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“They use these hook thingies and some kind of weird-looking pack on their backs to carry themselves through the air—oh, and sometimes they bring these super sick swords with them too!” Quips a snot-nosed delinquent waving his hand in slashing motions; the rowdy tag of children listening in on the story letting out either scoffs or gasps within Levi’s earshot.
It was then, hiding in the gutters with a torn chunk of bread in his teeth at ten, that Levi first learned of the maneuver gear. At first, the notion sounded ridiculous to him. How could humans fly? Even if they could, it was only a matter of time before they reached the enormous clump of rock trapping their polluted city inside, a barrier between them and the untouchable sky he’d dream about when settling onto his thin cot.
Naturally, he was amazed when he’d taken in the hypnotic sight himself. The grace and reckless precision of the flying bodies, the bodies that he so desperately wanted to throw his knife into for the fluctuating economy of their piss-poor excuse of a community.
In-between his solo heists, he would glance up out of habit, watching as those MP bastards shot up to the surface with bags of coins and other stuff they didn’t deserve jiggling at their sides. The envy, resentment, and a flicker of…awe swirling inside of him.
Perhaps…if he could have that apparatus for himself, he wouldn’t have to worry about hands and feet clutching and tripping him over as he sprinted for the nearest hole to crawl in after a one-on-one brawl. He’d heard of residents’ several attempts at trying to cinch in the gear for themselves, none of which have succeeded.
It was at a time like this that Levi prided himself on his speed.
And so, at the age of twelve, Levi took the liberty of stealing the gear for himself. It cost him a bloodied cut lip and scraped knees, but what mattered was that he’d chopped the fucker down hard enough to remove himself from his memory.
He’d treated his prize as a wonder and a curse. It took him a day bunched with grunted swears to figure out how to wear the thing, and two weeks to fully familiarize himself with the mechanics, earning him sprained joints, bruised muscles…even a vomiting episode from all the falling and backlash his body suffered.
Soon, he was a street rat who’d stolen wings that didn’t belong to him. His stock-ups were faster; his escapes less desperate; he had more control over the offensive lurkers down below, screaming at how unfair everything was.
For the first time, Levi felt like a true rebel. He’d ascended the deepest pits of hell; if he could, he would fly through the toxic air until he died of exhaustion and lack of oxygen, anything to keep him from landing again on this shitpile of an environment.
But that was all before he met Farlan and Isabel.
“It’s more of an excuse for a dare,” Farlan would drawl. With the gear, they accomplished things they never thought were possible, making names for themselves and living in whatever better conditions there were to have.
“We’re just like birds!” Isabel would exclaim. They flew past buildings without giving a care in the world, gravity doing it’s magic and drowning out the misery down below.
It was when Levi first sensed it. Freedom. It was small, but it simmered beneath him, akin to the slivers of light that would dance on his skin when he came to the spot on the high-rise where the sun could bathe him in warmth.
He wondered what it would be like in the outside world. Perhaps it would be heavenly.
How wrong he’d been.
Instead it was a different kind of hell. Instead of using his newfound wings to fly above the cruelty of the underground, he now had to take even sharper and faster twists and turns, all to keep himself from facing the maw of a Titan. Deep down, the panic was buried in his heart. He couldn’t fly much further. He was but a chained bird whose only goal was to survive and watch as the unlucky ones failed to do just that.
Maybe freedom was just a myth.
“I’m heading out,” Levi says post-meeting, twirling his cloak onto broad shoulders. He walks along headquarters with purpose but he doesn’t have a destination in mind. All he knows is that the comforting view of a forest will do. He chances upon castles of strong oak, their enormous trunks cast in the ethereal glow from the gentle sunset, more majestic than the citadels encrusted with fake junk in Wall Sina. Levi places a palm on the rough bark of the tree nearest him, finding ease in its stability. Clicking the handles into place, he prepares to propel himself forward—
Whoosh.
There’s a hiss of gas and the clink of a grappling hook digging into hard wood, and the unexpected sight that rushes past stops Levi in his ministrations.
Levi stares, still and entranced, as Eren Jaeger swoops down to circle swiftly around two to three trunks, his taut body wrought with tension but smoothed over with an elegance Levi had never seen him possess.
The boy allows himself to hover precariously among the branches before dropping down at an alarming pace, saving himself from being splattered on the forest floor by using his hooks at the last minute to sharply send his body in another direction, only to change course and perform a triple flip while in mid-air, speedy and wild.
Whoosh.
There are no techniques applied; no choreographed sequences instilled in his movements; no rushed escape. There’s only pure instinct and the danger of flight. Eren’s relaxed but determined face as he twirls around amidst the blanket of leaves and branches like a mythical forest deity says it all.
Eren didn’t steal his own wings. He deserved them. They sprouted from his lean, strong shoulders, perfectly crafted on his body. His hair and eyes catch gold from the sunset, cloak flapping behind him. Levi would have mistaken him for an angel, one that fell and rose, forming an aimless and yet sacred dance of his own.
If the trunk hadn’t been by his side, Levi would have fallen to his knees. He leans against it, arms crossed; he’s the secret audience of a breath-taking display, one that will hopefully be only for him to enjoy.
It’s when Eren finally plops down onto the soft ground, hunching over and catching his breath, that Levi breaks himself from his trance and speaks aloud. “I hope to Maria you’ve registered permission for your increase in gas supply.”
Eren turns his neck so sharply that Levi is amazed he hasn’t heard a crack. “Captain Levi!” He salutes, losing the sluggish air about him and moving into the proper posture. “Have you been here this whole time?”
Levi pushes himself off the trunk, stepping into the shade. “Long enough to see you flailing around like a wild goose.”
Eren looks down. “Ah, it was supposed to be training but then…” He directs his gaze upward, smiling fondly at the intersecting canopy of dark green and brown. “I found that it’s good for relieving stress. Nothing routine.”
“I see,” Levi says, scrutinising Eren from head to toe. He hasn’t got his military jacket on so Levi can clearly see the bunched muscle glistened by the sweat on his forearms. Normally he would've been grossed out by such a sight. But with Eren, some things—or all things—seemed to be an exception.
“Would you, um…” Eren says as he starts fidgeting. “…like to join me? Levi’s face remains blank. “I-I mean to fly and stuff...” Levi does a once-over on Eren’s condition. He’s still slightly out of breath.
“No, I obviously came all this way to take a piss.”
Eren clamps his mouth shut; he’s trying not to laugh.
Levi sighs. “Besides, it looks like you need a break.”
“It’s fine!” Eren breathes deeply and squares his shoulders, stretching each limb to enunciate his point. “After all, I—” he stops, and Levi tilts his head curiously at the tint of pink on the boy’s cheeks. He gulps and continues. “I’ve always wanted to see you fly up close. I can also learn more just from watching how you do it.” Eren is unconsciously gesturing with his hands as he says these things, “How you’re being carried by the wind itself.”
He always admired Eren’s diligence.
“Tch, you really are my biggest fan,” Levi rolls his eyes but walks closer, a hand on his hip. “Sure you can keep up, kid?” he says, pride surging up a little at seeing Eren’s awestruck expression. It’s weird how he doesn’t find as much annoyance in it as he does with his other countless admirers.
“Is that a challenge, Captain?” The kid is trying to sound respectful but the slight competitive drawl gives it away.
“You’re the one who fucking invited me, didn’t you?” Levi surveys the forest, calculating the physics in his mind. “Unless this is some kind of date?”
“No, sir!” Eren replies too abruptly, shifting to nervous laughter within seconds. “Well, when you put it like that…” He finally registers that they’re the only two hanging out in the small clearing and any sapless romantic passing by would infer as such.
Levi walks past Eren, but not before placing a few pats on his back. “Relax, I was joking. Toilet humour isn’t my only forte.”
Eren chuckles, turning and rubbing at his arm. “Then I’m up for it.”
Whether it’s the challenge or the date, Levi doesn’t know. Either way, he can’t help shuddering at Eren’s set jaw and his body refining itself into position with raw prowess. He will either impress him or fail at it, and Levi knows it will be the former.
Levi doesn’t give Eren further warning and shoots through the air, quick as a bullet. The wind howling in his ears doesn’t erase the resounding hiss that follows and Levi surmises that Eren is attempting to read his movements while trying to match his speed.
Whoosh.
He fucks with the brat’s focus a little, giving him false leads by curving unexpectedly around and in between narrower trees; dipping down suddenly when making it look like he’d try to swerve skyward; leaping over the branches with his two feet only to stop on one and fall backwards, catching Eren off guard and almost face-planting against a tree.
“Too slow!” Levi shouts.
“Watch me!” Eren shouts back, though his eyes have a happier glint to them now. Levi wishes he could see more of that.
Whoosh.
No matter how difficult he’s being, Eren doesn’t give up trying to go neck-to-neck with him. At the same time, he’s losing himself to the sensations, spreading his arms and closing his eyes as he whirls and whirls and whirls, to the point where he’s soon spinning in circles around Levi by the time the sun is just barely peeking out on the mountaintop.
Levi doesn’t even realize he’s doing the same thing until he’s somewhat face to face with Eren; together, they glide in circular motions in an almost synchronized fashion, with only the trees and wind-whipped leaves temporarily blocking their view of the other. The orange light plays tricks on Levi’s eyes as it embraces Eren, and he’s witnessed something beautiful. It’s unlikely, but he wonders if he looks that way to Eren as well.
Whoosh.
They probably look ridiculous like this; wasting gas; circling and swirling around each other like they’re in some kind of weird, mating ritual. But it brings Levi excitement to know that he’s sharing the adrenaline rush of the gear with someone without having to be on the dirty streets or the suicidal battlefield beyond the walls, if only for a moment.
There’s no panicked urgency in their movements. There’s something else brought on by this weightlessness that accumulated in this spontaneous and strangely intimate dance of theirs. Exhilaration. Fun.
Freedom.
It gets dark. Levi signals for Eren’s attention and puts a stop to their impromptu training by swinging towards him, grabbing him and using the momentum to land them both on a big, sturdy branch. They’re close, sweating profusely, and their breaths are ragged. Levi supports Eren with one arm and the younger composes himself by placing a hand on his captain’s chest. Levi curses whatever gods are lurking up in the clouds that it’s where his rapidly beating heart is, even if Eren can correctly assume that it’s from their long, flying session.
“Satisfied?” Levi huffs out, still not letting go of Eren. He’s gonna need a lot of beauty rest after this.
“Better than I expected,” Eren whispers, looking up from his long lashes. He’s gorgeous even when his hair is all wet and fussed up. The heat from Levi’s body spikes up, internalising their physical contact. “You’re amazing, Captain.”
Their faces are inches apart; If he wanted, Levi can close the gap, claim those parted lips, and melt together with him right there, but he doesn’t want to risk them falling to their deaths from the exhausted state they’re in. Speaking of, Eren is in much need of rest. And he’s always been shit at receiving compliments anyway so he forces out a small ‘thank you,’ turning his head away lest Eren see the furious blush on his cheeks.
“Let’s go back.”
“Yeah,” They let go of each other, and with that Eren’s warmth is gone, but Levi is willing to give him space.
“Thank you. I had a lot of fun tonight, since I wasn’t alone.” Eren beams at him after they’ve drunk from their canteens, now walking the path leading to their current base. Levi simply nods, heart racing for a reason other than the aftermath of their flight.
Me too.