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On opening night of the Twentieth Annual Haunted House Sponsored By Shadis Tool And Hardware, the crew swears an oath. Bound by the seal Armin draws in black lipstick on the back of Eren’s hand, they all stack their hands on top of his and swear to scare every single person who walks into their den of monsters.
When Eren steps outside the central tent they’ve set up as a break room, clouds are gathering and a breeze blows leaves over the field, snapping the canvas of the surrounding tents.
Reiner is standing near the entry flap, sipping a soda in between drags of a cigarette he’s holding in the same huge fist. He gestures Eren’s way, and Eren isn’t sure which one he’s offering; he goes for the soda, and takes a short sip before handing it back. It’s warm, and mostly flat.
Reiner has changed back into his work t-shirt, the Shadis logo spelled across the front in blocky letters, but he’s still in full makeup from his shift as Frankenstein's Monster. The dark lines drawn around his eyes make his sturdy cheeks look craggier, his gaze tired.
“Nice speech in there,” he says, and Eren nods, watching the wind blow yellow leaves against his sneakers. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”
Every October, Shadis recruits the part-timers working in his store to build and staff a haunted house. He doesn’t really care about what’s inside as long as he gets to put his logo on the front, an unofficial billboard in the abandoned field right off the main road into town.
The first year, his crew just hung up some sheet-ghosts in the abandoned barn at the back of the property, flicked flashlight beams at anyone who wandered in, and charged a quarter. The next year, employees started stockpiling decorations, and have passed them down through the years — worn-out community theatre props, and old decorations from townspeople cleaning out their basements. Armin buys every pumpkin or skull he sees at a yard sale.
Eren has christened this year’s crew The Undead Squad, and led them in planning the biggest House ever attempted. Shadis let them take over the entire field this time to build a sprawling maze of tents. Armin called them “dioramas of the dark corners of the psyche”; Jean called it “bitchin’.”
Opening night is on October 1st, and Armin warned that the night feels ready for a curse — the day’s numbers are mirrored, 10/01, and the weather is turning.
Eren is finishing his last shift that week when he hears the rumor: there’s someone no-one can scare. Apparently he came in with a little girl with bright red hair, and when Krista offered her The Bowl Of Eyeballs, she shoved her hand into the peeled grapes and didn’t even flinch.
“She grabbed one and woulda eaten it if he hadn’t stopped her,” Jean says. “Said it wasn’t sanitary.”
“Connie’s Zombie didn’t work?” Eren asks, peeling a thick rubber werewolf mask off his head and running a hand through the messy curls that have escaped from his hair tie.
“Not my fault,” Connie says, wiping off the last of the black lipstick from his mouth.
Sasha nods, patting Connie’s shoulder in sympathy as she bends down to slip off her glossy black Bride of Frankenstein pumps.
“He yawned in The Room Of Eternal Death.”
Soon, the others start trickling into the break room with their own stories.
Short, dark hair. “Glare that made you feel like he was the real monster,” Marco says, shivering as he pulls a soda out of the fridge.
“Levi.”
Everyone turns to look at Eren.
“Levi Ackerman. Right?”
Kenny Ackerman’s nephew comes into town once or twice a year — sometimes for a couple days, sometimes for weeks. Eren mainly sees him hanging around the local coffee shop with his headphones in, or playing pick-up soccer with some students —mostly Erwin and Hanji — in the field behind Eren’s community college. Levi usually wins. Not that Eren sticks around to watch.
Connie’s eyes go wide, and he runs behind Sasha like he’s seeking shelter, standing on his tiptoes to peek over her shoulder.
“I heard he burned down his middle school!”
Armin glances over from the dressing area, pausing an eyeliner pencil on his lid.
“Lakeview never burned down. Didn’t your sister go there, Connie?”
Sasha stage-whispers, “I heard he got expelled when he was thirteen.”
Armin raises an eyebrow at his own reflection in the mirror.
“Didn’t his mom move districts?”
Sasha and Connie keep ignoring him, and he sighs, reaching for foundation several ghostly shades paler than his skin.
Next Friday Jean is late, again. All the full costumes are taken, so as tradition dictates Eren has helpfully picked some leftovers and piled them on the break room table. This time it’s the Guy With A Knife jacket, a pair of rubber Frankenstein hands, a wolf mask and a snorkel.
“The fuck?” Jean says. “Armin, I told you to save me Dracula!”
Armin is already in full make-up, taking small bites from a mini-doughnut he’s holding in both hands and trying not to smear the trickle of bright red lipstick painted from his lip to his chin.
“It looked better on me,” he shrugs.
Eren nods.
“It really does.”
Jean groans and pins back his bangs in preparation to slip on the mask, throwing the snorkel at Eren.
Suddenly, Connie bursts through a tent flap on the far side of the room, out of breath.
“He’s back!”
“Huh?”
“That guy from last Saturday!”
Eren grits his teeth, grabbing the jacket and holding it up for Jean to slip his arms through.
“Jean, hurry up!”
“Target —“ Connie pants —“entering The Graveyard Of Broken Dreams — in T minus five!”
Once Jean’s fit everything together the best he can, Eren hurries him to the entrance to The Graveyard, squeezes his shoulders, and pushes him on set.
Jean trips through the tent flap, knocking into a styrofoam headstone that Krista sponge-painted to look like marble. Levi and Hanji are exploring a row of fake graves at the far side of the tent, and don’t seem to notice.
Jean takes a deep breath and runs for them, waving green rubber hands over his head.
Levi is staring up into the shadowed peak of the tent. He squints, letting out a thoughtful hum, and Jean hears him mutter to himself as he gets closer, “Is that exposed wiring? That has to be a fire hazard.”
“Boo!” Jean yells, squaring his shoulders and growling through the twisted, toothy snout of his wolf mask.
Levi glances over like he just noticed Jean, and then frowns, looking him over more carefully.
“Oh, hey. You’re a ... dog in a jacket?”
“Werewolf!” Jean says, and then catches sight of his mismatched hands and mutters, — “or something. Dammit, Yeager.”
Levi looks down at Hanji for help. They’ve squatted down to study a gravestone, elbows propped on thighs and chin resting in their hands.
“Is that why it’s scary? Because it’s a dog wearing people clothes?” Levi asks.
Hanji blinks up at Levi from behind their glasses and shrugs.
“Maybe. We could test the variation in scare factor on a random sample of visitors. Dog versus dog in jacket — “
They spring up, clapping their hands.
“Ooh, or dog in shoes! Super creepy! Does it have feet or paws? You don’t know!”
Jean storms off with a strangled noise of frustration. He doesn’t bother waiting until he gets to the break room before pulling off his mask, even though Eren will dock him five dollars for the violation. Eren is waiting right behind the tent flap, and Armin looks over at him expectantly from his seat at the snack table. Jean shakes his head.
“I’m out.”
He goes for the snacks, reaching over Armin’s shoulder to steal one of his doughnuts. It’s caked in white powder; some of it falls on the shoulder of Armin’s black cloak, and Jean brushes it off.
“You were only in there for, like, five minutes,” Eren says, crossing his arms.
Armin cups his chin with two fingers and narrows his eyes. “Jump scares obviously don’t work. We need to get in his head. What are people really afraid of? Loss? Irrelevance?”
“Armin!” Eren scolds. “No torture in the haunted house — Shadis said so!”
Eren’s going to have to put in overtime at this rate, and he has a cell biology test on Monday. Sophomore year is the worst.
Next Saturday, Eren crouches behind The Pit Of Blood — a plastic kid’s pool filled with cherry Jello. It took Krista hours to make enough; Ymir bought out the convenience store and had to drive two towns over to get more.
The red bodysuit he found in the prop boxes is too tight, and his hiding spot is cramped. He rolls his shoulders and stretches as much as he can without giving himself away.
After what feels like hours, someone strolls in, and he waits until he feels his pocket buzz with a text from Armin.
Eren springs out, landing close to Levi and shouts, “Your soul is mine!”
He holds a low crouch for a moment, fingers curled into claws, and watches Levi expectantly. Not even an eyebrow twitch.
Levi is alone tonight, without Hanji or the younger girl he usually brings with him. His sister, maybe? Eren can’t really imagine him babysitting. He’s wearing tight black jeans tucked into heavy boots, and a white t-shirt; it looks comfortably worn, a little loose, the fraying collar falling to the side to show his shadowed collarbone. A silver chain necklace slips below the fabric.
“All right. What’s this one?” he asks.
Eren clears his throat, eyes snapping back up to Levi’s face. He’s looking around the room, taking in the orange and yellow flames painted on the side of the tent.
“Uh —“ Eren tries to put an intimidating raspiness in his voice. “The Inferno?”
They read a book about it in his high school English class. Or, Eren had read half, and Armin explained the rest. He gestures down at his long red cape — from the Dracula outfit, turned inside out — and the pitchfork he scavenged from the old barn.
“Sure,” Levi nods. “And who are you?”
“Eren! Eren Yeager.”
Levi rolls his eyes.
“I know that. I meant your costume.”
“You know who I am?”
Levi gives a small nod while continuing to look him over.
“I mean, um. I’m a demon.”
“Just a demon? Not the devil?”
Eren gives it a moment of earnest consideration, and then shrugs. “Nope. Just a regular one, I guess.”
Levi sighs, reaching for the glittery red horns half-buried in Eren’s messy hair.
Eren freezes, eyes widening as Levi settles them back in place. The plastic tugs a little against his scalp, and Eren shivers.
“Your horns are crooked.”
Eren’s suddenly very glad he picked this costume. His cheeks are hot, but the dots of red face paint will hide it. Since when does he blush?
Levi steps back with an approving nod, and then turns towards the curtained doorway leading to the next tent.
“Want to give me the rest of the tour?”
“Me?” Eren points at himself. “Haven’t you been through, like, six times already?”
Levi glances away.
“Yeah. But you’re in charge of the place, right?”
Eren nods, still stuck in place.
“I was —“ Levi hesitates, kicking the toe of his boot to flutter off a stray scrap of yellow cellophane cut in the shape of a flame “ — kind of hoping I’d run into you tonight. So you could give me the official tour, or whatever.”
Eren can’t help the huge smile that spreads across his face as he walks over to join him, lifting the curtain so he can walk through to the next room.
“Okay, then. Right this way.”
The next room is completely dark except for a spotlight shining on two chairs wrapped in aluminum foil and facing the tent wall, where stock footage of stars is being projected onto the canvas.
“So a graveyard leading into fiery doom or whatever — I get that,” Levi says, stopping beside Eren and standing — just maybe — a little closer than he did before. It’s hard to make out most of the room in the dark, but it’s all covered in silver foil. “But I still can’t figure out what this is supposed to be. Paradise?”
“Damn, that would have been good,” Eren groans, hitting his palm lightly against his forehead. “No, it’s, umm — a haunted spaceship.”
Marco sneaks up behind them, covered in a bedsheet with two holes cut out to reveal the dark bug eyes of an alien mask. He’s about to grab Levi’s shoulder, and Eren shakes his head slightly. Marco nods and disappears back into the shadows with a faint rustle of fabric. Levi doesn’t notice, busy looking around the room incredulously.
“A what?”
“It was kind of last-minute,” Eren admits. “This silver foil stuff was on sale at the craft store, and uh …”
Levi snorts, and it avalanches into real laughter, deep like his voice, and then Eren is laughing too, and he wipes under his eye and his hand comes away red with costume paint.
Eren’s seen Levi laugh a few times before. He usually does it like he doesn’t want other people to see, putting a hand over his mouth as if his smile had to be blocked like water. This one is different — unguarded.
“I feel like I’m on the set of ‘Plan 9 From Outer Space’.” he says, wiping an eye. “You all are such dorks.”
The look he shoots Eren makes it clear that’s not an insult.
“So are you! What was that reference?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. Haven’t you heard? I’m cool and terrifying.”
A passing group of kids give them dirty looks for breaking the tension in the room. Eren realizes he’s still in costume, and they’re probably wondering what a demon is doing in a spaceship, and he starts laughing again.
Next Saturday night is slow. Most people go to the Fall Carnival instead, and there are little kids in the groups that do show up, so Eren asks the crew to tone down their usual tactics. Less yelling, fewer chainsaws — much to Jean’s chagrin. The shift drags, and Eren lets them close up early. Afterwards they drive back to Shadis Hardware and take turns at the deep industrial sink in the back, scrubbing off the facepaint and sweat that collects beneath their heavy rubber masks.
It’s pay day, but Shadis is late so they wait in the parking lot out back, jumping from foot to foot and shoving their hands in their pockets to fight the cold.
Jean leans back against his truck and lights a cigarette, coughing as soon as he inhales.
“You’re not going to impress Mikasa that way,” Armin says.
Eren growls and Armin grabs his elbow, giving it a little shake.
“Why would I care what she thinks?”
Jean glances over at Armin, looking a little hurt. Armin doesn’t seem to notice. Huh, Eren thinks. Interesting.
“I just like the taste.” Jean takes another drag and blows it from his mouth immediately in a loose cloud. “It’s relaxing.”
Armin rolls his eyes and is about to respond when Shadis appears, grabbing the cigarette from his mouth and stomping it under his steel-toed work boot.
“Dirty habit, Kirstein.”
Armin nods in sage agreement.
“Took my first wife six times to quit.” He taps his chin. “Only took her one time to quit me, though.”
While he chuckles, the three look between each other, wondering if they’re supposed to laugh. Shadis doesn’t seem to care either way. It’s a joke for his own benefit? Or at his own expense?
He finally reaches into his back pocket, pulls out three wads of cash wrapped in rubber bands, and passes them out. Jean eyeballs his and pouts.
“Why does Eren get more?”
“Because he’s the boss,” Shadis says, clapping a hand on Eren’s shoulder. “Good work this week, Eren. My niece went through three times in a row.”
Eren wiggles like a puppy and and puffs out his chest.
“Thanks, boss!”
Jean rolls his eyes, and as soon as Shadis gets back into his truck, he lights another cigarette and elbows Eren.
“Kiss-ass.”
Eren elbows him back, stealing the cigarette when Jean goes to block him. He takes one drag for himself and then crushes it out on the pavement.
“Ass-face.”
“Face — stupid! Your face is stupid!”
They both look over at Armin expectantly, and he shakes his head.
“Disqualified.”
Jean pulls a dollar bill free from his stack of cash and slaps it into Eren’s palm.
Eren smirks, but then gets distracted by a familiar silhouette walking down the sidewalk.
“Levi!” he calls, waving and sprinting across the parking lot towards the figure. Levi stops under the yellow circle of a fading streetlight and turns towards the sound.
When Eren gets closer he realizes Levi has a dark beanie pulled down low over his ears, grown-out bangs escaping over his forehead, and is wearing a well-cut black coat. Eren can’t tell if he’s dressed up. He looks nice, but Levi always looks nice. Maybe he has a date, Eren realizes, and his stomach sinks a little. He shoves his hands into his pockets and forces a bright smile.
“Hey, Levi! Where ya’ headed?”
“Home.”
“Oh, cool!”
Levi raises an eyebrow.
“Well, I just got off work,” Eren continues. “I was about to go the carnival.”
“Sounds fun,” Levi says, glancing over Eren’s shoulder at Jean and Armin huddled together beside Jean’s truck, obviously not-looking and not-talking about him and Levi.
“Really? Do you, uh — do you want to go with me?”
“You’re not going with your friends?”
Eren glances back over his shoulder. He had sort of forgotten Jean and Armin were still there. Is Armin giving him a thumbs-up?
“Nah. They’ve got plans. And I’d rather go with you, anyway.”
Levi ducks his head, hiding a smile in his scarf.
“Okay. Let’s go, then.”
Eren is starving so they head for the food area first, deciding on the truck from the local diner and then settling on opposite sides of a small picnic table nearby. It’s covered in a red and white checked plastic tablecloth, and there’s a small jack o’lantern at the end of the table with a tea candle lit inside, its smile beaming a warm, wavering glow.
Levi unfolds a paper napkin and lays it across his lap. Eren is already several bites into his burger when Levi pops open the lid of his to-go box, the steam rising in the cold air.
Eren sets his burger down, wipes a hand across his mouth, and then wipes the hand on his napkin. Levi levels a playful glare at him.
“So, you’re kind of a legend at the haunted house,” Eren says.
“I’m honored.”
“You really just don’t get scared?”
“No.” He shrugs. “Not really.”
“Huh.” Eren props his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands in thought. “Armin says he doesn’t have a gag reflex. Maybe it’s something like that?”
Levi immediately chokes on his soda.
Eren shrugs and looks politely down at his fries, herding them away from the ketchup lake soaking into the paper lining of his takeout box as Levi collects himself.
“So you’ve never been freaked out?” he continues, when Levi has his coughing fit under control. “By anything?”
“Nope.”
“Dark rooms?”
“No.”
“Small spaces?”
“Don’t like them. But not scared of them.”
“Clowns?”
“Like the ones kids have at birthday parties?”
“Fine. Dolls? Like, the creepy ones. Like you walk into your room on a moonless night and bam, there’s a headless doll in your bed!”
Eren slams his hands down on the table, rattling their takeout boxes. Levi blinks.
“What? No. How would that even —“
“A curse. Obviously.”
When he looks up, Levi is smiling, just a little, the corners of his mouth quirked up.
“Fine, I get it. Big, tough Levi.”
Levi shrugs.
“Kenny says I saw a ghost when I was five and told it to fuck off.”
Eren drops his fork into his takeout box, and Levi grimaces as a drop of ketchup sprays onto the plastic tablecloth between them.
“A real ghost?”
Levi pinches his forehead.
“No. He took me trick-or-treating.”
It turns out Levi is really, really good at arcade shooting games, but has never shot, and will never shoot, a real gun. His favorite carnival food is popcorn, but only if it’s salted and not dusted with too much powdered butter. This is a wild preference, in Eren’s opinion — he orders the caramel flavor, and licks his fingers after the first sticky handful. Levi rolls his eyes, and orders as close to plain as he can get.
Sasha is working the concession booth tonight; she drops Eren’s change in his clean hand with a wink.
“Ugh, coins are annoying,” Eren says, jostling them in his palm as they walk away.
“Really?” Levi says. “What about laundromats? Parking meters? I never have them when I need them.”
“I always just park at Jean’s house, and my mom does my laundry.”
Levi rolls his eyes. “Country boy.”
“City boy.”
Eren nudges his bag of popcorn towards Levi.
“Want some?”
Levi picks a single kernel off the top and wrinkles his nose.
“It’s messy,” he says.
If Eren told him how cute he looks right now, Levi would probably kick him in the shin. Eren grins, grabbing the most sugar-coated kernel off the top and tossing into his mouth.
“That’s the point, Levi.”
It’s faint, but he could swear Levi blushes.
When they finally hit the end of the midway, Levi stops in front of the restrooms. He looks down at Eren’s fingers, sticky from the caramel, and nods over at the nearby outdoor sinks.
“Do you mind washing your hands?”
“What? Why?”
“Just — you know. You’re all sticky.”
It doesn’t bother Eren, but he runs his hands quickly under the water anyway and pats them dry on his jeans.
The water dries off his hands by the time they’re halfway back down the midway, leaving them a little cold.
When they stop in front of the ring toss booth, Levi hesitantly brushes their hands together.
As they keep walking, their fingers laced together are warmer than any gloves Eren owns.
Halloween falls on a Friday. All week, Jean hasn’t stopped talking about some keg party at Reiner’s house, and Armin acted like he couldn’t care less but somehow ended up as the designated driver, as usual. Eren will admit that it was one of Jean’s more successful schemes in recent memory.
“Hold still!”
“Ow,” Jean whines, licking the sore spot where he’s bitten his lip again with his fake fangs. Armin pulls away the eyeliner pencil just in time, making a noise of impatience as he waits for Jean to settle.
“You’re the one who’s been begging for the costume!”
Jean glares at him before shutting his eyes again and tilting his face up obediently. Armin gently tugs his lid flatter with the pad of his thumb and finishes the neat dark line he’s drawing before smudging it a bit into Jean’s lashes.
“There, all done,” he says, stepping back, and Jean checks himself out in the mirror propped up against the wall of his bedroom. His eyes are subtly outlined, bringing out the gold in them, and he tugs the black Dracula cape tighter around himself, turning from side to side to get a good look. He’s swapped out the costume underneath for the nicest white dress shirt he could steal from his dad’s closet, paired with black jeans tucked into his regular beat-up leather boots.
“Damn, Armin, I look good!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Armin smooths down a few last stray hairs, then tugs gently on the overgrown ends and sticks his tongue out at Jean’s reflection when he pouts.
Armin turns to Eren.
“What do you think?”
“I can’t believe I get to say ‘Jean sucks’ all night.”
Jean laughs, swirling his cape with a sharp snap.
“Admit it, Yeager — I look hot.”
Eren rolls his eyes; Jean sees it in the mirror as he checks out his reflection, and smirks.
“Yeah, fine, you look all right,” Eren says.
He texted Levi earlier to see if he was going to the party. He said Kenny was out of town, so he was taking his cousin Isabel trick-or-treating around the neighborhood and staying in to watch her.
Eren’s phone rings as Jean is searching the top of his dresser for his keys; when he sees “Levi” on the screen he feels a small skip in his chest and ducks over into a corner of the room.
“Hey.” Eren’s still surprised at how low Levi’s voice is — a tone that makes people who don’t know him think he doesn’t care.
“Hi.”
“I was wondering if you wanted to come over? I know you’re probably going to Reiner’s, but I thought maybe we could hang out a little first.”
Jean is shaking his car keys impatiently from the doorway. Eren motions for him and Armin to go ahead without him.
“Yeah, that sounds good. When are you free?”
“Whenever.”
Eren bites back a smile, but even he can hear it in his answer.
“Be there in fifteen.”
As soon as he opens the door, Levi puts a finger over his lips, making the sign for silence. Isabel fell asleep as soon as they got back home, he explains, barely waiting to swap her soldier costume for pajamas.
He gestures for Eren to take off his shoes, and then leads them into Kenny’s living room. The TV is on, playing the local channel’s all-night horror movie marathon. Isabel’s bedroom is just down the hall, so the volume is turned almost too low to hear.
A small bucket shaped like a pumpkin is sitting on the coffee table, filled with the leftovers of the candy she collected. Levi portions off what she’s allowed to keep and then dumps the rest into a pile on the carpet between them. He holds up three fingers, and begins a silent countdown.
On “one”, they flop down on the carpet and each hoard half at random, and then start the tense negotiation of swapping for their favorites.
Levi holds out a wrapped lollipop with cartoon grapes printed on the paper. “Trade you for a Snickers?” he whispers.
“‘Course not! Do I look like a sucker?”
Eren grins expectantly at Levi; when he gets the pun, he groans and steals a chocolate from Eren’s pile in punishment.
“Eren, that was awful.”
When they’ve got most of the candy sorted, Levi leans back, resting his elbows on the edge of the coffee table.
“So, no costume? I thought you were headed to Reiner’s.”
Eren shakes his head.
“I was just helping Jean get ready.”
“Is that the one dating your blonde friend? Armin?”
“Look who’s been listening to gossip!”
“Have not been listening,” Levi huffs. “Can’t help if I hear things.”
Eren considers the question.
“I’ve been thinking lately that Jean’s into him, but I’m pretty sure they’re not together? It’s complicated. We’ve all been friends since elementary school, and he used to ask my sister Mikasa out all the time. He stopped in, like, sixth grade, and they’re definitely just friends, but Armin ... I can’t tell if he’s oblivious or playing a long game. I kinda feel bad for Jean. It’s like … what do you call a one-sided love triangle?”
“Jerking off.”
Eren snorts, digging for a hard candy in the pile near him and throwing it at Levi. It bounces off his chest, and Levi catches it, then carefully unwraps it and slides it into his mouth, trying to keep his fingers from getting sticky. Eren can’t read the wrapper. What color, he wonders, is it dyeing Levi’s tongue?
“So, is this what you usually do for Halloween?”
Levi raises one eyebrow and shrugs.
“Yeah, pretty much. I’ve been taking Izzie out to trick or treat since she got old enough.”
“People are wrong about you, aren’t they?” Levi looks at him questioningly. “Like, you do care about stuff.”
Levi chuckles.
“Yeah, Eren, I care about stuff.” He clicks his tongue. “You accidentally set one trashcan on fire in middle school and suddenly you’ve got a reputation.”
Eren pushes up on his elbow, not noticing that it moves him closer to Levi. Levi snorts, ducking his head down even though it’s too dark for Eren to see the slight flush in his cheeks.
“So you did set the school on fire!”
“Not the whole school, dumbass.”
Eren lurches onto his back, splaying his hand across his stomach.
“I can’t believe it’s true,” he says, almost dreamily.
Levi, still propped on his elbow beside him, studies him as he blinks up at the ceiling, his wrinkled t-shirt riding up over his stomach.
“Actually — it was Hanji.”
Eren turns his head, hair flopping against the carpet.
“Yeah. Said they messed up some kind of experiment, freaked out and dropped it in the trashcan. I had a lighter on me, so I covered for them.”
“That’s — kind of sweet. For arson.”
A little after midnight, they’ve come down from their sugar high and are lying side by side on their stomachs in front of the TV, having long since lost the plot of the latest movie without being able to hear any of the lines. It’s comfortable, being this close, almost touching.
Eren watches an actor in a full-body hair suit run for a girl wearing a silky nightgown, weeping against a stone floor. “They must get so hot,” he mumbles, thinking of how he sweats through a t-shirt every shift in the haunted house just from running around with his head and hands covered in thick rubber.
Levi lets out a sleepy hmm, and Eren looks over at his profile, sharp nose and small chin propped on his crossed forearms. Light from the TV plays over his face for a few minutes before he feels Eren staring. He rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand, and Eren mirrors him.
“Hey,” Levi says.
“Hey,” Eren repeats, settling his cheek in his hand.
“Eren?”
“Yeah?”
“So, there is one thing that creeps me out a little.”
Eren perks up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. They built the haunted house to target every category of scare they could think of — death, loud noises, normal things in the wrong place or the wrong size. Other than Levi, they’d never failed. What did they miss?
“Trees,” Levi mutters.
Eren bursts out laughing. Levi glances towards Isabel’s room and then glares at him. Eren quiets it behind his palm, and he would never dare to call the even line of Levi’s lips a pout but he definitely looks offended, staring down at the carpet now and picking at the fibers like blades of grass in a field.
“Oh, no! Levi — I’m sorry. Levi?”
Levi softly slaps the back of his hand against Eren’s chest.
“Not, like, every tree, you idiot. Just, you know — when you get deep in the forest, with all those big-ass trees so close together. It’s just, I don’t know—I don’t like it. It feels like something bad is going to happen.”
Eren feels less like laughing, now; Levi looks unsettled, and a little upset about that. Eren reaches into the small space between them and takes his hand, threading their fingers together.
He’s only been that far into the woods once, maybe twice, when his parents took him and Mikasa camping in the summer. The sun sparkled on the river and he fished with a pole he made from a stick and some string, catching a rusted soda can. The stars were so bright and there were so many more than he had known —looking up and thinking about all that space, he could barely get to sleep while Mikasa snored gently in her sleeping bag beside him. It’s not like Eren has ever been anything but free, but for some reason lying awake in the woods those nights he felt what it would be like to ache if that boundless space were taken away from him. It’s not something he can really put into words.
“Camping can be nice,” he says.
Levi looks up at him curiously.
“Well, agree to disagree, I guess.”
They’re silent for a moment, and Eren brushes his thumb back and forth over Levi’s hand, just once.
“Thanks for telling me.”
Levi squeezes Eren’s hand.
“Yeah.”
He lies back on the carpet, not letting go of Eren’s hand.
“If I show up at your haunted house next year and you’re dressed like a tree, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
Next year, Eren repeats in his head, hiding a smile as he yawns and falls back on the carpet beside him. After a few more minutes of sleepy silence, Levi drags a thick plaid blanket off the couch to cover them both and Eren snuggles into him, pressing his cheek against Levi’s chest.
He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but then he’s blinking awake and the room is bright, and a small girl is jumping up and down in front of them with a phone camera pointed their way, yelling “Big bro’s got a boyfriend!”
“Shut it, Izzie,” Levi grumbles, wiping sleep from his eyes. “Kenny back yet?”
She shakes her head while jumping up and down, snapping her red braids across her cheeks. Levi sighs, gesturing between them.
“Izzie, this is Eren. Eren, my cousin Isabel.”
“Eren!” she yells.
“Izzie, go brush your teeth. I’ll make waffles.”
“Waffles!” she shouts with equal enthusiasm, pumping her fist in the air and then pocketing her phone.
Before she can run back to her room, Eren waves to catch her attention and stage-whispers, “Text me the best one.”
She nods, giggling, and sprints for her room.
“Don’t encourage her,” Levi says, ruffling Eren’s hair and not really making an effort to hide his lopsided smile.
On November 1st they start tearing down the Twentieth Annual Haunted House Sponsored By Shadis Tool and Hardware, pulling the logo banner off first to hang up in the store.
Eren shows up a little late, wearing an old flannel with the elbow worn out. Armin immediately runs up and hands him a travel cup of coffee, giving him a smile that’s somehow both smug and sincere.
When the crew starts breaking down the last tent, Office Building: Thirteenth Floor, Eren helps them carry the desk and filing cabinets they stole from Shadis’ office into the moving truck, but stops them before they can tear down the open wood frame they dressed up as The Elevator To Nowhere.
“Hey, can you leave that up?”
Ymir shrugs, tucking the hammer back into the toolbelt slung low over her jeans. She’s holding a spare nail in her mouth like a cartoon farmer with a stalk of grass, and bounces it between her lips before she grins and looks over at Eren.
“Let me sand it, at least. Don’t want your shorty to get splinters.”
“My shorty — ?”
“Krista’s the perfect height,” Ymir says serenely, and Eren rolls his eyes.
Jean appears at Eren’s side, looking the scene over for himself.
“Hold on a sec.”
He reappears with a generator and several ropes of string lights coiled around his arm, dumping them beside Eren.
“Make it romantic and shit.”
That night, when Eren lifts his palms off Levi’s eyes in the middle of Shadis’ empty field, he finally sees it — Levi’s eyes get a little wider, and his lips part just an inch to let out a soft “oh”.
“So, I was thinking. I guess I never really wanted to scare you — I just wanted to surprise you.”
Rope lights are wound around the wood frame, and Eren set up a leftover folding table from the break room in the dim circle of light. It’s covered with the nicest white tablecloth he could find in the pantry at his house. Take-out boxes from the good Italian restaurant are steaming in the cool air.
Levi steps closer, noticing the finishing touch — a ceramic pumpkin with a candle inside.
“That has to be the last jack o’ lantern in town.”
Its mouth is turned down in a disapproving frown.
“I stole it from the craft store,” Eren says. “It reminded me of you.”
Levi snorts.
“Cute.”
After Levi has looked around for a moment, Eren scratches the back of his neck nervously.
“Is it too cheesy? I know you hate camping, but I thought … this field is pretty open — no trees — and if there’s no tent, you’ll just see sky everywhere, so maybe — “
Levi reaches over and takes his hand.
“Thanks, Eren.”
He looks up, blowing out a frozen cloud of breath that slowly dissolves into the air. The moon is waning, and Eren can make out most of the familiar constellations.
“You really can see so many stars out here,” Levi says.
“City boy,” Eren says, stepping closer and squeezing his hand. Levi smiles — not smirks — up at the sky.
The Twenty-First Annual Haunted House Sponsored By Shadis Tool and Hardware is a marvel the likes of which the tristate area has never seen. Or it will be, if Eren can just get everyone to memorize their lines, and convince Jean that Dracula always wears a shirt under his cape.
On opening night, Eren is helping Krista finish up props for Hanji’s Improbable Laboratory when Levi steps through the tent flap, making his way through the bustling break room. He almost runs into Jean, who’s bending down to lace up his boots; Armin grabs the ends of his cape to keep them from trailing on the dirty floor. “Thanks, babe,” Jean says, and Armin smiles, running a hand over his shoulderblades.
Eren is so focused on following Krista’s recipe for fake entrails that he doesn’t notice Levi until he leans in and pecks a soft hello kiss on his lips.
“Levi!” Eren says, dropping the bowl of spaghetti he’s mixing. He wipes his hands clean on his apron, and then pulls Levi in by the hem of his t-shirt for a deeper kiss.
“I thought you weren’t getting in until later.”
“I left a little early,” Levi says, tucking the hair coming loose from Eren’s low bun back behind his ear. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“Hey, that’s my line.”
Levi chuckles, and looks down to survey Eren’s work.
“You’re making guts, right? Wouldn’t chunky tomato sauce be better?”
“Damn, you’re right,” Eren says.
“It was sold out at the Food Mart,” Krista answers from the other end of the table. “Hi, Levi. Nice to see you back in town.”
The night is terrifying and splendid. Connie swears someone faints, though is suspiciously vague about who. A little after midnight, Eren and Levi walk through the whole maze hand in hand and Levi never bats an eye, even when Sasha drops a plastic spider down the back of his shirt.
“I’ll get you next year,” Eren says as they step out from the exit, dry winter grass crunching under their boots.
“Do your worst,” Levi says, leaning in for a kiss.