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His first shot took place in the small town of Brantôme. A quaint little city in amidst of France’s golden countryside, encircled by a forest aged from years of peace and quiet. It was a blend of old renaissance and medieval fairy-tales—little white housings under orange-red roofs spoke local stories from once upon a time, and a stone estate overlooking the daily lives of its people from across the river. A beautiful and rare place, an opportunity he could not ignore. And so he placed himself dead centre on the bridge and scanned the surrounding with his lens. One, two, three shots taken and the fourth almost when something foreign came into view.
Foreign, but not unnatural. Because he belonged there, painted into an art of whites, greens, and blues. His serene expression illuminated the town’s atmosphere, almost as if he was the humanentity of Brantôme. It didn’t matter if he was dressed Chanel-black from head to toe—slick ebony hair flowing along the summer breeze in the same direction of his jacket draped on his shoulders. The man couldn’t have been more French with that fluffy cravat stuffed in his neck and Eren couldn’t help but zoom in.
And be utterly mesmerized by his wistful greys. Soft stones born in weathered formation—it held ripples of uncertainty and hesitance, and waves of lost sorrow. Like he was dwelling on an edge between numb contentment and blowing suffocation. The man was facing to the direction of the river flow, watching the stream of life travel to someplace unknown but sure of its destination. Maybe it was those storming eyes, maybe it was the pale glow of his white skin, maybe it was how he attached himself to the painting—but Eren felt a strong desire to capture this moment. This imagery. Or really, maybe it was how, without any sort of contact, this man had caused his head to explode in erratic beatings and his soul frozen in an inescapable cage.
He took that fourth shot. And it was the last shot in Brantôme. For one: he would remain still in time and latch onto that sight, fingers unable to click the shutter for the rest of the day; and two: a blonde came into the picture and stole him away. He ignored that dull punch of disappointment and faintly smiled to himself—a fitting couple in their happiness, it wasn’t like he had a chance with the man. This was a moment he chanced upon in his travel that he knew would be a once in a lifetime thing—a rare passing between two individuals in this seven billion populated world.
He tried to snap another shot, but it was incomplete with that beautiful man missing.
Eren moved on. For the next few weeks, his legs travelled to his next destinations in Europe—but his mind remained in Brantôme.
His final assignment became one of the faculty’s pride—an album collection of unknown beauties in Europe. He went through extensive filtering periods for this, carefully choosing which shots to include. It all came down to 50 from 3000 or so, and it was an obvious decision for Eren to exclude that Brantôme shot. That was personal, that was for him, his eyes only. He had no desire to share this man’s elegance and thoughts with the world. He instead developed, laminated, and tucked it away in his personal collections.
Eren liked to believe it as a nostalgic reminder of what could have been.
.-.
His second shot came as a surprise. He was taking a break with his sister. As much as his ‘break’ could be, for his career also centred around his camera. The well-received album had Eren wanting to do another, this time in Mikasa’s home country, China. They stopped by XiTang, a water town stemming from ancient times. Its concrete walls muddied and worn from timelessness and culture new and refreshed from the day the village was born. History slid from every shingles, its flooding water citing stories of every local passersby ever lived in this small town. Eren wanted to capture it all, so they stayed the night.
And what glorious nights these people lived along. An entire neighbourhood of Amsterdam’s red-light districts striking rouge upon dark waters and twilight skies, only that the people’s innocence and purity were preserved. Hanging red-lanterns did wonders upon meeting the dusk-horizon and once again, on a high arch of a stone bridge, Eren stood ready for his pictures. His camera couldn’t get enough of the reds, orange, and navy-purples. It was an explosion of colours to Eren’s mind, a wondrous fusion of artificial light and life’s greatest source of energy. He needed more, wanted more, took more—more more more!
Until the last peak of the sun’s reach slid to the other side of the world. And he reluctantly let go. But he had enough, so much that the night of, when he went through his recent catches, he’d almost missed that speck of black in contrast to that stuffy white cravat, and those glowing wolf-greys—almost.
Eren did a double-take, a back-straightening, a camera-close up, a sharp intake of breath. Because who would’ve known, that he’d stumble on this enchanting man, out of all places on Earth. He scanned his photos, finding a couple of unfocused shots—how could he have missed him, how could he have been so distracted by things other than him?
He was alone this time, to Eren’s guilty pleasure. Sitting in seclusion at the back of a local’s boat. Still had his Chanel-black suit in exotic prim and propriety, so out of place and contrasting to his own beat-up Converse. Eren didn’t like that scowl though—it disrupted his calm expression. And that silent storm inside his eyes disappeared, replaced by...he wasn’t sure what to say except nothing.
Empty. He looked empty. But angry. A lost soul spewing its temper at the world in every direction because he didn’t know what he was angry for, at whom. Eren found it unsettling. He hadn’t wanted that, not in his pictures. He needed to fix it, edit it, make the hollow go away and add in some light in his grays. But he couldn’t do so—no that’d be injustice, fake. His photos all spoke truth and he’d be damned before any of his work become attached with lies. There was only one way to fix a picture like this.
Eren begged Mikasa to stay in XiTang for a couple more days. And he wasted no time to search for the mysterious man. The man with milky-stone eyes, sharp black hair, and gleaming pale skin. He was like the moon—illuminating in the dark, stood out from the rest of the stars, as enchanting as he was enigmatic, hiding secrets and refusing to unveil even under the darkest of nights.
And just like the moon, he was unreachable. A distant pretty thing to be in awe of. Because his time was up. And they needed to move on. He needed to move on. Such was life, many passing and opportunities amiss and Eren needed to learn to not let such a thing drag his mind down.
Well, his body moved on. His mind and heart stayed for a few weeks, dwelling on that hopeful could’ve been.
He returns to Canada with a new collection and once again, his work critiqued in high-lighted praises. He was becoming a national star, a newfound treasure. He had fans in pursuit and media in constant watch. A natural sweetheart with a darling smile that captured the sun. He had status, adoration, attention. But he didn’t give in return. He couldn’t.
Not when the man as beautiful as the moon was somewhere else, out of his reach.
.-.
His third shot...now his third shot was a funny story.
The wedding photographer Armin recruited was stopped at the borders and couldn’t leave the country. Eren reluctantly agreed to step in—anything for his best friend and a sobbing wedding planner. That morning of, he dropped everything in his newly-bought studio space and left for Bora Bora. Call him a sadist but he did enjoy the blue revival from utter hopelessness in Armin’s eyes when they met up.
“You owe me.”
Armin laughs shamelessly and jokes, “who knows, this could be the trip that’ll change your life.”
Petra and Auruo was a delightful pair. The bride-to-be obviously wore the pants and Auruo didn’t seem to mind. Eren took time to know them and he enjoyed every second. He’d like to make this album as special and personal as he could for the newlyweds. It was his duty as a professional photographer and as their new friend.
“We didn’t invite too many,” Petra answered when asked about her guests, “We wanted it to be more intimate, not as flashy.”
“So they’re all very close family and friends?” Eren inquired. It was indeed a short list of names, which made it easier to include everyone in the book.
“Very. I’m sure all of them are here by now!”
“No there’s one more,” Auruo stepped in. “You know how Levi is, always the last one.”
Eren let out an open-mouthed chuckle. “What, is he a special one?”
Petra’s golden eyes shimmered. “He is. The centre of our group, one that holds us together.”
“Well I’ll make sure to get lots of him with you,” he half-joked. Levi. Levi, Levi—he’d have to pay him some attention if Petra and Auruo adored him so much.
He didn’t know it’d be the Levi. Granted, he hadn’t even know his name beforehand; but there could be thousands of other Levi’s in this world and to have this Levi be here on a small tropical island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with him on the same little geographical map. And he was just there, standing as poised as ever in his damn Chanel-black suit, sipping on some light-blue cocktail as Petra hugged and talked. Still as lovely, still as enchanting, still as exotically sexy as Saturn’s Titan on a clear night sky.
His moon became reachable.
“Something wrong?” Armin’s voice broke his trance. “Cold feet?”
“I’m not the bride here, Armin.”
“Not yet,” his friend playfully remarked, to which Eren smacked his hair against his face. The blonde followed his earlier line of view and smiled. “Levi Ackerman. The man who paid it all.” Eren gave him a questioning look. “He paid for the wedding—from the bridesmaids’ dresses to the flowers on the canopies.”
“You sure you’re allowed to tell me this?”
“It’s not confidential information, Eren. And I trust you.” Armin then gave him a knowing smirk. “So...you gonna head over and introduce yourself?”
Cheeky thing, really. He was going to do so anyways. But those few steps seemed too short for him. In just a matter of one, two, three strides, Eren became smothered—throat tightened and sounds stuck below. He felt sweat, and hot in sudden heat pumped every millisecond from his heart. Eren didn’t know what to say. Except maybe a stuttering, “H-hi! I’m the wedding photographer.”
He looked unamused—didn’t really turn his way.
“Umm, heard you’re Levi? I’m Eren,” he greeted before sticking out a hand. No response, and so it took a minute before Eren realised—the unmoving, the straight-ahead staring, the dull detachment; it wasn’t that he wasn’t interested; it was that he was—“blind.”
Damn him and his runaway mouth.
Levi’s thin eyebrows did a nice arch. “And?”
Eren shook his head, but quickly realised Levi couldn’t see it. “N-nothing! I was just...observing.”
“Good observation.”
He bit his lips and mentally groaned, feeling his verbal-constipation acting up. He’d already dug a hole and didn’t really want to sink deeper. Say something Eren. He’d been on national television, spoke in front of his fellow 300 graduating classmates—and he couldn’t make one small talk with a person. Granted this person he’d seen three times across the world so it wasn’t just mere coincidences anymore.
I have pictures of you from two years ago. How creepy.
I saw you in France and then in China. What a stalker.
Wow, you look really nice in that Chanel-black suit. Eren Jaeger was not natural flirt.
How was your flight here? That sounded normal.
“How wa—”
“Levi.” This demanding baritone voice stopped Eren’s plans. Captain America with a British accent in all his glory. He remembered the man as the one he met last night—tall, sturdy, Armani, man. Reliable. A person fit for someone like Levi. It hit Eren hard when he realised that this was the man who stole him away from the Brantôme picture.
This Erwin Smith. Striking blue eyes. Golden boy. Set for life. Armani.
Armani and Chanel went together.
Not Converse though.
“Well I’ll leave you two to your things. It was nice to meet you Levi.” And Eren scrambled out of the scene before he could finish “enjoy the wedding”.
He bet they did. From the way they were casually chatting it up, laughing over their drinks, being in their own world. Eren didn’t intrude, not with the camera in his hands. He focused on the stars of the week, the blissful strawberry-blonde with her puppy-in-love Auruo. He shot other guests individually, and with the bride and groom. He strolled around and looked for new sceneries, caught loving candid moments of love. He kept himself busy.
Yet his eyes always found themselves back to Levi in his Chanel-black. He never strayed far, whether he realised it or not. And his camera didn’t fall behind. By the end of the event, his lens captured every single smile, scowl, closed-eyes and opened-eyes. And little Levi poses. Eren learned he liked to sit cross-legged, back straightened when interested and chin on his hand when bored; he preferred to drink his tea with fingers over the edge of the cup, and at night, he sipped dainty drops of fruity alcohol. He tended to brush his hair back when in his way and did this little sideway flick afterwards.
Every moment, every sensation down Eren’s spine, captured in film.
He wouldn’t realise it much later, how unbalanced it was between wedding photos and Levi. But he relished on the thought that he finally met him, learned of his person, received a name. And a final goodbye.
“I may not see for myself the quality of those photos,” he told Eren, “but I know Petra’s unable to lie to me and I will hear of any dissatisfaction.”
It was funny to Eren how his threat didn’t work its fear into him. “You hire only the best.”
“Damn right kid.”
Days later Eren would wonder why he hadn’t talked to Levi as much as he desired. But it wasn’t that Levi was unapproachable, he just couldn’t...find the courage. To perhaps break this delicate, one-sided observation from afar. It had been so long, him standing long distances away, admiring from a bridge he couldn’t cross over. Maybe it was because he came to the conclusion that the moon would stay as the moon, and he could never reach it.
Either way, he knew it was the closing act. There was a sense of finality when Levi’s face flickered to him for one mere second before they boarded their separate planes—Erwin following after Levi, Prada with Chanel. This time, Eren knew he truly lost his could’ve been; for it wasn’t wrong timing but himself that let this encounter pass by.
Did he regret it? Hell yes. Was he in deep anguish? Surprisingly, no.
He poured the last of his sentiments in a small note for Petra and Auruo: Don’t ever let go. The moment he handed over the album, Eren let go.
.-.-.
He came into this world with a rare case of retinitis pigmentosa, a disease that slowly ate away his sight and left him with oblivion. The best doctors his parents bought told him ten years; he was lucky to have lasted twelve.
Levi was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a blanket wrapped in gold. His father created an empire big enough, his mother loved him strong enough. He had everything the world could buy, except for maybe the colours that disappeared in his eyes. He was a useless asset, he knew, nothing worth investing. Erwin Smith was the best long-term decision his father made for the company. As for Levi, well he was put on a pedestal as the baby of the family and treated as if made of glass.
Never got out much. His mother was always on the edge.
So when things settled after his parents’ funeral, he stepped down to vice-chairman and hopped out of the country right after. Call it impulsive, irresponsible, immature. But he just wanted to get out. To feel, to live, to see. Maybe it was his parents’ death that made him realise just how vulnerable and short life could be and he wasn’t going to stick around in a city where he had enough ‘sight’ of. He wanted the outside world.
Erwin didn’t trust him to go alone until after France, the damn mother-hen. But it truly felt liberating when he was alone with himself, in his own world, without trying to figure people out because it was so damn tiring. He needed to figure his own self out. Needed to find a solid image of everything. Something. He didn’t know. Levi didn’t know what he was searching for. But he’d keep on looking until he’d find it. Damn was it frustrating though—by the time he reached China, he was having no progress. He saw things but he didn’t see them. He talked to people, but no one could talk with him.
On his third day in Sydney, he received a message from Hanji: “Auruo just proposed to Petra. Of course she said yes”. He returned to the states immediately and started looking for the best wedding planner in North America. Petra and Auruo were one of those truly deserving. He changed his priorities and put himself on hold. So it didn’t come to a surprise when life dumped that whole ‘finding it when you least expect it’ crap.
He caught a glimpse of something when a young stuttering voice came into his life, a spark. It was fresh, different. A smooth core while rough on the edges. It soothed Levi. Intrigued him. But before he could look at the mysterious picture, it escaped. In the form, he assumed, of fear. That he was blind and could never understand the world of photography, and colours and imagery. ‘Twas a loss, a hard drop his heart allowed itself to take for once. But he was done with these kinds of people.
Nonetheless just as he promised, the kid delivered magnificently.
The door banged open with an excited Petra following. “Vice-chairman Levi! The photobook’s here!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be working, Petra?” he asked in amusement of his secretary.
“I couldn’t help but be curious.”
Hanji joined in, so did Erwin and followed the rest. They gathered around his desk and browsed the photobook. In pure silence. Levi grimaced, not sure whether to take it as a good sign or bad. Then he heard a faint sniffle and his fingers instantly shot to feel wetness at the corner of Petra’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “It’s stunning, Levi. Absolutely flawless. It’s like my wedding day all over again. I wish you could see it.”
His chest blew a sigh and fingers grazed over Petra, then went over to Auruo and felt the same kind of warm tears. Happiness, and he could only smile.
“I see it just fine.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon fooling around in his office, with him trying to get some paper-reading before he would leave for Sydney again. He didn’t mind though, the ruckus in the background. Hanji’s dramatic gasps at every page and Petra’s giggles, and even Auruo’s complaining. Erwin’s casual comments and Mike’s curt remarks. He admitted missing this chattering, a reminder that no, he really wasn’t alone.
“That’s a nice shot,” Erwin added and Levi was curious.
“I commend him for being able to catch Levi laughing.”
Petra gushed, “it’s like he’s glowing.”
“And me?” Erwin friskily asked, to which Petra dared to swat a hand at the company chairman.
“There’s more,” added Hanji, flipping through the next pages. “Is it just me or is there lots of Levi in this?”
Auruo scoffed, “of course! Our vice-chairman possesses unspeakable charm.”
“Or more like he charmed our cute little photographer,” Hanji enthusiastically unveiled, jumping to her feet and scrambling over to Levi. “I think Eren got a little crush on you!”
Levi was all ears but hidden expressions. “You remember his name?”
Hanji smacked him across the back. “Who wouldn’t? That young man’s way too handsome to forget. Right, Petra?”
“Well...”
Auruo bit his tongue, Erwin gave a hearty laugh, and Mike gave his own two-cents: “he smelled pretty good.”
“But there’s more though,” Petra’s soft sweet voice stood from the crowd. “It’s like he poured his all into every picture. And vice-chairman Levi’s shots...well they feel different.” He was all the more hooked, heart waiting for her next words. “You can’t see this but most are just you sitting or standing, looking off somewhere. It’s like he captured a serene period of your life. And look,” Levi heard everyone shuffle. “Sometimes you’re in the background.”
“What a stalker,” Auruo muttered, to which Levi completely ignored—because his mind kept replaying Petra’s words over and over again. All that time, an entire week, they had the chance to talk but didn’t really. So it was just a coincidence that he happened to be in view of Eren’s many shots. He wouldn’t let high-hopes get to him.
“Do you want the album redone?”
“No,” he heard Petra rise and walk over. “It’s perfect, thank you Levi.” And a small chaste kiss was planted upon his head. “This will remind me of the happiness I’ve found and I hope the same for you.”
Her warm words stuck with him. Maybe that was what he was searching for. Happiness. He wondered what it looked like. That kept his mind busy to late evening, when all but one went home, before his curiousity got to him. “Hanji,” he spurted out.
“Hmm?”
“What’s Eren like?” He heard her rocket sky-high from the couch. “Don’t assume shit.”
She gave him nothing, and then, “a gem. He is a gem.”
“He’s a fucking rock?”
“No!” Hanji laughed. “Eren the Photographer is as precious as opal.”
“You and poetry don’t mix. That’s up in Erwin’s alley.”
“He has these two mesmerizing eyes,” Hanji continued, “sometimes they’re translucent green, and then they change colour to pale gold.”
And he imagined a pair of striking emerald eyes pinning him down. He could see green. All he could see was green.
“Tall as fuck, though not as Erwin.”
“Erwin’s a giant, he doesn’t count.”
“Translation: he’s the perfect height for you.”
“I said don’t assume shit, four-eyes,” Levi warned, but he could sense her shrugging.
“He’s got this baby-face, but a well-defined jawline that makes him a man,” Hanji emphasized the last word in a low gruff voice. Levi rolled his eyes, the woman couldn’t take anything seriously (why again was she president of this company?). “And a strong pair of hands. Damn that boy can hold a camera—bet he can grab your ass with one palm!”
Give him strength not to slap her.
“Oh but his body,” Hanji groaned in excitement, and Levi straightened along with her words. “Not Adonis like Erwin, but tanned and ripped in just the right places. Fit right into that suit Armin lent him—long legs, broad shoulders, man arms.”
“Hanji, I didn’t ask for a description of his body.” Honestly if both Hanji and Petra agreed on the looks factor, he’d rather assess the boy himself.
“Well if you must know,” he heard her settle down in the squeaky couch. “He’s a rising star in Canada, apparently loved by many for his subtleness and appreciation of colours. And if I may add, granted I know nothing of photography, his work is marvelous.”
“You’ve seen some?” There was this small pang of envy, not being able to see his art.
“I’m on his website,” Hanji sang, “He already published two big albums. One’s of him travelling in Europe two years ago and then China last year. Hey weren’t you in China last year too?”
He was. Levi indulged in a possible situation where he and Eren were in the same city but that was nearly impossible. A nice fantasy though.
“Wouldn’t it be funny if you guys crossed path somewhere along?”
Levi smirked. It’d be disappointingly funny.
.-.
He left for Sydney. Went back to his so-called ‘soul-searching’. Attempted to. Tried really hard to. Couldn’t. He was stuck on Eren. Not entirely; but he’d be doing something and his mind would float back to green and yellow. And what his photos would look like. What Levi himself would look like in his photos, under the lens of his camera, in Eren Jaeger’s eyes. For the first time, he had a desire to see something particular, not just any random thing. Petra’s words came back. He wanted to see happiness, he wanted to see an Eren Jaeger.
He didn’t hesitate one second the moment his call with Mike ended.
The phone rang at an ungodly hour, and he was about to bite that person’s head off through the receiver when Mike said something about Eren. Jaeger.
“I’m pretty sure it’s you. Don’t know why he censored your eyes but we all agreed it’s you.”
Levi would’ve checked the website if he could. Two photos—one in some old village and another in a Chinese water town, both were close-ups of a slender man dressed in custom-fit black, had undercut-styled hair just like his, prim and proper, and eyes blocked out. He wondered why. Well, he wondered if it was truly him.
“Describe the photo.”
“The first one you’re standing by a shore. In some garden in front of this mansion.” Levi realised it was useless because he couldn’t really see where he’d been. “Oh Erwin says it might’ve been Brantôme.”
Brantôme. Brantôme, that quaint little village where his mother was from. He gave a humourless chuckle—it really was a sad twist of fate that they’d crossed paths before.
“The second’s in this Asian-looking place. Red lanterns everywhere, I’m assuming it’s China. You’re sitting on a boat. Petra and Auruo said you looked exquisite by the way, like a prince out of a fairy-tale.” He could hear their embarrassed protesting in the background. He smiled—was that how Eren saw him?
“And there’s a passage,” Levi sat up from his bed, both hands holding the phone tightening in apprehension. “‘Once, twice the moon slipped away. The third I let go.’ Sorry I didn’t ask for your permission.”
He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t. Want to. Not until he had his hands on Eren Jaeger and see his face.
Pressed ‘end’. Then called again. Ordered Petra to get him on a plane to Canada now. “Where?” “To Eren Jaeger.” “Gotcha boss.” Packed. Left. Not to somewhere he didn’t know; this time he had a clear destination in mind. Wasn’t even tired the entire three hours, his mind was flying on clouds along with the plane. He tried to calm his blood stream, beat himself down. High hopes and expectations meant greater disappointment. But those words, Eren’s words. Petra’s words. Hanji’s words. Swimming around and together.
The third I let go.
Was the photographer planning to let him go initially? Did he know who he was at the wedding? Why didn’t he say anything? Why did he hide that picture from him—the image of happiness? How could he not let him see happiness, and let go? So many unanswered, his head was hurting. His heart was bursting. His chest was going into spasms. Levi Ackerman had never been this excited, this enthralled, alive.
Granted it could end devastatingly or euphorically—two sides of the extreme. But, he let out a throaty chuckle, this was one thing Levi admitted he was willing to risk.
Trust Petra to take care of everything—his driver was there ready to pick him up and rush downtown. Apparently the photographer opened a small studio. “We’re here, sir.” And he was suddenly not prepared. Maybe he should’ve thought through his actions.
“Would you like me to escort you inside?” His driver asked.
“No, I can make it on my own.” They’re parked right in front of his studio damn it, it wasn’t like he didn’t know how to walk by himself. It was just he didn’t know how to approach. Out the car. And...stood. For a while. Should he stroll down the street and make it casual? He should stroll down the street. Levi started following the sidewalk.
“Excuse me.” And he stopped, and green took over his mind. He shivered, not from the autumn breeze but from that familiar soothing voice. “I’m a professional photographer, Eren Jaeger. Do you mind if I take a photo of you?” He was more soft-spoken, hesitant and unsure. Levi nodded and stood in his spot. He didn’t strike any pose, simply stared ahead to where Eren was assumed to be. He was well aware the lens was focused on him—his ‘big emerald eyes’ all on him and none else. A series of shutters clicking went off for a while before it finally stopped.
“Thank you, I like to collect candid shots of people I see downtown. Hope you have a wonderful day.”
Was that an excuse, or did he really like taking pictures of random people? And was Eren going to let him go once again? He didn’t wait to find out and let himself ask, “Aren’t you going to invite me in, Eren?”
His ears caught mortified sputters, and decided that he liked these little noises Eren made.
“I...I didn’t think you’d remember.”
“Just because I’m blind brat, doesn’t mean I can’t remember things.” Levi slightly cocked his head and smiled. “How could I forget that sweet voice of yours?”
He decided that he liked an embarrassed Eren as well, his cute sputters dancing in his ears. Levi followed him inside the studio and let his senses guide him to the centre of the room. It smelt of spring wood and fresh paint, and a little bit of Eren’s cologne. It smelled clean. He felt little heating rays hitting his skin. “It’s white. Not much on the walls, yet. LED lighting on the ceiling.” He took a few steps around, noting where the echoes of his footsteps went. “There’s a stair there leading to second floor. Maybe a desk up front.” He pointed with his fingers. “That’s all I can conjure up.”
The room was dead silent and Levi waited in apprehension. He didn’t need to worry much though.
“Wow, pretty much hit the spot,” Eren applauded. “Haven’t gotten much on the walls yet, still deciding.”
“Are my photos going to be up here?” Levi really wished he could see Eren with his fingers. He was still getting used to his voice and it was hard reading his emotions.
“I...” Eren started. “I didn’t want to show at first.” Levi waited for him to continue. “They were personal. For me and you. So much emotions in your eyes that I...I didn’t want to share them with anyone. Even I felt like I was intruding into your life. That’s why I censored your eyes.”
“Then why’d you take it? Keep it?” Levi pushed.
“On impulse,” Eren answered with strong certainty. “My hands act by themselves when raw emotions take over. I was taken by raw emotion. It was only later on when I had some conscious and decided not to publish it. But Jean, the nosy douche went through my personal collection and found them. He said it was really good, that I should put it on display.”
“So you listened to the douche?”
“I don’t know!” Eren let out an aggravated sigh. “Maybe I wanted to let go. Just...not have it stuck in the back of my head and just get it over with, let it out to the public and share it and move on and...and...”
Levi’s heart thumped hard upon hearing that frustrated tone in Eren. Because it gave him hope that maybe he wasn’t ready to let go yet. “And have you? Moved on?”
Eren scoffed a laugh. “Not anymore. Not with you here.”
And it was set in stone.
Levi grinned softly and murmured, “I think this is a perfect time to ask for my permission.”
One, two, three seconds. And a throaty laugh. Then one, two, three steps towards Levi. “Mr. Levi, do I have approval to display your photos to the public?”
Levi was finally close enough to see him. His hands automatically moved to Eren’s cheekbones (sharp) and slid along his jawline (chiseled), jumped to his forehead and hovered over his closed eyes (big, round, long eyelashes, and green; ‘Big Emerald Eyes’), down his nose (long and defined) until finally, he laid contact on his lips. Feathered touches took in the smooth, soft surface. He lined around the plump appendage and relished in that small curve of a cupid’s bow. Pressing in slight strength, Levi concluded that this was a pair of very kissable lips.
Eren stayed still the entire time, patiently letting Levi memorize every definition, every facial mark his hands discovered. He slivered down his slender and revelled in the shiver from Eren. Spread his palm and smoothed out those protruding collarbones, feeling heat rising from Eren’s chest and rushing into his own body. Levi pushed up and dug his fingers into the fluffy mess of his soft tangled hair. He had a sudden urge to bury his nose and take a whiff to see what shampoo he used this morning.
“Colour?” Levi murmured.
“Brown.”
“Come on, you’re an artist,” he joked. “Be more descriptive than that.”
Eren choked out a, “dark brown.”
Levi breathed out a chuckle and let him get away (this time). It was...nice. At peace, his earlier erratic heart had now calmed to slow rhythm. There was a familiar calm to this. A comforting warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. Both hands gently cupped Eren’s face. “Beautiful.”
To which the other laid his hands on Levi’s hips. “Nothing compared to the moon.”
It was a funny thing. Before today, they had only exchanged the fewest of casual words. But maybe it was through these little twists in life that they stumbled upon unspoken attraction, an inevitable beginning to something new. And Levi knew, he could stop now. He wasn’t lost anymore, he didn’t need to keep going in a never-ending, directionless path.
“I believe I found it,” he murmured, feeling Eren’s expression falter in confusion. “I stumbled upon it, never noticed it—but here I am.”
He saw green. He could see happiness.