smirk that could rival the Cheshire Cat's, sitting casually on his stupid ass.
"Finally decided to stop hiding behind your sister's skirt?"
"Fuck off," Eren retorted flatly.
It seemed as though the universe conspired to keep Eren trapped in a never-ending cycle of misery. He had hoped that starting the Police Academy three years later than he originally planned would mean he wouldn't have to deal with Jean Kirstein. But, of course, life had other plans. Jean, now flaunting his fancy university degree that he wouldn't stop bragging about, began his journey in the police force at the same time as Eren. Now, just like in their school years, Eren was forced to endure the sight of his sworn enemy's smirking face every single day. The annoying, smirking face that now stared directly at Eren's clenched fists.
"Aww, is that a little tremble I see? Are you feeling scared already?" Jean taunted.
"What's there to be scared of?" Eren replied defensively.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's the fear that they'll realize you don't belong here? That it was all a mistake?" Jean's words sliced through the air. "After all, the police force doesn't accept high school dropouts."
From the corner of his eye, Eren noticed that they were attracting an audience. Some cadets standing a few feet away turned their heads curiously at Jean's remarks. They looked at Eren with mild interest, and he felt his cheeks begin to heat up slightly.
Being on the receiving end of Jean's ridiculous insults was one thing; being unable to defend himself was entirely different. All he could do now was clench his fists, hoping that the pain would distract him from the nagging thoughts.
"Don't you have anything better to do?" Eren asked, lacking a better comeback.
He tried to sound curt and dismissive, but the stupid idiot didn't seem to get the hint. Instead, his smirk only grew wider.
"No, actually, I'm quite bored because we've been waiting here for a while. Oh, wait! You probably didn't notice it since you can't read the clock. Let me explain. Can you see that round thing on the wall? That's a clock. The short hand indicates the hours, while the long hand shows the minutes..."
Eren turned his head sharply. "Why are you even here, Kirstein? Shouldn't you be training outside with the other police horses?"
Before Jean could respond with a clever university-level retort, a swift figure positioned herself between them, pushing them aside to create space for herself. Before Eren could blink, Mikasa had sat down in the middle, forming an effective barrier.
"Hey…!"
"Move," Mikasa said firmly, leaving no room for argument.
Eren huffed in annoyance, but despite that, he shifted slightly to make room for his sister. On the other side, Jean has gone completely still. His face was bright red, and his eyes were glued to the spot where Mikasa's knee brushed against his. Eren barely restrains himself from reaching over and smacking Jean over the head.
That loser and his stupid crush on his sister. As if she would ever give him the time of day!
Mikasa gave them both a disapproving look. "Please stop it, both of you. We're not in high school anymore. We're all adults here, and we want to make a good first impression, don't we?"
"Impression on whom? No one is fucking here!"
"Shut up, you loser!" Jean shot a glare at him before turning to Mikasa with a dreamy expression on his face. "You're absolutely right, Mikasa! We should strive to be the best versions of ourselves. I apologize for my part," Jean said, his voice enthusiastic.
Eren felt a strong urge to punch him, but since he couldn't, he settled for a quick jibe: "Give it up, horse face. She won't go for you; Mikasa's not into bestiality".
"You're such a fucking loser, Eren!"
"I don't give a fuck what you… AU!"
Eren bent down to clutch his throbbing foot, which his sister had just stomped on forcefully.
"What the hell, Mika?" he exclaimed.
"Eren, please try to behave. We are here to become police officers, just like you've always wanted. Maybe it's time you start acting like one. It's only our first day, and you're already making a scene," she replied.
Eren shot her a glare. Could she possibly sound any more like their mother?
Jean's eyes lit up, always so fucking smug at any sign of Eren's defeat.
"That's absolutely right, Mikasa! Eren is setting such a bad example. We should take this seriously and strive to be the best officers we can be, taking advantage of every opportunity they offer us. Speaking of, did you sign up for the Accident Reconstruction course? They say it's optional, but I believe it could be really beneficial for our future work. I already have some basic knowledge of the subject because I took an Introduction to Policing course at university..."
Eren rolled his eyes and quickly tuned him out. Although he still had the urge to grab Jean and slam his smug face into a wall, watching him reduced to a blabbering mess always made Eren feel a little better. Mikasa had a unique ability to turn that smug jerk into a nervous wreck just by being around him.
Eren had thought that Jean might have moved on from his crush during the three years they hadn't seen each other, but could it be possible that Jean had become more infatuated since high school? He could faintly hear Jean speaking words that Mikasa was completely ignoring. Eren tried his best to tune them both out.
"Oi, shitty brats, line up!" A commanding voice echoed through the room, slicing through the chatter and grabbing everyone's attention.
Eren jumped in his seat, jolted from his thoughts as he directed his focus toward the figure now standing in the doorway. He blinked, feeling a wave of confusion wash over him. Was that… their instructor?
Their physical training instructor?
Eren hadn't thought much about what their teacher would be like. Still, perhaps subconsciously, he had a vague idea: someone tall, sturdy, broad-shouldered, with a determined, focused expression—a typical military man.
Instead, his gaze fell upon a short man whose face showed complete disinterest. He was a small but sturdy figure with hair as black as jet, an aquiline nose, thin lips, and deep grey eyes.
…
Surely, that wasn't the instructor, right?
"Who are you?" Jean blurted out, and for once, Eren was grateful for his stupid face because he would also like to know.
He just wasn't idiot enough to say it out loud.
The man suddenly turned to face them, and Eren saw Jean flinch. The stranger's demeanour suddenly changed; his gaze now sharp and scrutinizing.
"I'm your new training officer, you shit-stain. Thank you for volunteering to bring that filthy training mat over here," he said dismissively as he reached the centre and gestured broadly to indicate where he wanted the mat placed.
Despite his small stature, this man exuded a subtle yet threatening aura. It was evident in his movements and the way he spoke. Whether it was instinct, intuition, or some strange sixth sense, Eren felt a wave of apprehension as the man approached. It was as if he sensed impending danger, even though nothing about the man seemed overtly threatening.
"I am here to—did I fucking stutter? Hop to it!" He turned sharply to Jean, who remained rooted in place, his face pale.
At the sound of the man's commanding voice, Jean shot up from the bench as if he had been burned, and Eren swore he heard a squeak as he rushed across the room.
Usually, Eren would have enjoyed seeing Jean Kirstein humiliated a bit more, but today, he quickly shifted his attention elsewhere. His eyes were glued to the newly arrived man, and he didn't want to look away.
"My name is Levi. I will be your instructor for hand-to-hand combat situations for the next six months. However, I might get sick of you before then, so we may end the training early."
Eren blinked. What the hell? But before Eren could decide if this guy was for real, he continued in the same disinterested voice:
"I'll show you some redirection techniques to disarm attackers so you idiots don't get yourselves killed on day one. Maybe we'll go over joint manipulation for immobilization, if I'm still here and up for it."
Levi cast a disdainful glance at them all.
"I know most of you trigger-happy shit-stains don't care about any of that. Well, tough shit. I will beat it into you regardless. You can't always rely on your shiny little gun."
Eren's gaze lingered on the man. His tone was laced with irritation, yet his demeanour exuded an unsettling calm. His focus was unwavering, and his composure remained unshaken, leaving Eren with a sense of unease.
Eren's mind raced, trying to recall any details about the man. He remembered the officer from earlier, the one who had brought the news: Shadis, their instructor, would no longer be teaching them. They will be getting someone new. The officer had hinted at a stroke of luck, as their new instructor was said to be a legend; the best there is. But if Eren hadn't known better, he would never have guessed that this man was part of the Special Unit squad from the Military Police.
Meanwhile, Jean struggled to roll up the training mat, finding it difficult to walk under its weight. Once he managed to place it next to Levi, who was watching closely, he joined the rest of the group in line.
Jean raised a shaky hand. Ha! Look who's shaking now!
"Um… can I ask… what's your rank... sir?"
Levi shot him a glare. "Higher than yours. Thank you for volunteering to bring the remaining equipment over here," he said, pointing to the box in the corner filled with an assortment of protective gear and padded equipment.
With a look of despair, Jean's face paled even more as he reluctantly dragged his legs to gather the items.
"Alright, let's see what we have here. One by one, come up and try to land a punch on me. Who wants to go first?"
Eren's hand shot up before the man had even finished speaking. When Levi's gaze landed on him, Eren felt a shiver run down his spine.
"Put your shitty hand down; this isn't preschool, brat. Get on the mat," Levi said dismissively.
Eren suddenly felt a surge of anger at Levi's utterly disinterested expression, as if he couldn't care less.
Eren needed to do something—anything—to shake off this feeling of discomfort crawling under his skin. He had to direct that frustration at someone, and this Levi guy would have to do.
Eren stepped onto the mat with unwavering determination, taking his fighting stance. In stark contrast, Levi stood casually, looking bored and completely unfazed. Eren clenched his fist, his resolve burning bright as he aimed to wipe that apathetic expression off Levi's face.
Eren knew he was the best fighter in the group. While Mikasa may be stronger, he wasn't certain of that because she would never agree to fight him at full strength; therefore, he didn't include her in his consideration.
Eren didn't wait for a signal, doubting that Levi would give him one. He charged forward, running with his fist extended, pouring all his strength into the attack…
...but he missed.
Eren blinked in confusion as his target suddenly vanished from view. He glanced to his left and saw Levi standing just a foot away, seemingly unaffected; still disinterested and bored.
Determined to try again, Eren moved cautiously this time. He focused intently on his opponent and, for the first time, noticed something: Levi sidestepped effortlessly, taking a single lazy step to avoid Eren's flying fist.
Eren felt a surge of anger. Who did that guy think he was?
He threw punch after punch, desperate to connect with his target. Eren swung repeatedly but failed to land a single hit. After several attempts, he was panting heavily, still unable to strike Levi.
"That's enough, brat. Who's next?" Levi said, his voice calm and indifferent, as if he didn't care.
He dismissed Eren without even looking at him.
And Eren... snapped.
An intense, primal scream welled up inside him, desperate to break free. Dark spots clouded his vision, burning into his eyes, while a buzzing sound assaulted his ears.
He can't handle this; it's too much.
His heart raced, the relentless ringing in his ears drowning out everything around him. He longed to tear himself apart... to tear someone else apart...
Since childhood, Eren has dreamed of becoming a police officer—someone people can rely on for help and depend on.
But he can never have that, can he?
After countless hours of hard work and numerous sacrifices to reach this moment, he now stands before a man who regards him with nothing but indifference. And why wouldn't he?
Even in his freshly pressed uniform emblazoned with the bold police logo, he feels trapped in the shadow of the same loser he has been for the past few years. Even without Jean's harsh words, he still feels like an imposter.
From the moment he set foot in the police academy, a disheartening sense of disconnection settled over him as if he were an intruder in a world where he didn't belong. It felt like this was all a mistake and that he would soon be sent back to his pathetic life.
And now Levi... This man looked at him with mockery and disdain, complaining that he was already getting sick of them. Arriving an hour late, he still acted as if he were superior to everyone else.
It felt as if he didn't care, as if none of this mattered— as if Eren didn't matter at all.
Eren's rage surged within him, a low growl rumbling in his chest as darkness crept into his vision, engulfing everything in a haze of fury. The last thing he noticed was a slight flicker in Levi's eyes as he turned his head sharply back to Eren.
Everything flooded into his mind all at once. Vivid images of his dad flashed through his consciousness, alongside fleeting pictures of his mom, her warm smile now just a distant memory. The overwhelming burden of medical bills loomed over him, and the chaos of worries and fears pressed down on him. Eren surged forward, channelling every ounce of strength and determination into his charge.
He craved a reaction. He longed for a response. He wanted his opponent's dull eyes to widen in shock, to see that straight line of his mouth frown in pain.
In that moment, he registered nothing else. He just wanted to fight. Fight… fight… FIGHT!
Finally, he felt something touch his skin, but it wasn't what he had wanted. He didn't feel the pressure of his fist or the familiar pain of his knuckles striking his opponent. Instead, he felt cold fingers curling around his wrist—an icy touch that sent a shiver down his spine. The cold extinguished the fire on his skin, allowing him to see through the fog of his anger.
Before Eren could realize what had happened, he lost his footing. His eyes flickered to the ceiling for a moment before he felt his back connect painfully with the mat.
Eren threw punches and swung wildly, pouring all his energy into each movement, but his arm was twisted to the right, causing his fist to hit the mat beside him.
Eren let out a painful yelp as Levi's strong arm came down on his chest, pinning him down and rendering him immobile. Eren struggled futilely against Levi's tight grip around his torso.
Through the fog, Eren heard the harsh rasping in his throat and the thundering beat of his pulse in his ears with every rapid breath he took. As the mist began to clear, he saw piercing grey eyes looming above him. They gleamed with an unsettling intensity, reflecting a mix of curiosity and determination that pulled him in like a moth to a flame.
Eren struggled to catch his breath, his body trembling under the pressure of the hold and the intensity of those eyes. His will to fight was slipping, but instead of feeling trapped, the firm grip only heightened his sense of calm.
In that fleeting moment, a profound sense of relief washed over Eren. He realized that he was unharmed and incapable of causing harm. He was safe.
Eren lay on the floor, feeling powerless, but this time it felt different. He gazed into the calm, collected eyes looking down at him, and the stare sent shivers down his spine.
He yearned for more—more of that penetrating gaze, more of this comforting feeling of being seen and acknowledged.
More, more, more.
Despite the fatigue in his limbs and the lingering fog clouding his thoughts, he discovered a peculiar stillness within himself, a serene acceptance amidst the chaos.
Unsure of how to react, he let out a shaky breath and muttered, "I'm Eren." His voice cracked as energy drained from his body, and he collapsed limp to the ground.
Levi's eyebrow twitched briefly. Was it irritation or surprise? Eren couldn't tell, but he wanted to know.
Before Eren could say anything else, Levi released his grip on his arm and stood up quickly. He glanced at Eren with a dismissive expression. "Did I ask?"
Eren sprawled on the floor, a wave of embarrassment washing over him as he watched Levi walk away.
OCTOBER 2019
Armin Arlert cautiously walked down the long, sterile corridor of the hospital, the faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Dressed in a crisp white coat that was slightly too large for his slender frame, he meticulously reviewed the list pinned to his chart. He checked off each item with careful precision, ensuring that nothing was overlooked.
Finally, he let out a sigh of relief. That was it for the day—there was nothing else to occupy his mind. Armin exhaled deeply, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over him.
'Become a doctor,' they said.
'It will be fun,' they said.
'Internship isn't that bad; you might even enjoy it.'
His head hurt.
Being a new medical intern wasn't easy, even on a good day. But lately? It felt more like sprinting through hellfire. He constantly felt...
Oh, wait! There was one more thing he had to do today—one more medical question he needed to ask. He couldn't believe he forgot. He hadn't added it to his to-do list because it was so obviously important that he thought he wouldn't forget.
Armin sighed heavily, turned on his heel, and walked away from the on-call room that promised him a blissful hour or two of sleep. It would have to wait a bit longer.
God, Armin was just feeling painfully tired at this point.
He shouldn't be working, but if he weren't, he would just be doing... well, that.
He reached room 104 and was once again confronted by the same scene he had seen two hours ago, ten hours ago, yesterday, and the day before. Every time he opened the door, the image before him remained exactly the same.
Levi glared angrily at the beeping machine in the corner, connected to the pale arm of the patient: Armin's childhood best friend, Eren Yeager.
"Still no change, huh?" Armin mused, trying to keep his voice light as he searched for something to say.
He wanted to approach the situation as he would with any other patient, but the fact that this wasn't just any patient made his usually uplifting tone fall flat.
"How are you doing, Levi?" Armin tried again, aiming for a casual tone.
Levi responded with a hateful glare, his silence echoing in the room.
Armin deflated. So much for that.
He walked over to the hospital bed, feeling the heavy burden of uncertainty about how to proceed, just as he did every time. Should he check his patient's vitals by reaching for the chart, or should he sit down in the empty chair and hold Eren's hand? He didn't know; he never knew. Instead, he focused on Levi, registering the tension in his shoulders. Armin noticed that, although Levi maintained his intense glare at the EKG device, when his gaze drifted to Eren, the annoyance and impatience that had marked his expression for the past three days faded away. Instead, Levi appeared just tired—almost defeated.
"Um... so... there's something I need to talk to you about."
Armin wished he could just turn around and leave, but he knew he had to ask. He hoped for a better moment but didn't see one coming anytime soon. As a doctor, he needed to have answers.
The awkwardness settled into his bones. He hated having conversations like this with his patients or their families, but when he knew the patient personally— when he was part of the patient's family—it became even more uncomfortable.
"Remember when I mentioned that the phlebotomist found something kind of weird in Eren's blood?" Armin cringed a bit.
Something kind of weird... Way to sound professional Arlert!
However, Levi raised an eyebrow, signalling him to continue.
"Well, I finally received his results, and... um, while the phlebotomist couldn't identify the substance precisely, it's definitely some kind of benzodiazepine."
At this, Levi twitched and looked at Armin sharply, causing the doctor to gulp nervously.
"I know this might seem intrusive, and I'm truly sorry I found out this way. But as his doctor, I need to learn things he might not be comfortable sharing. I need to know these details so I can provide the best possible care and avoid any adverse drug interactions. Any medication can cause problems if it doesn't mix well with what's already in the body. So far, we haven't administered anything that could interact with benzodiazepines, but when he wakes up, we may need to put him on opioid pain medications. In that case, we must know exactly what kind of depressants Eren is taking..."
"Cut the crap, Arlert. He's not on that stuff."
Armin blinked, slightly taken aback. He furrowed his eyebrows.
"Look, Levi, there's really no reason to feel defensive. It's completely normal to need a little help sometimes; it's perfectly fine to..."
Levi huffed, clearly annoyed. And honestly, this was the most like himself Levi had been in three days.
"I know it's fine, you idiot. I'm not saying it's wrong to take those; I'm saying you're wrong for thinking Eren is taking them."
And now, Armin was extremely confused. When he read the report, he assumed that Eren was either too embarrassed or didn't want to admit that Armin was right, which is why he hadn't disclosed that he was seeing a psychiatrist. Armin sincerely hoped that the psychiatrist was a qualified professional who had prescribed Eren the necessary medication. Heaven forbid if Eren tried to medicate himself.
Armin also assumed that Levi knew about Eren's situation. In fact, he didn't even entertain the possibility that Levi might not be aware. He thought Levi simply didn't want to share Eren's private affairs or had just forgotten to mention it when asked if Eren was on any medication. After all, it had been a tough three days.
But now, seeing Levi's reaction, it became clear that he genuinely looked unaware of what Armin was talking about.
"Y-you mean… he didn't tell you?" Armin stammered.
He hadn't meant to emphasize the last word, but it just happened. He couldn't help it; he struggled to understand how this could be possible. Eren had told Levi everything.
"He didn't tell me anything because there's nothing to tell. He's not on any drugs. Your blood guy must have screwed up the test."
"U-um, he ran those tests three times…"
"Then he screwed up three times."
An awkward silence followed until Levi took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. "I'm not saying he wouldn't take those or that he shouldn't take them. Hell, if anyone has a legitimate reason to take that stuff, it's him. But he would have told me. He would have told you too, Arlert. He calls you for a consultation before taking even over-the-counter medicine—like cough syrup. That kid is a disaster."
Armin bit his tongue, stopping himself from pointing out that the flu and depression are very different issues. He genuinely resonated with what Levi was saying; he felt it deep in his bones. It was surreal to imagine that Eren would keep something like that from everyone.
But even though Armin had only been a doctor for a little over a year, he had already seen enough. He had witnessed people pretending and lying, which taught him a valuable lesson: the most reliable source of information is the patient's chart, and lab results do not lie.
"I-I don't mean to argue, and I definitely don't think you're lying or anything, I swear! But… the fact is, there are some benzodiazepines in Eren's blood. It… it's just a fact."
What do you want me to do about it? Armin wanted to ask, but he knew better. Levi remained silent for a long time before eventually mumbling, "Must've gotten there some other way."
"Um, I really don't see any other way this could've happened…"
"Arlert, this brat is a freaking limpet. I'm with him most of the day, every day. I'd know if he was popping Xanax."
"It doesn't have to be Xanax…"
Levi shot him a glare that silenced him instantly.
Armin's head was really starting to hurt now.
"Look, alright, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… It doesn't really matter anyway," Armin finally says, lacking the energy to continue a conversation that clearly won't find a resolution. "I mean, sure, it matters. We'll have to avoid any drug that could interact with… but, oh well. Everything else, we can wait until Eren wakes up, and we can ask him about everything. I'm sure there's an explanation."
Levi seemed to accept the olive branch and settle the subject for now.
"The brat has a lot of questions to answer," Levi muttered darkly.
"Maybe that's why he's not waking up?" Armin attempted to lighten the mood with a bit of humour.
Unfortunately, the attempt fell flat. Levi's glare sent chills down his spine.
Oh, crap. Abort, Arlert, abort!
"You should go home and get some rest," Armin suggested quickly, desperate for a new topic.
"You should mind your own business," Levi snapped.
Armin let out a sigh. He didn't take Levi's words personally—really, he didn't. It wasn't the first time a patient's family had treated him poorly. However, he had to admit that remaining unaffected was more challenging this time. This wasn't just any patient's family; it was his own, too.
Armin took a deep breath, allowing Levi's harsh words to wash over him. This was fine; Levi was just tired and didn't truly mean it. Besides, after three days, his tone had lost most of its bite. Now, the words were just empty, devoid of real feelings.
"You're Eren's business, which makes you my business. He'll be upset if I don't make sure you're taking care of yourself," Armin said gently.
Levi gave no reaction to his words. He sat there like a marble statue, arms crossed, staring intently at the machine as if willing it to show better results. If only it worked like that.
"I'm serious, Levi. There's nothing you can do here. But once Eren wakes up, he will need you. You can't afford to pass out from lack of sleep… or food… or everything, really. The best way you can support him now is by ensuring you're in good shape when he wakes up."
Armin noticed a flicker of contemplation on Levi's face. Finally, there's a glimmer of hope! He pressed on, saying,
"And you're going to need a lot of energy if we're going to interrogate him about everything, right? It's important to be in top shape for that! You can't let your day affect the interrogation. Otherwise, the suspects might sense your problems, and they—um, they might turn slippery or something. I don't know. Eren told me that…"
Levi seemed to contemplate his words for a moment. Probably not the rambling at the end, but the first part. He glances up at Eren and then back at Armin. It was clear he was grappling with something inside himself. Finally, he stood up reluctantly. The look in Levi's eyes conveyed nothing but defeat.
"You will call me as soon as anything changes." It's not a question, and Armin doesn't expect it to be. He nodded in agreement, cautious not to speak for fear of upsetting the man.
Levi carefully reached out, his fingers gliding over Eren's pale hand. With a gentle, almost reverent touch, he rubbed his thumb along the delicate curve of Eren's knuckles.
Armin had to look away. After all these years, witnessing this side of Levi—a side that is so caring and affectionate—still felt like an invasion of a privacy. It was akin to seeing a turtle without its shell.
After a few moments, Levi slowly released his grip on Eren's hand, his fingers lingering for just a heartbeat longer before parting. He turned away, his back to Eren, and moved forward with an air of determined resolve.
Armin sighed in frustration; he hated seeing this.
He waited until Levi left the room before approaching his friend—now his patient. He picked up the chart, its edges slightly worn from frequent handling, mostly by Armin, and methodically reviewed the nurse's notes, each line filled with meticulous details. As he examined the carefully scripted entries, he mentally prepared a series of probing questions for his fellow doctors. The significance of each question danced just beyond his grasp, and despite his best efforts, his mind kept short-circuiting, feelings of frustration creeping in as he struggled to hold onto the critical information swirling in his thoughts.
It all felt utterly pointless. Despite his efforts to view the figure lying in the bed as merely a patient, his heart refused to comply. Instead, he could only see Eren—the familiar features, the tangled hair, and the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
He dropped heavily into the chair that Levi had just vacated and slumped inward.
"Hey, Eren. I know you like to nap, but this is getting a little ridiculous. I mean, three days? That's a lot, even for you," Armin started, his voice straining to sound casual despite the worry he felt. "We gave you a CT scan, and your brain looks fine, so you really have no excuse for lounging around like this."
Eren's sleeping face remained unmoved, but Armin kept talking anyway,
"Unless you're trying to avoid some awkward conversations that are heading your way. Well, you're out of luck, my friend. No matter how long you sleep, we aren't going to let this go. What were you even doing in the middle of the woods all alone at night? It took Levi and Mikasa hours to find you! That's not a normal thing for anyone to do, Eren. And now there's this entire mess with the drugs on top of it? I can't believe you didn't tell anyone. We all expect a lot of explanations; you won't be able to wiggle your way out of this one, so you might as well wake up and get it over with."
The machine continued to beep steadily, showing no changes and no reactions. Armin sighed and continued, losing his stern tone, which clearly wasn't working,
"We're not really mad at you, you know that, right? Everyone's just really worried. Connie and Sasha call a few times a day, driving the nurses crazy. Jean has been here every day—can you believe it? He says the work is piling up and he just wants to see when you'll stop screwing around. But I can tell he's worried. I mean, he could easily hand a case to Mikasa if it's so urgent… then again, she's not much use right now either."
Armin gulped, feeling his throat tighten at the mere thought of her.
"She's not doing well, Eren. She… she's really struggling. You know how her mind works; she tends to focus on the worst-case scenarios until she's shown otherwise. So… she's not well. And Levi… he's not doing well either. It's as if he has completely lost the ability to take care of himself. I don't think he's slept much in the past three days, at least not that I've seen. But you know all of this—he hasn't really left your room since you got here."
Armin choked up and had to rub his eyes forcefully to stop the tears from spilling over. He thought talking to Eren would make him feel better, perhaps even bring him closer to him. Introducing a sense of normalcy to this mess should help, right?
Well, it wasn't working at all.
"I really need you to get better, okay, Eren?" Armin managed to choke out. "We all need you to wake up. You have so many people who love you, so you must wake up, alright?" He rubbed the tears from his eyes.
Despite his years of medical training, Armin's gaze remained fixed on Eren, his hope and determination shining through, as if his unwavering love could somehow rouse Eren from his slumber.
How silly.
After a few moments, Armin collected himself, relaxing his throat and stopping his eyes from prickling. Once composed, he tried to perform his duties as a doctor, adjusting the valves and IVs and checking for any new symptoms. He noticed that Eren had a slight fever and noted it in the chart. He prepared to give him medication, but his hand was trembling, and he accidentally poked Eren's skin. Tiny droplet of red quickly gathered on the surface.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry, Eren," he mumbled quickly, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Eren's eyebrow furrow in discomfort.
Armin's heart skipped a beat. "Eren? Eren, hey, can you hear me? Eren?"
In haste, Armin grabbed his pen and pressed it hard against Eren's finger. A wave of discomfort washed over Eren's face. Armin watched him wince as he stirred from his unconscious state. Gradually his eyelids began to flutter open.
"EREN!" Armin exclaimed happily, but he quickly chastised himself for his outburst as he saw him squinting his eyes shut at the noise.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm just so happy right now. Let me get the doctor!"
Armin took a step towards the door but stopped in his tracks. Oh wait… he's the doctor.
Armin sincerely hoped Eren wasn't awake enough to register what just happened. He heard the machine beep—a beautiful, lively sound—as Eren's eyes opened wide, beginning to look around in utter confusion. Armin tried to contain his enthusiasm, even though his heart was pounding loudly in his chest.
He reminded himself that he was indeed a doctor, trained and skilled. He picked up a tiny flashlight and shone it into Eren's eyes. Finally, after three long days, he saw the familiar green orbs of his best friend's eyes again. He breathed a sigh of relief as he observed how the pupils instinctively constricted against the brightness, their reflex responding perfectly as they should.
"Eren?" Armin tried gently, wanting to avoid overwhelming him. He took Eren's hand and applied slight pressure with his thumb to ground him in the present.
Eren's eyes opened fully, alert and responsive as he looked at Armin. Tears of relief and joy began to sting Armin's eyes.
"Eren… Eren, can you hear me? Can you talk?"
"A-ar... Armin…" Eren mumbled, his voice hoarse.
He carefully pressed his fingers against Eren's wrist, feeling the steady rhythm of his pulse beneath the skin. Armin quickly began a series of standard inquiries, striving for a steady and methodical tone, though his voice was still thick with tears. Despite his grogginess, a flicker of recognition appeared in Eren's eyes—he was awake and responsive.
"God, Eren, we were all so worried! You really scared us this time. You've been in a coma for three days!" Armin said, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"W-What happened?" Eren mumbled, his eyes scanning the room in confusion.
"You were being reckless, that's what happened! We think you slipped and hit your head or something. Who goes into the woods in the middle of the night? We can't wait to hear what you were up to. I would yell at you, but I'll leave that to Mikasa and Levi… Oh, crap, Levi!"
In that moment, Armin realized that he needs to call Levi.
….he also realized that Levi might end up wanting to kill him.
He just managed to get him to go home, and now, right after that, Eren wakes up. Armin was doomed.
"I just got him to leave," Armin complained miserably. "Damn, he's going to be so angry that he missed you waking up."
Or maybe he'll be so happy that he'll forget to be angry with Armin? Well, Eren was awake now, so he can protect him.
Armin looked at his friend, prepared to make a light remark about the situation. However, he stopped as soon as he saw the expression on Eren's face.
Eren looked… lost. Armin immediately scolded himself; he is not acting like a doctor at all! Of course, Eren felt lost and confused—he had just woke up from a coma, and Armin kept throwing random information at him. Get it together, Arlert!
"What… Who…?" Eren stammered, his bewilderment evident.
"Levi," Armin repeated slowly and clearly, giving Eren a moment to process the new information. "He was just here, but I sent him home so he could get some rest. I'll call him right now; I'm sure he can still turn around."
He waited a couple of seconds to give Eren's brain time to adjust. He expected some of the confusion to clear from Eren's expression and anticipated a soft smile to appear at the mention of Levi.
Instead, Eren looked even more confused.
"Eren? Did you hear me?"
His friend blinked slowly, his eyelids heavy, as he mumbled, "Yeah… just... who is Levi?