Chapter Text
THE LAST REGRET (ARC 1)
Eren wanted to scream.
Eren all but kicked the door down in his haste to find some reprieve away from the meeting room, where calls of his name were still echoing. He was no longer listening. He told himself he wasn’t fleeing but it felt a lot like he was, especially when he hastened his steps, ears pricking at the faintest sound. He didn’t want to be followed. He didn’t want to be seen, not like this. Hate whorled inside of him, a storm without an outlet. Instead, it was left to sit and fester, rotting inside a heart already well-blackened, full of holes. Perfect. Well, it belonged there.
Eren Jaeger had never hated anything more than he hated himself.
Not even the Titans, not even the Marleyans.
On a more humorous note, he had never even felt an ire this deep for Jean ‘horseface’ Kirstein himself.
Eren lived an awful, cursed life. Cursed by his biology, his gender - his very fucking body was a traitor, every last cell, and that’s not even to mention the rotten soul that sat inside. It was the gift that just kept on giving, the knife that he just couldn’t draw out of his back, which only gouged him further whenever he tried.
Eren’s body had been his enemy three years ago, until it became a weapon he had molded to his satisfaction. And now it had betrayed him, once again, like he was a living Judas Iscariot who was a masochist out for his own blood. Anything to make himself suffer dearer, right?
Eren couldn’t help but think, feeling rarely vindicated by his own self-pity - hadn’t he suffered enough? His body had always just been wrong. It had never been right, or even tolerable, his skin had always felt like a trap stretched taut over his bones. Eren knew he was naught more than a vessel waiting to rot but he already felt dead on the inside, constantly clawing away at something he couldn’t escape from. This flesh prison of his had had three chances to get it right and had failed every single time. Third time is not, in fact, the charm.
Eren had dealt with it, being that there was nothing else he could do but grit his teeth and bear it.
First it had been that his mind had been trapped in the skin of a female. Eren had grown up soft-edged and tenderly seething, the wrongness of it all a hot pit that burned low in his gut, that would not abate. He had grown ravenous with dissatisfaction, with anger, with hate. It was a well-kept secret that savaging his hand had not been his first attempt at mutilation. For as long as he could remember, Eren had desired freedom, unadulterated and pure, and yet, that could not coexist with the flesh that wrapped around his bones, slowly strangling the life from him day after day.
But Eren had dealt with that, as miserable as it had been. He’d cut his hair short as soon as he had been old enough to hold scissors - much to his mother’s horror, when he’d accidentally nicked his cheek. He’d trained his voice, learned how to bind his chest, had some ill-fated encounters with rolled-up socks shoved down his pants, but at fifteen he’d figured it out, more or less. Darkly, Eren mused at least his father had been good for one thing; since he was small Eren had emulated his father’s mannerisms. What a double-edged blade - probably why he was so fucked up now. Yes, Grisha had imparted upon his son more than just some ancient curse.
An ancient curse Eren had been in possession of since the beginning of time, puppeteering his father before he was even conceived.
Blame was easier than self-recrimination. It was his father’s fault he was born in the wrong body, his father’s fault that body had twisted and deformed into a monstrous abomination, his father’s fault that he was doomed to die, and that he had nearly dragged everyone down this road to hell with him.
But no matter what, no matter how he was perceived by those around him, Eren was still forced to look at himself in the mirror, so he had cracked the one hung inside of his bathroom, letting the shards line the floor around his feet like fallen stars, all who had failed him. These disgusting deformities, these abnormalities, were a certain malady he could not fix.
And then, as if Eren hadn’t already despised this loathsome body enough, it had gained the horrific power to revert into it’s true form: a fifteen meter tall Titan, a devil’s corpse . Yes, that had been just wonderful for his self-esteem. The only solace Eren had taken in that was that his Titan form was blatantly male and, in a cruel twist of life, fate, whatever, he only felt truly comfortable in his skin as a flesh-eating beast.
Figures.
Connie had tried to cheer him up, once, “Hey, it could be worse. You could have fucking jugs like Annie’s Titan. I mean - how does she even fight with those things? And I know she’s a Titan but is it so wrong that when I see her, I kinda think it’s-”
Yeah. It could always be worse, Eren scoffed.
Eren had, somewhat, adapted to his Titan shifting abilities much easier than he had anything else. Was it disconcerting, no, terrifying to take on the form of the very thing he vowed to eradicate? No doubt. It was wrong, to look like a Titan, feel like a Titan, to wear its beastly skin. Eren hated such things only meant to poison him from the inside out. Ruination was his birthright and he had been forced to brand it on skin that was ever-healing, the scars only able to be felt in his bones. His inner shame, to himself, felt so painfully obvious but he had to pretend as if it was not. He’d always been a pretender, hadn’t he? It had only taken a single kiss for him to truly realize such a thing was the only truth he had ever known.
A single kiss bestowed upon the hand of the worst girl in the world, a hand which had once freed him from the shackles in which he was enchained. Eren couldn’t help but look back at that memory with a frightening, vehement malice - though for who, he couldn’t say.
That malice nearly overwhelmed him now, turning his footsteps into stomps and his hands into fists as retreated across the grass, towards a lone tree swaying in the breeze. Eren thought about hitting it. Violence was always what he returned to, in the end. Violence was always what soothed him, when the blood screaming in his wretched veins reached a pitch too loud.
Now, Eren was destined to present as an omega.
A fucking omega.
Eren laughed, a bitter, brutalizing sound, bereft any trace of humor. It was so disgustingly unfunny, a mockery to everything he had tried to make of himself. For years, as long as he had remembered, Eren had hoped to present as an Alpha, just as his father, and his father before him. No one was truly respected in this world unless they were an alpha, and with all of his wrath, all of that stubborn, arrogant strength, he was confident he was to become one of the elites.
It hadn’t happened. Normally, secondary genders presented themselves in females who were thirteen-sixteen, and in males twelve-fifteen. By the time the sun had risen on his fifteenth birthday and his scent still hadn’t defined itself, Eren assumed he was a beta. Which - was not the best thing, but not the worst, either. Of course, Eren had been disappointed at first, but ultimately he had accepted it. It was better than being an omega, because, at least, betas were still seen as something other than pup-birthing machines.
He was still Eren Jaeger, owner of the Founding and the Attack Titan, and that made him powerful. Inviolate - well, as inviolate as a man with a death date could be. Still, Eren Jaeger was still someone who was strong.
Until a week ago, during experiments, when only moments before transforming blood had begun a steady drip from his nose - which usually only happened after he’d been pulled from the steaming remains of his carcass. It had been suffocating. He had felt, like he’d dreamt of so many times, that he’d drown in his own blood. Soon after Eren had passed out there on the grass, unconscious for a few good hours. Still, it wasn’t the longest Eren had been unconscious, and the experiments and tests Hanji had been running had been more arduous than they normally were, so there had no need for panic, at first. Eren’s Titan experiments had always taken quite a physical toll.
Then, Hanji had done his routine physical. They’d taken his blood, as they always did once a month, but this time when the results had come back a soft, confused frown had marred their face. They took more blood. Ran more tests. Slowly, but surely, that faint frown of confusion had morphed into an expression of apprehension, then horror - and finally, dark, delighted intrigue.
Eren was not only a Titan, an abhorrent desecration of flesh and blood, but an omega late to bloom as well. He was practically their wet dream.
Even before Hanji had sat down to tell him, with Mikasa fiercely gripping his hand, he had smelled it. Eren had smelled it on himself. Like musky, sweet poison, deadly nightshade. It had pervaded his nostrils and overwhelmed his senses, filling his skull until it hung heavy and he sat, head bowed, a man awaiting the noose. He had just somehow known.
Not only because of the sudden stares, because everyone’s fucking eyes were always on him these days, searing and flaying, trying to strip away the paper-thin facade of Eren Jaeger. But when he thinks of the reason for those gazes, when he recalls their hunger, the way that they pinned him like a butterfly again a wall, he can’t help but feel sick. Or maybe that’s the oncoming fever that’s already begun to writhe like maggots beneath his skin.
This will ruin him. Devitalize and destroy him, more than he already had been.
And just when Eren thought nothing could hurt him, anymore.
Realistically, it shouldn't. His flesh should have been numbed, his heart long ago turned to stone. After all, Eren had long ago learned that just because his skin was inviolate did not mean his soul was invulnerable. Oh, that lesson had been hammered into him like nails. It stuck in his skull, his father’s black and white memories, overlaid with a film of disenchantment and bitter disappointment with the filthy world they lived in.
A world Eren was destined to destroy.
A world that now, might live on, having mercifully escaped the scar he planned to scourge upon the land.
See, because if it wasn’t presenting as an omega that had ravaged his fraying strands of sanity, it was the fact that the timing for it couldn’t have been worse.
They were meant to leave for Marley in five days.
Eren was meant to leave for Marley in five days. He was meant to take refuge in enemy lands for a year, in five days.
His heat would hit in three days and, at best, last a week. And that’s if he was lucky, which, if one was to judge by past events, it would look that Eren Jaeger was fucked in every conceivable way at this juncture in time. His fingernails dug into the soft meat of his palm as he dug his heels into the dirt, screaming inside of his mind.
Eren had heard that first-time heats for omegas truly ravaged them. It was said to be even more excruciating than childbirth, and some ill-equipped, stupid omegas had even died from first-time heats. Danger came presented in a fun variety of factors. Not enough food or water, too much stress, too few blankets to build a nest - hell, if the sun was too hot, omegas could just keel over from heatstroke.
Omegas were so weak. Eren sneered to himself, mentally self-flagellating as he sibilated in repetition this edict of self-blame, self- hate, because he was so weak, so frail, so utterly detestable.
A majority of the time, omegas died during their first heat due to the lack of a mate. Not always, if they were particularly adept at taking care of themselves they could maybe survive, but lone heats were only made that much more unbearable.
Eren would rather just die. He would rather just suffer. Isn’t that always the path he took when given the choice? Eren’s only choice in life was that he could turn the blade he held in his shaking hand on himself or others, anyone unfortunate enough to be within reach. Oftentimes, everyone left the clearing covered in incarnadine regrets. Eren tore through himself and then ripped off pieces of others in a cruel delusion to once again feel whole and fuck, they all had too much skin anyway, he was only taking the extra fat, inconsequential parts, tumors that would spread nothing but black death, what was the harm in that? It was an exercise in futility, to even attempt to mitigate damage that could not possibly be undone. But maybe, sometimes Eren thought, that was the point.
Hate had a way of bleeding worse than any fatal wound.
But Eren had been told in no uncertain terms that because of who he was - an asset, a weapon, a symbol of hope - he could not die. They would not risk it. They would not sanction his solace. Of course, they would not. Eren was revived from the brink of death every time only to give more of himself. It was unfortunate, they soothed with serpentine tongues and insincere sympathy, but it was a necessary sacrifice they would have to make. He would have to make. No one knew exactly why it had taken until he was eighteen years of age to present. Hanji surmised it was most likely due to his Titan shifting abilities, it had warped his chemistry, somehow. That must be it.
After all, Reiner and Bertolt and Annie had all been Alphas. When he had caught Zeke’s scent, and the Cart Titan’s, they had been Alphas. And even Armin was a beta - he had been before he transformed, and it hadn’t affected him in the slightest.
Rotten luck was indeed what it was.
Eren almost wished he had been turned when he was five, so that at least the curse would smite him from this cosmic chessboard and he wouldn’t have to go through this new unique humiliation.
It had been agreed, unanimously, by all of the old, slavering alphas in the room, that Eren could not die. This was a mercy. A pardon from his cruel fate. An alpha would simply have to assist him. That’s all there was to it.
Once again, all Eren could do was lie back and close his eyes, and feel as the cruelty of the world assaulted him in a million different ways.
It was just that, this time, the claws rasping against his skin would be entirely too real.
Eren leaned against the tree, the anger suddenly having been bled from him, only to be replaced with something worse: numbness. It was a grey, unfeeling sludge sluggishly crawling through his veins. Suddenly, it was all too much. He had been hollowed out. He is insensate, his incandescent rage burned up, now simply embers that twisted in his gut, anger that burned feebly but offered no warmth. Anger for the sake of it, nothing more. Anger anesthetized by yet another horrifying inevitability.
An alpha had to help Eren, because he couldn’t help himself.
Even now, still, Eren wasn’t strong enough.
Yet again, he was weak. Powerless.
Vulnerable.
Flayed, trembling prey caught in the maw of a bigger beast.
Eren's eyes flicked down, only to find his shaking hands. Stupid. He bit his lip, squeezing his desecrated eyes shut. Only that never helped. The darkness never helped, and that wasn’t even what Eren was most afraid of.
It was the flashes of divine, hellish light, revealing bloodied, horrific visions of a million futures, all of them writhing in the palms of his tremulous hands. Hands marred by teeth, knives, a single kiss.
Hands that held all of the power in the world, and nothing at all.
Without thinking anything of it, Eren’s teeth sank in. He worried at the juncture between his forefinger and thumb, heart racing, blood pounding in his ears. But God, his teeth weren’t sharp enough. It was a petty distraction. Desperation at its ugliest laid bare. He wanted - he needed to taste blood.
“What are you doing?”
A low, dark voice cut Eren out of his musings like a blade rended through flesh. That voice was heart-stoppingly familiar. As was the iron grip around his wrist. Slowly, more out of reluctance than any lingering delirium, Eren’s eyes fluttered open to snag upon piercing, ice-river greys.
“Just…calming myself down,” Eren said, his voice liquid-smooth and entirely too uninhibited to hold anything like truth. Clearly, Captain Levi saw straight through his act as if it were draped in nothing more than gossamer silks. But Eren didn’t know what else to say. What else to do.
“By mutilating yourself?” Captain Levi asked dryly, and though his voice held no inflection of anger or rebuke, Eren still bristled anyway.
“I wasn’t going to turn,” Eren’s voice was quiet, but a snap nonetheless. Levi’s eyes hardened.
“I didn’t say you were,” Levi retorted, finally dropping his hand. “Come up with a better coping mechanism. Or better yet, grow up. You’re a little too old to be throwing temper tantrums
And just like that, those vile embers of fury withered like cinders. Eren’s hands fell loosely to his side. He was a puppet with his strings cut, unmoored. In the face of his Captain’s cold, calm poise, his anger was utterly extinguished. It settled into something heavier, moodier, almost - horrifyingly - petulant. Eren turned his eyes away, unwilling to be seen.
Because when he looked at Levi, Eren wished for the thousandth time that he could project such stolidity so easily, so effortlessly. Even if with age he had come to realize this infallible man who was god-like in his eyes was still only just that, a man, Eren’s admiration never really wavered much. Even if Eren knew Levi felt things the same as everyone else - perhaps sometimes, even more so - he never let his emotions overwhelm him. Not like Eren.
Typical, because he was an alpha, and also, humanity’s strongest. Eren was only humanity’s hope. A naive, futile little thing, a star slowly dying. Utterly, unforgivably weak in the face of cruel inhumanity, which was all this dying body of his had to give.
“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” Eren muttered, well aware that his voice was nothing short of whiny. He tried to clear his throat. “So, I’m not even allowed to be upset?”
“Over this? No, you’ve gone through worse.”
“Doesn’t it all just keep getting worse?” Eren asked before he could quite help it. A scent was wrapping around him, cool and light, like mountain mist, sunrise, the first taste of untainted, unhindered air, unchained from the oppressiveness of the towering walls. Eren scowled, breathing shallowly through his mouth. He had been so sensitive to scents as of late.
Levi wouldn’t get it. He, of course, was an alpha. For Levi to be anything else was laughable. Of course humanity’s strongest was an alpha, the strongest alpha, the fiercest, most courageous soul. Levi was the very definition of an alpha - he certainly would never even have an inkling of what it was like to be a piteous, pathetic weakling. Eren felt his spine instinctively straighten, as it so often did in Levi’s presence. He may have physically been taller but Levi’s shadow so often enveloped his. And now, more than ever, Eren felt like nothing more than some tender, soft thing, a bright-eyed bunny staring enviously up at a sparkling mountain peak whose heights he would never be able to reach.
Eren had looked upon this man reverently as a boy, whenever he’d ride back into the city after a reconnaissance mission, covered in blood, new and old wounds, but most of all, resilience. All Eren had once wanted, bright-eyed and aching with something gloriously other than pain, was to become like Levi. His hero. His god.
Well, now those bygone days were nothing more than spit dripping off his face. Eren now knew intimately what it was like to possess a god’s powers, and it was nothing short of the worst, most miserable curse.
It had been an honor to stand beside Levi, to even have those piercing eyes see you, even if only for a moment. But this was back when Eren still had the luxury of idle daydreams and flights of fancy and thought that everything he believed in mattered . In this moment, it was an awful humiliation, another in a long list of them. Salt in the wound, continuously sprinkled in, at the fact that an alpha had to come and scold this unreasonable omega.
Levi’s brow arched at Eren’s unhidden, unashamed vileness. Usually, he was better at keeping it tucked away neatly under his breastbone, where only he felt it festering, felt it aching, actively killing-
Lately, though, it had begun to slip out more and more frequently, bleeding around his carefully constructed, tactfully sharpened edges. Perhaps because he was so close to the end. All it took was one domino, after all. One missing piece for the entire structure to collapse in on itself.
Eren wasn’t strong, remember? And he was so, so dreadfully tired of feigning strength - especially against hate. Hate and misery and abject, bitter suffering were just so much easier to sink into. A siren’s call.
“That’s one way to look at it,” Levi said, eventually. “If you’re an old, cynical bastard. But you’re not, despite this whole teen angst act, so straighten yourself out. Now.”
It wasn’t an act. Eren felt a particularly deranged laugh bubble up in his throat. It tugged at the corners of his bitten lips. “I’d rather the curse take me now. Maybe then they could give this power to some - alpha, and I’ll have been worth something in the end.”
Eren said it, mostly, to be shocking. Obscene. So the sudden cuff over the head wasn’t at all surprising, nor was the rebuke.
“You’re not as cute as you think you are, Eren,” Levi said, darkly pissed. And something else. In the lines of his face, the sharp clench of his jaw, in the midst of those stormy eyes there was a flash of genuine - concern? Worry? Impossible. There was no good reason to feel sympathy for the savage-
Even if sometimes, Eren yearned for it until he couldn’t breathe.
For some reason, Eren felt the urge to lean in, closer, to try and steal it, store it inside of his lungs - and so he forced himself to take a step back. He’d make it his sole mission to disrespect this treacherous vessel of his. He was lashing out at anything and everything indiscriminately, a caged beast with teeth bared.
“I’m just saying.”
“And I’m telling you I’m over the fucking dramatics. If I wanted to watch bad theatre I’d go with four-eyes to the playhouse.”
“Captain, I’m sorry, but literally everyone in that room back there is thinking the same thing,” Eren’s heel dug into the ground, tearing at the grass. “Only I have the balls to actually say it.”
“And since when have you cared what anyone else had to say?” Levi asked. “When have you ever let yourself be underestimated? Undervalued?”
“That was before I became the resident broodmare,” Eren snapped. Levi sent a look that could cut his way.
“No one has any time to coddle you about this, Eren,” Levi said. The breeze brushed soft fingers against the loose strands of his dark hair. “It’s unexpected, but that’s life. The only thing left to be done now is to make the necessary preparations and weather through. That’s it.”
The blunt words were almost enough to smooth out his jagged edges. Almost. It was like the thunk of a stone being thrown down a deep, dark well, the way Levi’s words hit Eren. Numbness tingled in his fingertips.
“I could just weather through it,” Eren hedged, knowing it was futile even before Levi clicked his tongue.
“That’s out of the question.”
“It’s not like I would actually die,” Eren tried to argue - because that hadn’t been beaten out of him. Not quite yet. “How many times have I been injured? How many times have I been literally torn apart? Captain, I’ve been swallowed by a Titan. I saw the inside of its stomach and everything. I might as well be immortal.”
Levi sighed, ebony lashes fluttering as his eyes rolled heavenward. “Out of the question,” he repeated. “Despite what you may think, little brat, you do not know everything.”
Eren couldn’t help the derisive little snort that left him at that. And if looks could kill, Levi might have just found the one surefire way to smite Eren once and for all, Ymir’s curse aside.
“If even Hanji isn’t sure what this heat could do to your body,” Levi’s gaze chilled to the bone. “Then I’m sure as shit not taking the word of a reckless idiot with the self-preservational instincts of a housefly. You’ve never known your own limits.”
Eren's lips tried to flinch into a pout. “That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair,” Levi rejoined. “God, I knew you’d make a mountain out of a molehill the second Hanji showed me your bloodwork. The fact that you’re an omega hasn’t changed anything, rest assured. You’re still a shitty little brat who thinks he can take on the entire world with his bare hands. And,” Levi added, his tone turning decidedly final. “that somehow, everyone else is supposed to work around his time table.”
“Do I have to go back in?” Just the thought of it opened up a pit inside of his belly, cavernous and yawning, hungry. Eager to consume the last vestiges of his composure. “I mean - what is there left to say? I get it. I’m Paradis’ greatest weapon. I’m an asset. An invaluable one. I can’t die and the only way to guarantee that I won’t is to-” A strangled laugh couldn’t help but tear from his lips. “There is only one way forward, I know that.”
Eren chanced a glance over at Levi, only to find Levi was already looking back. Eren almost started - he didn’t, only due to years of practice. Still, that gaze was unnerving. Flaying.
“They want to know your choice,” Levi said at last, the words sounding as if they’d been dragged from him. Eren couldn’t quite hide his surprise at this, and blinking, the confusion in his voice was all too genuine.
“I get a choice?” It was all too easy for this flippant statement to come out as a bare, honest question. A mirthless, bitter smile tugged at his lips as he sighed out the last dregs of air left in his lungs.
Eren felt raw. The very definition of stripped, figuratively and literally.
Oh, how fitting it was, that the virgin sacrifice couldn’t even die with that dignity left.
But Levi surprised him yet again.
“Of course, you get a choice,” The intensity with which Levi spoke these words might have frightened Eren were he still a boy, if he did not know his Captain like he did. As it was Eren recognized the vehemence, the conviction that laid in between the lines, but he didn’t get it. Why it was reserved for him. Especially now. “Maybe not in how this happens, but who it happens with? We’re not just going to sell you to the highest bidder.”
“Really?” Eren couldn’t help that single, aching syllable of doubt. “I haven’t already been bought?”
“I said,” Levi’s voice sharpened, taking on a dangerous edge that was usually soaked in death and blood. “You get a choice.
Eren fell silent, pondering that. Wondering how he could even trust it, even though somehow, he already did. Hadn’t Levi promised Eren that he would never be without choice? That he would always give Eren a choice?
But then Eren had learned, in the cruelest way possible, that promises were meant to be broken. And those that weren’t were held together only by the ties of sinew and regret.
Eren didn’t think he had much choice in this, really. If he had a choice he’d take his chances. Flirt with the knife’s edge of no return yet again. It was so like every other broken piece of his life - all Eren could do was hold them together in his fists as tight as he possibly could, letting all of these decisions and consequences cut and wound. Yes, he could decide how he was to be ruined, but ruination was inevitable. He was a fatal wound looking for the last little glimpses of comfort, in the end, something safe and warm to take away the sharpest edge of pain.
He was the worst kind of monster, one who still sought solace in the dark even after he had murdered the sun.
“Oh,” Eren chewed the words around in his mouth but, in the end, let them tumble out exactly how they wanted. “Then I guess I don’t really care.”
The sudden silence that enveloped them, though fleeting, was absolute.
“You don’t?” Levi asked after a pause, his voice carefully neutral in a way that instinctually raised the hair on the back of Eren’s neck. He could hear the incredulity crowding behind Levi’s teeth.
Eren shrugged, fumbling his answer. “It’s going to be excruciating no matter what.” This time, Levi didn’t attempt to hide the look he sent Eren’s way, one of pure disbelief.
“So if, say, Darius decides to take you to bed, you’re saying that would be about the same as some brat your age?” Levi asked, sounding as if Eren had just suggested pigs could sprout wings. “One of your friends?”
“One of my friends?” Eren repeated, instinctively recoiling. His stomach roiled. “That’s disgusting, Captain.”
Pale blue irises flared as Levi’s eyes widened. Eren felt himself mirror the movement, unconsciously fascinated with this naked look of disbelief - Captain Levi was never caught off guard, or at least, Eren had never seen it. He almost felt a sliver of pride cut into him at that thought that he had been able to inspire it, had been the one able to rattle this aloof, unshakeable man, but that pride soured quickly when he remembered that the look Levi would wear when they reunited on the airship would be much, much worse.
Eventually, Levi murmured, so low he could have been talking to himself, “So it’s like that.”
“No-” Eren stumbled over his words, unsure exactly how to explain it. “It’s not. It isn’t like anything. I just ... .can't ask that of one of my friends.” A bit helplessly, Eren gazed anew at his shaking hands, at the faint curve of red still scourged into his flesh, not yet healed. He’d bitten deeper than he meant to. Then he thought he did. “I can’t.”
“Like it would be some hardship,” Levi scoffed, so blasé that Eren was too shocked to fully consider the implications of such a statement. “You aren’t asking them to be drawn and quartered, for fuck’s sake. Hell, and your friends? For you, they’d do even that without a second thought.”
And wasn’t that the very problem? It made Eren sick to think. To know this as a fact, and know that it couldn’t be unknown. Even despite what he’d do. Even despite what he would become, his friends would love him. Protect him. Stand by his side even as he set his own funeral pyre alight-
It was too much. It choked Eren to the point of delirium, to dissociation. It was the only way he could cope. It chilled into a viciousness that could only be borne out of love, a love that burned so brightly it left the rest of the universe barren and cold.
It was why he must self-immolate. It is why Eren will, irrevocably, burn every last bridge his friends try to follow him over, until nothing is left. Eren’s love is a terrible, unrepentant, violent thing.
“Please, don’t make me.”
His heart was its own kind of monster.
Eren could tell his answer confused Levi, along with the bitter desperation that clung to the edges. “Didn’t I just say I wouldn’t make you?”
“I don’t know,” Eren muttered. “You know how they’d be. If you even hinted at some old military fuck trying to take on the role, so to speak, not even a horde of Titans could keep any one of them away.”
There still exists the necessity of pretenses, after all. Corpses are always made up and lovely when they lie in their caskets, it’s a pretty lie to tell their loved ones, one last bittersweet memory to keep. They’re only asleep. They’re at peace now. Somewhere far better, somewhere far away. Only there’s rouge on their cheeks instead of blood and the body dressed in stiffly-pressed blacks is already beginning to decay, slowly but surely disappearing right before tear-stricken eyes.
Eren has managed to hide the decay, the rot of himself thus far - he cannot let these festering emotions of his, another damned weakness, take hold of him now. He must hide his soft underbelly and the blessure de mortelle scourged into the tender flesh.
“Besides,” Eren continues, allowing a small smile of humor to adorn his lips. Hoping it looks fonder than the desolation with which he wears it. “I couldn’t choose.”
“Oh?”
“Armin’s a beta and wouldn’t know what to do besides - don’t tell him I told you that, though.”
Levi deadpans, “I’ll make sure not to bring it up during our weekly tea time.”
“It would be mortifying to have Mikasa see me that way,” Eren picks at a hangnail, going down the list. “Connie wouldn’t take it seriously, Sasha would be more interested in eating whipped cream and chocolate shavings off of my naked body, and Jean’s out because we’d just kill each other. And because I’d never sleep with a horse.”
Levi arches a fine brow. “A what?” He repeats, looking amused despite himself. Eren feels amused, despite himself.
“Y’know, ‘cuz I’m always calling him horseface? There’s a reason that nickname stuck. Sir, you have to see it.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, really? Okay, maybe it’s not proper as our Captain to say so but - no one else is here but me. You can admit it. I promise, I won’t tell a soul.”
“Why would I care about childish shit like that?” Levi said, regarding Eren like he hadn’t in so long. Like Eren was still a child. Winsome and bright. “You all look like brats to me, you’re practically indistinguishable. The only reason I can tell you apart half of the time is going off who’s a bigger pain in my ass.”
“Who’s at the top of that list?” Eren wondered.
“Look who I’m talking to,” Levi said, and Eren’s smile wavered into one that was almost genuine. It was disconcerting; it felt like it no longer fit. After a moment, humor settled once again into solemnity, bitter and bleak. “C’mon. Don’t make me drag you back by your hair.”
With Captain Levi, that certainly was not an empty threat.
Eren glared towards the building and the wolves that prowled inside, “Captain, like I said, it doesn’t matter to me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Do you? Eren almost asked, and had to bite his cheek to keep something like the truth from slipping out. So often, nowadays, it was his default answer. Sure. Whatever. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter to me. Okay.
I understand.
Even when he didn’t, and never could.
“It’ll be humiliating no matter what,” Eren muttered. Did he really have to spell it out so plainly for Levi? Surely, even someone as unselfconscious as him would have to have some inkling of how incredibly mortifying this whole affair was. Or maybe he just didn’t care. It wasn’t his body they were treating like a loose screw, after all. “Does it really matter who will be the one to see me like that?”
It flashed across Levi’s face lightning-fast, a grimace of disgust. “Eren, some of those men in there are old enough to be your grandfather.”
Levi’s words elicited the desired reaction. A chill ravaged Eren’s spine. “Alright, that is disgusting.” he amended, gnawing at his lower lip.
“That’s putting it mildly.” This time, Levi didn’t hide his sneer, and Eren had to wonder just how many genial, diplomatic facades had been dropped once he’d stormed out of the meeting room. It roiled in his stomach, the beginnings of a storm.
Eren was genuinely at a loss. He laughed, shaking his head as he tucked his lips into a helpless frown. “I don’t know who I would ask.”
Beside him, Levi sighed, a well-worn, ragged thing. “God. Well, is there someone you like?”
Eren’s only response was a blank, uncomprehending blink.
“No.”
“No one?”
“No one.”
“Really? There’s not a single person that you would find tolerable to take to bed?”
This was a rare instance in which Eren truly wasn’t trying to be obstinate. In fact, this was the most honest he’d been in a long while.
Romance seemed like such a trivial thing amidst the torment of war. Eren had never thought much of it, just like he had never thought about most things that did not run through his veins like electricity, making his blood sing. There were fleeting snatches of dreams, sunlit, golden and rosy and effervescent, which sometimes, rarely, would visit him at night. The sea at dusk. A cabin tucked into a tender spot of land somewhere far, far away-
But the particulars of these fantasies were unimportant, like most of his fantasies were. As a child Eren was full of so many dreams, and so greedy for them, he gorged himself until he was sick, a bloated corpse. But he had never actually taken the time to look down at his hands to see what he was shoving down his throat. He consumed with a starver’s frantic desire to never again feel the hollow pangs of hunger, the emptiness that ached.
Eren only wanted freedom, but he never quite knew what he’d do with it once he had it. And while his head was full of all of these fantastical visions, he hadn’t been able to see that he had only been feeding himself lies, rotten fruit. Gristle and fat and the flesh of fellow Eldian souls.
Purged of these desires, all Eren was left with was a burning throat and vomit-slickened hands that shook with regret.
Anyone he could have ever loved deserved better than him.
“Who has time for romance in a fucking war?” Eren asked, not bothering to mask the contempt in his voice. It was better it was that. “It’s stupid. I didn’t realize I’d need a contingency plan.”
“And what about this is romantic?” Levi countered. “All you have to do is find someone you want to have sex with, plain and simple.”
“Plain and simple?” Eren echoed, and Levi shrugged.
“Truthfully? Sex has very little to do with romance, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Eren couldn’t help it - now he was the one looking at Levi as if the other had just professed Titans could sprout wings. “What?”
Levi was unrepentant, “You heard me.”
“I mean-” Eren nearly choked on his flailing tongue. “Obviously I know that. But it has a little to do with romance, no?”
“If you’re sentimental, maybe,” Levi said, in a way that suggested sentimental was simply a placeholder for fool. “You’ve been sold a bill of lies, brat. Most people don’t lose their virginity on top of rose petal-covered sheets with violin music playing in the background.”
“I know that!” Eren snapped, before quickly amending his tone at Levi’s raised brow, which was vaguely threatening. “I mean, I guess it never occurred to me. To do it just to do it, y’know? Because if romance is pointless, then sex is doubly so.”
The silence that fell between them this time seemed to have an audible sound. Like a vase falling to the floor. Shattering.
“Hm,” Levi made a considering noise, one that really could have meant anything. Eren felt as though this was another peculiarity of his that had been filed away in Levi’s mind. “Be that as it may, this does serve a purpose.”
Eren chewed his cheek, loathe to concede but no longer able to sink his heels into the ground and resist. It was quickly giving way.
“So, what? Should I just go into town and stroll into the nearest brothel?”
“Fine.”
“No, wait - I didn’t mean I actually want to do that!” Eren cursed the flush he felt strike his face. “That’s mortifying.”
“It would be an easy enough solution.” Levi shrugged, as casual as if they were talking about the weather. Silver-blue eyes reflected not one hint of shame. “I’ll take you down to one tonight.”
Eren, in his distress, almost began gnawing on his hand anew.
“Captain, at the risk of getting my ass kicked, I have to tell you that’s even worse.”
“You’re too thin-faced, that’s the problem,” Levi said, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t anyone ever have the birds and the bees talk with you?”
“Yeah, you’d think my father would have left a little footnote about it in one of the journals,” Eren said, falling somewhere in between sarcasm and bitterness. “Just another way the bastard decided to screw me over.”
“You’re eighteen, Eren,” Levi eyed him, looking as if he himself could scarcely believe it. “That’s a little too old to still be blushing over the word sex.”
“I’m not blushing!”
“Don’t insult me. I have eyes.”
Of course, Levi had eyes. How could Eren be at all unaware of such eyes? As they narrowed, they went on a journey, roaming down the length of Eren’s body, curled in on itself, a slow, unhurried drag. They were as pale as a river, yet as bright as the sky. As sharp as a blade and just as merciless, just as cutting.
Those eyes were entirely indiscernible. Unknowable. Eren felt naked under that gaze. As if Levi could see the very scars that lined his bones. He had to look away yet again.
Eren’s words warred against his teeth as he deliberated. Unconsciously, not purposefully, they came out serrated, jagged. “What am I supposed to do? Go up to someone and say ‘Hey, do you want to fuck?’ That’s embarrassing.”
“Maybe have a little more tact in your propositional skills,” Levi said, looking at Eren like he couldn’t quite believe this boy had already made it through eighteen years of life. “ I’ll tell you this; too many shitheads make too big a deal out of sex. It means nothing. It’s a means for procreation and pleasure if you care about that sort of thing. You don’t have to feel embarrassed.”
“Captain, how can I not be?” Eren asked. “I mean, you must know what omegas in heat are like.” He spat out the word as if it were a curse, as if it had defiled his tongue.
Levi looked confused at that, but you’d only know it by the slight cock of his head. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”
“I mean,” Eren said, his voice turning ugly, his teeth aching anew with the urge to savage and bite . “all I ever heard in the barracks was lewd jokes about wanton, submissive, breedable omegas who fall all over themselves drooling for any alpha cock. I’m going to be out of my mind, begging someone to - to do that to me, and I just-” Eren had to stop himself there, the imagery too much. He didn’t want to lose his lunch.
“I’m more than sure your shitty little friends have never so much as touched an omega in their life,” Levi said, sounding annoyed. “Stupid teenage assholes regurgitate shit they’ve read in porn magazines or heard from adults.”
“So, you’re saying that omegas don’t act like pathetic bitches during their heats?” Eren challenged, and caught as the muscles in Levi’s jaw clicked.
“That’s not how I see it,” Levi responded, which wasn’t a flat-out denial, but those words and their implications had a strange thrill clawing down Eren’s spine.
Had Captain Levi…?
Well, the answer to that was obvious. Levi was not only an alpha, but a grown man, who’d definitely been around the block a few times. Not everyone was some naive virgin. And someone who looked like the Captain? All dark allure and brute strength, strong enough to manhandle, to pin one with a single gaze, to trail sinful lips that would whisper the most obscene filth against trembling flesh….
Eren was an idiot for even daring to be surprised.
He was an idiot for daring to feel any sort of way over it, too. He swallowed, rough.
“So there’s a chance that I won’t lose complete control and make an entire ass out of myself?” Eren asked, half sardonically, but a part of him was wondering if it was truly possible, to somehow keep his dignity intact.
“If you’re with someone you’re comfortable with, who knows what they’re doing, then they shouldn’t make you feel bad. Anyone who does is someone not worth your time,” Levi said, a much more thoughtful answer than Eren had expected. An answer which he had absolutely no idea what to do with. Who would that be?
Eren, without his conscious consent, mused aloud, “Who the hell am I supposed to feel comfortable with?”
“Why are you asking me?” Levi demanded. The look he shot Eren this time translated into a genuine question, do you possess any more than two brain cells? Under the scrutiny, Eren felt himself flush darker still. “I don’t know. You have your pick of the litter.”
“That’s…” Eren couldn’t finish.
“Like I said, this isn’t something romantic,” Levi’s words were clipped, curt and merciless. “I’ll be sure to let whoever you choose know that this means nothing.”
“What? Are you going to ask them for me?” Eren asked, horrified. “That’s what we did in schoolhouse! Sending notes in class, ‘do you like me? Circle yes or no.’ Captain, please, you cannot do that to me-”
“Everyone inside wants to know your answer.” Levi interrupted his rambling irritably. “Either you can tell them or I can, I don’t really care.”
Leaden eyes flashed with something - impatience, most likely - and it only made Eren’s heart beat faster. “I’m sure people have already volunteered.”
“What do you think?” Eren cringed and couldn’t help but let it show, wrinkling his nose and scoffing. So like his mother used to do whenever Eren would argue that of course the neighborhood boys had started it first, and no, Mikasa didn’t need to get involved, he had it completely under control….
A pair of fingers snapping inches from his nose brought Eren back to the present. He hadn’t realized he’d even left.
“Are you even listening to me?” Levi demanded, much closer than Eren remembered him being. So close that his words were a caress against Eren’s slightly fevered skin. Skin he was paranoid was already succumbing to the wanton heat of desire.
“Yes, sir,” Eren bit back his shiver - it was all that he could do.
“No, you’re not,” Levi came impossibly closer, forcing Eren to look into his eyes. Eyes Eren could drown inside of, if he wasn’t careful. “You’re off again in that head of yours. Tell me, what’s so interesting up there? I’ve been meaning to ask.”
As if Eren could tell him. He let himself imagine it, for a moment, really picture it, the exact shade of horrified disgust that would cross his Captain’s face if he told Levi even an inkling of what disturbed his mind. Of what left him sleepless, unable to rest but exhausted, bone-weary, all of the time.
Eren shrugged, because he could never say any of the words that cut his tongue. Not a single one. He couldn’t tell Levi the truth, but he certainly couldn’t get caught in a lie, either. “I’m just wondering….why you care.”
The words had their intended effect of disarming Levi, but to hear them spoken aloud, in his own quiet, pale voice, surprised Eren as well. He hadn’t meant to say it. Not quite like that.
“I mean,” Eren hastened to explain, heart in his throat as his eyes found solace in the distance, on a lone, silent hill. Levi’s attention was excruciating. “It’s beneath you, to worry about trivial things like this. I don’t want - I can’t be any more of a burden than I already am. I can figure this out on my own. I promise.”
What Eren meant by this was that he was going to kick this poor tree a few times, shout a few dozen curses at Ymir in his head, and then ultimately trudge back inside with all of the misery of a man approaching the gallows to announce his choice - which who even knew what choice he would make, considering ‘death’ didn’t appear to be a viable one. Not yet. Eren’s heart gave a great sigh - most likely, he’d ask one of Floch’s lackeys. Someone who was disposable. The ‘Jaegerists’, as they had coined themselves, feared Eren because they did not know him beyond the pretty, gold-threaded words Floch’s tongue spun. He was a savior, but one they did not know would trade all of their souls for a bag full of silver. The facade was necessary, despite how it grated. So, so many faces were necessary for Eren to wear, to hide the pallor of death that spread beneath.
But Eren was no stranger to using others. Hell, he’d do worse to the people he loved most in the world. He would hurt them, but only because he loved them. It would be a premeditated, but gentle death. The reaper’s loving kiss. He no longer had the luxury to feel guilt, even if it ate him up inside.
It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, anyway.
All Eren knew of love was that it hurt.
The silence between them, Captain and subordinate, Humanity’s Strongest and Humanity’s Hope, was absolute. It stretched to the limits of what was visible to the naked eye. Far beyond that. Past the rolling hills and verdant forests and across the cruel, crystalline sea. To the hinterlands of Eren’s comprehension, and past even that.
“You’re still my responsibility,” Levi said at last, his voice strangely heavy. “Now more than ever.”
Oh.
And just like that, Eren was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe. Why, he asked himself. Why? It wasn’t news. It had been a constant, one of the few in his life, ever since he was fifteen years old.
In this moment, it was like he was fifteen again. Unsure about his role in the world but viciously desperate to carve out a place for himself anyhow, damn all else, determined to do whatever it took despite his savage nature, or perhaps because of it. It was like Eren was back in that courtroom again, shackled, on his knees, panting and bloodless, his blood staining his clothes, his skin, every tainted, bruised part of him. But that blood never dried. Those wounds healed. Eren walked - or stumbled or crawled or however you want to put it - but he made his way out of that courtroom, alive.
Why? Because of the man standing next to him. If not for Levi, Eren would have been dead long ago. The government would have taken his head and picked apart his corpse long after it cooled. If not for Levi, Eren would have been strung up by his limbs and forced to forever dance to the satisfaction of hungry vultures.
If not for Levi, Eren would have never even glimpsed freedom through his cell’s bars. Would have never even gotten a taste, even if it was only the dust from a cyanide pill in the end.
Levi had always understood Eren, in a way that no one else could. He’d always understood Eren’s broken pieces and the way the jagged edges fit together - or grinded against each other, sharpening, eroding. But in the red sea of war, Levi saw Eren, and Eren saw him, stranded amidst the fallen bodies of their comrades. They saw the flames roaring in their respective eyes, viridian and mercury alike reflecting cruel, endless white fire that always, under the right light, looked a bit like tears.
And Levi saw him now, saw the hate and despair and the black, ugly rage welling like blood inside of his eyes, just like back then, when his Captain had first confronted him in that derelict cell, and seen the monster that was not only a monster, but a boy who yearned to be free.
Because monsters could cry. Monsters felt just as deeply as the humans they ravaged. Sometimes, even more so. What else could make them so monstrous? So endlessly, ruinously hungry?
Eren still needed Levi to understand. He understood this as he swallowed down a sudden, startling sob. And as surely as Eren understood this, he knew too that somehow he still expected Levi to save him, just as he always had before. Even now when there was no light at the end of the tunnel to be found.
Stupid. Impossible.
But then, that was the thing about hope. If one had dared to allow it into their chest, even long after death, it would haunt for all eternity.
You’re still my responsibility. The words rang inside Eren’s ears. He couldn’t unhear it. Couldn’t help but wonder how far that responsibility extended. Levi held his life and his death inside of his hands. Hands that had slain beasts. Hands that would slay the worst beast of all.
What else did those strong, blood-stained hands hold?
A pardon? Absolution? Mercy?
An eye for an eye?
No, his Captain could give him none of these things. What Eren wanted was too great to be found, even under an endless, starry night sky. However, his teeth sunk into the welcome marks they’d already carved deep into his inner cheek.
His teeth ached sweetly with the thought.
What if I asked Captain Levi?
It was ludicrous. Insane. It was exactly the kind of thought that was never supposed to cross Eren’s mind, so of course he wasn’t surprised by it. Not really. Thoughts meant to be skimmed over like a broken bone tearing out of skin, hidden in the blackest shadows of the night, were Eren’s disintegrating mind’s favorite kindling.
Besides, it wasn’t as if he’d never nurtured this particular thought before.
But that had been a long time ago. Years. Back when Eren still had dreams - idle, stupid, lovesick teenage dreams. But he’d never let himself for a second believe that dream could be his. Even as a boy, yet untouched by the horrors locked away inside his soul, Eren was eerily pragmatic. He knew Captain Levi would never look at him twice. Why would he? It would be beneath him. He was Eren’s hero. He would be the one to end Eren’s life.
They were Captain and subordinate.
Charge and ward.
The monster and his tamer.
Eren was so far beneath Levi it wasn’t even funny. Levi was the sun and he was a fallen star, on the verge of burning out. It was irreverent to even think such a thing.
Luckily, Eren had never really had a good grasp of the concept of ‘shame.’ Nor had he ever shied away from precarious, possibly ruinous ledges. Sometimes, he suspected he was attracted to them, drawn in by an invisible force, gravity a string around his neck, dyed red with his own blood.
Might as well, Eren thought.
What else did he have to lose?
It stole the words out of his mouth, another question he was sure he’d regret asking.
“So then, what about you?” Eren heard his voice as if outside of his own body. As if it was only just another bloodstained memory yet to occur. He half-wondered if it was. “Would you - take care of it for me?” And then, just because he had to be absolutely clear, he forced the request from his lips, pulling the words from his teeth until they were mangled and bruised. “Take me?”
The sudden, absolute silence was nothing like the fog of contemplation that shrouded them earlier. This silence was heavy. Crushing. It took on a physical shape and nearly made an audible sound, landing wrongly between them, crunching like the sound of broken bones.
Levi’s voice, though quiet, was as sharp as those bleached shards when he reprimanded, “Eren.”
“What?”
“Be serious.”
“I am.”
Eren’s heart stilled after those words were spoken.
He realized that he was.
And wasn’t that a thought? Eren wasn’t allowed to want. Oh, he was allowed to want, to crave, to tear himself into pieces as he worked himself up into a maelstrom of jealous, aching greed - but he was not allowed his wants. Was not allowed to have them. Ever.
But suddenly, he had a stake in this. Suddenly, something could be taken away.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, boy,” Levi said, his voice low, almost a whisper. Almost a secret. If Eren had been the type of person to actually value living, he probably would have stopped cold in his tracks at Levi’s tone of voice alone.
But if Eren was going to self-destruct, he was going to damn well self-destruct.
After all, what did he have to lose?
“You were the one that said sex had nothing to do with romance.” Eren countered, sheer force of will keeping his face from wilting off in shame over talking like this to his Captain. “You said it was nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest you should proposition your commanding officer,” Levi snapped, incredulous. “Your executioner, for the love of fucking-” Levi cut himself off forcefully, dragging his hand over his mouth as he sighed. It shuddered through his lungs as he muttered to himself, mostly morose, the sentiments lingering just under his words indecipherable. “I never wanted to have kids. How did I end up with six?”
He sounded miserable. And Eren really hadn’t meant for that. Apparently, the idea of sleeping with Eren, the resident Titan-shifter, was about as appealing as swallowing broken glass.
Of course. Just as soon as it was something Eren decided he wanted, it was taken away.
This is why he couldn’t do anything without those hellish visions.
“Okay, I’m sorry, Captain,” Eren relented. Really, this wasn’t the hill he was going to die on. “I get it, but-”
And then Levi looked at him, finally looked at him, and it was like a gut-punch, the depth of those silver-grey eyes. Like staring into heaven’s gates knowing without a shred of doubt that you would never be allowed inside. Lightless yet blindingly bright all at once. The sight of those eyes was such that one could perhaps forget all of the horrors of the world, only to find them rotting inside the soul, the most wicked machination of all.
That gaze was a labyrinth Eren could wander in forever and, perhaps, never die.
For a moment, it seemed he’d been entirely seen through, and Eren’s heart stilled inside his chest.
“I didn’t say no,” Levi said then, and nothing more. Eren’s head was spinning. His mouth had gone dry.
“So?”
Levi’s jaw clenched. The words looked like they physically pained him to say, but his voice never faltered. “If you’re not being flippant, then sure.”
“Okay,” Eren swallowed, suddenly for some wholly ridiculous reason, nervous. His stomach swooped like it hadn’t since he was fifteen and first training with his ODM gear. There was the exhilarating rush of a freefall, of fighting against gravity, the full-bodied victory that was flying through the sky, not untethered but utterly and wholly uninhibited. Eren cleared his throat, his eyes suddenly burning as if he could still feel the wind cutting into them. “I wasn’t trying to be flippant. I mean, I am serious.”
Levi still looked dubious. “Why don’t you sleep on it?” He suggested.
“But Captain, didn’t you say everyone wants an answer now?”
“Fuck them,” Levi said, succinct and clipped. “You shouldn’t feel rushed into anything.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not,” Eren wasn’t. For once in his life, the truth met his tongue. “I made up my mind.”
Levi scoffed, mumbling something Eren wasn’t meant to hear under his breath. Those eviscerating eyes rolled heavenward, looking for something new to tear apart, something that wouldn’t heal. Eren watched as his Captain dragged a hand over his face, suddenly looking years older, something like his true age.
“I’m your superior officer,” Levi said, eventually, apropos of nothing save the silent words neither had voiced aloud. “It would be frowned upon.”
Eren thought that meant very little, in the great, grand scheme of things. And soon, though he couldn’t voice such a thought aloud, he would no longer be anyone’s charge, anyway. “Since when do you care what other people think?”
Levi threw him a wary side-eye. “Don’t throw my own words back at me.”
Eren’s lips curved up, but a smile never truly formed. He wandered back into the labyrinth of his own mind. He had to wonder how he hadn’t seen this in his memories. Had his mind planned this as some great, grand surprise for him? Eren despised being caught off guard, so really, this was just another instance of his body’s treachery. Or was this omitted simply because it was unimportant? Inconsequential? If suffering through a heat unmated - which was Eren’s original plan - were something fit to kill him, wouldn’t this preternatural power of his alert him of such a thing? Or was that never an option? Was this always how things were meant to go?
Eren had never wanted to drag anyone else down to hell with him.
But then, this was Levi. Levi, his Captain, his mentor, his childhood hero. The light at the end of the tunnel he had always so relentlessly chased. Humanity’s Strongest might’ve been a title Levi cared little about, but it meant something to Eren, it always had.
To the small child who had watched monsters consume everything he held dear, who could do nothing more than beat his fists against the wood railing of a boat and scream, it meant everything.
Levi was, above everything else, strong. Levi was cold, yes, but logical, cutthroat and clinical in a way in which nothing mattered but the greater good. He didn’t get swept up in his emotions, not like Eren. Levi would never drown.
And for the stupidest fucking reason, Eren somehow still thought Levi would protect him. From - everything, from himself, even when he knew that was no longer possible. It was an unforgivable burden to place upon a singular man’s shoulders, but Levi had somehow hefted the weight onto his back long ago, without Eren even having to ask.
After all, Levi hadn’t beat him black and blue in the courtroom because he had taken any pleasure in it. He had done it to save Eren’s life, because that was the only way to save it. He’d understood that, as blood spattered on his boots and teeth cracked against the stone floor. And Eren, staring up at a vengeful angel through burning, half-lidded eyes, had understood it too.
Eren had seen that there were a million ways to hurt. To bleed. It was unavoidable, inevitable - but it mattered how one bled. It mattered if the blood was given purpose. After all, what was blood, if not proof of life? Avoiding it would only hurt worse. Avoiding this world’s promised pain was never something Eren had done. He’d developed a sick taste for it.
Levi could satisfy this craving. Levi could hold him down. Levi could hurt him. Who else could tame the monster? Who else would dare?
Eren didn’t, couldn’t trust anyone, he simply couldn’t afford it. But what he felt for his Captain was close enough.
Levi had understood Eren, once. Back when Eren understood himself, when he could still stand to look in the mirror without doubling over, retching.
But Levi couldn’t understand him now. He was yet another wavering, faceless silhouette lost amongst a dark sea. Staring at Eren across an unfathomable distance as he changed and changed and changed.
For his Captain’s sake, Eren hoped he would never, ever have to taste the mad despair that coagulated on his tongue.
The sound of Levi’s voice dragged Eren out of the dark waters of recollection, back into the present, “Look at me.”
Eren very nearly flinches away from the request. Has to bite his tongue to stop himself. To stave the panic from rising to the surface, ripping all the scars on his body open, and bleeding out of him like poison and life being drained away all at once. Despite himself, Eren couldn’t disobey a clear order, omega or not, because it was Captain Levi who had given it to him. Slowly, he raises his eyes. He can imagine how they look. Tired, surly, dark. Guarded, defensive, barbed with thorns.
Eren looks down at Levi through his lashes. Levi’s expression was the picture of solemnity, drawn brows, steely eyes, lips pinched into a flat line. Eren had the distinct impression that he was being dug into, excavated, hollowed out. But there was something just underneath the surface of that aloof countenance.
Levi was studying him. Trying to reach into his ribcage and pull out his heart. That heart he had given away so long ago. Grey eyes searched his own, for once stormless, achingly clear and - breathtakingly dark. The color of pure onyx, lightless and fathomless, possessing their own gravitational pull. It felt like staring into an eclipse. Like gazing into oblivion. Like the promise of an easeful, peaceful, forever rest.
Suddenly, knees weakening, nearly collapsing in on himself, Eren knew what he wanted. He wanted that promise. He wanted to lose himself, entirely. He wanted to be stripped down to his bare bones and for no remains to be left, for once, he didn’t want to be Eren Jaeger, but something other. Something that could hold and be held in turn.
There was a phrase he’d picked up once, spoken in a long dead tongue. What was it, again? La petite mort.
The little death.
And then he smelt it.
Arousal. Desire. A scent that could not be mistaken for anything else. Hot and cloying and impossibly alluring, a hand that curled around his throat and squeezed, nearly stealing all of his senses away.
Unwittingly, Eren’s heartbeat stumbled. He felt light-headed. As if it had already been done, and he was now marked, mated, claimed. Sweat slicked his palms and, well, every spare inch of his body, really, and his head was foggy and filled with nothing of substance. Nothing he could grab onto. He could simply float.
Before he could help himself, or even think about what he was doing, his eyes had fluttered shut and he had tilted his head down. A whimper caught in his throat, because that he could not allow himself. He could taste the beat of his heart in his throat, burning like a white fire.
Before humiliation could truly stake its claim over his being, there were fingers clasped loosely around his neck, dangerously close to scent glands, his tempestuous pulse, and Eren almost gasped at the the soft yet ruinous touch. Levi’s finger pads were fire, velvet, something Eren ached for.
That touch, so delicate, could destroy him so easily.
Oh, yes, Eren ached for it.
“Are you certain?” Levi asked, Eren’s eyes slid open to peer down at Levi’s, who’s eyes were studying him through loose strands of dark hair. His eyes were penetrating, gleaming blades that tore through him, and his question was just as sharply delivered, scoring Eren down to the bone.
“Yeah.” Eren breathed out, and nothing more.
Levi’s index finger skimmed over his pulse point. Eren’s breath hitched, and then Levi was pulling back, much too soon, and Eren had to press his lips shut until they were bloodless and numb to keep from whining in loss. “Alright.” Levi nodded, jerking his head as he turned on his heel. “Let’s go inside then, and alert all of those nosy shits that you’ve made your choice.”
Eren nodded, dazed, watching as Levi departed, a strange, indiscernible twinge pulling at his heartstrings. Severing them one by one as just before he disappeared over the hill Levi glanced over his shoulder, to see if Eren was following. Quickly, almost tripping over his own feet, Eren started forward.
Levi hadn’t said no. His Captain had scarcely even questioned it.
He just…accepted it.
As if it was so easy.
But, then, Levi had always encouraged Eren to make his own choices, hadn’t he?
Eren wondered when Levi had made his.