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Maybe Eren went to Connie's party with the intention to get drunk, maybe he intended to get into a fist fight with Jean. However, he definitely didn't expect to end up locked in the bathroom, with his head in his hands, clutching at his ears to keep the noise from the party out of his head.
He knows someone is tapping on the door and calling through the wood. The voice sounds like Historia, her soft cadence not able to reach fully through the music, the cacophony of voices outside Eren's panicked bubble.
The bath is cold against his back, hard where it presses into his tailbone and it aches. Eren sits with his knees pressed against his chest, the blood falling from his nose seeping into the fabric of his jeans. It spreads in flourishes of crimson, almost like a chrysanthemum opening up its many petals. There's a throbbing in his skull and he fears his head may split apart if he doesn't continue the insistent press of his palms against his ears. The tears flow freely and Eren's breath comes in sharp, difficult bursts. The panic is absolutely blinding.
He needs to get out, but he can't move, he can't even leave the tub to let Historia in so she might help him. How can he stand while his whole body shakes and his vision is blurred through a stream of hot tears? He can't breathe, fuck, he can't breathe.
"Eren, listen to me," Historia urges, her voice finally making it through the din. "Please, just let me in? Let me in and we can just go home.."
Ah, but it's not that easy - Eren is surely having a heart attack, there's vomit fighting its way up his throat and his head might just explode if the distant bass line keeps up its persistent pounding. He's repulsive, a waste of space, maybe he'll just curl up in the bottom of the bath until everything just… stops.
He should have stayed home, holed away in the flat he and Historia share.. He could have written the paper he has due in the next few days, or perhaps he could have cried in private rather than becoming the public spectacle he surely is now. Nobody wants him around anyways.
"Eren, you're scaring me," Historia admits, Eren knows her voice when she's attempting to sound braver than she feels. "Open the door, or I'm calling Levi."
Now, there's something that will provoke a response, indeed. His voice stuttering as he attempts to piece together his words, Eren replies, "No, no! 'Storia, please - please, he can't s-see me like this. I said that - that I wouldn't hurt myself any- anymore. No more fighting. He'll be s-so upset."
"Eren," Historia reasons, the way her voice wavers breaks his heart even further, "I need you to be safe. I have to call him."
Eren can't even reply, more sobs fall from his lips and shudder his whole body. Levi will be finishing up an essay, or maybe even sleeping at this time - wait, what is the time? Fuck, fuck. How long has Eren been hunched over in the bath crying? Levi shouldn't have to deal with someone like him..
Eren didn't even tell Levi that he was going to Connie's party. As far as Levi knows, Eren and Historia are in their flat together, sustained by caffeine in an attempt to meet university deadlines. Levi only would have tried to stop him going to Connie's - Eren likes to think he hides his bad mental health spells well, but never can he fool his attentive partner. The first signs of depression or panic disorder creeping back to the forefront of Eren's brain, Levi is always the first to realise.
Through the door, Eren can hear Historia on the phone to Levi, she isn't speaking directly to him anymore and he tunes out what she says. It was getting difficult to focus on her regardless, the feeling of acid working its way up his throat is a much more pressing matter.
Time passes, Eren is unsure how long, everything blurring together in his panic. Eventually, the old-fashioned bolt shudders as Historia, or perhaps someone stronger, tries to force the door open. No, Eren begs mentally, just leave him be. The noise is too much, his esophagus burns and he throws up into the plug hole, liquid bile sliding into the grate. He's still choking when the door flies open and Levi enters the bathroom, Historia a step behind him with tears in her eyes.
Quickly averting his eyes, Eren stares anywhere but Levi and Historia. His eyes are sore and when his roommate turns the light on, it burns terribly.
Two hands cover Eren's own, where they're clamped against his ears, and gently Levi coaxes Eren into relaxing his iron grasp. As his hearing comes back in full, the throbbing head pain worsens. Eren whimpers.
"Eren, love, what have you done?" Levi soothes, his voice hitting Eren right in his heart. It aches, the discomfort radiates outwards and Eren hurts all over - he doesn't deserve Levi's affection. Embarrassment and shame floods his veins and Eren feels leaden, a heavy force sinking him to the ocean's deepest depths.
"Please make it stop," Eren whispers, his throat raw, from the sobbing or the vomit he's not sure. More likely than not, both.
"Let's get you out of here, hey?" Levi queries, leaning over the edge of the bath as he runs his fingers through Eren's hair. His touch eases Eren's pain, although Eren loathes to admit his dependence. "Come on, love, can you stand?"
Hm, can he stand? Probably not. Eren shakes his head, negative, and the movement brings more vomit spilling into the bath. He hears Levi clear his throat, obviously unsettled by it. Levi hates vomit, Eren is the worst. God, he's just horrific.
"If you can lift Eren and take him home, I can make sure this is cleaned up. The vomit… and the blood." Historia theorises and fuck, how will Eren manage to repay her for this? He's an awful friend.
"Thank you," Levi says, his voice is quiet despite the loud party, most likely for Eren's benefit. "Not just the cleaning, for looking out for him."
Historia seems embarrassed, talking into the cupboard while she gathers cleaning supplies, "Eren would do the same for me. I could never get him back to our flat without your help, anyway.."
"I'm glad that you called me, don't worry about it, okay?" Levi says, trying to reassure her.
"I think this is my fault," Historia starts, holding back tears still, considering the weakness in her voice, "I asked him to come with me, I all but begged him since he seemed so depressed in the flat… I made it worse, didn't I?"
"What's done is done," Levi declares cooly, Eren watches him place a hand on Historia's shoulder in his peripheral vision, still looking anywhere but the one person he cannot stand to disappoint. "Eren makes his own choices."
Levi has always believed in making your own decisions, forging a path for yourself. More commonly, unfortunately, Eren seems to make the bad choices only. He's known for taking the route that is most apparent in its danger, paths with overgrown, thorny bracken, and the distant buzzing of a wasp nest to draw him onwards.
Eren doesn't know how, but sure enough, Levi scoops him up from the bath bridal style. Eren doesn't even want to look around to see what kind of a crowd has gathered to witness his panic attack, instead, he buries his face into the crook of Levi's neck and cries as silently as he can muster.
When they reach the front door, it's Jean who opens it for Levi and another surge of embarrassment rips a hole in Eren's chest. If possible, he tightens his grip around Levi's neck, holding on to the grounding warmth.
"Levi," Jean starts, his voice thick with shame, "I'm sorry.. I didn't realise Eren wasn't… You know, doing well. He's been okay for months. In the past, we just got the punching over with and made up - he's never done this before..."
"If Eren is doing well he doesn't get smashed or pick fights, both of which he did tonight," Levi retorts and his voice isn't kind, how it was when he addressed Eren or even Historia. "You shouldn't engage with him when he's like this… I know he started it, but you should both know better. Don't take his bait, let it go."
It's true, and Eren hates that Levi states his secrets like obvious facts. Fighting is his quick fix of self destruction - when his brain gets bad, Eren gets fighting. What with the alcohol in his system and the pent up panic bubbling under his skin, Eren lost it. He relapsed, and he couldn't hate himself more.
Jean is just so easy to provoke, the perfect candidate. At this point, Ymir and Reiner aren't game, they've grown out of that rage Jean still holds - just a single spark to dry wood and, suddenly, there's a blaze. Perhaps Ymir and Reiner stopped taking Eren's bait because they already realised what Levi just told Jean, years ago. Eren fights to get hurt on purpose, he doesn't fight to hurt others.
Things haven't gotten bad in a while, not since the Spring arrived and the sun brought Eren renewed hope. Every year that passes, however, Winter triggers his panic attacks and depression all over again. Short days, grey skies so dull and devoid of any light. It always seems worse than previous years, how is that fair at all?
Eren clings to Levi like a lifeline, he tries to block out the party music and attune his senses to Levi's breathing only. He can't even look in Jean's direction, they will heal this rift as they always do, just not right now. Eren feels loathsome, his nose no longer bleeding but congested with clotted blood.
"Levi," Eren urges, he can't vocalise everything he wants to say properly. But Levi understands, they have to go, Eren can't be in this flat any longer. Levi crosses the threshold and when Jean closes the door behind them, it feels quieter.
Rather than waiting for the elevator, Levi takes the stairs down to the ground floor of the student housing. He steps steadily, but the rocking is still enough to shake Eren until he feels sick again. Hold it, he begs of himself, hold it in until we're outside.
The street outside is quiet and still, the moon glowing softly, surveying the silence. The air is cold, and it soothes Eren's throat. He can breathe normally, the icy crispness in his esophagus grounding.
"I'm sorry, Levi, I'm so sorry," Eren repeats against Levi's collarbone. The tears sting his eyes and his voice rasps in his ruined esophagus. "Put me down, I'm gonna be sick again."
Levi's whole body tenses and Eren struggles against the arms holding him steady, he cannot throw up on Levi. Gently, he's placed on his feet, yet he instantly falls forward onto his knees to throw up in the hedge bordering the pathway. Levi rubs his hand over the expanse of Eren's back, whispering encouragements into the darkness.
"Good boy, you're alright. Let it all out."
The kind, sincere mantra Levi repeats just makes the tears come back with a vengeance. He doesn't deserve Levi, but fuck, Eren needs him. How pathetic.
"I'm sorry," Eren repeats, his stomach surely emptied by now, "Fuck, I just wanted to hurt."
"You haven't anything to apologise for," Levi retorts, placing a kiss below his ear. Eren can feel the panic sweat growing cold against his skin, and he visibly shivers. "Can you walk the rest of the way? We'll freeze out here if we don't get you home soon."
"Home?" Eren asks, recalling what Historia said earlier. He attempts, unsuccessfully, to keep the desperation from seeping into his voice, "Not mine and 'Storia's place, let me come home with you Levi, I-I won't be sick again."
Levi sighs, and though the sound is soft, it hits Eren like a tonne of bricks. Disappointment? No, Levi is upset. There is just pain, and it's Eren's fault. It's his fault for being a mess, for making Levi anxious and stressed everytime Eren puts himself in harm's way.
Eyes fixed on the ground below him, Eren cringes at the weakness in his tone, "I tried... I tried to be okay. I just need you."
"Eren, love," Levi confirms, his voice reassuring in its firmness, "I won't let you out of my sight."
Eren finally looks to Levi where he's crouched beside him, they meet eyes for the first time that evening. Expression sincere, grey eyes familiar and everything Eren loves. He bites his lip to keep from crying out in his sorrow.
"Let's get you off this street, hey?" Levi coaxes, his voice a whisper. He brushes his fingers from Eren's forehead to his chin. "Home."
Eren nods, he feels awful, but not nearly awful enough that he can't hobble home to save Levi the taxing job of carrying him back to his flat. Eren feels truly mortified, and the least his partner has to do for him, the better. He pushes himself up from his position on the concrete, standing unsteadily. Levi secures an arm around his waist, keeping Eren upright as they head home.
The arrival at Levi's flat feels like reaching heaven, his safe sanctuary after the most shameful ordeal. It's warm, he and Historia can never afford heating in their place, but it's not five minutes before Eren starts to feel feverish and he wishes it were cold. He gags, pushing away from Levi's steady arm around his body. He gets to the toilet as quickly as he can, limply hunching over the bowl. The last few weeks have made it hard to keep much food down anyways, how could he possibly have anything left to eject?
After he feels well and truly empty, Eren flops onto the tiled floor, reveling in the sobering cold against his cheek. He stays pressed to the floor and Levi steps around him in order to run the shower until it's lukewarm.
"I'm going to undress you, okay? Up you get," Levi instructs, and Eren peels himself off the floor. Levi pulls his shirt over his head before undoing the fly of Eren's jeans and removing those, along with his underwear in the same tug. As Eren looks at the pile of clothes he notices how gross they are, marked in his own blood and vomit. He is repulsive, yet Levi is still so close to him.
Levi's practiced fingers undo the hairband tying Eren's hair back, brushing the strands through with an affectionate familiarity. His nails brush against Eren's scalp just so, and he leans down into the touch.
"Shower now, in you go," Levi urges, and of course, Eren does as he's asked. How could he ever deny Levi, when he treats Eren like he's something precious despite being… Well, despite being himself. A fucking wreck on two legs.
The water feels cleansing, it washes away the acrid scent of sick and the film of sweat clinging to Eren's skin. Levi strips down too, following Eren into the small shower space. He dampens a washcloth under the stream and works gently to clean away the blood from Eren's face and general person. His nose is terribly painful, and Levi seems to sense his discomfort before moving swiftly onwards to minimise the hurt.
Levi is methodical, cleaning as if he's trying to undo every bad choice Eren made that evening. Since his hair was tied back, it's vomit free, but Levi still shampoos and conditions it. Eren assumes it's to comfort him, and it works perfectly. The scents of Levi's favourite products envelop him, lavender and rosemary. Clean, fresh, just like Levi.
Levi's fingers caress his skin and eventually Eren stops crying, his breaths come without struggle. He can look at Levi in the eyes without feeling ashamed, but the sadness in Levi's expression becomes too much to bear. Eren has to look away, lest his heavy heart sinks so deep into his chest cavity he cannot retrieve it.
Levi says little more than his repeated mantra of, "You're safe, good boy, it's okay. You're doing so well."
Eventually, Levi shuts the water off and dries Eren down, before towelling himself off without quite as much delicacy or care. Levi dresses Eren in a soft t-shirt and pyjama trousers, putting each item of clothing on for him, like a small child. It feels so intimate, each moment Eren spends close to Levi healing the pain of his evening.
Eren allows himself to be led from the toilet into the kitchen area where Levi urges him onto a chair at the tiny dinner table, just enough space for two. Eren sits quietly as Levi boils the kettle, finding himself effectively mute.
His fingers trace the grain of the wooden table, he toys with a loose end coming from the crocheted coasters Levi made for the table. Meanwhile, he listens as Levi goes through the motions of making tea.
When Levi places the teapot down on its handmade placemat, the distinctive scent of ginger fills Eren's senses. Ginger infusion, for quelling nausea. Diligently, Levi pours the first serving into Eren's mug.
"Take small sips," Levi requests, placing a kiss at the crown of Eren's head. Eren hears Levi pull in a deep breath, "It'll help you feel better."
Eren nods, he knows it will. If there is something wrong, there isn't a tea Levi can't fix it with. Maybe it's the kind intentions and care taken in brewing infusions that really seals the deal for Eren. He takes his first sip and it feels like a step towards hope, just like the sun's Springtime return that he craves so deeply.
As he takes his careful sips, Levi drifts away, but he isn't gone for long before he returns to stand behind Eren's chair. Without a word, Levi brushes through his partner's wet hair with a brush he must have left the room to collect. The bamboo bristles are just rough enough against Eren's scalp to ground him, the tea hot enough to spark feeling in his chest.
Hands practiced and unfaltering, Levi starts to pull Eren's hair into a French braid. By the time Levi adds a hair tie to the bottom, Eren has finished his first helping of tea. He tries to pour the next serving into his mug but his hands shake so badly he has to put the teapot down lest he drop and smash it.
"It's okay," Levi assures, placing his hand over Eren's, "here, let me."
He pours half of the teapot's contents into Eren's mug, the last half into one for himself. Levi sits in the chair opposite Eren and rests his socked feet upon Eren's, always touching.
Levi has never really been all that good with words, but what he doesn't say is always clear to Eren. His quiet intimacy is something Eren needs, it's strong and unwavering. Just a simple touch will connect them together, a cup of tea holds so many promises of love. And it doesn't feel overwhelming, not usually. Today it hurts, the affectionate gestures make Eren ache with guilt.
"We'll finish up and head to bed," Levi says, reaching his hand across the table to run his fingertips across Eren's upturned palm. A second point of contact. "You still have some of your meds in the cupboard, we'll make sure you take one beforehand."
"And you?" Eren queries, he realises it's the first thing he's said since entering the flat. His voice scrapes along his esophagus, painful.
Levi smiles, just a quick upturn of his mouth, "I took mine, when I went to bed the first time."
Eren's heart sinks further, if possible, "You were sleeping? I don't even know what the time is, I'm so sorry."
Levi's gentle stroking becomes a grasp on Eren's hand, he holds it and his perpetually cold fingers are wonderfully familiar. "Please don't cry again, I'd rather help you than sleep any day. It's only 1AM, what's that to an insomniac like me, hm?"
Eren knows he should listen to Levi, keep his tears in, but he's never been able to stifle his emotions well. It just pours out of him, there's no way he can stop the onslaught of feeling he is faced with. Positive or negative, his emotions make themselves known.
His eyes fill, and the tears fall as quietly as he can manage. Levi leans over the table, kisses Eren's temple, his forehead, his nose. His breath smells like ginger, his lips chapped as they always are in the Winter.
"Bed now, then?" Eren requests, aware of how childish his position is. Levi is taking care of him so fully, bathing and clothing him, making sure he can be as close to okay as possible under the circumstances.
"Yes, washing up, meds and then bed."
Levi stands and Eren lazily attaches himself to Levi's back, arms around his waist and chin resting upon his shoulder. As Levi steps about the kitchen tidying away the cups and teapot, rinsing everything in bubbly water. Then he dries and puts them where they belong, all the time with Eren latched onto him, watching over his shoulder.
They go through the motions, finally ending up curled together on Levi's bed, Eren pressing close until there is as little space between them as possible. He needs Levi's steadying touch. Eren's head rests on Levi's chest and he listens to the rhythm of his heart, matching his slow breathing. Tears fall and absorb into Levi's t-shirt, if it's uncomfortable, Levi doesn't mention it.
Soft lamp light illuminates the room, and Eren tries to focus on the way Levi strokes his skin or the scent of the lavender spray Levi uses on his pillows. The quiet, however, allows his thoughts to go back over the evening, forcing Eren to relive the disastrous hours all over again.
Eren isn't sure what kind of damage he did to Jean, but his knuckles are bruised and swollen. The colours of yellow and purple fascinate him, and the pain pulses with every movement. Ultimately, this is what he wanted when he provoked Jean. The ache to remind him he's alive, the sharp pain of a punch to his face and adrenaline flooding his veins.
There's better ways to stay grounded. Eren knows there is always a better path than self destruction but he reached for the unhealthy habits first, as always. He deserved it, and he would be lying if he didn't feel satisfied upon Jean landing his first hit. That rush of misplaced pleasure was before the realisation of what he was doing sunk in, before the resulting panic attack.
Levi takes one of Eren's hands and studies his colourful knuckles in the lamp's yellow glow. Eren's hand still shakes, even as Levi lifts it to his lips, kissing each kaleidoscopic bruise. "Do they hurt?"
Eren bites his lips, fighting against the whimpers building in his chest. What if things never get better than this? Is the radiating pain in his chest all he will ever know, always a burden weighing on Levi. He feels pathetic to admit it, but even in Levi's arms his heart feels like it's breaking. "It's everything.."
"Everything hurts?" Levi clarifies, his voice rumbling against Eren's ear where it lays in his chest.
"I just want it to stop," Eren cries, his voice weak and broken. He can't even begin to explain how much he wishes he wouldn't hurt anymore. "I don't know how to make it stop, Levi."
"We'll get through it," Levi promises, gently wrapping his fingers around Eren's own. Eren tries to believe him, Levi is nothing if not sincere. He doesn't take his words lightly. "Tomorrow we will wake up, and we will get through it."
"I'll do better, Levi," Eren says, sniffling like a child despite his attempt at sounding assertive.
Levi hums softly, an agreement, "Sleep, first. Close your eyes, love."