Chapter Text
“People don't learn anything unless they are afraid of being left behind, says the suitcase.” - Richard Siken
What a weird statement. How could a suitcase even talk? And why such a gloomy quote for such beautiful scenery? The colorful letters and holographic projection of palm trees carve themselves into Eren’s eyes. He closes them and shakes his head, but spots of sky blue, forest green, and cherry pink dance over his lids.
Cherry pink.
Rosy red.
Rivulets of crimson at the corner of lips.
A white-hot knife pierces Eren’s skull and slices his brain into tiny pieces. Nausea twists his stomach and seizes his throat. His knees almost buckle.
When the blade finally withdraws, exhaustion seeps through the gaping hole. If only he could walk into that billboard and rest on that sandy beach—Tropical Islands, the curved letters scream before being replaced by another flashing slogan. Don’t be the one left at home.
Home. Eren blinks. Where’s home? All around him, needle-like skyscrapers stab the dark sky. People recoil, stare, point their smartphones and other overpriced tech shit at him. Lifeless eye implants focus and record.
This isn’t home. It’s—
A voice whispers into his ear. He has to get moving. Has to find Levi. Won’t be able to confuse the pigs for much longer. Don’t pick a fight. Run.
So Eren runs, searing pain drilling into his forehead again and boiling anger rushing through his veins.
The early evening streets are busy. Buzzing. He cuts through waves of faceless bodies, kicking and punching when those meat sacks don’t step aside fast enough. Teeth shatter. His knuckles burn.
The buzz turns into yells, yells into sirens, and the little whisper grows harsher, carrying a sense of urgency.
Turn left, right—don’t go this way. Turn back. Go into the alley, quick.
Eren lets his strings be pulled. It’s easier. No need to think through the pain still pouring from his brain. No need to make sense of anything, not even of the rusty, metallic smell assaulting his nostrils or the sticky layer of filth covering his skin.
Another back alley between giant buildings closed in on him. The walls break into tears. Colors trickle down and form pools of rainbows across the barren pavement. Blind rage drowns in them without so much as a strangled gurgle.
Just a few meters. Just a few steps. Almost here. Press your palm against the biometric reader.
But Eren can’t. His legs give up. And with them, the barriers holding back his despair. Eyes full of misery, lungs full of pressure—if only Eren could breathe!
He just wants to rest. Why can’t he just rest? Curled up at the bottom of that steel door, the coldness against his forehead helps.
Ah! He topples across hard white tiles—the door opened! Light floods his vision, turning the world into an even bigger, blurry mess.
“Eren!” Warm palms cradle his tingling face. They’re a bit rough, a hint of calluses rubbing against his cheeks, but they’re familiar. Safe. Safe like home. “Eren, what happened? Were you at the restaurant? What did you take? Where’s—Eren, talk to me!”
“He can’t.”
Yeah. He can’t. Moving his lips. Forming words. It’s too much. Eren’s eyes flutter.
But leaning in? Burying himself in the crook of a neck? Getting drunk on the smell of soap and cologne to ward off the stench of rust clinging to his skin? Easy.
Strong arms slide under his legs and his back to carry him like he weighs nothing more than a leaf. To where? Does it matter? As long as he isn’t left behind—as long as Levi is with him.
Levi.
Eren mutters the name, lets it roll over his tongue. Black tar and syrup, blood and sugar.
“I’m here, baby. I’m here.”
A hospital bed reaches up to embrace him. Or is he lowered? Levi leans over, forehead creased. Why does he look so worried? Did Eren do something wrong? His lashes flutter once more. No. It can’t be. Not with the way Levi strokes his cheek like he’s the most precious person in his world.
And Eren is, isn’t he? A small smile slips onto his face as his head lolls further into Levi’s grasp. Home.
“We managed to block his rage before he could hurt more civilians.” Hange? They must be somewhere in the room, but Eren doesn’t have the energy to turn his head. Nor can he ask what they mean by ‘more’.
“I have to clean him.” There’s a weird tremor in Levi’s voice.
“No time for that. ” Moblit. Invisible as usual, yet always present. The voice that guided him here sounded like him, didn’t it? Eren furrows his brows, eyes closed. Why can’t he focus? “The cops have gathered at the restaurant, but it won’t take long before they swarm the whole area and block the streets.”
“Erwin—”
“Forget it. People recorded Eren tearing his way through the city. It’s too much footage to erase, even for me. They’ll hunt him down. He’s gotta get out. Actually out. Paradis may not be safe enough anymore. The cops are between you and the tunnel, anyway. It’s too risky. ”
What is Moblit saying? Eyes reopening, Eren stares at the ceiling, trying to find the invisible. From one corner, a camera lens circled in green stares back at him. A black dome, like Paradis under the ocean. “I wanna go home.”
“You can’t.” Hange’s voice slices like a knife. Eren winces, then turns to Levi, searching his gaze. Reassurance.
It’s getting harder to breathe. The air is heavy, sticky. Sticky like his skin. Sticky like—Eren gulps. Grips the sheet. Claws at them.
Hands closing around someone’s neck. Eren crushes, crushes, crushes, until … until what?
“Levi, what happened? Tell me what happened!” He tries to sit up, but his body doesn’t belong to him anymore. Eren can’t move.
And Levi doesn’t answer. Maybe he has no clue himself, and maybe that’s why he straightens up and rushes hands through his hair. For a second, he looks like he’s about to pace across the room. Or kick something out of frustration. He doesn’t, though. Steely eyes lock with Eren’s again. “Let’s ponder what happened later. We need to get you out of town.”
Out of town? Away from home?
No, no, no! Eren doesn’t want to leave. He wants to get home! He wants to pet Earl and Grey. Feed Leviathan. Scroll social media for car race videos. Teach Laura how to fight and start a real one with Kenny. Cook for his family. Fall asleep in Levi’s arms. In their bed. Naked skin against naked skin.
Coming here was a huge mistake. Moblit tricked him.
Eren tries to get up again. He has to run away! It’s the only sane thing left to do.
But hands force him back against the mattress and keep him pinned there, even as he thrashes, kicks, and bites. Rust clogs his mouth, sticks to his tongue. Voices yell at him. Yell at each other. Then—
Nothing. No fear. No anger.
Absolutely nothing, except the pain squeezing his head like someone wants to extract all his brain juice. What’s happening?
Eren pants, eyes fixed on the white ceiling. A familiar face looms over him. Not Levi, this time. Bertolt. Lips tight, eyes concerned. His hands still press Eren’s shoulders against the bed. But they eventually release him.
A hiss steals Eren’s attention away—Reiner touches the skin of his own wrist. Red indentations ooze droplets of blood. Gauze covers the back of his neck.
Med-port. An echo from days ago. A conversation overheard on the rooftop of Maman Jean’s restaurant during a small gathering, one of the many they had since their families started working together a year ago. Reiner caved and accepted getting a modified med-port, though Bertolt wasn’t really thrilled with the whole idea. An appointment had been made at Hange’s clinic in Utopia. For this evening.
Eren’s at Hange’s clinic, where the wealthy come to get their problems fixed with Onirie.
Still not home.
His eyes sting.
“What have you done to him?” Bertolt isn’t talking to Eren.
Behind him, Hange responds. “His cortisol level was way too high, so I rebalanced his hormones. He’ll be fine. Told you I could do that, Bertl. Sure you don’t want me to help with your little problem after I’m done with your boyfriend?” Hange sounds a bit too excited. Why? What problem? Why is this about someone else, and where is Levi?
“No.” Bertolt pulls out his phone and steps away to text. Who? Armin and Mikasa? Jean?
Ah, Levi leans over Eren, one hand cupping his cheek, the other petting his hair. “Can you walk?”
Can he? It’s almost impossible to even keep his eyes open … Eren scoots a bit upward, then bends his knees and wriggles his toes experimentally. Levi’s gaze doesn’t leave him until he finally sits on the edge of the bed and pushes himself off it.
Heavy combat boots connect with the tiled floor. And Eren’s limbs fail him again. It’s almost funny, his long body folding like freshly cooked pasta, except Eren is a mess, nothing makes sense, and no one is laughing. Levi’s arms catch him before he crashes onto the floor. At least there’s that.
“Last time we had to wrestle him, he was high on Attack Titan,” Reiner mumbles from behind them. “It was …” He clears his throat. “You know when it was, sir.” And at that, Levi’s Adam’s apple bobs.
Eren squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face against Levi’s chest, breathing hard.
He didn’t take drugs, let alone Attack Titan. He would never. He’s been clean for over a year. Eren shakes his head. Levi has to believe him! He was good. Eren would never. Not again.
But he also can’t remember what happened.
Fuck, he can’t!
When Eren tries to peer into his memories, sinking darkness stares back at him.
Eren clings to Levi. And, for a few precious seconds, Levi clings back to him. But he eventually pulls away, creases and red stains on his white shirt—they weren’t there before, were they? Is he hurt?
“The media already released a red notice against Eren. Looks like the government had it ready to go. Erwin sent units to block the streets and highways to Mitras as a diversion, but it won’t be long before—”
“I KNOW! I FUCKING KNOW!”
Eren winces. The walls themselves seem to cower before Levi’s wrath.
“All I’m saying is that there’s only so much we can do!” Moblit snaps back.
Levi runs a hand over his face. “Fuck … Alright. Let’s get moving.”
“Home?” Eren mutters, throat constricting. Please let it be home. Please let them find a way, even though he can’t seem to think.
“Not yet, Eren. Not yet.”
A sob settles in his soul. “When?”
“Soon.” But Levi barely spares him a glance as he wraps his fingers around Eren’s elbow. The gentleness that kept slipping into his eyes beforehand melts away as Levi puts his game face on.
So, this is real? Tears gather in Eren’s eyes, his vision turning once again into a blurry mess. But the suffocating wave of sadness dulls to a small pang prickling his heart, then, like the memories, fades into the blackness in the deep corners of his mind. Soon, warmth grows in Eren’s chest. It fills the cavity left by his despair before spreading through his body. His head still swims and putting one foot in front of the other to follow Levi out of the room is a struggle, but—why did he get so worked up, again?
“Where are we going?” Eren hears himself say as they walk down the hallway.
“Out of Jena.”
“Like a date?”
Levi doesn’t immediately answer, so Eren flicks his gaze to the rooms they pass by. Empty. Maybe Reiner was the last patient of the day. “Yeah. Like a date …”
“Do you need an escort, sir?” Bertolt asks from behind them.
“No. Take Hange to safety, just in case someone saw Eren come here.”
“I’ll send you an escape route to the Kirsteins’ restaurant. I have one ready for you, too, Levi. Marco is waiting at the front. Don’t worry, I’ve already caused disturbances in the street camera network. I’m just not sure yet where to send you once you leave Jena.”
Bertolt’s steps fade. Eren glances over his shoulder but only catches his friend’s shadow as he disappears back into the room they came from. The door closes.
Alone.
He’s alone with Levi. If his blood wasn’t pulsing so hard against his temples, Eren would push his lover against the reception desk and claim his lips. But the euphoria popping in his chest like a bag of corn in a microwave isn’t strong enough to combat his headache.
A gust of fresh wind whips Eren’s face when they step outside. Multicolor lights pouring from a billboard reflect from the expensive black car parked along the sidewalk. Above them, people with shining teeth and perfect skin boast about some dating website offering DNA screening. Only pure Jenensers with perfect social credit scores allowed. Boring. Ridiculous. Who wants that?
The car door opens for them—Marco stands next to it, gloved hand still clutching the handle. Red illuminates his skin and hair as the billboard switches to a different advertisement for lonely hearts.
Red.
The floor was covered in red too when Eren was done at the restaurant. But done with what? Or with … who? And when did it happen? Now? Or years ago?
Clenching his teeth, Eren presses a palm against his face. But he doesn’t get time to shake off the stabbing pain, nor to swallow the bile burning in his throat.
Levi pushes him into the leather backseat, then follows. While he settles, Eren holds his forehead against the cold car window. Nice.
Going on a date with Levi is always nice. Eren smiles.
The door slams. Marco starts the engine as soon as he’s back behind the wheel. The smart windshield springs to life. With one swift gesture, Marco only keeps a small map visible, turning off any other notifications. Including the ones stating Jean tried to call him several times during the last few minutes.
How strange. Not for Jean to be harassing his boyfriend. He’s always been an overbearing asshole. But for Marco to brush him off.
Eren frowns, but for only a second. As Marco slowly drives them down the busy street, another holographic billboard catches his attention. Endless sand dunes kiss the horizon. Promises of an unforgettable adventure float in the air.
It makes Eren’s blood pump again. He turns to Levi and points at the ads. “Are we going there?”
Levi barely raises his eyes from the phone he clutches. Oh. He’s probably booking a hotel. “We’re going as far as we can.”
