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BEG, BORROW, & STEAL - levi ackerman/f!reader (aot) NSFW 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT wc: 13k tags: enemies to lovers, neighbours to begrudging friends to lovers, food and wine writer!Levi, catsitter!Levi, Pancakes is the Real Star of this show, frequent and gratuitous descriptions of food and drink, frequent mention and consumption of alcohol, singular mention of loud domestic argument, smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, sensory deprivation play, blindfolds, hair pulling, no mention of condoms, honestly i'm not sure if fire escapes are actually safe to hang out on so tw for that too crossposted to ao3

Nestled in a quiet corner of Mitras’ budding east end, there’s a little five-storey building.

It’s stout, brick, and decorated with ivy that creeps up along the mortar and underneath its windows. Along the side of the building not facing the two lane street, running just above a narrow back alley, there’s a labyrinthine set of old metal fire escapes—rusted and weathered but still sturdy, a standing testament to bygone craftsmanship. It all comes together in stark juxtaposition to the design of the towering structures of concrete, steel, and glass that have been steadily cropping up in the neighbourhood as of late.

The architecture feels almost out of place among these new developments, understated and old among all the shiny and new, but it certainly has a lot of character.

The residents who inhabit the apartments inside are respectful, polite people, who mostly tend to keep to themselves—though they’re as a eclectic of a bunch as any, to be sure. Most have lived in their rent-controlled units for decades, made homes for themselves that they never plan to leave.

Since moving into the little brick building two years ago, you haven’t had any notable issues with any of your neighbours.

Well, except for one.

The miserable guy in apartment 304—one unit down and slightly to the left of your own, 405. He’d nearly chewed your god damn head off for using his trash can one time when you’d first moved in. His trash can of all things. It had been an honest mistake on your part, and you’d sincerely apologized for it when he all-but cornered you in the mail room off the lobby a few days after the fact. But after the unpleasant exchange, the curmudgeon bought himself a padlock for his trashcan and has sent withering glares your way ever since.

It’s been well over a year since then, but the chill has never quite broken between the two of you.

The dark haired man, who seems to be perpetually suit-clad—or at least he has been in all the times you’ve spotted him—is easy enough to avoid given the floor’s difference between your units. But sometimes ill-fated meetings are inevitable in such close quarters.

Your building (regrettably) only has one rickety old elevator. It’s an original feature from when the complex was first built, and it’s undergone minimal maintenance and sum total zero upgrades since it was installed decades prior.

All of which is to say: it merits nothing less than being called a complete and utter death trap.

And, as though the sluggardly descent from your apartment on the fourth floor down to the lobby isn’t harrowing enough, your ill-tempered neighbour standing less than a metre away from you in a tightly confined space surely makes it worse.

The elevator is old enough that it has two doors—an automatic door that opens on each floor, as well as a manual interior door that the passengers in the elevator are responsible for opening and closing themselves. Initially you’d found the antique system charming, quaint even, but after realizing that the interior door weighs about thirty pounds and only likes to open half of the time, it quickly lost its charm. You stare pointedly at the cursed iron grate of the aforementioned interior door as the elevator makes its slow downward journey to the lobby, cursing yourself for not just taking the fucking stairs.

The lights on the side panel tell you you’re only one single floor away from your destination. If you just hold your breath and pray hard enough maybe everything will be fi—

“If you and your boyfriend plan to continue going at it like animals until four in the morning without any consideration for your neighbours, you should at least have the basic human decency to close your bedroom window.”

The elevator makes it to the ground floor just as his eviscerating remark draws to a close, the car dipping slightly upon arrival and sending your stomach sinking with it. Without missing a beat, your sour-faced neighbour pulls the confounded metal door open like it weighs nothing. You, in contrast, are frozen stock-still in shock, reeling in the wake of his words with a singeing heat flooding your cheeks. He steps off in the lobby without so much as a momentary glance in your direction, and you watch his back (in a crisp navy blue suit jacket) as he walks away.

You’re so completely stunned that you almost forget to get out too.

Oh, you hate him.

You swear that you’ll forsake the cursed elevator entirely for the rest of your life, if only to avoid ever crossing paths with that bastard again.

Or, so you may have thought.

Weeks later, you find yourself on the fire escape outside your living room with tears drying on your cheeks. You sit quietly in the wake of a long, heated argument with your boyfriend. A loud argument. A relationship ending argument.

Things have been bad for a few months. Maybe even longer, if you’re being honest. He’s always been a bit mean, a little careless, a little wrong—and you knew he probably wasn’t the one. But that doesn’t make the sting of yet another relationship crumbling in your hands any more bearable.

And so, not for the first time, you find yourself drowning your sorrows in a bottle of cheap, overly saccharine white wine and hiccuping in breaths of the fresh air as you try to soothe the ache while the sting of alcohol sears down your throat.

“Your boyfriend sucks.”

You jump a little, looking down the stairs to your right only to see your most loathed neighbour on his own fire escape with a glass of red wine in his hand.

You’re not sure how long he’s been there, but you’re sure he heard most (if not all) of what had transpired in your living room if he had been home at the time. Your windows had been open, you realize too late to do anything about it.

“Yeah,” you scrub at your swollen eyes with the back of your knuckles, “he kinda does—”

You take a long, inelegant swig from the bottle of wine in your hand at the same time your neighbour lifts his own glass. This mouthful tastes more bitter than the last.

“—and he’s not my boyfriend anymore, in case it needs to be said.”

Your neighbour pauses with his glass at his lips. Based on the fact that your window had been open to the world at large, and your conversation with your now-ex had been less that even-toned, you doubt the point really stands to be highlighted.

“It doesn’t,” he replies, confirming your suspicions. “But sorry to hear that.”

You snort mirthlessly. “Are you really?”

The man tuts, a little click of his tongue behind his teeth. But it’s not a sound that implies that he cares, just one that says he’s been found out.

“No.”

You can’t help but laugh at his candour. It’s a nice reprieve from the tears.

And, strangely, things are almost… amicable after that.

Now in the evenings when both of you sit quietly on your fire escapes, where once you’d skitter back inside to avoid his cold glare and oppressive aura, neither of you moves to silently retreat.

Sometimes you even chat, as unlikely an occurrence as it once would have seemed to you. You talk about basically nothing—the weather, a new building that’s cropped up a few streets away, a noisy neighbour, the moon—and it’s usually just for a few minutes before you head to sleep. You tend to be early to bed and early to rise, but Apartment 304’s lights seem to be on at all hours.

Part of you wonders just how long he stays out on his balcony after you retire for the night. But, it’s sort of nice—this unlikely armistice you seem to have unspokenly signed.

You stick your head out the window one evening, a few months in to your ill-begotten amity, a little earlier than you normally would since you got home from work ahead of your usual return.

He’s already there.

“Hey—”

Your neighbour lifts his head to peer up from the pad of notebook paper he’s scribbling away on. He’s wearing glasses today. You’ve never seen those before.

“—what are you having for dinner?”

304 looks at you with a quirk of his brow.

“A 2001 Cabernet Sauvignon.”

You lean your elbows on the windowsill, angling yourself a little further out of it. “I just made a fuckload of food. If you split that red with me, I’ve got a plate for you.”

He eyes you, and seems to be considering your proposal.

“What is it?”

“Roast chicken, some vegetables. Nothing fancy.”

“This wine pairs better with red meat.”

“Yeah? Well my last bottle of wine cost me 8 dollars and a 2-day hangover. Do you want the food or not?” you ask him, rolling your eyes lightly at his comment.

There’s a long pause.

A sigh.

“Fine.”

You meet on the metal stairs halfway between your respective fire escape landings on the third and fourth floor; you're perched a few steps higher than your neighbour closer to your home, and he to his.

He pours you a serving of wine into a spotless glass that he must have retrieved while you were inside plating up the meal, having evidently tucked his eyeglasses away at the same time as they’re nowhere to be seen. He accepts the plate of food you offer him and hands you the drink in exchange. Your plates are mismatched, so is your cutlery, and they clash with the delicate wine glasses he’s brought to your unexpected soiree.

You watch cautiously as he takes his first bite, silently scrutinizing the way his brow furrows as he chews. After a moment the crease in his brow softens, and he seems content—or at the very least not repulsed. You almost laugh into the brim of your wine glass as you quietly read the expressions on his face.

You tip your glass back and take your first sip.

“Holy shit, this is great,” you say, the flavour of the wine lingering on your tongue even after you’ve swallowed it down. It’s neither too dry nor too sweet, evenly balanced, and it doesn’t have the lingering tannic bitterness of the reds that you’ve tried before. Theres something rich but not heavy in the notes that first touch your palate, fruity but on the right side of neutral. You reach a hand out for the bottle and he passes it to you—albeit hesitantly. Reading the label, all you’re able to surmise is that it’s french. “This must not be cheap.”

“It certainly cost more than eight dollars,” your third floor neighbour snorts. He catches the flat look you shoot him, and suddenly is very preoccupied with cutting into his next bite of chicken.

And so from that point on you continue your evening chats, and even eat dinner together on a semi-regular basis. Apartment 304 has yet to turn down your offer of a free meal—and he always supplies the wine.

You’re not friends per se, but you’re certainly no longer mortal nemeses either.

“Oi! 405!”

You hear your neighbour call to you late one afternoon, the sun rapidly slipping away along the city skyline outside, and rush towards your open window. You stick your head out onto the fire escape curiously.

Your neighbour is standing on his landing, staring up at you with a quirked brow.

“Did you lose something?”

That’s when you notice the bra dangling off his outstretched finger. Your eyes shoot to your laundry rack where that very bra had been previously pinned to dry, as though you really need to confirm where it had come from. There’s a clothespin resting on the grated metal deck of the fire escape beside the wire rack, having clearly blown off in the wind.

You swallow a mortified groan.

“How do you know that’s not Misses Miller’s from upstairs?” You sniff, unduly defensive. The argument is weak and you know it; Misses Miller occupies apartment 506, the unit at the top of the fire escape stairs connected to your own—she’s nearly 80 and likely requires a bit more support than what the dainty lace bra looped around your neighbour's index finger offers.

The dark-haired man’s lips quirk into something you might think vaguely reminiscent of a smirk if you believed him capable of it.

“I’m happy to go ask-“

“You’re a real jerk, y’know that, Third?” you cut him off before he can finish the thought, pulling yourself out through the window clumsily in your newfound haste.

He seems to be contemplating what you’ve said as you make your way down the fire escape stairs towards him, footfalls heavy with your indignation.

“Third?” he asks, peering up at you with his head titled inquisitively to the side.

“Third floor,” you explain, like it should be obvious.

“I don’t own the entire third floor.”

You lean down from your place on the stairs and snatch your bra from his hand. “Well you sure act like it.”

You turn and stomp your way back up the fire escape towards your own apartment, bra clutched in a tightly clenched fist.

“So, should I let Misses Miller know you’re returning that to her, or—“

You slam your window shut behind you before you can hear the end of his comment.

A few nights following The Bra Incident—or the deBRAcle as you’ve come to refer to it in your mortified inner monologue—you wake to the unpleasant sound of toppling aluminium in the back alley. Sleepily, you shuffle out into your living room and lift your window, peeking your head out into the cool night.

A quick glance to your right tells you that 304’s lights are off. It’s late, admittedly, and this should be normal—but you can’t recall a night you’ve peeked down towards his apartment and seen the window dark. It’s all a bit unusual.

What you hear next even more so.

“God fucking damn it—shit, fuck—mother of—“

“You alright down there?” You approach the railing of the fire escape and lean over the edge to peer down towards the ground.

Below you, beyond all odds or reasonable explanation, is your third floor neighbour. He’s dressed in a nice suit as usual, with his hair neatly slicked back, and he’s standing beside a knocked over garbage can with trash strewn about.

He blinks up at you owlishly.

It’s quiet for a moment as the two of you hold eye contact.

He speaks first.

“I forgot my house keys in my office.”

You raise a brow, propping your chin in your hand as you lean against the metal railing. “And so you picked a fight with an innocent trash can?”

304 narrows his eyes up at you, a resentful squint. The sharp line of his jaw becomes even more pronounced as he grits his teeth. “I’m trying to reach the fire escape.”

The ladder that connects the fire escape to the ground is retractable, and has to be pulled from the second floor. He’d clearly been trying to use the garbage cans as leverage to reach the lowest rung of the ladder and yank it down—a security measure that had clearly done its job.

You purse your lips, fighting back a laugh. “Are you drunk?”

Silence befalls the two of you once more, and your neighbours eyes only narrow further.

“A bit.” Reluctance weighs heavily in his monotonous words.

You push yourself off from the railing, heading back towards your window.

“Where are you going?” 304 calls indignantly after you, like now that you’ve spotted him you’re somehow obligated to come to his aid.

“I gotta grab something!” you chirp dismissively as you crawl back inside over the edge of the frame.

Something being your cellphone. Specifically to take a picture and commemorate the ordeal.

“You’re cruel,” your neighbour snarls from his place on the ground as you gleefully snap a few photos with flash, quickly turning his back to you in an attempt to preserve whatever remaining shred of pride he has left.

“And if you want me to drop this fire escape ladder then you’re at my mercy—so smile!” you cajole with a giggle as you lean precariously over the railing, pinching the screen of your cellphone to zoom in on his figure.

He flips you off over his suit-clad shoulder and it makes you laugh again.

Once you’ve had your fun, and taken (conservative estimate) 400 photos, you climb down the stairs all the way to the second floor balcony—creeping across the grated deck as to not startle your unsuspecting lower-level neighbours—and finally push down the fire escape ladder.

304 makes short work of clambering up the rungs, pulling himself onto the balcony with a heaving sigh. He stumbles slightly, and you grab him by the lapels of his suit to steady him.

“Take it easy, Third,” you say quietly, letting your hands unfurl from his suit jacket once you’re sure he’s regained his balance.

He rolls his eyes and pulls the creaky fire escape ladder up behind him once more. You both wait with bated breath, pulse spiking, to see if the lights inside the second floor apartment turn on. Mercifully the windows stay dark.

The two of you make your way back up to the third floor, and you’re just about to step onto the stairs towards your own apartment and return to the call of your bed as 304 move towards his window. He places both hands flat against the glass and pushes up.

Nothing happens.

It’s locked.

“Oh my god,” your neighbour groans miserably, letting his forehead rest against the fingerprint-smudged glass, his dark hair hanging around his eyes.

“Holy shit, did something just move in there?” You gasp in fright, spotting something streaking through the darkness of his apartment through the pane.

“Yes, the fucking beast that’s taken over my home.”

You tilt your head. “I’m lost.”

The man before you sighs, turning over so instead of resting with his forehead against the glass his shoulders are pressed to the brick just beside the window frame. He tilts his head back, and a strand of hair falls from his slicked back style and curls in front of his eyes. He breathes out frustratedly into the night. “I’m currently babysitting my acquaintance’s evil cat.”

“You have a cat?” you ask excitedly.

“No,”—he shoots you a pointed, irritated look—“it’s my acquaintance’s cat. And it’s the weirdest creature on earth. She can open windows and eats all of my bread.”

You press a hand to your mouth to try and hold back your giggles.

“Bread?” you ask him incredulously.

He nods solemnly.

“Well,”—you drag the toe of your fluffy slipper idly against the grating beneath your feet—“what’s her name?”

He stares at you blankly. Utterly unenthused. “Pancakes.”

And at that you have no choice but to openly and unreservedly laugh.

When you finally manage to get your giggles in check—exceedingly conscious of how the sound of your laughter seems to ricochet down the narrow, brick-lined alley you find yourself in—you manage to ask him a pertinent question.

“Does anyone have a spare key to your place?”

“My colleague, Erwin,” the man in front of you mumbles.

Acquaintance. Colleague. You’re starting to wonder if 304 has no friends, or just refuses to refer to them as such.

“Ok, so call him,” you encourage.

He shuts his eyes, his head still pressed back against the wall of brick behind him.

“…My phone is dead.”

You wince.

“Christ, third strike you’re out.”

Your neighbour looks ready to pitch himself clear off the edge of the fire escape.

“Get it? because you’re—“

“I got it.” 304 finally opens his eyes to shoot you a glare.

You do him the favour of not openly laughing in the face of his misfortune again, wracking your brain for something that may actually be helpful.

“Er, do you wanna come up to my place?” you ask. “I probably have a charger you can use for your phone, or you could just use mine to call. What kind do you have?”

The man in front of you rifles through the inside pocket of his suit jacket and hands you the dead device.

You survey it for a moment, turning the bottom of the phone up towards you to squint at the charging port in the dim night. It’s different from yours but all hope isn’t yet lost. “I think that ex of mine you liked so much had the same one, he left a charger up there. It’s all yours if you want it.”

It’s not like he really has any other choice.

As 304 follows you up the narrow fire-escape stairs towards your window on the fourth floor, you realize it’s the first time your neighbour has ever been to your apartment. Or even crossed the halfway point on the stairs, for that matter. You turn just before you get to the window, and suddenly realize how close you are on the narrow balcony outside of your home.

You pause.

“You know, I really shouldn’t be inviting a stranger into my apartment.”

Third tuts admonishingly. “We eat dinner together once or twice a week.”

“I don’t even know your na-“

“Levi.”

You’re a little taken aback in the wake of his offering, your eyes widening slightly.

“Levi,” you test the name over in your mouth like the wine the two of you so often share, and then you shrug. “Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as Third, but I guess it’ll do.”

“You’re impossible, you know that?” he huffs.

You turn to crawl through your living room window when you feel a gentle touch on your hip calling for your attention. You look back, and Levi pulls his hand away quickly, like he’s realized what he’s done.

You can’t help but think he doesn’t need to seem so suddenly abashed.

He clears his throat a little as you look to him inquisitively.

“Your name?”

You smile a bit, your nose scrunching up at how shyly he poses the question, and you tell him.

He nods curtly, like he accepts it, and it almost makes you laugh.

You go about making two cups of tea while you wait for the phone to power back on once he’s plugged it into the charger—which you dug out of a box you keep shoved in the back of your coat closet full of things your various exes have left in your apartment over the years. Thankfully it is the right fit for the device.

A quick glance at the time on your stove clock as you’re boiling the kettle tells you it’s already well past two AM—far later than your usual bedtime, though you don’t feel particularly sleepy.

Once the tea has been prepared, you tote the steaming mugs into the living room where Levi is waiting. You sit curled in an armchair, while your unexpected guest rests perched on the very edge of your sofa closer to the outlet where his phone is plugged into the wall.

“So, what had you out so late tonight, Thir-Levi?” you ask, correcting yourself last minute from using the nickname you’re so used to. You blow over the surface of your very hot tea as you wait for his reply.

“Work thing,” he grunts dismissively, his knee jiggling impatiently while he cradles the still-dark cellphone in his hands. He picks up his own cup of tea and takes a sip. He seems pleasantly surprised by the taste.

“Okay,” you draw out the word, “and what exactly do you do for work?”

Levi looks at you over the brim of his mug, an almost skeptical expression on his face.

“I’m a writer.”

Your eyes widen. “No shit! Like a novelist?”

“Journalist,” he corrects you, his lips pursing forward like he’s contemplating whether or not to divulge any more. He decides to indulge you, evidently, when he further supplies: “I’m a food and wine writer.”

“Really?” You lean forward in your seat, suddenly very interested. “A critic?”

He looks like he wants to correct you, but doesn’t. “I write reviews among other things, yes.”

You slump back in your chair a little bit, kicking your legs up to loop over one armrest.

“Wow, a guy who writes about food and can’t even cook.”

“I can cook, I just choose not to,” Levi says defensively, his tone sharp.

“Sounds like something someone who can’t cook would say,” you say, punctuating the statement with a long sip of tea.

“I’ve eaten at some of the nicest restaurants in the world—there’s nothing I can make myself that could compare, so why try?”

“How fatalistic of you,” you say with a snuffle of a laugh against the edge of your mug. “You know, if I’d known you had such a refined palate I might have been a bit more self-conscious about serving you my cooking.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “You’re a decent cook.”

Your brows lift in surprise. A compliment?

“But you use too much salt.”

You bark out a defensive laugh. “I do not!”

You hear a subtle buzz of vibration and a soft chime as Levi’s phone, left momentarily forgotten on the arm rest of the couch, powers on. It seems to take you both by surprise.

“Well then, time to call your colleague in shining armour,” you say with an encouraging wave of your hand.

Levi leans forward to set his cup of tea down on the table in front of him.

“Coasters?” He pauses, looking around the room.

“I found this coffee table on the curb outside my dorm in college, I promise you it’s seen worse than a hot mug.”

Levi’s face pinches slightly before he sets the mug gently down atop the table’s edge.

You watch as he picks up his phone, tapping around the lit screen for a moment before holding the device up to his ear. He’s curved a little awkwardly towards the end of the sofa due to the power cord connecting the phone to the outlet, the material of his dress shirt pulling taught around his frame. His suit jacket hangs on the back of a chair at your kitchen counter, the knot of his tie is loosened at his throat.

It’s quiet for a moment, and then Levi pulls his phone away from his face and ends the call.

“He’s not answering,” he says with a frustrated huff, as though not answering a phone call in the dead of night is somehow unreasonable. He dials the number again.

“Well,” you say slowly, watching as the same series of events plays out once more, “it’s late. He’s probably asleep.”

“Oh, fuck,” he groans quietly, slumping back into your sofa.

“Do you think the building Super would be awake?” you ask. The Superintendent has keys to every unit, so he’s the next most viable option. He’s a nice, helpful man, and only lives down on the first floor, but you suspect a knock at the door in the dead of night would be worse than an impromptu phone call.

“No, but he’d probably wake up if I called him,” Levi mumbles. He clicks his tongue behind his teeth in irritation. “How humiliating.”

He looks miserable at the mere prospect, but still reaches for his phone.

And maybe it’s because of how late it is. Maybe it’s how warm and dozy and pliantly agreeable the tea that you’d prepared for the two of you has made you feel. Maybe it’s just because there’s something inexplicably comfortable about being around Levi that has your guard lowered.

“You could always crash on my couch,” you find yourself saying before you really think it through. He looks up at you, clearly taken aback by the offer. “Then you can call your coworker in the morning and get your spare key.”

Levi appears uncertain. “You’d let a stranger crash on your couch?”

“We eat dinner together once or twice a week, Levi,” you remind him with a little smirk, using his own words from earlier in your defence.

You bring out a pillow from your own bed covered in a fresh pillow case, and a blanket from your linen closet. You hand them to Levi, still seated in the same place on your sofa though a bit more at ease, and he dips his head in thanks while holding both items atop his lap.

“I have some clothes my ex left here that I would offer you, but he was a bit, uh…”—you make a vague gesture in roughly the same stature as your last boyfriend—“he had a different build than you.”

Levi looks at you flatly.

“You’ve already done enough,” he says, though not altogether unkindly.

“Alright, well… g’night,” you say with an awkward little wave, shuffling off in the direction of your bedroom.

Levi calls your name just as you step across the threshold, and you peek back through the doorway towards him. His face is illuminated only by the glow of the lamp atop the table next to the sofa, and he’s looking at you with an unexpectedly earnest expression as he undoes the top button of his dress shirt, his tie resting undone around his collar.

“Thank you.”

You smile, dipping your head in a little nod, and shut your bedroom door behind you.

When you wake the next morning, it takes a few languid blinks against the morning sunlight streaming in through the curtains and a couple moments more of proper consciousness to remember the events that had transpired the night before.

Well, that and the distant shuffling outside your bedroom door.

You pull on a sweatshirt, pat your hair down into something you think (hope) is a little less dishevelled, and amble sleepily out to your living room. It’s empty, but Levi’s suit jacket is still hanging on your counter stool, his tie neatly rolled up on the corner of your coffee table, and your window is open. You can see the edge of his back seated just beyond the open pane.

You poke your head out to see Levi on the fire escape. His button up shirt is undone to reveal the tight white t-shirt he wears underneath it, and his slacks are slightly creased from sleeping in them. His hair is messy—a hybrid between the loose hanging style you’re accustomed to, and the slicked back fashion he’d had it in the night before. He must hear you coming, because he turns to face you as you arrive. You look at him curiously as if to ask why he’s sitting outside.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he explains without you even vocalizing the question on your mind. His voice is still a bit hoarse from sleep, deeper and rougher than its usual smooth tone.

You crawl through the window, yawning a little as you take a seat cross-legged on the little balcony behind him. Levi turns to face you properly, shifting his whole body in your direction where he sits at the top of the stairs leading down to his own apartment.

“Any word from your spare key courier?” You blink through the tears that sprang to your eyes in your yawn, rubbing them away with your fist.

“He’ll be here in half an hour,” Levi replies.

You nod, a little tug at the corner of your mouth. “Thank God. Pancakes must be so worried all alone in there.”

Levi’s lip curls in an unhappy sneer. “I watched her eat half a loaf of three-day-old brioche through the window this morning. I’m sure she’s having the time of her life.”

There’s no choice but to giggle at the image of a cat ransacking your excessively type-A neighbour’s home, even if he can’t see the humour in it.

“D’ya want some coffee?” you ask, pushing yourself up towards the window again.

“I’d take another cup of that tea from last night,” Levi replies, his tone almost hopeful, and you nod before pulling yourself back inside.

You return to your place on the fire escape a few minutes later, this time with two mugs in hand.

It’s quiet while you sip your drinks, listening to the building hum of the city waking up around you.

“You always up this early?” you finally shatter the stillness with a question, but it’s not intrusive—slipping easily into the comfortable air around you.

“Yeah, usually,” Levi says, peeking over at you. He holds his mug a little strangely, you can’t help put notice—fingertips gripping the brim rather than the handle. It seems unduly precarious. “You wake up early too, huh?”

You tilt your head, wondering how he might know that.

“You sing a lot in the morning,” he explains, looking away by turning his gaze back towards the alley. “You’ve got terrible pitch.”

“Hey!” You reach out and swat at his shoulder. He’s warm to the touch, and even though it’s so basically human it still feels almost unexpected.

He huffs a little, neither a laugh nor far enough from one to discredit it; the sound is smug and indulgent.

“Yeah well you stay up too late,” you counter his observation with one of your own.

This time it’s his turn to be curious, lifting a dark brow as he peeks back at you over his shoulder.

“Your light’s always on,”—you tilt your head in the direction of his apartment down the stairs he’s seated at the top of—“and I don’t really take you for the nightlight type.”

“I don’t sleep much,” he admits.

You scoff. “What do you to with all those extra hours in the day?”

“Writing, editing, researching, emailing my editor,” he explains with a shrug.

You roll your eyes a bit, taking a sip of your coffee. “So you’re a real workaholic, huh?”

Levi drains the last mouthful of his tea, setting the mug down with a little clink as the porcelain meets metal. “There are worse things to spend your time doing.”

“There are better things too,” you counter.

“Such as?”

“I don’t know, socializing? Relaxing? Going out on a date?” You gesticulate with the hand not holding your mug as though to say ‘so on and so forth.'

“You think dating in this day and age is a fun way to pass the time?” Levi remarks flatly.

“Fine,” you concede, a sudden memory of your last ex coming to mind unwelcomely. You can’t help but note he doesn’t make mention of any partners of his own. “Don’t you have hobbies?”

Levi purses his lips, and seems to be wracking his brain. It takes a while.

You stare at him, unimpressed. “When was the last time you went to a museum? An art gallery? A play? The movies? Anywhere that wasn’t work related?”

“I went to the National Gallery downtown a while ago,” he offers.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, disbelievingly. “When?”

“A class trip in ninth grade.”

Your laughter echoes through the alley as it spills from your lips.

“You know they’ve always got new exhibits on display,” you say, gathering your composure. You lean forward, knees pressing into your chest. “You should visit again, I’m sure something has changed in the past eighty years since you were there last.”

Levi watches you curiously, a little too intently to be considered casual.

His phone jingles.

He blinks, and there’s a brief delay before he looks down at the device in his hand.

“That’s my key,” he says quietly.

You nod, standing. Somewhere in the distance, a car horn blares. You hadn’t even noticed how noisy it’s gotten in the time the two of you have been sitting together, but the city is well and truly awake now.

One at a time, you both climb back in through the window—him letting you go first—and once you make it back into your living room you take Levi’s empty cup from his hand to take it to your kitchen sink and wash while he collects his belongings.

Levi steps towards your front door as you dry your hands off on a towel hanging from the handle of your oven. You watch as he buttons up his dress shirt—though he leaves it untucked from his wrinkled trousers.

“Thanks again for… y’know”—he stops buttoning once he gets about half-way up the row and gestures vaguely—“all of this.”

You lean your hip against your kitchen counter. “I’ll slip a bill under your door for room and board.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a soft sort of exasperation to his expression as he does it.

“You could just knock.”

You smile, and you feel a pinch in your cheeks from how wide it spreads. “Well, where’s the fun in that?”

You don’t see Levi again in the week that follows, as you’re stuck working late each night as you slog towards a project deadline.

You leave for the office in the morning when the sun has barely crested, and come home long after it’s set. You’ve been eating mainly takeout from restaurants near your work, and whatever happens to be hiding at the back of your pantry since you haven’t had the opportunity to grocery shop—all interspersed with whatever mediocre, half-stale baked goods your coworkers have brought in and left in the staff kitchen for everyone to share.

After one particularly brutal day, you shuffle in the door with nothing but a day-old donut and three coffees in your stomach, though the clock has ticked past eleven. You drop your belongings on your kitchen counter and wonder if you still have that old bag of microwave popcorn kicking around in the back of your cupboard. You ponder this question as you cross your living room to crack the window and let in a bit of fresh air.

Outside, perched unexpectedly just below the window frame on the fire escape, is a brown paper gift bag.

You glance to the right and see Levi’s lights are still on, as usual, but his window is closed.

Hm.

You pick up the bag and retreat inside, peeking at its contents as you go.

Inside you find a bottle of white wine—a nice bottle of white wine—along with a little piece of notebook paper, ripped along the edge and folded twice in half. You peel the edges of the page back to reveal neat scrawl in black ink.

This didn’t cost 8 dollars.

Thanks again for putting me up.

—3rd.

(Levi)

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him, what with all the late nights you’ve been pulling at the office, and you realize that your last encounter was the morning after he spent the night at your place.

You smile to yourself, shaking your head, and tuck the note back into the bag.

The next Saturday morning, mercifully freed from the project you've been slaving away at, you have every intention of sleeping in to makeup of the overtime you've been banking. Instead, you wake to a strange rustling sound.

It takes a moment for it to register to your hazy, barely conscious mind—a sound so gentle you hardly process that it’s unusual until it’s been going on for just a few minutes too long.

“Mrrrrphm!”

Your eyes shoot open.

Now that noise, you immediately know is out of the ordinary.

You creep out into your kitchen on your tiptoes, towards where the rustling seems to be originating from.

Perched atop your kitchen counter, you see the tail end of a four-legged, ginger-furred little creature—with its head tucked into the rumpled paper bag containing the croissant you’d been planning to eat for breakfast. Its long, bushy tail sways back and forth happily as it rustles around inside.

“Hey!”

The beast—soon revealed to be a cat once it pulls its head from the bag—has the remnants of your (now mostly-shredded) croissant hanging out of its little pink mouth. One of its ears is folded unnaturally, the fur around its neck is scruffy, and you realize upon closer inspection of your half-eaten breakfast that it has a snaggletooth.

The cat seems fairly sociable though, as it makes no move to run as you slowly approach.

“I’m guessing you’re the illustrious Pancakes, huh?” you say as you reach up to scratch gently behind her ears. “I’m a huge fan of your work.”

The cat lets out a cheerful little chirp, your ill-fated croissant still hanging from her maw, bumping her head against your wrist. You pluck the bit of bread from her mouth and quickly scoop her up in your arms, heading towards your door as she squirms unhappily—you don’t quite trust yourself to descend the fire escape with such precious cargo in-hand.

Down on the third floor, you rap sharply against a door.

It swings open moments later to reveal Levi’s perplexed face. Glasses on.

“Your demon cat ate my croissant,” you say, holding the offender out towards him.

She meows innocently.

“Not my cat,” he replies flatly, taking Pancakes from your hands and setting her down on the floor just behind him. She hits the ground on all fours with a little thump, and trots off happily into the apartment out of sight.

“But you two look so much alike.”

Levi responds only with a narrow-eyed glare.

Then he sighs.

“Sorry… she must have crawled out through the window when I wasn’t looking,”—Levi reaches up under the lenses of his glasses, pressing the tips of his fingers against his shut eyes as though they’re aching—“I’ll buy you another croissant.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him with a little laugh, and his fingers splay under the metal frames of his eyeglasses to peek at you through the gaps. You wave your hand dismissively. “It’s my own fault for leaving my window open last night.”

“That’s a good way to be home invaded,” the dark-haired man chides you sternly, a little furrow of disapproval making itself known between his brows. His hands drop from his face, only for his arms to cross over his t-shirt clad chest.

“Yeah, well they’d have to pass your window first—and it’s not like you wouldn’t spot them Mr. Sleep-When-I’m-Dead,” you say, shooting him a bemused look. “At least you’d have a description to give the cops.”

“All you care about is the killer being caught? Not avoiding being murdered in the first place?” Levi drawls.

“Well, at least I could end up on a true crime podcast, so long as you agree to be a good samaritan and assist the authorities in their investigation,” you joke. You peek over Levi’s shoulder to where his curtain is ruffling in the morning breeze. “Hey, do you mind if I just go out through the window?”

He shrugs, pulling his apartment door open a little wider to let you through. “Be my guest.”

Levi’s apartment is tidy and sparsely decorated, but it’s nearly identical to your own in terms of general construction. Your eyes can’t help flitter around the space as you shuffle through it towards the open window, your nosiness getting the best of you. There’s a steaming mug on the edge of his kitchen counter that he must have set aside when you came knocking at his door, a closed laptop resting on the edge of his coffee table next to a notebook, and there are bookcases lining the walls as you walk through the living room. You can’t resist pausing to take a closer look as you pass by one, and find a diverse variety of cookbooks and reference books on food, as well as beer, wine and spirits on the shelves.

Your fingertip traces the gold lettering adorning the thick spine of an immense tome—V I N.

“May I?” you ask, peeking over your shoulder as you pry the book from its place on the shelf.

“You already are,” Levi replies from the kitchen where he’s retrieved his mug, taking a sip. “But sure.”

You let out a little laugh, cracking open the inordinately heavy book.

“You speak french?” you ask, your tone lilting in surprise as your eyes trail over the language on the page in front of you—foreign, but distinguishable enough thanks to a few words you recognize from classes you took back in high school. The book seems old, antique possibly, and evidently well loved.

“Only a little,” Levi says noncommittally, but judging by the notes scribbled in the margins of the pages (in the same neat script scrawled on the scrap of notebook paper tucked into the gift bag on your kitchen counter) you suspect he’s underplaying his abilities.

You close the book and slot it back into its place on the shelf.

“Thanks for the wine by the way.”

“Did you enjoy it?” he asks.

“I haven’t cracked into it yet,” you admit, making the last few steps towards the open window. You tap your hand idly against the spotless frame, turning back to look at where Levi is leaning against his kitchen counter. “I had a big deadline this week at work so I’ve been staying late every day. By the time I got home it was all I could do to force myself to eat something before I’d pass out on my couch.”

Levi’s brows lift, though the rest of his body seems to untense a bit for reasons you can’t quite place.

“I’ll be sure to give you a full and comprehensive review of its bouquet—or whatever—once I finally get the chance to enjoy it,” you remark, half-teasing, and he rolls his eyes.

He takes another sip from his mug. He’s still holding it in that peculiar way he held your mug the morning after he slept on your couch. There’s something about it that you find almost endearing.

You lift your hand in a little wave, he nods in acknowledgement of the gesture, and then you crawl out through the window without another word.

You’re on the second step up the fire escape when Levi pokes his head out after you.

“Do you have breakfast plans?”

You pause, turning back to look at him.

You find him peeking up at you with an unexpectedly hopeful look on his face, if not a little guarded.

“Well, my plans are currently partially digested in your feline ward’s stomach, so... no.”

Levi blinks.

“Can I take you out for breakfast to make up for it, then?”

You tilt your head to the side, a flutter of something keen and eager tickling the pit of your empty stomach.

“Fine,” you concede, feigning as though you’re hard done by. “But I get to choose the place.”

Levi’s lips pull down in an unsubtle expression of his displeasure. “You know that it’s literally my job to—“

“I don’t care,” you interrupt him, waving your hand as though batting his interjection out of the very air into which he spoke it before it has the chance to reach your ears. “I don’t want some fancy micro-meal from whatever masters of gastronomy you write about. I want waffles. A lot of ‘em.”

Levi huffs, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath before replying a single, reluctant: “Fine.”

“Meet you in the lobby in 10 minutes?” you ask, your lips stretching in a grin.

His own lips purse, and you almost think it might be halfway to a smile. “Sure.”

The two of you wind up at an old greasy spoon diner two blocks away that you’ve been going to since college, where the staff always make sure to give you an extra perfectly golden-brown waffle. Levi sits across from you in a dark green knit sweater that looks incredibly cozy and, to your utter surprise, a pair of jeans. He looks more comfortable and casual than you’ve ever seen him.

“It’s good, huh?” you ask over the table as Levi bites into his own breakfast: 2 eggs, over easy, bacon and toast. You notice he’s carefully separated all three components of the meal on his plate so none of them are touching, and has liberally applied black pepper to the semi-firm yolks of his eggs.

He swallows the bite he has in his mouth, wiping the corners with his white paper napkin. “It’s food.”

You snort a little, shoving another piece of waffle into your mouth. “Are your reviews always so inspired?”

Levi shoots you an unamused look.

“C’mon, don’t tell me you only eat at fancy fine dining places?” you say, waving your fork around demonstrably. “This is what real food’s all about; little family run joints like this.”

Levi purses his lips.

“Have you ever even been to a fine dining restaurant?” he asks you skeptically.

“No,” you admit, drowning your plate in more of the cheap table syrup. Levi’s nose crinkles in disdain at the sight. The waffles are the same as always: just the right crispiness on the outside to not grow soggy too quickly under the river of syrup you douse them in, perfectly fluffy on the inside.

Fine dining, irrespective of being well outside your budget, has just never been your style.

“So who are you to judge?”

Now it’s your turn to purse your lips.

You stab your fork through a piece of waffle and syrup drips, slow and sticky, as you hold it up above your plate. You lift a brow challengingly as you stare him down across the table. “If you want to take me out to a fancy dinner so bad, all you have to do is ask.”

Levi’s expression doesn’t change.

“Fine.”

“Huh?” you nearly choke, though you haven’t yet put your next bite in your mouth.

“Go out to dinner with me,” he says.

“That’s not a question,” you remark, shoving your waiting forkful into your mouth just to give yourself something else to focus on.

Levi huffs exasperatedly. “Will you go out to dinner with me?”

You take your time to chew, the syrup making everything in your mouth indistinguishably cloying, and then swallow. “I’ll think about it.”

Levi’s jaw gapes, a look of betrayal flittering across his usually impassive features.

You laugh.

“Fine, fine. But only if we can go to the national gallery first,” you say, enjoying every moment of Levi’s palpable misery, setting your fork down and reaching for your mug and taking a sip of coffee. It’s tempered down to a drinkable heat, a little bitter and burnt tasting just like it always is, and there’s something nostalgic in that.

Levi fiddles with his fork, cutting into his egg so the sunny yellow yolk runs across his white ceramic plate. “…I already went.”

“Huh?” You place your cup back down atop the table, on the edge of your paper placemat.

“I went,” Levi repeats himself, though nothing is made clearer through the repetition.

“When?”

“A couple days after you mentioned it. I was reviewing a bistro down the road—terrible by the way—“ he interjects, though you didn’t ask, “and I had some time to kill afterwards.”

“So… what was your verdict?”

“Boring.”

“Oh, come on!” you say with a warm, pealing laugh, throwing yourself back in your seat. “You’re so uncultured! Didn’t you like their new installation on expressionism?”

“It was a mess.”

“That’s the point, it’s abstract!”

“If I wanted to see a disaster on canvas I’d look at those sneakers you’ve got on,” Levi says with a click of his tongue, but his eyes are bright and mirthful.

You peek under the table at your well-loved tennis shoes, gaping but still laughing. “You are so—!”

“Can I get you two some top-ups on those coffees?” The waitress who has been serving the two of you steps up to the table, coffee pot in hand, but she seems almost apologetic for interrupting.

It’s the first time you remember you’re in public, and you settle down a bit, covering your mouth to clear your throat bashfully.

“I’m alright, thank you,” Levi declines politely with a dip of his head.

“I’ll take a little extra please,” you say, and the waitress smiles and adds another bit of steaming, bitter coffee to your cup. It darkens the last few mouthfuls left from your already milk-and-sugared first drink; the deep brown of the fresh brew swirling into the tawny room-temperature remnants of the last.

Your eyes meet Levi’s over the table, and both of you quickly look away, fighting back your smiles.

The two of you walk back home once your meal has concluded and your bills have been paid—split at your insistence, though Levi seemed prepared to physically fight you on it.

Back at your building Levi gets out on the third floor after a brief goodbye, but before the door to the elevator can slide closed behind him, and you can close the steel grate of the interior door, his hand shoots out to keep them open.

You look up in surprise at the sudden gesture.

“I’m not kidding about dinner,” Levi says, standing just beyond the threshold to the ancient elevator, staring at you with an almost unnerving sincerity.

You blink, taken aback by how serious he is.

“What’s your cell number?” he asks when you can’t seem to find anything to reply.

You relay the digits to him and he scribbles them down into a little pocket sized, softcover notebook he produces from his jacket pocket. You’ve seen him scribbling in it before out on the fire escape, and realize he must take it with him everywhere he goes. Given the shape and size of it—only a little larger than the palm of his hand—you don’t doubt it’s the very book that the note he’d left with your bottle of wine had been torn from.

“I’ll send you a message and we can make a plan,” Levi says, tucking the notebook back into his pocket.

“Alright,” you agree and finally Levi lets his hand fall from where he’s keeping the doors open.

He steps away in the direction of his apartment.

“Be careful, Levi,” you say to his retreating back as you pull the grated metal door on the inside of the elevator car closed, “or I might think this is a date.”

He pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. Your eyes meet through the gaps in the metal, and in spite of the distance you can see the mirth in his gaze. “That’s exactly what it is, and it’s what breakfast was too.”

And with that, the door slides shut between you.

One week to the day later, you find yourself sitting across from Levi in a restaurant that feels almost too nice for you to be patronizing. Levi is dressed in a nice suit, as ever, and you’re wearing in the only truly nice dress you own—one you’d bought for a friend’s wedding a few years prior and never had the occasion to wear again.

Until now.

It’s nothing like the meals you’ve shared on your fire escape, or the boisterous breakfast at the diner on that Saturday morning. There’s no bitter coffee or table syrup to be seen, no mismatched plates and cutlery. It’s quiet, ambient even. All hushed conversation and warm candle light.

But you still enjoy yourself all the same.

And the food is really fucking good.

“I’m devastated,” you breathe out miserably into the cool night air as the two of you walk side-by-side along the quiet sidewalk in the direction of your little brick building.

Levi had offered to flag the two of you down a cab, but the evening weather was actually quite nice and the restaurant wasn’t far from home so you’d instead suggested to walk. Your heels are starting to hurt your feet a little bit, a pinch in your toes and the early-makings of a blister forming at the back of your ankle where the strap of your shoe rubs against your skin, but you still can’t quite bring yourself to regret anything about the evening.

Not the walk, not the dinner, not the company.

“You didn’t like it?” Levi asks, a lilt of concern in his voice.

You shake your head emphatically, turning to look at him with a grave expression. “It was too good.”

“That’s a new complaint,” he muses, his mouth pulling at the corner in thinly-veiled triumph.

“How am I ever supposed to enjoy any food again now that I know it can taste like that?” you complain, tossing your head back to look up at the night sky and passing streetlights overhead. Your shoes click against the pavement with every step, but otherwise it’s refreshingly quiet.

Levi laughs into his closed fist. “Now you see my problem.”

“Hey,” you say suddenly, bringing your chin back down so you can look at him, “can you bring me home your leftovers when you go write your little reviews for places like that?”

“No,” Levi replies immediately, decisively shaking his head.

You pout, sucking in a sharp breath as you prepare to plead your case.

“But I’d like to take you out again, if you’ll let me.”

He’s not looking at you, his eyes fixed ahead on the pavement as the two of you walk side by side, but you can tell he’s anxiously awaiting your reply with the way his hand is flexing and unflexing at his side.

You feel heat climb in your cheeks.

“Well, if it’s the only way to keep access to that kind of food, I guess I’d be stupid to say no.”

Levi hums, his gaze sliding to meet yours from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, I guess you would.”

The elevator ride up to the third floor is quiet but not uncomfortable, though you both seem to be keeping your distance in the confined space—relegated to opposite sides, not dissimilarly to so many months ago when he was calling you out for fucking your atrocious ex-boyfriend too loudly. You could almost laugh at how much things have changed since then.

He says goodnight as he pulls open the grated door, sending you a brief look as he steps out.

“Goodnight, Levi,” you return the sentiment, hesitating to close the inside door between the two of you once more. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, and there’s an almost disappointing finality to his words, though you don’t dwell too long on it.

And then he’s gone.

Upstairs in your apartment, you kick off your heels as soon as you step through the door. You stretch your toes against the cool hardwood floor to let the blood flow back into them before padding into your kitchen. You drape your coat across the back of a barstool, and drop your purse on counter, pausing momentarily to eye the gift bag with the wine Levi had given you tucked away in the corner.

Maybe it’s time to crack it open—if for no other reason than to try and drown the niggling feeling of dissatisfaction you have squirming in your chest.

But first, you pad across your living room to open up your window.

At the very same time that Levi opens his, a floor away.

You pull yourself through without thinking, shivering a little bit against the cool breeze as it meets your exposed skin. Levi��his suit jacket shed, his tie loosened and collar unbuttoned—does the same.

You kneel at the top of the stairs, the metal of the fire-escape digging into your knees, and peer down at him.

“Y’know, I still haven’t opened that bottle of white wine.”

Your fingers fidget with the hem of your dress—it’s crept a bit further up your thighs thanks to the way you’re sitting. Levi’s eyes have caught the subtle rise, and through you see his gaze on your exposed skin, it soon flickers up to meet yours.

“It’s not really a nightcap,” he says quietly.

You huff, half frustrated and half amused, but the sound is entirely too fond.

“Are you coming up here or not?”

Levi climbs the stairs slowly towards where you’re seated at the top. That same feeling underneath your ribs that had once been dissatisfied blooms into something else entirely, crackling like a flame inside your chest as you catch his tie between your fingers.

You pull him down with your grip on the dark green silk—slowly, slowly, slowly—to press your mouths together.

The kiss is sweet. Unhurried. Decadent.

Levi cranes down a little further, his hands settling on the landing behind you, caging you underneath him. His proximity is more intoxicating than any of the wine you’ve ever shared. The feeling of his lips parting against yours and the gentle imploring sweep of his tongue is more satisfying than any food on earth could hope to be.

One of his hands trails up along your thigh, across that same skin you’d caught him eyeing moments prior. His touch is cold but still it burns. He gives your flesh a firm squeeze.

“Inside now,” he murmurs insistently against your mouth, “unless you want the neighbourhood to hear this.”

You pull away, peeking up at him through your lashes innocently.

“And what if I do?”

He swallows visibly, his tongue darting out to lave across his rosy lips before it disappears once more to click behind his teeth.

“Knew you were an exhibitionist.”

There’s a graceless, frenetic climb back through the window—with Levi’s hand cradling the top of your head all the while so you don’t knock it against the frame—and then the two of you are toppling down onto the soft cushions of your couch.

Levi’s body weight presses into yours as he hovers over you, mouths rapacious, your hips flush and hands greedy. You’re grabbing anything and everything that falls within your reaches: his hands on your waist, your thighs, your heaving chest; your own hands in his hair, cupping his jaw, fisting the fine cotton of his dress shirt. Your dress has rucked up around your waist in the excitement, and after a few moments of exploration Levi slowly breaks your kiss.

He sinks to the floor on his knees, and your thighs part for him without thinking.

His eyes trace the dark spot on the centre of the delicate lace over your aching cunt, his thumb soon stroking against it with the exact same eagerness as his eyes.

“Levi,” you say his name pleadingly as your hips wriggle to get closer to his touch, squirming further down the couch cushion towards him. “Please… more.”

Levi huffs a little; not a laugh, but something a little more chiding—a little more mocking. He leans forward so you feel every hot breath break against your skin on his exhales, his eyes still fixed to that little patch of wetness that’s caught his attention, the spot only growing larger the longer he toys with you. “Let me savour this.”

“Like a nightcap?” you ask him, aiming for levity but toeing the wrong side of breathless as his fingers follow the lace trim of your panties up along the curve of your thigh.

“An aperitif,” he rasps as he snaps the elasticated band against your hip, a sharp crack as it hits your tender skin, and his eyes flicker up to meet yours when you hiss. He smirks. “It makes you hungrier.”

Not once in all the time you’ve known him would you have denied the truth that Levi’s tongue is quick and vicious, but never would you have imagined its sedulity between your legs.

The flimsy material of your panties tugged swiftly down and kicked away, it’s as though the meal the two of you had shared that evening has been forgotten, a thing of the past.

Levi devours you like he’s been starved.

“Fuck, oh—“

Your hips jump on the sofa but his strong forearm slings across your lower abdomen to pin them down and keep you at his mercy. Levi glances up at you from his position on his knees, his head bracketed by your thighs, his eyelids hanging low over his hungry gaze. The tip of his tongue flicks against your twitching entrance, laving back up to your clit. The cycle repeats. It’s filthy and fascinating to watch.

“—Levi, nggh—oh my god.”

You grab for anything, borderline delirious. Your nails on one hand dig into the throw pillow at the end of your sofa while the other knots itself through Levi’s dark hair. You grip both with an equal roughness, but Levi doesn’t seem to mind—suckling with a renewed insistence at the swollen bundle of nerves between his lips.

He reaches up and pries your hand away from the strands of his hair, twining your fingers with his own as he pins it down to the sofa beside your hip. Levi pulls away from your pussy with a string of saliva keeping you connected, slick smeared along his mouth catching in the light of the lamp.

“Be gentle, would you?” he rasps, “I’d like to keep my hair for the foreseeable future.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, your chest heaving from the way your breaths come ragged. “It feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, slipping two fingers into his mouth. They shine with his spit when he pulls them from between his swollen lips. He leans back down towards your cunt. “How good?”

“So good,” you whine, his two saliva-slicked fingers slipping inside of you at the same time.

“God,” you toss your head back and gasp, those two fingers inside of you crooking in a way that makes you feel so good.

“You’re close,” Levi hums, not a question but rather a factual observation, before dragging his tongue up towards your clit again. His fingers keep curling against your walls with an almost unfair degree of skill, leaving you shaking and breathless.

“Y-yeah, gonna cum,” you whimper.

“You’re gonna cum for me?” he mumbles against your clit, goading you as he carefully watches the expressions on your face.

It's not as though you have any other choice with the way he’s playing you like an instrument he’s long-mastered.

“Yes, fuck Levi, there.”

One last gasp and the lewd, pointed suck with his lips wrapped around your clit has you melting, your thighs clamping against his ears as your back bows up off the sofa. A strangled, desperate little sound tears out of the back of your throat, and your fingers tighten around his own—still entwined beside you on the sofa.

As you come down from your high, you drag his hand up with yours to your chest, pressing his palm flat against your sternum so he can feel how fast your heart is knocking against your ribs underneath the fabric of your dress.

Your heart rate has nowhere near returned to normal when Levi stands from his place on the ground, wiping at his wet mouth with the back of his hand as he takes in your spent, trembling state. In one fell—impossibly deft—swoop, he picks you up and carries you off towards your bedroom.

“How the fuck are you so strong?” you gasp as you wriggle in his hold—but his grip is tight and he doesn’t waver.

He drops you down onto your bed, and you bounce lightly as you come in contact with the springy surface. You fall back, staring up at him as he peers at you with affront.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You giggle a little as he crawls over your splayed form, his body warm as his lips find their way back to yours.

He kisses you again. And again. And again.

Your pretty dress comes off, finally—left discarded in a hapless puddle on your bedroom floor to be dealt with later. It's an end unbefitting of the nicest garment you own, though you can’t begin to bring yourself to care.

Levi’s fingers trace along the delicate lace of your newly revealed bra and you feel his lips curl up into a smirk against your own. He inches away, peeking down at your chest.

He dips down to mouth along the swell of your breast, his eyes still impossibly trained on yours, and your fingers tangle into the soft strands at his crown as you moan lightly at the gentle touch.

He sucks against the soft flesh, before pulling off with a little pop!

“Does poor Misses Miller know you kept her bra?”

You laugh in response to his teasing words, a reference to the early days of what you’d now call a friendship (if not something else entirely), tugging him away from your chest by your grip on his hair.

He quirks a brow at you with his head tilted back in your hold.

You pout playfully, slackening your grip on his hair and letting your hand slip down along the front of his dress shirt, petting over his chest. “You know, I think I liked you better with your mouth full.”

Levi clicks his tongue behind his teeth, watching raptly at the flash of pink as your own tongue peeks out to moisten your swollen lips. Something shifts behind his gaze, and he leans back on his haunches beside you, reaching up and fingering the loosened knot of his tie.

“Do you trust me?”

The question is a little bit out of the blue, and relatively unwarranted considering only moments prior he’d been three knuckles deep inside of you, but you entertain it nonetheless.

Your head lolls to the side on your bedspread as you look at him curiously. “I let you spend the night on my couch when we barely knew each other.”

He rolls his eyes at your intentionally indirect response, leaning forward until your entire field of vision is filled with nothing but him once more.

“Do you,”—Levi pauses with his lips ghosting over yours, soft as they brush—“trust me?”

A beat of tense silence stretches between you.

“Yeah.” You swallow lightly after murmuring the word. “I do.”

Levi pulls back again, and reaches up and tugs on the knot of his tie until it comes completely undone, hanging in two separated halves against his chest. Slowly he draws it out from under the fold of his collar.

“There was a trend in food criticism years ago,” he says, his grey eyes tracking up, up, up along your exposed body while you wait like eager prey beneath his gaze, “where critics used to think that you could taste better in the dark. Like the dulling of one sense would somehow improve the others.”

You swallow hard as he leans forward, moving slowly up the mattress towards you.

His tie is still in his hand.

He dips down and kisses you.

Brief. Teasing.

“They thought you could taste more…”

Levi loops his tie around your eyes, and your breath hitches. You feel the soft slip of silk against your skin, the pressure tightening (though not unpleasantly) as he knots it at the crown of your head to keep it in place. You see only darkness.

“…hear more…” Levi’s lips are right next to your ear; just a ghost of warm breath and his rich, deep voice that seems a little more strained than it had before.

You’re breathing heavier now, or maybe you’re just more painfully aware of the rhythm of your own respiration.

“…feel more.”

Warm fingers dance up along your ribs and you gasp aloud, not expecting the sensation. But as quickly as it appears, that feeling of his skin on yours, it’s gone again. You swallow. His touch continues in much the same way, fingers disappearing and then reappearing somewhere else, leaving you guessing. Leaving you wanting.

You feel goosebumps prickle up along your skin.

“Is that true?” you whisper as you push yourself upright and reach out blindly in search of Levi, though you aren’t quite sure where to find him.

“I don’t know—” Levi admits airily from somewhere before you, both nearer and further than you expect him to be. He takes your outstretched hand in his, pressing it to his cheek. It’s warm to the touch, and he turns his face towards your palm, pressing a barely there kiss to it.

Unexpectedly your bra falls forward, cool air kissing heated skin as the straps fall down your shoulders, thanks to a talented hand that had slipped behind your back unnoticed. You feel Levi’s lips curl into a smirk against your palm.

“—but let’s find out.”

Next is an obscured, indecipherable blur of hot, open mouthed kisses; of gentle grazes and rougher gropes; of moans, and groans, and needy whines that you aren’t sure are even yours anymore. Your pussy’s left a wet patch on the thigh of Levi’s slacks that you can’t see but that you can feel as the sticky fabric ruts against your clit, your hips grinding desperately against it as he consumes you and whatever senses he’s left you.

It’s infuriating.

It’s immolating.

It’s divine.

“Are you ready for me?” Levi pants against your stinging lips, his hand cupping your chin to keep your face tilted towards his even if you can’t see him.

“Yes,” you mewl debauchedly, rolling your hips against that same crease in his pant leg that’s been tantalizing you for what feels like hours. You should be ashamed—of your words, of your tone, of your actions—but you aren’t.

You feel every second of the stretch as the head of his cock presses inside.

You wonder what it looks like, what he must look like right now, but you’re left only to feel.

“Oh,” he groans, the deep sound sodden and drunk with pleasure. “Amazing. Fuck, you’re taking me so well. You’re perfect.”

The first proper thrust—the in and the out—almost pulls you under like the currents of a tide. You’re fighting a losing battle to keep your head above water, to keep air in your lungs.

The springs of your mattress creak as Levi picks up the pace and mercilessly fucks you down into it, your breaths coming in pants broken by moans. You feel your sheets against your sticky skin, his hands twining with yours, his breath against your lips.

“Is it good?” he asks, mouthing clumsily along your jaw as his hips rail down against yours.

“So good,” you babble in agreement, nodding dumbly as much as you can with such little control over your own body. “Feels so good.”

“I love hearing you say that,” Levi rasps, tucking his face into the crook of your neck and letting his teeth graze over your racing pulse. “I don’t think I could ever get tired of it."

He groans as you clamp down on him involuntarily.

You’re close, and think he must be too when you feel the way his cock throbs inside of you.

“Please,” you murmur, voice breaking pathetically as you beg. It sounds like you’re near tears but with the silk still covering your eyes it’s impossible to tell whether or not it’s true. “I wanna see you.”

“Make a deal with me,” Levi grunts, his pace suddenly slowing to a torturous grind. You’re sure that you must be crying now with how devastating the change in pace is—still deep, but just languid enough that the cresting pleasure in the pit of your stomach threatens to recede.

“A deal?” you ask, gasping as your nails drag along the musculature of his back.

“I’ll take it off,”—Levi’s touch trails up to your face, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your spit-slicked chin and searing cheeks—“but only if you let me take you out to breakfast.”

You’re in no position to be making counter-demands, or returning repartee.

“Anything,” you sob, clinging to him desperately. Your hips tilt up in a fruitless search for friction, your nails scrabble along his skin. “I’ll do anything. Please, Levi.”

He tugs the tie down, and your bleary eyes sting as they adjust to the light.

Finally, you see him.

Levi is practically glowing, bathed in a sheen of perspiration that you can feel when your skin slips against his own. His dark hair is pushed back, away from the lines of his devastatingly handsome face; his strong cheekbones and the sharp line of his tensed jaw. His abs flex as he carves his way inside of you in that impossibly slow grind, a little trail of dark, coarse hair spanning from his navel to his cock, where you see a glossy ring around the base from you.

He’s a feast to behold. To taste. To feel.

“S-so?” he stutters, half-hissing from how viciously your core has tightened around him. His eyes search yours, avaricious and wild. “How does it compare?”

“Better,” you moan, a tear tracking back towards your hairline as you throwing your head back into your pillows, fighting as much as you can to keep your eyes open, “this is better.”

Levi laughs, breathy and wanton as the sound might be, and his hands grip behind your knees before peeling them away from their vice against his waist and pressing them back into your chest.

He kisses you again—your mouths meeting desperately though they haven't long been parted—first chaste but then sloppily, bullying his way into your mouth like he wants to taste how sweet the words you’ve just said are off your own tongue.

He pulls back, a string of saliva stitching from his mouth to yours.

The corner of his lip ticks up in a smirk as his hips draw back, not in punishment but in preparation.

“Good.”

You wake the next morning with an ache humming in your bones and an effervescence sizzling in your chest. It takes you a moment to rouse, properly anyway, but when you do you feel the unmistakable weight of an arm curled around your bare waist, and a warm pressure perched atop your feet.

You open your eyes, blinking against the light that streams in through the curtains over your bedroom window—billowing gently in the morning breeze. You peek down towards the end of your bed, and see a little fluff of ginger fur sprawled out across your ankles. When you listen closely you can hear the little rumble of a purr.

Finally, you glance over to your side, and find Levi blinking back at you.

He looks sleepy and dishevelled, a sort of pleasant exhaustion in the rings beneath his eyes that you’re sure is mirrored in the shadows of your own skin. His hair is sticking up unkemptly at his temple, and there’s a line imprinted into his cheek from where it's been resting against your pillow. It’s a version of himself that you suspect Levi rarely shows to anyone, and right now it’s all deliriously, deliciously yours.

“Good morning,” your voice is so quiet when you finally risk shattering the stillness of your bedroom with a greeting.

“Good morning,” Levi rasps with a commensurate tenderness, even through the hoarseness of his groggy morning voice.

The city is waking up outside your window, the steady build of noise that will crescendo to a dull hum once the world gets underway. But for now it’s still quiet. For now you can still hear Pancakes’ slightly-wheezy purr.

Levi’s arm around your waist tightens, shifting you a little bit closer to him under the soft cover of your blankets. The gesture is hesitant. Half-committed. Like he’s still leaving himself open to be rebuked.

You smile, and close the rest of the distance yourself like crossing that final step along the fire escape. Traversing that halfway point. You curl into him and tuck your head underneath his chin as you rest your cheek against his chest.

Levi seems to soften slightly. To ease. To welcome your intrusion.

If it was ever that at all.

“So… breakfast?”

1K notes · View notes

chikenbitches · 2 years

Text

Eternity

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: War AU, Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn

Summary: Would you love someone if your days are numbered? A tragic love story between a soldier who’s trying to find a purpose in life and a blind girl who is stripped away of her freedom.

Content Warnings: Graphic description of death and murder, sexual assault on women, oppression, physical abuse, alcohol consumption, swearing.

Word Count: 25k+

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart

“You ever slept with a girl?”

A twenty-one-year-old boy, with eyes greener than the forest under the blazing sun, choked on his alcohol. It was his fifth time drinking one, but he never did it out of his own desire. Being a new soldier in the Marleyan army meant that he had to obey what his seniors ordered him to do. Whether it was to lay his weapon on his shoulder and chug on a bottle of vodka during duty, or behead a prisoner and watch their blood drenching the snow. The young soldier never had an option.

A soldier should not ask questions even when they are dying from curiosity. He had learned it the hard way during training. That was why he always pretended like he understood—and accepted—everything that was happening around him. That was just how the world naturally worked. The world was cruel. There was no beauty in it. Only those who had tossed away their hearts and conscience could survive. Have a heart and you’ll die before the next sunrise, that was what he was taught during his first month of service.

��The dark brown-haired boy, known by the name Eren Kruger, rubbed his nape. He had his shoulder-length hair cut short ever since he joined the army, giving him a fresh undercut look that failed to protect his nape from the winter breeze. His skin was sun-kissed but crimson still painted the tips of his ears, a sign that his body was sensitive to cold, even when he was dressed warmly in a thick beige coat—a Marleyan uniform that he wore with a proud look on his face and shame in his chest. Kruger was not his real surname but it was the name he had to get familiar with.

Eren was one of the latest additions to the Marleyan army that “protected” their neighbor country, Eldian. At least, that was how he was told anyway. Deep down inside, he always had a different belief of his own. Marley wasn’t protecting the Eldians from other countries that wanted its minerals and natural resources. Marley was monopolizing Paradis and made it its slave for their benefit. But Eren knew better not to speak his thoughts aloud. He still valued his life too much, no matter how meaningless his life felt to him at the moment.

But then again, why must his life matter when people around him were dying just because they tried to find their sanctuaries? Why must he fill his life with laughter when children were getting beaten to the ground, their heads smashed under combat boots, just because they asked for more bread?

The world was unfair, and Eren used to be scared of hell. But this… This life he was living at the moment… It already tasted like one.

“Excuse me?” Eren tried to keep his voice down. Being in the middle of the winter season was already enough reason for his cheeks to bloom in the color of the evening sky. He did not need the older man to make him look even more flustered.

“I’m asking you, kid.” A man who was in his late thirties scratched the untrimmed beard on his chin. His name was Theo Magath, a strict commander of Eren’s division. Although he was nine centimeters shorter than the younger soldier, Magath was stronger and more experienced in every way. Eren feared him the most, though the other man regarded him as his new companion on battlefields. “Have you ever slept with a girl before?”

“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”

“Permission granted.”

Eren still hesitated, teeth nibbling against the inside of his cheeks. “Forgive me if I’m rude, but,” he cautiously spoke as he bowed down a little and returned the bottle to the older man. “I believe you’ve drunk too much of this.”

“And you’ve drunk too little,” the man said, his laugh boisterous when he pushed the alcohol to Eren’s chest. “Go drink up a little more.”

“But we’re on duty.”

“Yeah, to watch a bunch of teenagers collects those damn branches from the wood,” Magath scoffed. “I doubt they’re gonna start up a revolution any moment from now, so drink.”

“Sir—”

“Drink.”

The way mirth in his voice suddenly vanished almost sent shivers down his spine. Eren nodded, taking another sip. He knew his tolerance limit and he wouldn’t pass it. He only swallowed the liquid to be polite and perhaps, just to keep himself warm. He didn’t intend to be drunk like the older soldier.

“I haven’t,” Eren admitted with a quiet voice. “I haven’t… done it with anyone.”

“Thought so.” Magath chuckled. “When’s your birthday?”

“March thirtieth.”

“It’s still a couple of months from now, huh?” The man yawned loudly, and puffs of warm breaths appeared in the cold air. “Hey, why don’t we celebrate early? I’ll get you the best girl from our place. You can take a few hours off and have fun with her. Think of it as a birthday present from me.”

That place, Eren knew, was referring to the military brothel that was stationed at their campsite. On some nights, those girls came to visit their barracks and perform their duties as the Comfort Women to satisfy the soldiers’ needs. And any other times, officers would stand properly in line, waiting to enter one of the twenty rooms in the brothel to satisfy their sexual desire.

It was always physical, nothing more and nothing less. They were used as toys—objects to fill the men’s thirsts. They were not prostitutes; they were forced to become one. Those young girls were kidnapped from the streets or, more often, deceived by the Marleyan government that they would get a better future if they worked for them. They ended up working as sex slaves—each person serving about a hundred military personnel per month, and if they weren’t cooperative, they would get beaten to death.

Their bodies belonged to the army, raped and tortured.

Eren never came to visit that place. He hated it with all his heart, every nerve of his body shouting in disgust. And whenever those women came to their barracks, he would leave with his shotgun strapped to his back, disappearing into the woods. He preferred spending the night sorting out his thoughts near the frozen lake than forcing himself on some lady he didn’t know. Even the thought of it made him nauseous. It was wrong. Those women never deserved to be treated that way, but Eren was weak and powerless. There was nothing he could do.

“No, thank you,” Eren declined, feeling agitated all of a sudden. “I’m fine.”

“What, do you prefer men?”

“No, Sir. I just…” The boy took a deep breath, calming himself down and trying to sound less offensive. He put a lot of effort into not saying things like ‘I don’t want to commit more sins than I already have done’ or ‘it stands against my values to rape women, unlike you and the rest of immoral idiots here’. After a few seconds of battling inside his head, he decided to utter, “I just don’t feel like it.”

It was safe. It was simple. It was a lie.

“You don’t feel like having sex?” Magath snorted, repulsed by the thought. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

It burned bright, the rage inside his chest. “I just don’t feel like raping someone, Sir.” Not until his sentence ended, did Eren realize that he was almost growling at the older man. His heart plummeted to his stomach. Immediately, he stood in front of his superior, performing a ninety-degree bow. “My deepest apologies, Commander! I was out of line! I will take any kind of punishment for my words!”

Something glinted in the older man’s eyes, but whatever it was, he decided to ignore it. “It’s fine,” Magath said and Eren bowed once more before he scooted back to his position. His heart was thumping loud behind his rib cages.

The boy straightened his back and kept his eyes once more on a group of young Eldians, walking in line carrying twigs in their arms. Their jackets were much thinner if being compared to his, tattered with plenty of holes in them. And when Eren wore a warm, fur hat to protect his hair from snowflakes, they had none. The young soldier felt sorry for them, but it seemed like he was the only one with empathy in this place.

There was a little boy, with cheeks red and scratched by the falling snow, struggling to keep his wobbly feet on the ground. He was carrying more branches than his little arms could handle. The weight was too much and the snow was too deep for him to walk on and he fell, his face hitting piles of ice. The twigs he carried scattered everywhere. He was frustrated but he didn’t cry. Eren was amazed.

But then a soldier came over, slamming the end of his gun to the little boy’s head and screaming at him to get up. He hit him again, and again, and again until Eren could see the tear on his skin, fresh blood dripping down from the side of his temple.

Eren’s hold on his gun tightened.

“Careful, kid,” Magath reminded him, his voice as eerie as the night during an eclipse. Eren shuddered, but not from the cold. “You’re a kind young man, I know that much. But your kind values are the ones that are going to get you killed someday.”

Eren turned his head to look at the man, his eyes weren’t blinking. “Sir…?”

“Listen to me.” Magath locked his eyes with the soldier and Eren felt like he was being choked instead. “These Eldian people are vicious. That little boy you see there may look hopeless now, but he was ready to stab Galliard's neck with a fork just to get more food less than a week ago. And women, especially, are even more dangerous. They betray us. They won’t hesitate to kill us in our sleep. We can’t trust them, Eren.”

Eren stayed still, though his mind was screaming: but we’re not that better either.

“They don’t deserve to be treated like people,” Magath continued, “Treat them like toys. You don’t share feelings with toys, do you? You play with them.”

Eren swallowed, his throat felt like it was made of sand. “And what do I do when I get bored with them, Sir?” the boy asked because that was what the man wanted to hear. Theo Magath didn’t want to witness kindness, sincerity, or mercy. He, just like any other soldiers here, craved power, grief, and lust.

Magath smiled, his eyes shimmering like a proud father’s.

“Then, it’s time to throw them away.”

***

Eren jolted awake when he heard a man screaming. He didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep for a few seconds on his feet, swallowed by the boredom of seeing the constant movements of young men collecting dry branches to build campfires that night. His head spun toward the source, his chest tightening at the sight. There, a few meters away from him, stood a very tall, well-built Marleyan soldier with short, coarse-looking dark hair that reached to his neck. A thin beard decorated his jawline, his smirk was nothing but menacing. His name was Kenny Ackerman.

He loomed tall as he beat a young man—who was probably around Eren’s age—to the cold, freezing ground. The branches fell out of the boy's arms, meeting the earth almost without a sound. A splotch of blood spilled from his mouth when Kenny landed a harsh kick on his stomach, painting the snow like angry lipstick smeared on a blank canvas. His light ash-brown hair was falling over his eyes, concealing them.

Kenny Ackerman was his senior, but even if he weren’t, Eren still wouldn’t dare to stop him. That man was twice his size, with arms strong enough to break his wrists in seconds. Eren’s mind was telling him to not lift a muscle—that if he tried to stop the older man from beating the boy to death, he would meet his end that day as well. But his heart was thumping loud, sending a rush of adrenaline to course through his veins. He was old enough to know better, but his body was filled with young blood. Before he knew it, Eren made a step forward. It was probably his luck when another male appeared, kneeling in front of the soldier to beg for forgiveness.

It was another Eldian, as old as Eren was but seemed five times younger in appearance. He had a mop of golden hair, his body was frail and not as tall as the boy he was protecting. For a split second, Eren caught a glimmer of his irises. They were cerulean, as deep as the bottomless sea, as bright as the cloudless sky.

“Please let me explain,” he pleaded with two hands surrendering in the air, beseeching for mercy. “It was just a misunderstanding. My brother meant no harm.”

But Kenny Ackerman was not known for being kind. He was famous for being ruthless, the death reaper of the army who enjoyed robbing the light of his victim's eyes. While Eren had never taken a life before—be it the Eldians or Marleyan soldiers who assaulted him by pushing him down into a frozen lake in the middle of the night—Kenny had killed hundreds. Eren knew that for a fact, because for every kill he did, that man carved a line on his barrack’s wall. The lines had become so many that Eren couldn’t see the original color of the wall anymore.

Kenny grasped the blonde-haired boy by his neck, lifting his hand until his feet could no longer touch the ground. His blue eyes started to water, croaking in pain as his fingers clawed frantically against the soldier's wrist.

“That fucking brat tried to take a sip of my coffee,” Kenny bellowed, nudging his head to the other Eldian who was lying on the ground, his blood pooling in his mouth. “You think I can forgive him just like that?”

The boy coughed, pale skin turning scarlet as he was smothered by his large hand. His feet erratically moved in the air, trying to find a ground to stand on while his lungs were screaming for air. He was choking, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. A few seconds more and it would be over. A few seconds more then his blue eyes wouldn’t glimmer as radiantly. They would be dark. Hollow. Dead.

But Kenny had a change of heart. Instead of murdering him, the violent man tossed him back to the ground.

“Armin…” The other boy—the Eldian who Armin tried to protect so desperately—called, reaching out a hand to touch his brother who was gasping loudly. Eren felt a shiver running through his spine when he heard him speak in his Eldian language. It was clear that the Marleyan government had declared that all Eldians should abandon their mother tongue. They were only allowed to speak in Marleyan or to not speak at all. Break this rule and you would be starved for two days. Do it again and you’d have your tongue cut off. Hearing how he just spoke to his brother in his native language, Eren thought of two things: it was either he was rebelling or just plain stupid.

Surely, that word had consequences. Eren wasn’t surprised when the Eldian boy received another blow to his stomach.

What he didn’t expect, however, was when Armin slapped his hand away. “Jean!” he screamed. “Know your place!”

Jean looked like he stopped breathing for a second. So many things appeared in his eyes: from being confused to afraid until it finally ended with redeemed anger. Slowly, and painfully, Jean crawled to his stomach and pressed his forehead to the ground, bowing to his punisher.

“I’m sorry,” Jean muttered, his voice quavering and Eren knew that it wasn’t from the fear. It was from the wrath he tried to bottle inside his chest. Eren also noticed that tears were lining down his cheeks, but his sobs couldn’t be heard, muted by his gritted teeth. It was an agonizing sight to behold.

Armin kneeled next to him, imitating his posture, bowing deeply until his forehead met the ground. “Please, Sir… Show us some mercy…”

Kenny guffawed, looking delighted for the power he had over them. He placed one foot on Jean’s head, pressing it down until he screamed when the skin on his forehead broke and bled. “I can’t hear you, little boy,” the soldier said, his smile growing wider. “Come on, apologize some more. I’m sure even pigs like you can do it.”

Eren felt his heart stir. His hold around his shotgun was getting tighter, his nails turning white.

Panic painted Armin’s face as he watched Jean's blood seeping through the snow. “S-sir,” he crawled forward, latching one hand against Kenny's boots. “Let him go—"

“Don’t touch me!” Kenny kicked his face and Armin fell to his side, shaky hands covering his torn lip.

“I’m sorry!” Jean, unable to contain the agony, screamed. “I said I’m sorry, so please!” He sobbed, his face sinking in the snow. “Please let us go…”

Kenny released him with a satisfied grin. “Listen to your big brother, little boy,” he said, spitting on Jean’s limp body. “Know your place.” He took his leave with his chin tilted up in arrogance.

The ruckus ended there. The two boys were still lying helplessly on the ground, trying to catch their breaths and steady their hearts. The crowd around them—another bunch of powerless Eldians—tried to not pay attention to them even when their hands were itching to help. They continued walking with their heads hung low, hugging the branches close to their chest like they were ordered to before the sun sank below the horizon.

Eren felt sick. Everything was wrong. The world was not supposed to roll like this. It wasn’t supposed to resemble hell.

The young soldier walked with hurried steps toward the boys. He was the only one who was brave enough to examine their conditions. Jean, head raised in suspicion, scowled at him when he was close enough. He was like a cornered wolf, a raging flame in his eyes even his whole body was aching. Eren did not mind his anger. He had expected it.

Armin, on the other hand, was simply cautious. “Sir.” He bowed to Eren as he did to Kenny before, with his palms and forehead pressed against the ice. His voice was still quivering, his shoulders shaking both from pain and fear.

“Stand up,” Eren commanded, not too loud, not too firm. “Stand up and hide before the others come to check on you.”

Armin lifted his head, gazing at him with confusion in his eyes. “But…” His gaze shifted to the pile of branches that were scattered on the ground. “T-the branches—I haven’t finished—”

“I’ll tell them you’re done for the day.” He picked the other man up by his arm. “What’s your name?”

Armin tucked his chin down, anxious. “A-Armin Arlert, Sir…”

Eren took an old handkerchief from his pocket—one that his mother gave him during his departure—and handed it to the boy. “Here.”

The shorter boy blinked in bewilderment, perhaps contemplating whether Eren was just playing tricks on him. “S-sir?”

“To wipe your blood,” Eren explained, observing the deep cut on the corner of his mouth. “Don’t use your clothes, you’ll get germs on the wound.”

Armin’s shaky eyes searched his, wanting to decipher what was hidden between them but Eren kept his face guarded. “Y-yes, Sir, thank you…”

“I assume that’s your brother?”

Armin helped Jean return to his feet. “Yes. His name is Jean.”

“All right.” Eren tried to put on a reassuring smile. It was so rare to see a Marleyan soldier smile in such a benign way that it left the two boys stunned. “Armin, I want you to pick up your brother and find someplace safe to spend the night. There’s a lake two kilometers away from here. Keep walking south and you’ll find it. It’s safe, I’m the only one who knows that place. No one will find us over there. Sneak out an hour before dawn. There are fewer guards during that time. I’ll bring you guys some food.”

Jean, who was not as kind and trusting as his brother was, sent him a vicious glare. “Why should we trust you?” he bitterly asked. “Why should we believe that this isn’t just a sick plan of yours to get us killed?”

“Jean,” Armin called, his tone demanding silence from the other man. “Behave.”

“Because if I really wanted to kill you,” Eren replied. “You’d be dead by now.”

Jean didn’t look so assured but his eyes did flash toward the shotgun that Eren held in his hand. His fingers were nowhere near the trigger.

“Go clean up your wounds,” Eren reminded, “If you’re too late, there’s a possibility you’ll get infected. Medicine is scarce around here, even so for Eldians.”

Although he was better at masking it, Armin still seemed stupefied from receiving this kind of treatment, especially coming from one of the Marleyan’s soldiers. “But we—”

“We don't have time to argue,” Eren cut him short, only then did he sound stern. He needed to step away right now before he raised any kind of suspicion. “Just do as I say and keep yourself safe. Please.”

And then he left, leaving the two boys with frowns breaking on their faces.

For the first time in his life, Eren felt good.

For the first time in his life, he finally knew how it felt like to be human.

***

“So your name’s Jean?” Eren questioned as he gave him enough food to keep the boy alive for another day. Jean’s intense light brown eyes shimmered in delight when his nose caught a whiff of bread. His stomach growled, begging for attention.

“Don't call me that,” he snapped back, taking the loaf of bread without saying a word of gratitude. He took a huge bite, chewing loudly as he muttered, “I don’t want a Marleyan calling my name. That’s fucking disgusting.”

“But you’re eating the food I gave you.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m sorry,” Armin joined in, sighing at his sibling's behavior. “He has no manners whatsoever.”

“I do have manners,” Jean corrected, licking his thumb from the breadcrumbs. “But unlike you, I just don’t feel like playing a goody two shoes around those fuckers, including him.”

Eren, weirdly, found his attitude amusing rather than insulting. “Still don’t trust me yet, do you?”

Jean didn’t even spare him a glance. He strolled away, taking a seat at the edge of the frozen lake, picking up pebbles and throwing them aimlessly.

“Jean isn’t always like this, you know,” Armin said, scooting closer to the brunette. They were both out of Jean’s hearing. The blonde male thanked him when Eren pushed a bottle of vodka in his direction. He might not like the taste of it, but it did a great job at keeping his body warm. “He used to be all fun and cheery.”

But now he’s bitter and spiteful. “Him? Cheery?” Eren almost chuckled. “Doesn’t seem like it fits.”

“He was annoying but… Kind.”

The melancholy in Armin’s voice made him wonder. “I guess everybody changed during the war, huh?” And not for the better, Eren mused, turning pensive. Including me.

Armin looked up and saw how the sky was faintly painted with a light shade of red and orange. Maybe they still had a little time to talk before the sun came up and they had to return to reality. “Jean and I aren’t families by blood,” he said, his voice a bit hollow, just like his stare. “But to me, he feels like one. We’ve been best friends since forever so I always thought of him as my sibling. We were neighbors, that was how we knew each other. One day, as we were walking back from school, a group of Marleyan soldiers entered our block and killed everyone in sight. I thought something happened. I thought we were punished. But these men… they were laughing. I got fifteen, I got twenty, they said, counting the bodies. They were playing games.”

It was horrifying, he thought, the fact that these soldiers murdered people for fun. But it wasn’t as eerie as the way Armin retold the story—empty eyes staring far away into the night, his soul breaking with every word he spoke. But his voice was steady. Emotionless. He was numb. The tiny hairs on Eren's nape rose in dread but he kept his lips shut and his ears perked up.

“I invited Jean and his mother into my home since we had a basement we could use as a hiding place,” Armin continued, hugging his knees to his chest, sniffling from the cold. Eren wanted to steal some clothes for him to wear, but it would be impossible for other soldiers not to notice him. “We thought we were safe there when suddenly, two soldiers broke through our front door. Our parents tried to buy us some time to run away and his mother trusted me with her son’s life. I was only ten back then, Jean was just as young. But she thought I was smarter, that I would find a way to keep her son safe. But I was so frightened, I couldn't think. I couldn’t do anything. So I hid in a closet with Jean plastered against me, and we waited until the soldiers went away. I remember how tightly we pressed our hands against our ears because we knew things wouldn’t end well. It only took a few minutes, three gunshots, and a train of laughter coming from the Marleyan men. Then it was all… silence.” Armin breathed deeply. “The next thing we knew, when we stepped down from the closet, our feet were soaked in our parents’ blood. And we covered our mouths as we cried. We didn’t make a sound. ”

Eren sat frozen. He never had the chance to console someone before, and he wasn’t certain whether Armin needed one. Unsure of what to say, he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Armin smiled, warm as the sunlight. “Don’t be. It wasn't your fault.” He took the bottle from the soldier’s hand, taking another chug. “I’m sorry for rambling like this. What I’m trying to say is that… Jean used to be happy. He was a nice kid, but losing people you love tends to do that to you”

They both went quiet. Armin spent his time staring at Jean’s back, who was now trying to make small cracks on the edge of the lake. Eren, on the other hand, was busy trying to process all of the information he just received.

“Don’t look so sad,” Armin chastised gently. “I didn’t tell you my story so I could be pitied. I shared about my past so you’d realize that even after all these things that happened, Jean and I are still here. Alive and breathing. And it’s partially because of you.”

“Me?” Eren asked, startled. “I barely did anything.”

Armin gave him a knowing look. “I saw you back then. When that guy was strangling me, I saw you holding your gun like you were ready to shoot him. And a part of me believed that if he did hurt me more than that, you would’ve pulled the trigger for me.”

Eren turned scarlet. He wasn’t aware that he did that. Did his body move on its own?

“Am I wrong,” Armin took a closer look at the name sewed on his clothes. “Kruger?”

“Eren is fine,” the soldier said, not liking his Marleyan’s name. Ever since his mother got remarried to a Marleyan man, he was forced to change his family name. It had happened a few years back but he still hadn’t grown accustomed to it.

“You don’t look like a Marleyan to me,” Armin commented. His eyes were scrutinizing Eren’s appearance within every detail, but they were gentle, just like how he spoke.

“My parents were Eldians,” Eren said, a faint sad smile sketched upon his lips as he recalled his past. “My dad died in an accident a couple of years after I was born, and then my mother got remarried to a Marleyan guy. It happened way back before the war. For protection, my mother and I decided to change our names into his family name and pretended that we were Marleyan since birth.”

Armin listened intently. He stayed voiceless for a few seconds until he said, “And so you’re on their side now.”

Eren stiffened, every bit of his movements coming to a halt.

Was that true? Was that where his loyalty stood?

“Sorry,” the other boy hurriedly said. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m trying to choose a better option,” Eren quietly answered. “Even when I belong to the Marleyan army, I still think that this is not the way it should be. Being a Marleyan doesn’t mean we’re better than the Eldians. We don’t have the right to abuse, steal, or kill. I—” he realized that he was talking in one breath, his chest felt suffocating. “I just want to change how the world works, but I don’t know how. I’m in no such position to make amends.”

Armin gazed at him with too much going on behind his eyes and Eren wondered whether that was a bad thing or a good thing.

“What’s your name then?” Armin queried. His smile was so delicate, so genuine, and juvenile. “Your Eldian name?”

“Jaeger…” Eren licked his lower lip nervously. It had been a long time since he last spoke it out loud. “Eren Jaeger.”

Armin grinned widely and offered him his hand. Eren took it, a bit awkward as he was not used to having friendly interactions with people. “Nice to meet you, Eren Jaeger.” Armin shook his hand. His smile was a contagious disease. “It’s nice to see that there are still hopes left in humanity.”

The soldier froze for a few seconds before his face warmed in a smile.

“Likewise, Armin.”

***

“Eren!” Armin wrapped his arms around his shoulders the moment they met by the lake again. Several nights had passed by and Eren breathed in relief to know that he looked pretty much the same as when he last saw him. “How have you been, my friend?”

“I’ve been well,” Eren answered, smiling lightly at him as they broke their hug. Jean Kirstein came trailing after him with a familiar scowl in his eyes.

Eren smirked, tossing him a few loaves of bread, along with a fresh bottle of water. “Here you go, Horseface.” They had become close enough to make fun of each other during conversations.

“These aren’t poisoned, right?” Jean asked with an ungrateful tone.

Eren rolled his eyes. “I’ve brought you food for like five times by now and you still ask me that.”

“I was just being careful.”

He snorted in response and Armin laughed, patting the soldier’s back. “Come on and sit with us,” the most affectionate man among them offered kindly. “There’s a lot I want to talk about.”

While Jean was the more unsociable one, Armin was quite talkative and possibly nicer than anyone Eren had ever met. He loved to share his thoughts—mostly about the sea and the sky—and his hopes for a better world. Eren found it refreshing that in a gloomy place like this, he could find someone who was truly visionary and imaginative enough to light up the place with his presence.

“I wish I could marry someone someday, you know?” Armin said, lying on the ground with his arms folded under his head. His eyes twinkled, reflecting the stars in the sky, while his brother was busily munching on his bread with loud noises.

“Armin, that’s not gonna happen,” Jean commented and Eren laughed because while Armin and he usually spoke in the Marleyan language, Jean always talked in his native one.

“What do you mean it’s not gonna happen?” Armin pouted, making him look even younger. “I think I could find a nice woman for me one day.”

“We can’t even find enough food to live by tomorrow if this prick weren’t here to help us.”

Eren shook his head in amusement when Jean rudely pointed at him. Days had passed by and Jean still insisted on calling him with any derogatory term he could come up with instead of his name. “Always glad to help, buddy,” Eren joked, which earned him another glare from the tall boy.

Armin poked his brother by the stomach. “Which is why you should be more grateful toward Eren, you idiot.”

Jean scoffed, continuously glowering at the soldier as he took a large sip of his water. “This is the least he could do for us, Armin. Those fuckers took our families away, remember?”

“Jean,” Armin called, exhaling heavily as he sat up. He sounded a bit more enervated than usual. “Eren is different. Don’t put him on the same page—”

“He’s not different!” He harshly barked and Eren wished Jean could stop speaking like he wasn’t there. “This bastard belongs to the army! He’s not our friend, Armin! He will never be! All Marleyans deserve to die and so does he!”

Eren was stricken aback. Was that how Jean really thought of him? Just another heartless Marleyan with no soul? Even after all that time they spent together?

“Jean!” Armin scolded, his forehead creasing in anger. “You take that back and apologize to him!”

“If he could bring my mother back from the dead,” Jean said, standing up on his feet. “I’d forgive him.”

Armin could only open his mouth but he couldn’t speak. He noticed that the other man was crying when he pivoted on his heel, walking away with a storm raging in his chest. And Armin wondered whether it was from pain, anger, or suppressed frustration. Perhaps everything at once.

“God, I’m sorry,” Armin apologized, returning his gaze to Eren. “You know he doesn’t mean what he said.”

Eren only replied to him with a smile but his heart was shattered.

He didn’t know that he had to take responsibility for the things he didn’t do.

***

“First time?” A Marleyan officer asked Eren with a teasing look in his eyes.

Eren swallowed thickly, trying hard to will himself not to blush as he nodded and stored his gun away inside his locker. The other man snickered, leaning his back against the wall as he spoke to Eren with his arms crossed on his chest.

“I still remember my first time,” he sneered and Eren only listened half-heartedly, showing no emotion. He felt revolted watching these Marleyan soldiers walking past him with arrogance and dirty looks on their faces. How could they laugh so easily after they forced these poor women to satisfy their needs? How could they just throw them away without feeling any remorse or offering a single form of gratitude?

“My friend forced me to do this,” Eren said and he didn’t know why he needed to explain it. Perhaps he just wanted to give himself a chance to redeem the guilt of the sin he was about to commit.

“Ah,” the man slurred, his slanty eyes twinkling. “You all rookies said that at first. But when you’ve done it once, you could never stop. Before you know it, you’re gonna want to fuck them every day, believe me.”

Eren’s fingers balled into fists and he had to put his hands on his back to keep them away from showing. The young soldier only tossed him a smile, not revealing the rage that bubbled inside his chest.

“Shall we get in line, then?” The officer asked with a wink and Eren tried not to slam his cocky head against the wall. Fucking piece of shit.

Eren took the stairs, marching toward the second floor of the military brothel, as the first floor was inhabited by the more ‘experienced’ prostitutes to serve the noblemen in the Marleyan government. As soon as he stepped into the hallway, Eren was met by twenty soldiers already lining up, one soldier for each door. There were ten rooms there in total—each one consisted of a bed and a bathroom for the comfort women to clean themselves up after ‘serving’ their bodies for twenty to thirty men a day.

Eren held his breath down for a few seconds so he wouldn’t vomit. This place was sickening.

“I’d wait to get into that room if I were you,” the previous Marleyan officer said, pointing at the door that stood at the end of the hallway. “She’s a total beauty and doesn’t scream much when we do it with her. You’ll like her.”

As much as he wanted to punch that man, Eren knew his position. He smiled, nodded, and bowed before he followed his direction. He took a deep breath.

Let's just get this over with.

He waited for about ten minutes before a man came out from the room he chose. Eren recognized him instantly. Kenny Ackerman. The same man who almost killed Jean and Armin a few weeks ago just by the strength of his foot. Another bile of rage started to pile in his chest but Eren channeled it down to a polite bow. The taller man zipped his pants, and smirked at the tanned boy before he walked away with his chin held up high.

“Have fun with that whore, brat,” that soldier said and Eren sank his fingers to his palms to keep his fists to himself.

For now, he had to think about something else.

He drew in a long breath, and he did it one more time to stop his heart from racing before he circled his fingers around the doorknob. He turned it open.

The moment he entered the room, his eyes scanned the place for a brief second like how he was trained in war—to always know your surroundings well, they said. Eren noticed the broken wooden chair in the corner of the room. He saw how the dirty bathroom had no sink and no door—only a small tub with soiled water and a piss pot. He noticed how the bed was big enough for two people but it had no pillows or blanket. The sheets were crumpled and the white color had turned into a dirty shade of cream, with splotches of red. And he knew for a fact that those stains on the sheet weren’t just made from blood.

But his eyes stopped moving when he saw a woman lying on the bed with not a single fabric covering her nudity. Eren quickly averted his gaze from the sight, even though all he could see was her back. In that short moment, he managed to notice the purple bruises blooming along her spine, tainting her skin with dry blood.

For a few seconds, he could hear soft sobs coming from the girl’s lips. And when he secretly glanced, he noted how her shoulders were shaking as she hugged her knees to her chest. He didn’t let his eyes linger on her body for too long. He felt like he was being disrespectful to her. Eren knew his friends would’ve laughed at the way he behaved, but he couldn’t force himself to stare even if he wanted to.

The young soldier closed the door behind him and with that small thud, the girl immediately froze. Her sobs were muffled and contained, and slowly, she turned her body around until she was lying on the bed with her eyes on the ceiling.

Eren brought his head down, not wanting to witness any more curves of her body. But before that, he spotted how wet her eyes were and how hollow they looked. Those weren’t the eyes of someone who had the will to continue living. Those were the eyes of the defeated, who were willing to sacrifice their lives just so they could stop living in this rotten world.

“Do it,” she said, her body lying limp on the bed. “What are you waiting for?”

He was petrified to the bones. His mind stopped working.

Eren’s heart thundered vehemently behind his chest. He couldn’t do this. There was no way he could do this. He never even wanted to in the first place, but an order was an order. They were alone in the room. Magath wouldn’t be able to tell, would he? Eren could just pretend.

That’s right, he thought. I’ll just have to pretend.

And so, he said, “Cover up.”

The woman's lifeless eyes grew a bit wide but only for a second before she smiled understandingly. “Ah,” she said, “So, you’re that type, huh?”

Eren frowned, not knowing what she meant and he blushed when she pushed herself up to sit on the bed. “What’s next?” she asked, not looking ashamed of showing her nude body to the man. She kept her eyes in his direction, but her stare was blank as if she wasn’t looking at him, but through him. “Do you want me to bend over too, Sir? Begging you to give it to me?”

“That’s not—” Eren blurted out, face aflame. “Lady, please cover yourself up. I’m not going to do this with you.”

Her smile faltered. “What?”

“I mean,” Eren sighed, turning himself around to face the door. It was troubling to be in the same room with a lady who was so stripped of her conscience that she could no longer care about wearing proper clothes. “I am not going to have sex with you. I’m just going to be here for a while before I go out so they’ll think I’m…” His blush smeared his cheeks. “…doing it with you.”

“You…” Her voice had lost its confidence, and instead of pain and disappointment, he began to hear hopes in her soft voice. “You’re not going to do it with me?”

“No, I’m not,” he said. “So, please… Put on your clothes.”

The atmosphere was thick with heavy tension and pregnant silence. Eren continued to stay mute, only trying to listen to the rustling sounds she’d make when she placed back her robe. Except, there were none.

“Have you dressed properly?” Eren asked, sounding a bit restless.

“I…” She fell quiet before she continued again. “I can’t find my robe.”

His eyebrows sewed together in confusion, knowing well that her robe was lying on the floor, just beside her bed. How could she not see it?

Then recognition dawned on his face.

Those lifeless eyes. That blank stare.

Eren turned around, facing her again and it seemed like she heard the sound of his shoes sliding against the floor. With her body jolting in alert, she hastily wrapped her arms around her front. Eren didn’t let his gaze travel anywhere else but her eyes.

“You’re…” he spoke, lips parted in shock. “You’re blind?” It was more like a statement than a question but whatever it was, that line gave more sense of peril to her.

“Which is something I should be grateful for,” she said, smiling again as if it was the only way she knew to keep her mind sane. “Considering how many demons are walking around this place.” It was an act, Eren noted, a way for her to appear resilient. Fearless, even when her fingers were shaking.

Eren chewed on his lower lip. That sentence couldn’t be any truer.

Cautiously, he took a step forward and she jerked, pulling herself back in reflex. Eren understood then. She spoke like she was used to this kind of treatment, but she was just a girl, scared to her bones. She acted like she was strong, but deep inside, she was probably even more fragile than the first time she was abducted and brought to this place.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Eren spoke, loud enough for her ears to hear but not soft enough for her to stop being terrified of him. “I promise you with my life, I will not hurt you.”

“That sounds like a lot of promise coming from a Marleyan soldier,” she retorted, sounding like she was amused by it but she was not fooling anyone but herself.

“I’m not lying,” the boy said, taking another step and she inhaled sharply. Eren stopped, raising both hands in the air as if he was surrendering. “I’m just… I’m just going to fetch your robe back to you, okay?”

Her lower lip still trembled but she didn’t do or say anything.

Eren kept his eyes to the ground as he walked forward to collect her robe. She kept fidgeting on the bed until she felt soft fabric hugging her from behind. She touched the robe, releasing a shuddering breath at the familiar sense of comfort it gave to her skin.

“Put it on.” Eren’s voice was soft and tender. He kept his eyes glued to her face. “It’s probably only for a few minutes before somebody comes in and takes my place but…” His lips still curved, forming a reassuring smile even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “As long as I’m with you here, you’re safe.”

You're safe… The words echoed in her mind, tugging upon her heartstring. Was there a moment in her life when someone gave those words to her?

Her eyes grew wide and when Eren retrieved his hand, she reached out and clamped her frail fingers tightly around his wrist. His breath hitched in his throat, stunned.

For a few seconds, they just stood there like that. One of his eyebrows was raised in confusion but he didn’t ask questions. He knew she was doing something. He just couldn’t tell what.

“You…” she breathed out, looking up at him with eyes that were too beautiful to be functionless. “You’re not lying…”

Eren blinked twice before his realization sank in. She had been checking on his pulse.

He smiled, affection growing on him. She was smart and cautious. He didn’t even think of that and he was a trained soldier, albeit still new.

“I’m not lying,” he assured her once again. “Can you trust me?”

She swallowed and let him go. Careful not to make any sudden movement, he kneeled in front of her and wrapped the robe properly around her body without letting his gaze drift south. Eren’s cheeks were burning bright but at least he managed to stop his fingers from shaking.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, and her eyes searched his face as if she was taking every bit of his appearance, though he knew that was not the case. “You’re safe with me.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, turning them white. Then, she nodded. Eren was about to sigh in relief when her whole body convulsed. She covered her mouth with one hand and she cried. Hard.

The girl who tried to cover her fear, the girl who acted bravely as she stood against the world, broke apart in front of him.

“Thank you…” she sobbed into her hand, her visionless eyes shutting tightly in gratefulness. “Thank you, Sir… Thank you…”

It felt different than the way Armin thanked him—similar, only her words brought a lot more joy to his heart than he had ever felt in his twenty-one years of living.

He could feel his heart beating. He could feel it race.

He felt alive.

***

“So how did it go?” Theo Magath asked his companion as he rubbed his fingers together to keep himself away from the cold. “Did you like your early birthday gift?”

His scowl almost found its way to his face but he managed to catch himself at the last second. “Yes, Sir. But I’d appreciate it more if we don’t discuss it any further—if that’s alright with you.”

“What, are you shy?” The older man sneered. “Fuck, Kruger, you're no longer a damn virgin so stop acting like one.”

Eren let the matter drop. His seniors could think whatever they wanted to. It wouldn’t matter to him anyway.

“So, what now? Are you going to pay another visit to the brothel?”

“Yes,” Eren said, startling the other man with his answer but he kept his smile to himself. Perhaps next time, he could bring one of his old sleeping shirts for her. It would at least be warmer than just a layer of a maroon satin robe.

“That’s my boy!” Magath clapped him on the back. “Already wanting for more, huh?”

Eren sheepishly smiled, doing his part of acting. Though the joy that bloomed in his chest was too real to be faked. Eren brought his hand up and his eyes lingered on the skin along his wrist—on the spot where she touched him. He remembered the way she thanked him and it bloomed again. The rush of happiness suffused his chest. A spark of joy from being able to give someone a chance to learn that life was an adventure worth living for.

***

Eren knocked on the familiar wooden door and opened it without waiting too long for permission. If he had waited, it would only raise suspicions from the fellow soldiers that were waiting in line after him. He couldn’t afford that to happen.

“Good evening,” Eren greeted, bowing a little to the lady in front of him. He felt a bit silly as he knew she couldn’t see. “It’s, umm… It’s me again. From the other day.”

The girl’s body went still and her expression showed that she was putting on her defensive demeanor. She kept her ears ready, trying to decipher if the soldier who let her go the other day was really as kind as she thought he was.

“Why are you here?” she asked, almost too coldly to his ears. “You said you didn’t want to sleep with me.”

“That’s right,” Eren smiled. “I only came here to talk.”

“Talk?” she repeated, covering her body with her robe and Eren blushed when he caught his eyes dancing along the curve of her waist. “What do you want to talk about, Soldier? How to use women for pleasure?”

It wasn’t like her spiteful words didn’t hurt him. They did. But he didn’t want to let it show. “You should have more respect for yourself,” Eren said and she almost growled. He gulped. Did I say something wrong?

“Respect?” She snapped. “You want to talk about respect? My mother sold me here to get enough money to stay rich for the rest of her life. I have to sleep with more than twenty men a day just so I could get some food to live through the night. And when I wanted to die, they stripped me out of my clothes and hung me outside for everyone to see how low I’d become. You want to talk about respect? That's the respect your people gave to me!”

Every word that came out of her mouth felt like a javelin piercing through his chest. But Eren knew well that she had no other way of channeling her anger and frustration. A few days ago, she thanked him for the few minutes of break and forgiveness. Now, she realized that it wouldn’t contribute much to easing her pain so she broke apart once again. It wasn’t fair that she lashed out at him, she knew that too. But when you can’t even stop your own feelings from hurting yourself, would you care about theirs?

She was breathing hard, her chest heaving up and down.

After waiting a few seconds in silence, he softly asked, “Are you finished?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, hot angry tears streaming down her face. He wanted to brush them away with his thumb but he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. “I am not good with words,” Eren diffidently uttered, “And I don’t know if you would accept my apology on behalf of my country, but…”

Eren slid down to his knees, making a dull thud sound once they met the floor. He bowed down to her, his forehead pressed against the floor. “I beg for your forgiveness,” he said, eyes shut closed. “I apologize for the actions my country has done to you. You don’t deserve this. None of you do. I am in no position to grant you anything to pay back for the suffering you’ve endured. I don’t have permission to let you go, no matter how much I want to take you away from here. I am weak. I’m powerless. All I could do right now is bow my head down to you, ashamed and filled with guilt, hoping that you could forgive me, and—” He paused, a bit out of breath. “To ask you for… one thing.”

Her breathing was ragged and Eren lifted his head to gaze into her eyes.

“I want you to continue living,” he stated, and he could see the little jolt her body made, startled by his line. “I will not say that your life will be easy. I will not say that happiness will come to you by the end of this day or tomorrow. But I can promise you one thing: if you keep on living, I will try within my power to make some moments in your life, even if they are just measured in minutes or seconds, worth living for.”

She felt weak, her taut muscles loosening as she released the air she’d been holding. She closed her eyes, two droplets of tears falling to her cheeks.

“I will visit you every day.” Eren’s voice was like honey, sweet and comforting. “I will stay here if you want me to. I will read you books to keep you entertained. I will guard the door so you can have a few minutes of sleep. I will be your eyes and I will tell you when the cherry blossoms trees are blooming. I will describe the color of the sky and I will try every day for the rest of my life to find a way to release you from this place.”

“Why?” she asked, a crack in her voice. “Why would you do that for me?”

“Because ever since I met you,” Eren began and he could feel himself smiling. “I feel like I’ve found my chance to do something good for people, even if it was just only for a little. I saw how grateful you were when I let you go a few days ago. And I felt this joy spreading in my chest—so much that it scared me, and I want to feel that again. I want to make you feel that again. And that was the very reason why I’m doing this. Not only for you but for myself too.”

And she didn’t have to check on his wrist this time to know that he wasn’t lying.

***

This is the fifth time I’ve seen her and yet, she still appears to be scared of me. As if she still doubts my intention.

When I walk into her room, she seems to remember the sound of my steps. Her face is still guarded, her lips not forming a word. But she’s no longer angry or sad. She’s just there.

Breathing.

And living.

And that’s all I could ask for now.

***

“Soldier…” She called out with half-lidded eyes. Another week had gone by, or maybe even two, she could not tell. But he had visited her often enough for her to recognize his footsteps the second he walked into her chamber. Her wrists were still bruised from her previous encounter with a man who smirked wickedly when he exited her room. Eren had never felt so vexed with someone as he was back then.

He closed the door behind him, stepping closer to her spot. “I’m here.” He kneeled beside the bed, waiting for her to speak more. She was lying on her back, weak and breathless. Her voice sounded so hoarse as if her vocal cord was about to snap. Eren heard her painful screams before and every memory carved more scars on his heart.

“I’m sorry…” He lowered his head, unfamiliar with the pain. His teeth were cutting into his lower lip, his emotions churned like a hurricane. “I’m sorry…”

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.

She sobbed quietly, reaching out a shaky hand. Soft tears started to fall from her vacant eyes at his apology. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

Eren cupped her hand with both of his warmer ones and brought it closer to his lips. His hot breath caressed her skin, soothing her bruise. “I’ll stay here,” Eren whispered, gently stroking her hair. “You don’t have to think about anything else as long as I’m here. You can sleep now…”

When she felt him lacing their fingers together, she breathed out in relief. “The skin of your palm…” A timid smile found her lips. “It’s so rough…”

Eren chuckled, even when it still felt like his chest was being torn open. “Must be because of my traini—” He stopped abruptly, his heart pounding. She was placing his hand on the side of her face, the callousness of his palm pressed against the smoothness of her cheek. Her lips bowed as she closed her eyes. She didn’t say a word, while his mind was jumbled with them.

His warmth was comforting. The texture of his palm was familiar. In his touch, she found her serenity. And just like that, her breathing became even. She began to fall asleep, drifting away from every wound and agony that life had inflicted on her. Right before she waned completely into her dreamland, a confession broke past her lips.

“Don’t leave me…”

Never had he felt his heart thrashing this wildly before. She was so beautiful. So pure, and so broken at the same time. Why did she have to go through all this pain?

“I won’t,” he promised her with a voice so soft—it became a lullaby to her ears. “I won’t leave you. I’ll stay with you forever.”

I’ll stay with you for eternity.

***

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately,” Eren confessed, sticking a tree’s branch inside the firewood the three of them made that night. Armin sneaked a glance at his face, probably analyzing his expression to understand how Eren was feeling at the moment.

“Me too,” Jean muttered, yawning loudly as he threw a rock toward the frozen lake. Eren began to realize that it was a habit of his. “But you know the difference between you and me, Jackass? I don’t whine like a fucking girl about it.”

“Jean,” Armin scolded and his brother only shrugged. Eren mirrored the blonde boy’s apologetic smile, making gestures that he didn’t mind Jean’s words.

“Have you ever had a nightmare, Jean?” Eren asked and the other boy snorted loudly.

“My whole life is a nightmare,” he grumbled. “I wouldn’t know the difference even if I had one. And how many times do I have to tell you? Don't call my name!”

“Please ignore my brother and his evil plan to spread despair to the world,” Armin joked and Jean threatened to throw pebbles at him. “What keeps you awake at night, Eren? Thinking of some lucky girl?”

While Jean snorted again, Eren began to smile sheepishly. “Sometimes… I guess?”

“Aaw, our little hero has finally found his heroine,” Armin cooed and Eren shoved him lightly by the shoulder.

“Shut up. It’s not always like that.” Eren huffed. “It’s more than that. I haven’t had a good night's sleep in a while because…” He paused, staring at the firewood with weary eyes. “Well, I guess it all started on the first day I stood on the field with a gun in my hands. I’ve had my fair share of training as a soldier, but what you see in real life is… different than anything you’ve imagined it to be.”

“Why?” Armin queried. Jean, who didn’t even bother to listen, yawned loudly as he placed his head on his brother’s lap. Eren gave them both a look but Armin waved a hand nonchalantly, muttering, “Ignore him. He’s been this clingy from the first time we met. I’m used to it by now.”

“Please. I know you like it, Min.”

“What, having a grown-ass man’s head on my lap? Very unlikely.”

And Eren smiled because this scene he witnessed right there, reminded him how it felt like to have a family. It had been a while since he last saw his mother, and only God knew how much he missed her at the moment.

“When I began my training,” Eren revealed, “The only thing that mattered to me was how to protect my country. How to not get your comrades killed in battles, and how to survive. But now, I see that that’s not how it works anymore. Being a soldier means we have to be ready to take lives. To murder innocent people. People like you and Jean.”

Armin stayed silent. The fire danced beautifully in his eyes, a spark of amber gleaming inside a sapphire.

“I don’t want to kill anyone.” Eren sounded as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I don’t want to be a murderer. I want to be someone who can protect. Someone who can help those in need. Someone who can make them happy.”

Armin smiled at him, pressing a comforting hand on Eren’s shoulder.

“Someday you will be, Eren. Someday you will be.”

***

“Unwinds this world that ever turns,” Eren recited, his voice was velvety when he vocalized the words that were written on the poetry book he held in his hand. “Slow it to a week. Where daybreak brings her honey kiss.” Just for a few seconds, he let his eyes take a journey to her lips, tracing the shape of her mouth, beautiful like a cupid’s bow. He caught himself, the blood that rushed to his face streamed down to his chest, pumping his heart harder. “And twilight, earthly tenderness, with night her rapt mystique.”

The lady was lying on her side, her eyes staring blankly at the spot where she could hear Eren’s voice the most. His tone was gentle and his voice felt like a symphony to her ears. It was easy to let go but she kept her eyes awake. She hadn’t trusted him that much to let herself sleep when he was in the same room with her. The previous night was an exception. Her body had felt so weak—drained—and she didn’t have the power to put up a fight to stay awake.

“Unwind this world that spins so fast,” Eren continued and she thought she could listen to his voice forever. Husky but young, awkward but soothing. “Slow it to a day. When clouds flow back against Time's bend, and dying dreams reverse their end. Lost skiffs return to bay.”

The way the sunlight hit her skin made it glow and Eren felt a bit nervous. She was, indeed, a beauty. Art to be admired. No wonder she was the jewel of this place. No matter how many bruises bloomed from those forced kisses she had, no matter how many handprints and cuts from dirty nails appeared on her spine, she still looked like she was the purest form a soul could ever take in this world.

The book in his hand had been forgotten, his eyes lingered on her curves, but they were not the eyes of a hungry man. They weren’t fueled by lust. They were… entranced like a child lying on the grass, watching the stars taking shape into pretty constellations.

“Soldier…?”

He jolted awake from his stupor. “U-unwind this world that twirls so wild,” Eren read after he cleared his throat, shifting his gaze away. “Slow it to an hour. When friendships paint a lonely sky. Spry dancers, all bounds defy; Fresh buds elate in flower.”

With every word, her eyelids became even heavier and she felt his voice getting nearer but, to her surprise, her thoughts remained calm. This was comforting. He was comforting. He was, by all means, her safe haven.

She fell asleep.

“Unwind this world that whips around,” Eren whispered, returning the small poetry book to the pocket of his beige coat. He kneeled beside the bed, brushing her stray hair away from her face with delicate fingers. “Slow it to that time.” He adored everything about her. The way her eyelashes fluttered against her cheekbones; the blissful look on her face as she sank deeper into her dream, her parted lips, and the soft breath that flowed through them. “When our goodbyes were yet of tongue, and Cupid's arrow had just been flung.” Her cheeks were still wet with tears that never seemed to stop, purple bruises blooming on her porcelain skin.

How can I save you?

Closing his eyes, Eren leaned in and planted a tender kiss on the spot between her eyebrows. The lady stirred a little in her sleep and he reciprocated with a smile.

“Our love, a love sublime.”

***

“All right, now let’s get down to business,” Theo Magath stated, blinking Eren away from his thoughts. “Our witnesses claimed that there were a bunch of Eldians trying to steal something from our storage room last night. We’re gonna find out who they are.”

Eren felt an eerie feeling swirling in his gut. These last few days have felt like the sweetest dream that he staggered as he stepped back into reality. “And what do we do when we find them, Sir?”

Magath scoffed loudly. “Kill them, of course. What, you want to have a tea party with these fuckers? Drink vodka near the campfire?”

Eren swallowed hard and decided to trail after the man with his semi-automatic rifle strapped to his back. A few minutes later, they arrived in a warehouse where they kept some Eldians inside. The officers informed them that those civilians were homeless, begging the Marleyans for a shelter to keep them safe, but Eren knew the truth. They were hostages.

“I’m gonna make this quick,” Magath said, hanging his gun on his shoulder as he stepped forward from the heavily armed group of soldiers. “Who entered our storage room without permission last night?”

The civilians, there were probably more than fifty people, cowered and hung their heads low. Eren scanned the place, unsure of what he was looking for until he saw Jean and Armin standing among the crowd. Armin was watching Eren with wary eyes, while Jean fearlessly glared at every Marleyan soldier there.

When there was no answer, Magath raised his shotgun to the roof. “I asked you a question,” he shot once and the bullet hit the ceilings. A couple of older women shrieked in surprise while the rest of them, like Eren, tried not to flinch. “And I demand an answer.”

Things were bad, Eren knew well. And with the way Jean was boring a hole into Magath’s head, there was a fat chance Eren knew who was the culprit. It wasn’t the first time Jean had ever done something out of the ordinary.

Was it really you, Jean?

“It was me!” To Eren’s astonishment, it was a woman who raised her hand. Her body was plump and her hair was gray from old age. Her cheeks were bloated red and she was crying out of fright. “O-officer, I’m sorry,” she fretted, already kneeling on the ground with her arms raised in the air. “I was looking for medicine. My child is sick. I’m afraid he’ll—”

A shot and splatter of crimson blood painted the floor.

Eren held his breath as he watched the old woman fall to the ground with a bullet hole in her head. Her eyes were wide open, her pupils blown. She didn’t even get the chance to say her last words.

The place broke into chaos.

***

Eren came into her room with his head lowered; his shoulders heavy with guilt, and a thousand different kinds of pain that emerged at once.

Her ears perked up at the familiar creaking sound of the door and she knew that it was him right away. It was only Eren who always opened her door slowly as if he didn’t want to intrude on her time and be a lousy company for the day. But it wasn’t like that at all. She was waiting for him. She craved his presence—this man who gave her a small taste of heaven on earth.

She smiled a little before she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to trust him. He was a Marleyan soldier—she shouldn’t trust him, no matter what. There was a possibility that he was using her to his advantage. But what? What did he want from someone like her? With more days passing by, it became harder for her to figure out. Eren had been—and still was—the nicest person she’d ever met.

But it was getting quiet that night. Too quiet.

No “Hello, it’s me again”. No “How are you feeling today, Lady?”. No “Would you like me to read you some poetry again today?” Nothing. Eren just remained silent.

“What’s…” She started, eyebrows furrowing deeply. “What’s wrong…?”

The soldier lifted his head and the pain was so evident in his eyes, it was probably a good thing that she was blind. That way, she couldn’t share his pain and it was all right. He was grateful for it. He’d never want her to know this kind of emotion.

“Nothing,” Eren replied, trying to smile even when he knew she couldn’t see it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again, sounding firmer this time but not demanding. He knew she would respect him if he didn’t want to talk. It was the fact that he soundedlike he wanted to speak that forced her to ask for more.

He broke apart.

“I saw my commander kill someone today,” Eren quavered, blurting out the words he’d been dreading to say before he could think it through. He cast his gaze downward, his stomach lurched at the sight of dry blood coating the edge of his boots; his nails were now clawing against the lines of his palms. “She was an old woman, wanting to cure her child of sickness and he killed her—just like that, without saying anything. And in front of everybody, I just...” Eren ended with a heavy sigh, filled with nothing but anguish and hidden frustration.

She listened, not just to his words but his tone. He never sounded so… torn before.

“I know people die all the time,” Eren added quietly, burying his face in his hands, wanting the earth to swallow him whole. “I know that, but must they die for doing good deeds? Where’s our humanity? Where do our feelings lie?”

She held her robe to cover her body as she carefully climbed down her bed. She winced when her muscles screamed at her, sore from her previous encounters with those rough soldiers but she kept her posture still. Eren was too drowned in his own emotions to notice her walking toward him.

“And the worst part was,” he weakly said, gasping as his breathing became short and rapid. “I just stood there and did absolutely nothing.” His hand moved to his chest, clutching against the front of his coat, his heart rate escalating quickly. “I don’t —” he choked, his muscles turning taut. “I don’t know what was going inside my head at that time but—” He was reaching the brink of his sanity, he could feel it. He could feel how his body was giving up on him too. Sweat broke upon his temple, his knees wobbling under his weight. “I just—all I could do was just watch. I could’ve done something but I just—”

He couldn’t breathe. Panic rose to his throat, blocking his airways. His chest burned, his eyes shaking. “I can’t—”

He stopped breathing completely when a set of frail fingers landed on his cheek, sliding against his skin before they framed his face. “Breathe,” she told him.

He swallowed, fixating his gaze on her delicate features. He mimicked her action, took a deep breath, and released it. Inhaled and exhaled. He did it a couple of times, watching her for every second that passed by as if she was the rope that kept him hanging at the edge of the cliff.

And when he felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around his shoulders, she began to pull him back from the ledge.

He was drowning in her sweet embrace. “You’re okay,” she soothed, carefully stroking the back of his hair. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Eren went stiff for a few seconds before he shattered to pieces. But it was all right as she was there to hold his heart—every piece of it. His anxiety attack slowly morphed into a small sob when he whispered, “I just watched her die. I just… I didn’t do anything to stop him…”

She didn’t say anything. She just hugged him with her arms and let him bury his face in the crook of her neck. A pair of broken souls, seeking salvation and solace from each other. Eren was human and he still had his humanity in him, that was what she believed and it was enough. It was everything to her.

Because without humanity, humans are just empty shells filled with nothing but the ability to sin.

***

Eren raised one hand to wave at Armin the second he saw the boy standing on his usual spot near the lake. Armin swayed his hand back but he didn’t smile. Something was wrong.

Eren knew it had something to do with that incident. “I’m…” Eren inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry for what happened the other day.”

“You mean the killing?” Armin asked, sounding casual and it hurt Eren even more. He took the plastic bag from Eren’s hand, stuffed with food and water. “Thank you for the bread.” His smile seemed familiar, albeit more exhausted. “Again. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

Eren didn’t smile as he didn’t feel like it. But it was okay. Armin understood him well. He always did.

“Where’s Jean?” Eren questioned, noticing that the tall man was nowhere to be seen.

“We fought and he took off somewhere.” Armin plopped himself down on the hard ground as he stared across the frozen lake. The night was empty without the sounds of pebbles being thrown. Eren didn’t realize just how much Jean played a big part in his life.

“Don’t worry, Eren. He’ll be fine.”

Eren caught the turmoil in Armin’s voice. He leaned down, taking a seat next to him. “What did you guys fight about?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” Armin sighed, rubbing his temple with his fingers. “Jean wanted to get out of here. To flee out of the country.”

“What?” Eren quaked, frowning deeply. “But that’s impossible. You’ll get yourself killed before you could—”

“I know, that’s what I’ve been telling him.” Armin slipped his fingers between his strands, tugging at his roots in an attempt to subdue his frustration. Eren had never seen his friend look this emotionally wrecked, not even when he had shared stories of his past. “But after what happened yesterday, some parts of me thought that maybe he was… Maybe Jean was right. Maybe it’s time for us to get out of here.”

Eren still couldn’t find the logic behind it. “But—”

“Eren,” Armin cut him off sharply. “That woman who got shot… She was my friend. She took care of Jean and me when we were younger. Imagine how it feels like to have one of your closest friends get their head blown off to bits in front of you.”

Eren swallowed the vomit that was about to come up. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“I can’t live like this,” Armin breathily confessed and Eren felt his heart drop. “Jean certainly can’t too. It’s… I can’t sleep at night, Eren.” Armin closed his eyes, his face contorting in pain. “I can’t sleep knowing that I might not be able to wake up tomorrow. I can’t—” His breathing became heavy and Eren could witness beads of cold sweat starting to appear on Armin’s temple. “I can’t protect Jean like this. I don’t want him to die and—”

“Wait, Armin.” Eren moved to kneel beside him, furrowing his eyebrows as he examined his face better. It was quickly turning pale, almost ghastly. “Are you okay?”

A trail of blood flowed down from Armin’s nose and the blonde boy immediately brushed it off with his finger, smearing scarlet on his cheek. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to mask it with a laugh. His fingers shook quite badly and the frown on Eren’s forehead became even more evident. “I’m fine, Eren. It’s just… a fever.”

Eren scrutinized him harder. “It looks much worse than that…”

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” Armin assured him. He snatched the handkerchief he once gave to him from his pocket. Eren’s eyes largened in shock. The handkerchief was stained with blood, almost drenched with it. Armin used it to cover his nose, his voice muffled by the fabric when he said, “I get nosebleeds all the time. It isn’t a big deal.”

It was a lie. Eren knew it was a lie.

“It’s you…” the soldier murmured, the realization hit him like a truck. “That woman didn’t try to find medicine for her son. It was for you.”

“Eren—” Armin cut himself off with a cough, one that was violent enough for his entire body to shake. Eren could see a splash of blood falling to the ground when Armin bent forward. He was choking on thick blood that was just as black as the night.

“Armin!” Eren hurriedly picked the man up, panicking at the sight. “Oh God, Armin, you’re—”

“I’m fine!” He screamed, pushing Eren away with a hard shove on his shoulder. It was the first time Armin—the boy who always found a reason to smile even on the hardest day—ever looked so distraught. “I said, I’m fine! Just stay away from me!” He coughed loudly once again, more blood falling onto the snow. He fell to his knees, gasping with his palms sinking into the ice.

Eren stood at the side, his brain stopped functioning. He had one hand in the air, ready to help the other man, but Armin never permitted him to.

Since when? Eren thought, Since when did he start feeling sick like this?

Armin’s rosy lips were turning blue and his skin was so pale, Eren could see his veins swarming underneath it.

He’s dying.

“I think it’s better…” Armin breathed out heavily, wiping the blood away from his mouth. “It’s better if we don’t meet again, Eren.”

“What?” Eren gaped. “Armin, it’s okay. I can help get you some medicine—”

“No!” Armin shouted, the sorrow in his voice was so vivid, it sent goosebumps breaking on Eren’s skin. “No, you can’t. You shouldn’t. I don’t want anyone else to sacrifice their lives for me. No—”

“I’ll be fine—”

“They all said that!” Armin was so desperate to get his point across, his eyes starting to water. It wasn’t anger that he felt, it wasn’t frustration. It was just… fear. “They said they’d be fine. They said they wouldn’t get caught. That they’d get me some help. And what happened then? They all died because of me—”

“Armin—”

“If you—” Armin’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “Eren, if you think of me as a friend, you’d do this for me. You’d stay away from me and you’d keep yourself safe. That’s all I want you to do.”

Eren separated his mouth, ready to form another protest but Armin was looking at him with agony in his eyes, one that didn’t come from his disease or something that was killing him inside. Armin was pleading, begging him to do as he said. He couldn't handle more grief than he already did.

“Please…” Armin whispered, his lower lip trembling. “Please understand... I can’t lose anyone anymore. Especially not you and Jean.”

And those words were the last ones Eren had ever heard coming from the man. Armin never showed up near the lake anymore, but Eren occasionally saw him talking and smiling with Jean when he was on patrol. Sometimes Armin would greet him with a smile but his eyes told him to stay where he was. Eren obeyed.

Because as long as Armin could still breathe and smile like that, it was enough. Eren would just be happy to stay where he was.

***

“It’s me,” Eren greeted the moment he entered the room. “Remember my voice?”

The girl lifted her head, her unseeing eyes slightly growing wider and Eren wondered if it was hope that was written behind them. Eren closed the door behind him and the way the soft thud reverberated through the air made her smile a little.

As he was the first soldier that entered the military brothel that day, he was happy he could see her sitting on the edge of the bed with her satin robe placed properly around her figure. Eren couldn’t resist thinking about how pretty she was. She was indeed the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on. It wasn’t just the color of her eyes that captivated him or the softness of her lips that left him wondering at nights just how amazing it would feel to have them brushed against his own. Her heart was beautiful too, perhaps even more. It had been broken so many times and yet she still had her kindness and strength to offer him.

But Eren knew that in a half-hour from now, some ruthless men would barge in through her door, and they would paint her body in vain. And he would just… do nothing. As always, he would do nothing.

He clenched his fists. You are weak, he loathed himself. Isn’t there something you could do?

“Of course, I remember…” she whispered, probably more to herself and his heart warmed. The raging hatred he felt toward himself was contained.

“Is it okay if I come closer?” Eren politely asked and she looked stunned. He wondered if it was the first time someone had ever asked her that. She nodded once, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

Eren walked with a palpitating heart, but he stopped a meter away from her bed. He could only be brave enough to stare at her properly when she was covered up like this. Her hair was a tangled mess as they didn’t provide a comb or any other toiletries in the room. But he could imagine how beautiful her strands would look, how soft they would feel, if she was just a normal girl, walking her way to school. She looked young—probably even younger than he was, though he still didn’t dare to ask. Her eyes—although they were functionless—he could tell they held many secrets behind them. There was a bruise on the corner of her mouth, and Eren pondered just how many men had stolen innocent kisses away from her by force.

She was a rose, losing her petals every day.

“I might be blind, but I can tell you’re staring,” she said, smiling a little, but it wasn’t flirtatious. It was like a mask she tried to put on whenever she felt frightened or uncomfortable. Or embarrassed.

Eren coughed once, rubbing the tip of his nose as he looked away, flushed. “I… I wasn’t, uh,” he cleared his throat, “Staring.”

She settled one hand around the sash that hugged her robe close to her body. Is it her habit? He mused. Something that she’d do to protect herself from the eager men?

“How old are you, Soldier?”

“Twenty-one. Almost twenty-two.”

“You’re new, aren’t you?”

Eren nodded but then he remembered she couldn’t see. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“How long have you been in the army?”

“About three months.”

She opened her mouth but decided not to speak more. Eren raised his head to sneak another glance at her face and the Eldian girl looked like a porcelain doll—so pretty and perfect in one way, but also so fragile and destructible in the other.

He felt awkward standing in front of her, just gawking at her like that. Slowly as to not startle her, he folded his knees and kneeled in front of her. Their eyes were now at the same heights. She took a sharp gasp, probably assuming that he was going to do something to her but she quickly exhaled in relief when nothing happened.

“I think it’s time for us to start calling each other our names, don’t you think?” the soldier offered with a smile so sweet, it was like a dream. “I’m Eren. Eren Kruger. May I… know your name?”

She gulped hard before she tossed her gaze to her lap. “You don’t want to know my name,” she said, “And you shouldn’t have told me yours.”

“I’ve visited you every day for the last few weeks. Is it so wrong for me to want to know your name?”

“Yes,” she firmly said.

Eren’s eyebrows knitted together. “Why?”

“When we learn somebody’s name, we grow attached to them,” she whispered. “And I’m not someone you should be attached to.”

Eren went into silence because somehow, her line sounded too despondent as if it had a deeper meaning than just ‘you-shouldn’t-love-your-enemy’. Perhaps she wasn’t afraid that he would become attached to her. Maybe it was the other way around.

Hope bloomed in his chest, painting colors on his cheeks. She was adorable.

“Fine,” Eren said with a small huff, his smile impish. “You know my name but I don’t know yours. That’s fair.”

Her face became worried. “Are…” She nibbled on her lower lip—another habit of hers that she did whenever she felt anxious. “Are you angry?”

“I’m certainly not happy,” Eren teased, his mouth separated in a boyish grin. It was unfortunate that she couldn’t see how handsome he looked. “But it’s okay. I can manage.”

She looked unsure and Eren boldly took her hand. She gasped but it was almost inaudible. Eren’s hand was a comforting weight above hers. “How do you tell if someone is angry or not?” He asked her.

“By…” She swallowed. “By the tone of their voice.”

“And do I sound angry?”

“No…”

“There you go.” He rewarded her with a gentle stroke of his thumb along her knuckles. He flipped his hand, letting her fingers run along the lines of his palm, remembering him in her own way. “What else?”

“By… their expression…”

“And how can you tell when you can’t see it?”

She took a deep breath and when she exhaled, it was shaky, but Eren squeezed her hand, comforting her and encouraging her to do what she wanted. “Go on,” he whispered, so soft, so gentle, that it made her heart stir a little. “You can touch me.”

I want you to.

She was hesitant, and Eren's gaze fell to the way she was chewing on her lip. “Then…” She started. “Excuse me…”

Carefully, she untangled her hand from his and landed her quivering fingertips on the side of his face, her eyes searching aimlessly as she traced the shape of his jawline. Eren’s heartbeat was right in his ears, deafening. He struggled to control his breathing. Every touch she left him felt like fire dancing on his skin.

She smiled, noticing how tense he was. “Relax, Soldier.”

“I am relaxed.” No, he was not.

Eren closed his eyes and couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Her touch was faint, almost like she was still scared of him, but it gradually began to change. She caressed his features, trailing her fingers from his cheekbone to his nose, going back to his jaw before they went to the corner of his mouth.

“Do I look angry to you?” he asked, his lips grazing her palm and she shivered in return. She didn’t expect his lips to be so soft.

“No…” She glided her thumb along the curve of his mouth. “You’re… You’re smiling.”

His chuckle was light and airy. “Yes, I am.” Because of you.

He leaned closer to her touch, pressing his cheek against her palm. He closed his eyes, sighing. “You’re so warm.”

“You’re freezing,” she murmured back.

“Yeah, I’m a bit sensitive to cold.”

“Is there anything else you're sensitive to?”

He blushed, suddenly becoming ten times more conscious of her touch. “I mean, like, sensitive to dust,” she explained further, knowing how he was clenching his jaw to keep himself composed. “Or the light, or caffeine—”

“I love coffee.” She was learning more about him, not just his appearance but everything else. Eren felt like he was going insane. “It’s been a while since I had one.”

“Oh…” She committed everything in her memory, her heart swelling in joy as she understood him a little better. “What else do you like?”

“Hmm…” No one had ever cared enough to ask him that. “The spring, maybe? It’s not too cold and it's not too hot. It’s, uh… nice.” Eren hated himself. He sounded like a toddler. “And the cherry blossoms. They bloom in the spring.”

“How do they look?”

“They…” He was entranced for a second by the curiosity in her eyes. She seemed almost like a child, excitement and hope glimmering in her eyes. “They’re like, umm, small pink flowers. They’re beautiful but they only bloom for two weeks. After that their petals start to wither, but to me, that’s what's so beautiful about it.”

She tilted her head cutely to the side. “Why?”

“Because they look like they're dancing with the wind when they do,” Eren explained, trying not to be distracted by the way she was tracing along with the shape of his cheekbone. “The sky is clear, so blue and bright, and the colors of their petals just complimented it perfectly. It looks like a painting to me.”

And when she smiled at his words, he added in his head, you look like a painting to me.

“I love the way you see things,” she commented, a soft giggle breaking past her lips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“What color are your eyes?”

“What do you think?” She furrowed her eyebrows in concentration, which made him laugh a little. “Easy there, Ma’am. Don’t want your head to explode from overthinking.”

She pouted and he was surprised. So she could make that face too, huh, he marveled in joy.

“Umm…” Her finger followed the bridge of his nose. “Blue?”

“What kind of blue?”

“Light blue? Like the sky?” Eren shook his head and she could feel it. She tried again. “Dark blue, then… Like the sea.”

Eren frowned a little. “Did you learn that from books?”

“No.” She caressed his ear, running her fingertips across the shell. “I lost my vision when I was five from an accident. But I've seen enough and I remember them well.” Sorrow spread through his chest but Eren didn’t let it show. He knew she didn’t want to be pitied. “So, what is it?” She swerved the topic back. “Are you like the sky? Or the sea?”

Eren curved his lips. “My eyes are green, actually.”

“What?” She pouted again. “That's not even close to blue. You’re teasing me.”

He laughed. “I’m sorry.”

She felt it. She felt the way his face looked when he laughed. He was… handsome. “Like… the color of new leaves?”

“A bit darker than that.”

“Hmm…” It felt like she was staring straight into his eyes. Eren gulped, his heart thrashing wildly inside his rib cages. After what felt like forever, she grinned, “Must be like emeralds then. Pretty.”

Pretty was a term he was never acquainted with. It felt strange to his ears, but every other part of him loved it. He mumbled something under his breath.

She missed it. “What?”

“Yours are prettier,” he spoke a tad louder. “They’re like… crystals. So clear and…” He felt lightheaded with how much blood was rushing to his head. “So beautiful.”

The girl felt lost, not knowing how to react. How do you respond to being called beautiful after going through months of being treated like you were worthless?

Eren took a hold of her hand, which had stopped caressing his face. He curled his fingers around hers. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” She smiled diffidently. “I was just… startled. I didn’t think you’d call them beautiful.”

He wanted to correct her. It wasn’t just her eyes that were breathtakingly gorgeous. It was every part of her, every inch of her skin, every piece of her soul, she was beautiful inside out. But when he opened his mouth, he could only say, “They’re beautiful because they’re honest. When you’re happy, when you’re scared, you always keep your face guarded but I can see how you truly feel through your eyes.”

She turned bashful, vacant eyes shifting away, burned by his gaze. “Your eyebrows are, umm, thick.” She returned to their earlier topic. She was no longer touching him but she remembered enough. “Do you frown a lot?”

He was frowning now. “Uh, yeah… I guess.”

“Don’t. You’ll look older.” She placed her thumbs at each corner of his mouth. “Smile.”

“Sorry?”

“Smile for me,” she said, feeling his cheeks warm. “Please.”

Eren took a shaky breath, and he tried. It was more like a wince, but she appreciated the effort. “See?” She giggled, rubbing her thumbs against the corners. “This fits you better. You’re beautiful when you smile.”

He almost groaned in shame, unable to hold her praise. “S-stop calling a man beautiful.”

“Are you blushing?”

“I’m not.”

“Feels like you are.”

“Oh, be quiet.”

She chortled lightly. Her muscles were loosening, her posture way more relaxed than before. “Is your hair black?”

“Brown,” Eren corrected, moving her hand to his head and letting her card her fingers through his hair. “A darker shade of brown.”

“Oh…” She blinked her empty eyes, her smile stayed intact. “It’s so soft…”

“Umm… Thanks.” He sounded so nervous, it was mortifying for him. He knew she could tell but he still prayed to God so she wouldn’t notice.

But she did and she took her hand away. “I’m—I’m sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s okay,” Eren hastily said, leaning his head into her touch again. “I’m just… embarrassed.”

“I thought you said you weren’t blushing.”

“Fine, I am,” Eren admitted, a darker shade of red painting his cheeks. “You’re the first person who’s ever touched me like this.”

Her hand stilled a little. “You’ve never done anything with a girl before?”

“No…” Eren confessed. “I’ve never had any interaction with females around here. It’s just… with you.”

“Oh…”

Eren observed her expression. Was that sadness or joy he witnessed behind her eyes just now?

“Hey, are you—” His words were interrupted by the sound of fists banging against the room’s door. He could hear another soldier shouting, “Hurry up!” from the other side. Eren knew it was his signal to go.

The girl in front of him turned tense, her shoulders started to tremble in fear. “Hey,” Eren said, immediately taking her hand between his. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m here.” But although he wanted to promise that with all of his heart, he knew he couldn’t stay for long.

“Hurry the fuck up, soldier!” Came another yell from the man.

He placed his hands over her ears, a weak attempt to muffle the sounds. “You’ll be fine.” He could hear his voice breaking, his forehead pressed against hers. “They won’t hurt you as long as I’m here.”

But they both knew that Eren couldn't turn his promise into reality.

He didn’t know what he was doing, or what he woulddo. He was only stalling, buying her some time to ease the panic that bubbled in her chest but then what? A minute or two would pass and then what would he do?

God, if only I could find a way to save her.

“Eren,” Her voice was breaking his heart. It was clear that she was scared to her bones. “They’re going to—”

“No, it’s okay.” He pulled her into his embrace, cupping the back of her head and letting his lips graze the soft skin of her temple. “I’m gonna stay here with you. I won’t let them hurt you.”

She wanted to hide and sink deeper into his embrace but she couldn’t. She would get him killed if she did. She wouldn’t do that to him. “No.” She placed a hand on his chest, pushing him away. “You can’t stay.”

Eren broke away. “There’s no way I could leave—”

“No,” she insisted, taking her hands away from his and hugging herself tightly. “Please. There’s nothing you can do. They’re here. You have to go. Now.”

Eren’s mind was running through a thousand different scenarios, trying to find a way to break her out of this place during this limited time they had, but before he could settle on one, the front door was kicked open.

“What took you so long, Newbie?!” A large man with a gray beard—Darius Zackly—shot a dangerous glare toward him. Eren rose to his feet, hiding the girl securely behind his back.

“Sir, she’s sick,” Eren tried to sound convincing. “Her body is weak and she needs some rest. I beg for your permission to let her go for the day.”

“Eren, stop…” she whispered but he only stood even more protectively in front of her.

“And why should I care?” The older soldier spoke up. “She’s here to please me. I don’t have to do anything for her.”

Anger spiked up in every corner of his mind. “But she’s—”

“Eren!” Her voice was still muted but her tone was harsh. She had one hand clutching tightly to the back of his uniform. “You need to leave.”

Eren was frustrated. Why was she doing this? Didn’t she know that he was trying his best to save her from her misery? He was losing his mind but when he turned around, he noticed she was smiling with her empty eyes. But that wasn’t a smile of joy. It was a smile of knowing what was best to do for the person you cared about.

She reached up a hand and caressed his face again. “I’m okay. I’m used to this,” she said softly and for a moment, all his anger and distress radiated off his body. “Thank you for giving me the best few minutes of my life.”

Those words were the last things Eren could hear before two soldiers hauled him away from her room.

***

When Eren entered her room later that night, she was screaming at the top of her lungs, trying to distance herself as much as possible from him. She had her back pressed against the wall, her hands raised in front of her. “Go away!” she shouted—no, pleaded; her voice filled with shivers. She was nude from head to toe, and Eren would’ve looked away if he wasn’t too shocked over the horrified expression she had written on her face.

“W-wait, it’s me.” He felt a surge of panic rising in his chest. “It’s me—Eren. You don’t have to be afraid—”

“GO AWAY!”

Invisible hands jabbed a knife through his heart, doing it repeatedly with every word he heard coming from her mouth. “Please…” She was wailing, sobbing violently until her knees lost their strength and she slid down to the floor. “Don’t hurt me anymore, please… Enough…”

His heart was crushed by the broken whimpers she emitted. He had one hand hanging in the air, about to take a step forward when he heard—

“Just kill me already.”

Eren froze to his feet, staring at her naked body with wide eyes filled with shock. He saw fresh cuts on the side of her thighs when she hugged her legs to her chest, burying her face in them. Her frail body trembled ferociously as she kept whispering, “Don’t hurt me… Don’t hurt me, please… I beg you…”

He felt it. He felt her pain. He felt her fear. He knew she was at her limit. And Eren was scared.

With an anchor tied to his feet, he began to stride forward. He was being as careful as he could, not wanting to make any sound that could surprise her. He kneeled in front of the lady, gently laying his hand above hers.

“It’s me…” he murmured, hearing his heart shatter. “You don’t need to be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

Remembering the lines of his palm, she slowly lifted her head. Her stare was blank, her eyes were swollen. Her cheeks were both damp with tears and blood.

“Eren…”

He almost smiled but he couldn’t. Aside from the agony he felt, there was a wave of rage and disappointment, one that he held toward himself. He promised he would protect her but look at her now.

“Let’s get you back to bed, okay?” he offered her. When she gave him her permission, he gathered her body in his arms. He could feel her bones sticking underneath her skin. How much had she eaten for the past few weeks? Did they let her starve?

“You shouldn’t look at me,” the lady said as he laid her down on her bed. She curled up into a ball and turned away from him. New injuries were blooming along her backside. Purple bruises coated her spine, and angry bite marks formed on her tailbone.

Eren reached out forward. “Are you okay—”

“Don’t!” She wailed, clamping her fingers against the sides of her head as she sank deeper into her sheets. “Don’t look at me—I’m… I’m disgusting.”

Maybe it was easier if he cried at the sight. Perhaps that way, he wouldn’t have to feel like he was being sliced open.

He tried to look for her robe but when he found it, the fabric was torn apart and another emotion took over. It was anger. Eren was young, he barely had control. So instead of putting an end to the seething flame in his chest, he wanted to embrace it. He was furious.

“Who did this to you?” he asked without thinking, and the second he heard the words, he felt ten times worse. How could he ask that? How could he even let himself think of revenge when she was still scared from her previous encounter with those violent soldiers? How could he put his rage on top of her well-being?

So, he took a deep breath and apologized. He took a seat on the edge of her bed and he realized that it was the first time he ever let himself be near her like this. She curled herself into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest. The strands of her hair managed to cover some of her skin but Eren could still see the bruises. Slowly, he took off the outer jacket of his uniform and wrapped it around her body like a blanket.

He laid down next to her, turning to his side so he could face her. He pressed his cheek against the sheet and reached out for her hand, but she shook her head no and pressed both of her palms to herself. She was still shaking and he felt helpless. How could I ease your pain? “You’re not disgusting,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

“I’m nothing,” she sobbed. “I’m just a whore—”

“You’re not,” Eren said, moving closer to cup her face and lift it to meet him. “You’re a lady. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

She melted under his touch, her soul cried under his praise. They pressed their temples together, their eyes closed, breathing each other's scent. “I’m sorry,” she murmured between strained whimpers. “I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

“It's okay.” Eren stroked her hair. “I know you didn’t mean to—” He cut himself short when she took a hold of his hand. Tears were still falling from her eyes but her forehead creased, questioning something. She covered the back of his hand with her palm, guiding it to cup her face.

“You’re shaking…” She uttered and that was when Eren realized that he was on the verge of breaking apart as well. “Why are you trembling, Eren..?”

Yes, why was he? He didn’t even know her name. She wanted them to act like strangers so why was he feeling like this? Why had he become so… attached? He thought that he could play the hero—that saving her would give him a purpose in life. To make sure that he had a heart that was not yet tainted, unlike the rest of the soldiers here. But that wasn’t just it, was it? There was something more.

“I don’t know…” he whispered and he was being honest. “I guess, I’m just… Scared.”

She reached out a hand, trailing a finger along the corner of his mouth. She frowned sadly when she realized that he wasn’t smiling. “Scared…?” she asked.

“I was afraid that you were gonna lose yourself,” Eren admitted. “I was afraid that you were going to give up on life and that I would… never be able to see you again.”

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “I’m tired of this, Eren.”

“I know,” Eren breathed out heavily. “I know. I’m trying to find a way to get you out of here.”

“No,” she immediately said. “You can’t. If they find out—”

“I don’t care.” He brought her into his arms, their bodies meshed together in a sweet embrace. “I have to try. I don’t want to lose you.” I can’t lose you.

She sank her face into his chest. Tonight, he felt warm. “What if they kill you?”

“Then, so be it.” He exhaled, burying his nose in the strands of her hair. “I’ve never truly lived anyway.”

***

“I know you were waiting for me,” Eren shyly teased as he laid himself next to her in her bed. Months had passed since their first meeting and she had grown accustomed to his presence. Every night, whenever he was off duty, Eren always visited her, reminding her that every day was a day worth living for. He pulled her back from the edge. He gave her hope. He was her cure, her sanctuary, a moment of dream that existed for a few minutes in her real life. He was her happiness.

The soldier had spent weeks trying to build a plan to let her escape, but it was nearly impossible. His superiors had thrown him suspicious looks whenever Eren went out of her room, but thankfully, they didn’t do any further than that. Eren had been lucky, but he knew one day his luck would run out. It was only a matter of time.

It was the beginning of autumn when they lay on their sides on the bed, with their faces facing one another. Eren took his time remembering every part of her features. The little moles, the dip of her spine, the shape of her nose. And the way small bones were protruding under the thin skin around her collarbones. Until that day, he never truly observed her nude body, even when he had plenty of chances to do it. He didn’t want to be disrespectful. He didn’t want to look at her without her permission. She was a person with feelings, and that was how Eren always looked at her.

“I wasn’t waiting for you,” she said, playing with his hand. Eren realized that she loved to intertwine their fingers together. She found it to be comforting, but to him, the intimacy was almost overwhelming. But he loved it. He loved everything about her.

Through his hand and the beating of his pulse, she could tell whenever he felt distraught. When he was happy, scared, amused, or even flustered—she could tell them all. Maybe he was just too transparent, or maybe she just cared too much. But the thing she loved to do the most was touching his lips, feeling his smile materializing underneath her fingertips, and picturing how pretty it was in her head.

“You were,” Eren said, chuckling a little. “I’ve visited you every day for the past few months and you still can’t get enough of me.”

“That’s not true,” she said with a soft smile. He was entranced by her beauty, just like he was a second ago and how he would a second later.

I want to keep you, he wanted to say, I want to keep you for myself.

“Eren Kruger isn’t my real name,” Eren confessed, looking at her with affection in his gaze as he shared more secrets with her. “Kruger is a name my step-father gave to me. I’m not a Marleyan. I’m just like you, born and raised in Paradis. An Eldian.” It felt like he had taken a load off his chest. “Eren Jaeger. That was… That’s my name.”

“Eren… Jaeger…” she echoed his name in a whisper, sounding like she was adoring his name and that made his heart thump faster. She smiled tenderly, reaching out to touch his cheek. “I like it.” She traced her index finger along his sharp jawline. “It somehow suits you better.”

Eren swallowed, silently praying that she couldn’t feel the burning heat that rose to his cheeks. He decided to distract himself away from her, thinking about the sun or those beautiful leaves that had turned colors outside the window. He had this urge building in his stomach, so much that he was afraid of himself. He couldn’t trust his mind, especially the butterflies in his stomach. He would kiss her if he thought about her for another second.

And then she spoke and time seemed to freeze.

She just spoke her name.

“S-sorry?”

“My name,” she sheepishly smiled, tucking her chin down. “That’s… my name. Is it—is it weird?”

“No…” He was still shaken by the fact that she finally trusted him enough to share her name. “It’s…” He cleared his throat, heart beating triumphantly. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s nothing,” she said, turning away to the other side so she could hide her face from his gaze. To her surprise, Eren went closer and hugged her from behind, gently wrapping his strong arms around her waist and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“E-Eren…?”

“You’re everything.” His breath fanned her nape, causing her to shiver. He closed his eyes, his lips almost brushing against the skin when he whispered, “You’re not nothing. You’re everything to me.”

She smiled to herself, feeling so happy that she could just die like this in his arms and she’d have no regrets. Had she ever felt this complete? This... serene? She’d never thought she’d find a sliver of joy in this place but she did. And it wasn’t just a piece. It was him.

You’re everything to me too, Eren.

“Can you say it?” She asked him bashfully. “M-my name… Can you… call me by my name?”

Eren smiled, as gentle as the spring shower. He embraced her tighter, his lips lingered near her shoulder and she expected them to brush but he didn’t let them. Not until she permitted him to.

Then he formed her name and she felt like she was being reborn.

The girl cried. For the first time, her eyes felt hot but there was no wound inside her chest. For the first time, she learned that there was beauty in this world, that her pain didn’t last for eternity. For the first time, she felt infinite.

And it was because of him.

She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, taking a sharp breath before she turned around in his arms. “Eren…”

His thumb skimmed over her cheek, erasing her tear stain. “Hmm?”

Thank you for giving back my heart. Thank you for collecting the pieces and mending them together. Thank you for protecting it. “Thank you.” Her smile was like a light in the darkness. “For coming into my life.”

Her fingers found his chin before they moved upward, her eyes turning crescents when she felt him smile. He leaned close, lightly brushing the tips of their noses together. “You’re very welcome.”

Thank you for reminding me I have a heart.

***

Eren woke up in a room he was not familiar with. The smell of antiseptics, cleaning agents, and medical supplies filled the air, making him scrunch his nose in discomfort. His eyes were heavy, his muscles felt sore, and his mind was losing fragments of memories. He couldn’t remember what happened to him, or why he was there. When he looked out of the window, the night was dark with no stars. Even the moon was hiding behind gray clouds. He knew he should’ve gone somewhere by then. He should’ve been there in her room, witnessing another one of her precious smiles before he carved it in his mind. But when he tried to sit up on the bed, pain reverberated from his lower abdomen, spreading like wildfire. He groaned in agony, his eyebrows deeply furrowed.

“Easy, there, easy,” Theo Magath said, standing from his seat beside the bed. “You don’t want to open your wound.”

Eren hissed. It still felt like someone was slicing the skin off his belly. “What happened?” He asked, letting his commander check on his wound.

“We were attacked,” Magath explained. “Somebody tried to kill me with a knife and you threw yourself in front of me. You saved my life, kid.”

“Me?” Eren frowned, not remembering any of it. “I… I did?”

“Yeah, you got a long cut on your stomach but thank God you survived,” the older man patted his head. His smile was almost fatherly, which didn't seem to fit the rest of his features. “You knocked your head when you fell so you had a concussion. Maybe that’s why you don’t remember anything. You passed out for two days.”

Two days?

“Oh…” Eren calmed down a little, but his eyebrows were still stitched together. That means she has been waiting for me for two days. Eren swallowed the thought and hoped that nothing bad happened to her. “Who attacked us?”

“I don’t know,” Magath answered, his face glinting in anger. “There were only a few of them. They wore something around their head so I couldn’t make out their faces.”

“Were they Eldians?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Magath snorted, sinking back into his chair with his arms folded on his chest. “We need to find out their names. Once we do, I’ll kill them with my bare hands.”

Something felt strange. If they were indeed Eldians, it would be the first time they revolted in this camp. No one had ever started a rebellion against the soldiers before. They weren’t brave enough. Or stupid. So, what changed?

“Think I owe you my life,” Magath thanked him, forcing Eren to cast aside his thoughts for now. “Do you need my help with something?”

“Oh, no, it’s—” Then, he blinked, recalling something. “Actually, yes. I do need your help.”

***

The girl woke up in the middle of the night, feeling just as restless as she was when she went to sleep fifteen minutes ago. Being locked up in the military brothel only meant that she could only sleep for three hours a day, while the rest of those hours were used to keep the men company. Her body withered in the first few months here, but her heart forced her to be strong. Time passed by, the season changed, and so did she. She adapted to the environment, both physically and mentally. It was not enough to keep her emotions composed every time, but it was enough for her to survive for another day.

She never had a night visitor before—at least, not during her resting hours. The guards wouldn’t permit anyone to visit the brothel at this time, except perhaps the top officers. But those knocking sounds… These footsteps… They sounded familiar.

Then her name was spoken.

Her eyes grew wide as she rose on her bed, her mouth parted in a small gasp. “Eren—”

A calloused palm was clamped over her lips, but the sound of his restrained laughter resonated in her ear. “Don’t be too loud,” Eren whispered, grinning. “The guards don’t know I’m here.”

But she couldn’t keep her excitement to herself. Quickly, she raised herself to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling the man into her bed. “Eren,” she vocalized his name like it was her favorite word, her breath felt pleasingly warm on his ear. She hugged him tightly to her chest, his lean fingers tangled in her hair. “Oh, Eren, I’ve missed you!” Tears were starting to form behind her eyelids. I thought I lost you...

“I’ve missed you too,” Eren replied, followed by her name. She giggled, letting him brush her tears away before they stained her cheeks. Eren thought she looked even younger right then.

He explained the reason why he hadn’t been able to visit her in the last few days, but he was unable to be perfectly honest. “We needed more men, so I went on a patrol at night,” he said, which was true, but he left the part where he was unconscious because of his wound—one that almost ended his life for good.

She didn’t suspect him, only nodding her head understandingly. “How could you get in here, though?” she asked. “It’s not visiting hours yet, is it?”

“I got help from a friend.” Eren let his lips brush her fingertips when she traced the shape of his mouth, wanting to feel his smile. “I can stay here with you for the rest of the night.”

She looked like she was seconds away from crying again when she embraced him. Eren rested his elbows on the sheets, hovering above her. Eren was careful not to crush her body down with his weight, and he was trying not to move too much. His injury was still healing.

“Ouch, ouch,” Eren hissed when her knee grazed his stab wound.

“W-what?” she asked, panicking. Her blind eyes searched the air. “What is it?”

“You just kneed my wound,” he replied, chuckling as he grimaced. He rolled to his back, gritting his teeth to contain the pain. The bed dipped a little from his weight.

She rose, gently settling a hand on his chest. “Where is it?”

Eren carefully tangled his hand with hers, guiding it down to his lower abdomen. She could feel thick bandages underneath her fingertips. “Don’t you dare poke it, okay?” he joked but she wasn’t laughing. Her face was solemn, deeply worried.

“What happened?” she queried, her eyebrows knitted in concern.

“Accident at work.” He tried to keep it simple. “It’s not a big deal. It’ll heal.”

But she wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“Hey, I’m fine,” Eren repeated, tittering as he stroked her cheek. “Don’t worry about me.”

She rolled her lower lip between her teeth. Her palm was pressed against the back of Eren’s hand that was cupping her cheek. “Eren…”

“Hmm?” he hummed. Just a single touch and he felt like he was paralyzed with happiness. “What is it?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she softly said but in such a serious demeanor that his smile began to falter. “I don’t... I don’t want to lose you.”

Eren peered into her eyes. His heart became warmer and everything felt better in a way. He slowly sat up, framing her face with both hands.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he convinced her, rubbing comforting circles on her skin with his thumb. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

She smiled and closed her eyes, reveling in his touch before she kissed the inside of his palm. His face reddened almost instantly, shocked by the sudden intimacy and how such an innocent, tender gesture could light his skin on fire. “I think I've mentioned this before… Your hand is so rough.” She took his other hand, kissing the same spot that caused shivers to run down his spine. “But your hair feels so soft. Why is that?”

His mind was a blank canvas. He lost his words, maybe even his voice. So it surprised him when he found himself forming a question.

“Can I kiss you?”

She stiffened, her eyes were left unblinking. Her stare was as empty as ever but Eren could tell the effects he had on her. She wasn’t repulsed by the thought. She was… embarrassed.

She was so irresistible, almost like the devil herself. A beautiful, beautiful devil that could easily lure him away from heaven.

She nodded, shaky but it was permission, nonetheless. Eren drew a deep breath. His heart was racing a thousand miles per hour.

They sat on the bed, their pinkies brushing against one another before Eren lifted his hand and settled it carefully on the side of her face. She shut her eyes, her lower lip quivered and Eren leaned in, his stomach somersaulting.

He kissed her, but not quite on the lips. It was on her cheek, but close enough that she could taste his breath on her tongue if she wanted to. He released her, his viridian eyes not brave enough to meet her gaze. “Was that… Was that okay?”

She was confused, baffled. “Why didn't you kiss me on the lips?”

He blushed. “Y-you expected me to kiss you there?”

“I—” She mirrored his expression. “I just thought you’d—I thought you’d… want to…”

Fuck, he thought. Her innocence was her finest seduction and Eren was just a boy, too weak to resist temptation. “I want to!” He promptly said. “God, you don't know just how much—” He kissed her. He still had words to say but he didn’t have the patience to say them. He kissed her firmly on the lips, his fingers resting on her jaw, holding her in place. It was his first kiss but Eren did it like he was running out of time. There was zeal, there was passion, there was love. He was taking her breath away, as much as she took his. He was thinking about everything at once, then none at all. All he cared about was how soft her lips felt underneath his. How perfect they were. And how he could never want to let her go.

She could barely keep up, burned by his touch. “S-slow down,” she gasped, fisting the fabric of his shirt.

That stopped him at once. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, immediately breaking away from her. “I’m sorry,” he begged, his hands itching to comfort her but he kept them restrained, afraid that they would frighten her. “I’m so sorry, that was—I don’t know what took over me. Are you okay?” He examined her face closely. “Did I hurt you?”

Did I scare you?

It was so clear to her just how guilty he felt over one vigorous kiss. But he got it all wrong. She didn’t want him to stop. She just wanted to take it slow, so she could feel him better. Learn about him better. She wanted to memorize his taste, wanted it to linger so she could understand the emotions he felt inside. “Ren,” she said, “I liked it.”

“W-what?” His face was aflame. “You did?”

She nodded. “I… want you to do it again.”

Eren swallowed hard, and when she gathered his face in her hands, he stopped breathing. “Can I… do it to you this time?” She was diffident about it, which made her even more adorable, and sensual, in his eyes.

“Y-yes, please.”

She smiled at his response, and he could see how nervous she was. Eren didn't close his eyes as she leaned in. He wanted to see everything, wanted to feel everything. Her lips were on his skin, but she failed to land them on the perfect spot. Her kiss was pressed against the corner of his mouth and she broke away with a frown.

“You missed my lips,” Eren said, holding back his smile.

She was flustered, but unlike him, she was quick to regain her composure. “You expected me to kiss you there?” Her smile was a tease in itself.

Eren laughed. “You are driving me crazy.”

He didn’t let any second go to waste. He shortened the gap and tugged her close. The kiss was young and hasty, and just as reckless as he was as a person. She was clutching to his neck as if she was about to drown, and Eren felt something swirling in the pit of his stomach when she parted her lips to let him in.

“Keep you,” he sighed into her mouth as he laid her down on the bed once again. “I want to keep you… God, you’re beautiful.”

She let out a muted gasp when Eren moved his lips down to her neck. She carded her fingers through his hair, while her other hand was locked with his, pinned against the sheets beside her head. Eren was gentle and passionate at the same time. Everything felt overwhelming.

“Eren…” She gasped when he pressed his body against her, their lips molded together as if they were originally one. “Eren, I—”

“I love you,” Eren professed before she could finish her line. He broke away, gazing deeply into her eyes. Sometimes he wished she could see him back, but he realized that she did. She always looked at him in her own ways. She understood him better than anyone, better than himself.

She glued her hand on his chest, and she smiled when she looked up at him. “Your heart is pounding, Soldier.”

Eren laughed softly. “It’s kind of a package deal when you’re confessing your love to someone.”

She nibbled on her lip, reaching out a hand again and Eren bent his head down so she could press it against his cheek. “I wish I could see you,” she said, sighing softly as she trailed her fingers along his sharp jawline. “You must be so handsome.”

And handsome he was. Body, mind, and soul—Eren Jaeger, to her, was perfection.

“This...” She started, leaning forward to catch his lips in a chaste kiss. “I always love it when you smile like this,” she said, running her index finger across his lips. “I could imagine it vividly in my mind. The innocence of it… The beauty…”

“I am hardly innocent, my lady.” Eren’s husky voice was almost seductive when he kissed her fingertips. She let one of them slip between his lips and shivered when she felt how warm he was.

“True,” she agreed, smiling timidly. “Because sometimes, it’s not just a smile, is it? Sometimes it’s a smirk. Like a teasing, boyish smirk.”

Eren chuckled but he stopped abruptly when she slowly pushed him away. He followed her lead, watching her sit on the bed. Her robe slipped down her shoulders, revealing enough skin that looked so soft, it left him dizzy. She laid back down on the bed, abashed when she felt his eyes ravishing her body for the first time.

“Come here,” she shyly said, gesturing to him to come closer with trembling fingers.

“A-are you sure?” he squeaked out and she laughed a little, getting even more embarrassed than she already was.

“Yes.��

And with her consent, Eren pressed down against her again, colliding his warmth with hers, sinking into her embrace, and breathed in the same air. She smelled sweet, like apples and peaches. While to her, Eren tasted wild and fresh, like the pine trees after the storm.

They moved slowly as passion came second. Their bodies spoke devotion, the lips only formed praises and language of love. Eren kept their hands intertwined whenever he could, and when she moaned, he made sure that it was in the form of his name.

“I love you, Ren,” she said breathlessly. She could feel his pulse inside her body in the part where they were connected. “I never thought I could love someone but I do. I love you so much, it scares me.”

He felt the same way, and it left him wondering why. Why was he scared? Was it because there was very little chance of them having a future together? What if they didn’t have a future? What if he’d die during the next war? What if her life ended in one of the soldiers’ hands? What if their eternity only existed until the next break of dawn?

There was a rush of feelings and his chest hurt because he couldn’t contain it. He channeled it through his kisses that grew even more feverish as more seconds went by. Eren, she noticed, always kissed her like time was about to swallow him whole and their days together would end in a few seconds. But then she realized maybe it was true. Their days were indeed numbered. Moments like this couldn’t last forever. Eternity would end in minutes if you didn’t have the freedom to make your choice.

With that thought in mind, she embraced him again, running her fingers down his spine and raking them back up when Eren curled his tongue around hers.

“Eren...” Eren loved the way she called his name. She made him feel worthy. She made him feel loved.

When Eren held her that night, he was gentle and loving. But at the end, she began to cry, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “I...” she sobbed softly to his shoulder. “I’ve never been this happy in my entire life.”

He cradled her in his arms, kissed her hair, and whispered how much he’d love her for the rest of the days they had together. If he had more time, he would’ve described how happy she made him feel. How just a brush of her leg against his sent warmth to his every nerve. How every touch of her hand gave him more life, more reasons to live. How every kiss from her lips managed to set his soul on fire.

But time was off-limit, and they spent their last moment fulfilling her wish. “Tell me a poem.” And he did. He recited his favorite one, the one that he’d memorized by heart. She listened intently with her head on his chest, her fingers drawing designs on his skin. There was nothing but bliss on their faces. They were in serenity.

“What made you love poetry?” she questioned him when he was finished.

“My mother. She used to read me poems instead of bedtime stories before bed.”

She smiled, her eyes drooping at the sound of his rhythmic heartbeat. “Have you written one before?”

“I’m not very good with words.”

She didn’t buy it, not even for a second, but if he didn’t feel like revealing it to her yet, then she wouldn’t force him to. “Do you think I can write one?”

“Of course, you can,” Eren replied, playing with the strands of her hair. “You just need to find some inspiration and, well, a piece of paper and a pen, I guess.”

Inspiration, she ruminated. Her inspiration seemed to only revolve around him. But that was it, wasn’t it? That’s what I should write about. “I’ll write you one someday,” she promised him. “I don’t know where I can find a paper and a pen but…” She tarried, moving a little so she could plant a kiss above his heart.

Eren shivered at the contact. “I-I’ll bring them to you later.”

She did it again, parting her mouth this time to taste his skin. “I’ve forgotten how to write.”

He draped an arm over his face, blushing madly. “I’ll write—” he nearly moaned. “I’ll write it down for you.” She chuckled at his reaction, pulling away to give him a moment to breathe. Eren exhaled in relief. Another kiss from her lips and he would’ve made love to her again. “What is it going to be about?” He questioned. “Your poem.”

“About you.” To her surprise, she didn’t feel so embarrassed when she said it. "About the kindness you’ve shown me. About how you saved me, right when I needed to be saved.”

He turned a bit gloomy, his eyes weary as they were transfixed to the ceilings. “I haven’t saved you yet,” he mumbled, his voice hushed.

“You have.” She convinced him. “You’ve saved me more times than I could count. I wouldn’t be here today, if it wasn’t for you, Eren.” I would’ve taken my own life that day if you weren’t there.

Gratitude glowed inside him. “I could say the same about you.”

They shared a kiss, tasting each other's smiles. “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Eren said, shifting her lips to her nose, her cheeks, and her temple as he spoke. “Why don’t you just write a poem about us?”

Her spirits brightened. “I think I could do that.”

“Be sure to talk more about me, though. You need to show more of the love you have for me. And not just about my handsome face.”

She giggled. “Haven’t I loved you enough today?”

He held her chin between his fingers, smiling as he leaned close. “Mmm, not enough.” He looked into her heavenly eyes with infinite adoration, and their kiss was perfect.

She drifted away not long after, falling into a string of sweet dreams of a handsome boy with brunette hair and kisses that tasted like summer. Eren let her drowse, let her rest, let her smile in her sleep.

“Forever,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her forehead one last time before he let exhaustion take over him. “I’ll keep you like this with me... Forever…”

***

An hour later, Eren woke up with gentle lips placing lingering kisses on the tip of his nose. The twenty-two-year-old boy slowly opened his eyes, still heavy with sleep. “Hey,” he said, smiling sleepily.

“Hi,” she responded with a soft smile and Eren wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her close. He closed his eyes again when he felt her lay down her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you for the hairpin,” she whispered in his ear, referring to the ornament Eren placed in her hair when she was asleep.

He hummed drowsily. “Do you want me to describe it to you?” he asked and she nodded. Eren rubbed his eyes awake and scooted back to the headboard, laying his bare back against the wooden surface. He tugged her close gently by the hand and she followed. The soldier rearranged the hairpin on her hair, clipping her bangs so they wouldn’t fall to her eyes.

“The hairpin looks pink in color,” Eren began, tucking her stray locks behind her ear. “It’s shaped like a cherry blossom, tiny but different from the others. But that’s not what I’d like to describe to you. That’s not what I want to see.”

“Hmm?” She cutely tilted her head to the side in curiosity.

“These lips right here…” Eren pointed by grazing his thumb along with the shape of her mouth. “Are the ones I always remember before I go to sleep. The way they curve when you smile, how soft they feel. It makes me want to kiss you.” He leaned in, granting her a chaste kiss. “Again.” He repeated the motion, gently brushing their lips together. When he pulled away, she could still feel his warm breath on her skin. “And again.” Her heart fluttered when he teased her mouth open, just enough to get a glimmer of her taste. “And again.” He pecked her one more time until she giggled softly in front of him. “Until I realize that maybe I don’t want to sleep at all. Maybe I just want to stay awake and kiss you forever.”

“Liar,” she said, playfully pushing him away by his chest. “You’re always sleepy.”

“No, I’m not,” Eren replied, chuckling. He sighed contentedly when she returned to her position, lying her head above his heart, hearing the constant thumping sounds and how alive he was.

“Eren…”

“Hmm?”

“What does eternity feel like?” she asked, her visionless eyes staring at the air.

“A very long time,” Eren murmured against her hair.

“Then keep me for eternity, will you?” It wasn't just a line, it was her plea.

His frown broke upon her words, noticing the change in her tone. “What—”

“Promise me,” she breathed out. “Eren, promise me you’ll remember me forever. Even after this. Even after everything. Even if things suddenly change and I—”

Eren straightened his back, gathering her frail figure into his lap. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She nodded but when she buried her face in the crook of his neck, Eren felt wet tears splashing against his skin. “I don’t want you to leave,” she sobbed into his arms. “Eren, please don’t leave me…”

“I won’t,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “I won’t. I’ll stay. I’ll keep you for eternity, remember?”

But Eren knew that in another few minutes from now, their reality would come crashing down. Another soldier would come barging into the room and he would try to explain that this was his fault. That he was the one who stole the key from Magath. That he was the one who sold himself for a woman’s heart.

And their eternity would end.

And promises would just be another word that ended up in vain.

***

“Hey, what happened?” Eren asked another soldier, his chest constricting. An ominous feeling shrouded his thoughts, even when he could barely understand what was going on before him.

More than a hundred Eldians gathered near the fences that separated their camps from the field where the Marleyan soldiers used to punish the ones who did not respect their rules. These people were now pushing against the barrier, desperately wanting to get inside. They were furious; their eyes filled with a raging blaze that made Eren’s skin shiver in dread.

Another Marleyan soldier came to answer him. “Those bastards are angry 'cause we’re going to give a death penalty to their friend,” he scoffed. “I mean, come on. We murder their people so many times already. You’d think they’d be accustomed to it by now.”

“Death penalty?” Eren quaked. “To who?”

“Don’t care.”

Eren’s nose flared in vexation but he kept his temper steady. “What did he do?” He assumed that the prisoner was a male. It usually happened that way.

The Marleyan soldier seemed idle in satisfying Eren’s curiosity but he answered anyway. “From what I’ve heard, there was a bunch of dumb Eldians wanting to get away from our camp. They thought they could escape, those fuckers,” he snorted loudly, “But obviously, they failed. They were wearing these black masks on their faces and they managed to attack one of our guards. When we called for back-ups, they scattered away. We didn’t get to catch any of them, and so, Magath was pissed.”

Eren unconsciously started to touch the wound along his abdomen. So that was what happened back then.

“Magath started to look around, trying to get their names, but none of them dared to speak. So he threatened to kill a random person every day until he found out who they were. He managed to blast off three heads in the past few days. It was a fun thing to see.” The soldier laughed while Eren’s stomach lurched in disgust. “Honestly, I would love to keep that going but one of the Eldians raised his hand, confessed that it was him—that he wanted to take responsibility for his actions. He said it was him who forced those Eldians to rebel but he didn’t want to give out any of his friends’ names. Stupid decision, if you ask me. He said he would take the punishment by himself. Magath, surprisingly, agreed. He was having a great day, I guess. So he said that he would be punished for his friends’ sins too and he wouldn’t make it easy. I was surprised that Eldian didn’t shit his pants back then. Pretty brave for a scrawny kid.” The soldier yawned before he smirked at Eren. “Well, anyway, he’s as good as dead. He was something, though. We tortured him night and day and he never made a sound. I lashed my whip at him a few times this morning and man, it was hard to make him cry and beg for mercy. He kept glaring at me even when his skin was starting to peel off his back.”

Eren’s fingers curled into angry fists and he would’ve most likely punched the other soldier to death if his eyes didn’t land on the prisoner who was hauled into the field. Three Marleyan soldiers forced him down to his knees and the prisoner winced in pain when the end of his executioner’s gun hit his head. The rest of the soldiers tied his hands to the poles that stood behind his body. And with a wicked smile, a Marleyan officer yanked the prisoner’s hair back and showed his face to the world.

Eren’s heart plummeted to his stomach.

“Armin!” He didn’t notice he was screaming until he heard his own voice. It was filled with shock, desperation, disappointment, wrath, but most of all, agony.

The prisoner lifted his head and Eren barely recognized him. There were fresh, angry scars blooming everywhere on his face, marring his cheeks, his chin, his forehead. One of his eyes was swollen, while the other one was continuously bleeding. Eren didn’t even dare to ask himself what his soldiers had done to him.

Their eyes met, and for a moment everything faded into a blur until the blonde-hair boy smiled at the soldier he regarded as a friend.

“Eren,” he mouthed. He still had the same warmth, the same kindness on his face. I’m glad you’re okay, Armin thought.

“You know that guy?” the soldier beside Eren suspiciously asked him but he was left ignored.

He kept his green eyes locked on Armin’s. They were no longer blue but scarlet, stained with his blood.

Was he really the one who started the rebellion? Eren mused, his heart thumping loudly. Was he the one who attacked those guards—who attacked me?

Armin that Eren knew was a man who was always cautious and smart when it came to making decisions. Eren remembered back then when Armin said he wanted to get away from here, but decided not to as it was a reckless move. So what changed him? Did he do it? Did he try to escape while bringing people with him? Did he really try to run at the risk of harming his own friends? It didn’t sound like him at all.

Without knowing, Eren was already stepping forward, wanting to get closer to the prisoner. To help him. To do something.

To save his life.

“Hey, Kruger!” The Marleyan soldier grabbed Eren harshly by his arm. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

Eren couldn’t hear anything. The world was in slow motion when his eyes drifted again to Armin’s soft ones. The boy lightly shook his head, reminding the soldier that he should know his place. Eren belonged to the army. He needed to serve his country. He needed to stay on his spot and be a witness to the scene as his government began the trial, putting a death sentence on the prisoner—on his friend.

Words were being uttered by his commander but Eren couldn’t make out any of them. He kept his gaze fixated on Armin—on how his friend was kneeling there, waiting calmly as he listened to the sins Eren was certain he didn’t commit. Armin was a nice person, perhaps the kindest of them all. It shouldn’t be a surprise if he decided to stand up for his people and trade their lives with his. Maybe that was the truth. Maybe that was what actually happened. And now he was sentenced to death for trying to save them.

This wasn’t fair. Nothing about it was fair.

Armin was smiling. Continuously smiling and Eren wondered why because all he could feel at the moment was fear. It was until the executioner came with a long sword in his hands, did Armin begin to quiver but only slightly. A tear slipped out from his swollen eye to the tip of his nose, but his smile never faltered away.

Eren heard someone screaming Armin’s name and it took a while until he realized that it was himself. A couple of soldiers tried to hold him down, wrapping their arms along his waist to keep him away from running to the field and standing in front of the prisoner—of the friend he treasured the most.

“Armin!” Eren screamed so loudly, his ears began to ring. “No, wait—he’s innocent—he’s innocent!” But his voice was drowned by the crowd’s vehement protests.

Armin lowered his head. His tears began to stain the earth and he felt no regret when he whispered, “Thank you, Eren.” For protecting me till the end. But it’s okay. It will all be over now.

And when the sword was raised to the sun, Armin kept his eyes on Eren once again and mouthed his last words.

Take care of Jean for me.

Then Armin became nothing but a name, and a huge piece of Eren's soul died with him.

Eren never felt so angry in his entire life. He snapped, his instincts kicked in and his body went autopilot. He began to retaliate, pushing and attacking every soldier that came to hold him down. It was chaos and he was the one who created it. The Eldians watched from the other side of the fence—some were looking at him with questioning eyes, and some were still screaming over Armin’s death. His blood was still fresh on the field, flowing from the throat that no longer had a head.

Eren was screaming, cursing, and possibly bringing himself closer to his death but he didn’t care. All of this needed to stop.

And time did stop for him when a man hit him behind his neck and all Eren could see was darkness.

***

When Eren opened his eyes, his commander, Theo Magath was sitting right next to him with his hands crossed in front of his chest. His thick eyebrows were turning into a scowl, his voice sounding dangerously low when he spoke.

“I am disappointed in you,” he said, without so much of an introduction. Eren winced when he shifted in his bed. His head still throbbed badly.

Eren wanted to tell him the truth rather than give out excuses. The truth about how much he hated the army, the situation he was in, and the responsibility he had to bear as a Marleyan soldier. How he despised the fact that there wasn’t even a glint of humanity in their hearts anymore. But Magath rose from his seat before he was given the chance to say a word. His commander grabbed his gun and he pointed it at his head. The steel was freezing against his skin, but Eren kept his chin tilted up high. His eyes showed no signs of fear, only hatred.

Magath gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger. Eren didn’t think he would shoot, but he was still surprised when the bullet didn’t set a hole in his head.

“Now I owe you nothing,” Magath muttered, lowering his gun and slinging it across his shoulder. “A life for a life. The next time I see you taking their side again, I’ll shoot your head without hesitation. You remember that, Soldier.”

Eren didn’t know whether he should be grateful or not. Maybe he should because now he had the chance to save one more life other than hers.

Jean Kirstein.

***

“Jean!” Eren called out his name as he approached the man who was standing near the lake where the three of them used to meet. It was a few hours after midnight, just like usual. He didn't expect to find him there, but he was grateful that he did.

With tears-streaked eyes, Jean shot up to his feet. He looked anxious—terrified. His body trembled in shock and when Eren was about to ask why, he noticed that the boy was holding a knife in his right hand. Then it clicked.

Jean was about to end his life.

“You fucking asshole—” Eren lunged at the other boy, pushing him until Jean’s body became limp and they both fell to the ground. Eren kicked his knife away, his grip on his shirt was hard enough to tear the fabric apart.

“It was your plan, wasn’t it?!” He straddled the taller man’s waist, landing a hard punch along his jaw. “You were the one who tried to escape!” Jean spat blood; one of his teeth was missing. “Goddamn it, Jean! Armin turned himself in to protect you!” Eren screamed, punching him again but Jean never tried to fight back. “And now you want to kill yourself?! Are you losing your fucking mind—”

“I am!” Jean shouted, glaring at him with angry tears welling in his eyes. “I am losing my mind! Everyone around me is dead! Armin—” He choked. “Armin is dead because of me…”

“So what, you’re gonna repay him with your death?!”

“What else could I do?!” Jean lamented, drowning in such misery that Eren froze his fist before it could connect with his jaw. “It was my idea—Armin didn’t want to go. He said we needed more time but I didn’t listen to him. I went out on my own accord, I—I even brought my friends with me too and he was there to stop me but I never listened to him and—”

“Jean—”

“I attacked you!” He yelled, leaving the other man stunned. “I stabbed you and I—I’m so sorry—“ He was wrecked, consumed by his guilt. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—I didn’t—”

Jean lost his voice. He could only weep. The tip of his nose was turning red and his body shivered violently as he sobbed. Eren only stared at him, watching the way his emotions were going haywire. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, his head falling to the side and his fingers clawed into the cold hard ground. “I’m sorry, Armin. I’m sorry.”

Eren unclenched his fists, noticing that he just hurt the one he was supposed to protect. He had promised Armin he would, and he intended to keep his words no matter how hard it would be. Taking a deep breath, he broke away from him.

“Stand up,” the soldier commanded, and when Jean didn’t, he grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up harshly to his feet. “Listen to me.” Eren clamped his hands around Jean’s bony shoulders. “I need you to stay alive. I promised Armin I’m going to keep you safe but I can’t do it if you don’t value your own soul.”

“I should’ve been the one on that field,” Jean said, sobbing fervently until tremors ran through his body. “I should’ve been the one who died—not Armin—”

“Nobody deserves to die,” Eren cut him short. “Do you hear me? Nobody. Armin’s luck ended there but you’re still alive so fight for it! You have me, Jean. I’m not going to let you die.” As Jean just stared, stupefied by his words, Eren urged him to speak. “Do you understand me?”

He was silent for a few seconds more before he weakly nodded.

“Say it,” Eren demanded. “Say that you want to live.”

Another tear slipped away to stain his cheek but it was the last one he would allow. Slowly, he regained his will, a glimmer of determination painting his eyes. “I want to live.”

“Good.” Eren finally let himself smile. “I know it’s hard but please stay here for a few more days. I’m going to let you out of here.”

“H-how?”

Eren paused. He did not have his answers yet and he knew his time was running out. But he had to give him hope. He had to be strong for Jean to feel the same.

“I’ll think of something.”

***

“We don’t have much time,” Eren said, walking back and forth in the same spot of her room. “We need to get out of here. Time is running out. I can’t lose both you and Jean. We need to move.”

The lady sat on her bed with her fingers curling around the hem of her robe. Her face contorted in concern and something more, but Eren was too perturbed to pay attention. His mind was swirling fast, desperately trying to find a way for them to escape.

“Eren—”

“There must be something I can do,” he said, biting the nail of his thumb. He grew even more anxious by the second. “There must be some kind of a loophole I can—”

“Eren—”

“If only I can just—”

“Eren!” With her shout—loud enough for him to hear but not enough for her voice to be heard from outside the walls—Eren was yanked back from his musing. When he took a look at her, his gaze immediately softened but it didn’t stay that way for long. Quickly, it turned into a frown when he perceived her expression.

“What’s wrong?” Eren asked, hastily moving to her side and sitting down on the bed beside her. “Are you hurt somewhere?”

She hesitated when she spoke and that worried him more. “I… I can’t go with you.”

Eren froze. “What?”

“I can’t escape with you,” she repeated, her eyes looking straight through him, but not seeing him at all. “It’s too... risky.”

“I know but you don’t have to worry.” Eren soothed her with a light kiss on the lips. “I’ll keep you safe with me, you hear me?” He cupped her face with both hands, rubbing his thumb in comforting circles against her cheekbone. “I’ll protect you with my life.”

That’s the reason why I don't want to go. “It’s not me I’m worried about,” she said, biting her trembling lip.

He knew she was talking about him. He called upon her name, just as sweet and tender as usual despite the hurricane churning in his chest. “I can take care of myself. You don’t need to—”

But she shook her head, not assured at all. “You can’t guarantee that. Eren, I’m not that important for you to risk your life—”

He was not being himself today, he knew that for certain. If he had been, he wouldn’t have raised his voice. But he did. He snapped.

“Not important—How can you say that?!” Eren barked, and she flinched from the sudden anger in his tone.

“I…” She panicked. “I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s just—”

“I just lost my friend.” She could witness his anguish so clearly just by hearing his voice. “I lost Armin for a sin he didn’t commit and I stood there, doing nothing. I am not going to do that again. Not to you. Not to Jean.”

“Eren—”

“Why are you so scared about this?!” Eren stood up, not knowing himself anymore. He’d lost himself to anger and the pain that he’d been trying to bottle up inside. Losing Armin had finally taken its toll on him and his final string of patience came apart. “I’m trying so hard to find a way to save you and now you’re saying you don’t want to be saved?! Do you wanna live the rest of your life working like a whore in this place?! Is that what you want?!”

He might as well just throw a dagger at her chest, it would’ve probably hurt less. So it’s true, she thought. Deep down, he always thought of her like that. As a comfort woman, a whore who knew nothing but to give her body for men to take pleasure in. Just like everybody else.

Eren noticed the pained look on her face. “Fuck,” he hissed, one hand going to his head, yanking at his roots. He was beyond frustrated but as he managed to collect himself, he returned to her spot, kneeling in front of her. “I’m sorry,” he said, and it was filled with nothing but sincerity. It just wasn’t enough to heal the wound he’d inflicted. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. I was… I’m losing my mind.”

“It’s fine.” Her voice was cold. Bitter. But she didn’t cry. Instead, she turned away from him. “I think I’d like you to leave.”

“Please don’t be like this.”

“I don’t think we should talk about this any longer–”

“But I’m trying to save your life!” He was begging for her to understand. “For God’s sake, why can’t you just agree with me—”

“Because I’m pregnant!”

The silence that followed was haunting, and he lost the ability to feel anything in those few dreadful seconds. “What?”

“I’m pregnant…” she repeated, quieter this time. The look in her eyes was desolate. She clamped her hands together, holding herself tight enough until her nails turned white. “I’ve been feeling sick lately and they... They found out that I was pregnant.”

And Eren knew, it was not his child.

He unconsciously took a step back and a flit of hurt went through her eyes because she heard it. She could hear the fear and the disappointment in his voice when he spoke, “You’re not pregnant. You can’t be. This is just a misunderstanding.”

But she only brought her head down, not saying a word.

“I’m going to find a way,” Eren stated, still sounding like he was lost even though he tried to convince himself that he wasn’t. “I’m… I just need a few more days.”

And when he left with hurried steps instead of a soft kiss on her lips, she brokenly smiled.

I don’t have a few more days, Eren.

***

Eren felt like he had a gushing wound but he didn’t know where it was; no way to mend it. He felt disappointed with himself—ashamed, even. How could he say those hurtful words to her? Why did he react that way? Why couldn’t he gather enough courage to stay and listen to what she wanted to say?

“It’s because I’m pregnant.”

Eren knew it took a lot more than just bravery for her to say those words. And he wanted to punch himself in the face for reacting like it was a disease he needed to get away from. It shouldn’t have mattered whether she was pregnant or not. It shouldn’t have mattered if they managed to escape and raise a baby together that wasn’t his blood. He loved her. And that was the only thing that should’ve mattered at that time.

And if his people knew about her pregnancy, he didn’t have much time left to save her.

He needed to move. Fast.

Eren did not sleep that night. He was wide awake thinking, hating himself first, regretting his sins, then accepting his guilt. Once hours had passed, his old self returned. He had found his way. He knew what he had to do. The sun had not raised above the horizon, but Eren was awake and ready. With hasty movements, he tied his shoes and ran to the building he’d been visiting for the last few months. He needed to apologize. He needed her to know that her pregnancy didn’t mean anything. He still loved her just as much, no matter what.

But when he sneaked into her room, using the key Magath once gave to him, he found another girl on her bed.

“Stay where you are!” A girl with a lighter shade of hair, shrieked when she saw him. “Who are–mmph!”

Eren quickly shushed her down with a hand clasped over her mouth. When he managed to convince her that he had no intention to harm her, he took his hand away and asked her about the lady he was looking for.

Backing away from him, she said, “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

The girl wore a similar thin robe like what she used to wear, but her eyes were more determined. Fearless, as she hadn’t known any better. That was when he realized that she was new. She was the latest addition to the brothel. She had just been brought here to serve the military guys with her body just like the other girls here.

The fact that she was there meant only one thing.

“No.” Eren’s breathing tattered, his eyes largening in horror. “No. No.”

The new girl frowned at the sudden change in his behavior. “Hey, are you oka—” she ended up with a small yelp when Eren suddenly grabbed her wrist tightly with his fingers. It was starting to feel painful.

“Where is she?!” He screamed, shaking her forcefully.

“I don’t know what you’re—” She panicked, threatened by his presence. “Let me go! You’re hurting me!”

“The girl!” Fear in his voice, despair in his eyes, shivers in his fingertips. “The lady who was here—where is she?!”

The new girl saw the pleading look on his face and she realized that Eren never meant to hurt her. He was just desperate for an answer. “S-some soldiers took her away,” she stuttered. “Not long after I got here, just a few hours ago. I don’t know where they went.”

Fuck. “Did she say anything?”

“We didn’t get the chance to talk. I asked her where I was but she said she didn’t have much time to explain. She told me to write something for her but–”

“Write?” Eren’s harsh tone was reduced to a small whisper.

She nodded, turning her body to retrieve a small piece of paper that was hidden underneath the pillow. “She said I should give this to a guy named Eren Jaeger. I-is that you?”

Eren didn’t answer. With trembling hands, he snatched away the paper from her hand. He didn’t read it then. He didn’t have time. He needed to find her before it was too late.

So he ran. He ran until his lungs felt like fire blazing through his veins. He ran until his throat felt like ice daggers with every breath he took. He ran until he could see her once again.

Where are they taking her?

Is she still alive?

No, she is, he thought, his palms tightened until his fingers were drained from colors. She’s still alive.

But the sky was nothing but a dark void, sucking all of his hope and wish. The sun hadn’t come up—at least not in a couple of hours, and the night’s chills were seeping into his bones. Clouds of warm breath appeared from his lips. He ran through every barrack, he ran through every camp, sneaking into every forbidden chamber he could without being seen by the guards but it was hopeless. The whole site was quiet.

Frantic and worn out, he found his way back to the lake. His feet seemed to bring him back to his favorite place where he often spent hours escaping reality, sorting his thoughts out. And that was when he saw it.

A body. Cold, blue, and bare, without a layer of clothes covering her skin.

She laid there on the cold ground with her eyes closed but her throat open. Her hair was strewn around the edge of the lake, her face facing the starless sky. The paleness of her icy blue skin was a stark contrast to the crimson color of dried blood that appeared along her neck.

With all his energy leaving him at once, Eren fell to his knees and even the wolves grew quiet to the sound of his scream. His lungs were hurting as he wheezed, gasping violently, his sanity deteriorating. He had both palms pressed against the ground as he cried, shedding tears until there were no more left. It was the first time he ever understood how it truly felt like to lose someone. Losing Armin was one thing, but losing her…

He couldn’t breathe.

Pain. Just pain. Everything was pain.

Everything he remembered about her inflictedpain.

Everything he witnessed at that moment gavehim pain.

And anger.

They need to pay for this.

Before the break of dawn, Eren burned the Marleyan soldier’s campsites to the ground.

He lit his barrack on fire, making sure to seem like it was an accident. He acted clueless and innocent. The whole site was in chaos, and Eren stood on the side, pretending to be scared and shocked by the sudden fire that consumed everything like a starved demon, even when his lighter was still hot in his pocket. Even when his fingers were still soaked in gasoline.

He was out from the site before someone could suspect him and he fled to place small grenades along the fences. He blew them apart and the borders that separated the Eldians from the outside world disappeared.

“GO! NOW!” Eren shouted, waving his hand violently and the Eldians, though they still looked terrified, grabbed their belongings and ran for their lives. People were dashing through the fences, crossing the borders, and trying to find their way to freedom.

This was it. This was his revolution. His act of rebellion.

His act of humanity.

“Jean, you too, come on!” He yelled, beads of sweat breaking on his temple even when the coldness of the autumn breeze almost froze his bones. “Go!”

With shaky fingers and trembling knees, Jean raced forward.

“Come with me,” Jean begged, hand clutching around Eren’s wrist, his eyes quivering in panic. “Eren, run away with me.”

“I have to stay,” he firmly replied. “I need to hold back the guards. They must have heard the explosions. If they’re on their way here, I’m the only one who can buy us some time.”

“But you’ll get yourself killed—”

“There’s no other choice.”

“But—”

“Jean!” Eren grabbed the other man by the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward. “This is not the time to think! Don’t think about me. Don’t think about anyone else. Just focus on getting yourself safe. You understand me?”

Jean’s eyes were heavy with tears. “But Eren, y-you’ll—”

“I’ll live.” It was an empty promise, they both knew it but Eren’s smile was sincere when he released him. “Now, go. I’ll catch up with you. Promise me you’ll be safe.”

Jean nodded shakily. “Y-you too. Promise me.”

The soldier simply smiled again, letting his friend disappear under the faint glow of sunrise, knowing that this was going to be the first and the last betrayal Eren would do in his life.

“You can come out now,” Eren called, without even looking at the person who’d been watching him from the shadows. That figure soon approached him, with his guns hung freely on his back.

“You have a lot of guts, kid. I would’ve run away with those assholes if I were you,” Theo Magath said, throwing a wicked smile at the other man—the same one that used to send Eren trembling on his knees. But not anymore. Today, there was only resentment. There was only fury.

“You might want to hurry up, Commander.” Eren mocked his title. “Your prisoners are running away.”

Magath smiled wider, craning his neck a little. “You’ve changed a lot in these past few months. Is it because of that girl you loved? Too bad I didn’t let her say goodbye to you.”

Eren was rooted to the earth, struck dead by his words, his stomach twisting. The lake. Just how long had Magath known about it?He must have found out on his own but when? Did he follow him when he left to see Armin and Jean? Or was it from the start?

Eren’s blood ran cold. Magath threw her body there to spite him.

“Did you like the surprise?” Magath sneered. “I left her there so you two can enjoy the sunrise together. Consider me doing you a favor.”

It was a shot of adrenaline to his head that made Eren raise his gun to Magath’s head and pull the trigger before he could rethink his decision. All this time he was struggling not to kill. Tonight that was all he wanted. He wanted to avenge her death—to take his life just like he had taken hers.

One shot, loud enough to resemble thunder, then the rest is silence.

If only his hands were steadier.

A bullet hit Eren on the chest. He didn’t know precisely where, all he knew was that his entire body was screaming in agony. His knees buckled a second before he fell to the ground, dropping to his back as his breathing began to stutter.

“What did I say?” Magath said. Eren’s bullet grazed one of his shoulders, but it was far from lethal. Landing his foot on his bleeding chest, Magath bent down until all Eren’s lifeless eyes could see was his face. “Your kind values are the ones that are going to get you killed someday, Eren Jaeger.”

And when he left, Eren stared at the stratosphere above. The rising sun cast a rosy hue across the morning sky with no clouds in sight, but it resembled a painting, nonetheless. Ah, she would’ve loved this, he thought, smiling weakly to himself. And he wondered, since when did he become so alone? Three days ago, he had everything. Armin was alive. Jean was safe. She was in his arms. It might not be perfect, the world could’ve been kinder, but at least, she was. She was perfect. They had each other. They felt infinite in such a limited time.

Now he felt… cold. Everything felt cold. I’ve always hated the cold.

His lungs started to fail him. His fingers started to stop shaking. Blood was oozing from the wound. He could feel his heartbeat slowing. His death was nearing. Was he afraid? No. There was no fear. Only regret.

With weak, trembling fingers, he dispatched the small paper he kept in his pocket. If these were his last seconds to live, he wanted to dedicate them to the girl who owned his entire life. Because without her, his life would’ve never been worth a second to live.

Eren found out that it was a poem, one that she promised to write for him when she had her head on his shoulder and a beautiful smile on her lips.

With her name on the edge of his tongue, he began to read.

You know me like the earth

Where you were born and raised

With a handsome smile, I never got to face

You perceive me like the sea

You swallow my secrets in

And keep them inside, behind the exchange of our three words

You hear me like the wind

I was quiet

But you were my lullaby in the spring

A song I never get to sing

You touch me like the air

So faint, so light

What I dream of every night

What I crave in my days

You kiss me like summer

Lingering warm,

Wish it could last forever.

You hold me like the winter breeze

With cold fingers, dreading to see tomorrow

With warm breath, reminding me about life

And how each day is worth living for

I love you for eternity

Even when our days are numbered

Even when your promise crumble

Even when all you see is vain

Even if I’m not more than a bitter farewell

I will love you for eternity, Eren Jaeger

You are my life, my breath

My eternity

Eren closed his lids, feeling tears start to brim in his eyes but he kept them away from being shed. I will love you for eternity. He smiled as his breath left his lips and her name was the last thing he remembered.

You’re my eternity.

***

AN: Thank you so much for reading! I'm so sorry for giving you such a depressing story, but I hope you enjoyed it 😅Massive thanks to Sandra, Joli and Coi for beta-reading this for me. I love you, besties!

The poem that Eren read in the middle of the story is not written by me, but I can't find the source online. If you know about it, please let me know so I can properly give credits to the writer.

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