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Levi calls bullshit the moment he sees the word “FREE.” He doesn’t even need to read the rest of the sign to know this is some marketing gimmick. Hanji, on the other hand, begs to differ. She reprimands his skepticism with personal accounts on how the barista was on point with their guesses every time. He calls bullshit on that too, tells her that she’s too easy to read, but she hushes him with a pout before proceeding to push him past the sign that reads “YOUR ORDER IS FREE IF I CAN’T ANSWER A QUESTION ABOUT YOU.” It’s a business strategy; the customer orders a hefty amount from the menu then asks the barista an extremely specific question. The barista gives an extremely vague — but correct — answer, and the customer has to pay for everything. Levi can only begin to imagine the questions the barista gets. What’s my mother’s name? How old is my dog? Standard questions, nothing too personal.
“I once asked him what my middle name was,” Hanji tells him as they move up in line to order, “and without even batting an eye, he told me ‘Lee.’ This other time, I asked him when my birthday was, and he got that right too. It’s like he can read minds or something! I think I’m going to ask him what my favorite color is this time ..” She taps her finger against her chin then snaps with a victorious “Aha! I got it.” Levi doesn’t bother asking her what she “got,” since it’s probably something dumb and easy to guess anyway.
When they arrive at the counter, Hanji orders a sandwich, a muffin, and a tall frappuccino, and while the barista’s ringing her up, she drops her hand on the counter and asks him, “What’s the color of my bedroom?” At first, the barista doesn’t answer immediately; he stands there, a small smile tainting the corners of his mouth, as he finishes putting in the order. Levi takes this moment to judge him in his narcissistic glory. The boy doesn’t seem nervous at all; his fingers are steady, his jaw only tensed to hold that all-knowing grin. When he pops the cash tray open, he finally looks up and says “Green, like the green tea frap you just ordered.”
Hanji whistles and hands him a ten. “You’re amazing, as always.”
“Thanks.”
Levi resists the temptation to roll his eyes, because it’s just so obvious. Not only did Hanji order a green tea frappuccino, but she’s also wearing a mint-green sweater, and anyone who has common sense can make an educated guess about the color of her bedroom.
“My friend here is skeptical,” Hanji continues to say while giving Levi a firm pat to his shoulder. He grimaces at friendly gesture, but chooses to ignore her in face of this boy’s twinkling eye. Skeptic or not, Levi’s going to beat him at his own game, just to prove to Hanji that this boy is nothing more than a smart, observant asshole (asshole, because he’s looking at Levi in such a way that says I know everything about you).
“Ask me anything,” the boy says, leaning against the counter and tilting his head to the side so that he can show off that devilish expression mauled by childish innocence. “Literally anything about yourself.”
The corner of Levi’s mouth twitches. Literally anything, huh? “What’s the name of my first dog?” His eyes flicker up to the boy’s forehead, and what he sees makes his eyes narrow. It’s a quick glimpse, a harmless reading, but it tells him everything he needs to know about this boy. At first glance, there’s nothing abnormal about his brain — but that’s the problem. This level of serotonin and dopamine is natural in those who, say for instance, come home and relax after a long day at work. He’s completely calm, apathetic, as if he already knows the answer to the question before it was asked.
But that’s impossible. Normal people would be put on the edge when asked a question they don’t actively know the answer to. This boy’s indifference categorizes him outside the conventional norm. So it's either he's overly confident in himself or somehow he just knows these answers. Though both are probable, Levi leans towards the former, because there's just no way this boy knows.
“Your first dog?” he repeats, letting the words roll off his tongue in a teasing manner. “That’s easy.”
Levi quirks an eyebrow, and beside him, Hanji snickers.
“There isn’t a name, because you’ve never had a dog.”
He wonders if he’s readable like Hanji. Surely his physique and stoic expression can’t give away such information — or maybe it’s Hanji. She did make some odd noise when he asked that, but he thought that perhaps this boy would take her snickers as a hint that he had some funky name for his first dog. Apparently not, because he’s spot on. Levi has never had a dog. Still, he can’t bring himself to believe this boy. It’s a fluke, and he’s determined to prove that.
“Lucky guess,” he tells him before asking, “What was I doing at 8:00 yesterday?”
Again, no spark of anxiety, no hesitation. “Looking at the clock.”
“Very funny.”
“You were cleaning.”
“When’s my birthday?”
“Christmas.”
“What’s the number on my credit card?”
“Do you really want me to say that out loud?”
Various parts of the boy’s brain are lighting up now, signalling his anxiousness. Though this nervous notion doesn’t show on his expression, Levi knows something’s off: the boy doesn’t know the answer to the last question. Is it because the chances of guessing it are significantly lower? That wouldn’t make sense, though. There’s no way this boy could guess what he did yesterday without someone first telling him. At that, Levi glances over at Hanji, who shrugs and says, “Told you.” She doesn’t look bothered at all by the information the boy just spewed, and Levi can only wonder why. If he can really read minds like Hanji offhandedly suggested earlier on, then this boy is dangerous — and he’s incredibly stupid for asking about his credit card number, because the boy probably knows that too.
No.
He doesn’t.
Though Levi's ability to read brain activity is useless in most case scenarios, it has its capabilities — like detecting lies, for example, or making a knowledgeable guess about someone’s mentality. Well, at the moment, his ability is telling him that Eren’s bluffing, and why would someone like him bluff for this particular question and not for any other the others? The answer’s so simple, even an idiot can figure it out: it’s because the answer to his last question isn’t within the boy’s parameters. That, he has already figured out (even though he’s still in some denial). The only question now is — why?
“Sir, would you like to order now?” the boy asks, that small smile from before notably fading from the creases of his cheeks.
“Give me a tall latte. Hold the sugar.” He usually takes it with three spoonfuls of sugar, but as of late, he’s been holding back for diabetic reasons.
“That’ll be $3.89.”
He scans his card without much thought and steps to the side to let the grumbling line of people move up. Despite this cafe being small and shabby, it has a lot of business — all of which comes from customers thinking they can fool the barista, who Levi now believes has some sort of intuitive ability. The thought of that was absurd at first. He has never met another person with superior senses, and those who claim telepathy or precognition are oftentimes frauds with too much time on their hands. He wants to pin that title on this boy too, but his cropped brown hair, wide green eyes, and one-dimpled smile convey favorable impressions.
“Order up for #135 and #136!”
“That’s us.”
Hanji nudges him towards the opposite side of the counter where the boy stands. She bids him a quick thanks before motioning Levi in the direction of an empty table for two in the corner. As she heads over with her sandwich and muffin clutched in one hand and frappuccino in the other, Levi takes a moment to acknowledge the boy standing behind the counter, who also appears to be eyeing him not-so-secretly.
“What’s your name, kid?”
The boy’s head jerks up slightly. “Eren.”
“I’m Levi.” He pauses to pick up his latte. “But you already know that.”
Eren looks like he’s about to say something, but instead he clamps his mouth shut and nods. A glance tells Levi that Eren’s still on the anxious side, even though Levi doesn’t exactly know what he may be anxious about. It’s not intimidation, that’s a given, since Eren wasn’t nervous before; and it’s not because he doesn’t know an answer, because Levi hasn’t asked a question that requires much thought. It’s something else, and he wants to know what. — Except a cafe isn’t the right place to be asking these questions.
So leaving it at that, he takes a step away and heads over to Hanji. “Are you interested?” she asks, leaning in when he flops down in the seat across from her. “He’s pretty cute, so I’m not judging you if you are. Not to mention, he makes the best fraps here. Trust me, I ordered one from the other barista and it’s not made with the same magic. Here, try —”
Her straw pokes his cheek, and he pushes it away with little amusement. “That’s disgusting.” While she huffs and goes on rambling about how unenthusiastic he is (“especially around the holiday season too, you’re a real Scrooge!”), he takes a sip of his latte — only to glare at it seconds thereafter. The coffee scorched his tongue, but that’s not the source of his repulsion. What is is the amount of sugar mixed in here. If he remembered correctly, he told Eren to hold off on the sugar. Obviously Eren doesn’t know how to listen.
“What’s wrong?”
“Sugar,” Levi answers, standing up. “He put sugar in this.”
A little has no particular harm, but he felt like he was sipping coffee-flavored sugar. If anything, its sweetness reminds him of the good old days. And by “good old days,” he means “days when he didn’t give two shits about what he consumed because his fast metabolism made sure he didn’t hold any fat.” That’s not a good thing.
So he goes back up to the counter and waits there patiently while Eren guesses “forty-two” for something then “Winchester Road” for something else. After ringing them up, he gestures the other worker to take over the cash register, and once that barista’s up and running, he walks over to Levi. “Is something wrong?” he asks, eyelashes fluttering twice when Levi slides the drink over.
“There’s sugar in here.”
“Didn’t you want sugar?”
“No.”
“Oh. Sorry, I’ll just remake it real quick —”
“I mean, I thought about adding sugar.”
Elevated levels of brain activity, heightened awareness. — Eren can read minds, but from the looks of it, not actively. There’s a flaw in all of this.
“Don’t worry about it,” Levi says, leaning against the counter. “No one would believe me if I told them.”
Eren opens his mouth to retaliate, but decides to mumble “I’ll go remake your latte” instead. A minute or so later, he returns with a new cup, composed. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine.” His fingers warm around the cup as he lifts it from the counter and tucks it under his palm. He thinks briefly about leaving the conversation at that, but decides against going back ignorant and paranoid, so he asks, “How much do you know about me?”
“Not much.”
Increase sense of fear. Shifty eyes, tensed jaw.
“You’re lying.” His gaze trails down Eren’s lean frame to his clenched fists. “There are things I know too.”
Later on, Eren’s gaze trails him and Hanji out, and when they’re outside, Hanji asks him what he thinks about Eren and his extraordinary ability to guess the right answers to everything. Levi looks on and with a shrug, responds, “I’m still calling bullshit.”
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Two days later, he receives a text from a number he doesn’t recognize.
[XXX-XXX-XXXX]
9:45 -- how much do u know
9:45 -- about me
9:45 -- ????
He knows who it is, because who else can get his number without asking?
[re: XXX-XXX-XXXX]
9:49 -- I’ll tell you how much I know if you tell me how you got this number.
9:50 -- Eren.
[XXX-XXX-XXXX]
9:52 -- uh
9:55 -- i just know?
9:58 -- are there more of us
9:58 -- ?
[re: XXX-XXX-XXXX]
10:00 -- Not that I know of.
10:00 -- There are a lot of frauds.
10:01 -- Fortune-tellers, prophecies, and shit.
[XXX-XXX-XXXX]
10:01 -- how do u know tho
[re: XXX-XXX-XXXX]
10:02 -- The deal was, if you tell me, I’ll tell you.
Eren doesn’t respond for some time, so Levi figures their conversation has ended there. Admittedly, it’s a bit disappointing. He wants to know more about Eren’s ability, but being knowledgeable of such comes with dire consequences that is revealing his own ability. He hasn’t told anyone about it — not even Hanji — and Eren isn’t going to be his first if there isn’t a mutually exclusive exchange. Besides, he doesn’t know what Eren’s so concerned about; he already revealed what his ability could do, so what’s to fear? As he ponders over this, his phone buzzes and Eren’s reply lights up on screen.
[XXX-XXX-XXXX]
10:15 -- can u come by the cafe tmrw
[re: XXX-XXX-XXXX]
10:17 -- A cafe’s hardly appropriate for this kind of conversation.
10:19 -- What’s wrong with telling me over text?
[XXX-XXX-XXXX]
10:21 -- too much to say
10:23 -- cafe @ 8am tmrw? its not busy then
[re: XXX-XXX-XXXX]
10:25 -- Fine.
[XXX-XXX-XXXX]
10:25 -- (:
Levi doesn’t like that smiley, so he decides to ignore the last text.
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At a quarter past eight, he steps into the cafe and pretends he’s not fifteen minutes late. True to Eren's text, the cafe’s not busy at this time, which is understandable, since it’s a Sunday morning and most people are fast asleep or just waking up. He, of course, is the exception to this, since he usually wakes up around six and not an hour more. Eren, on the other hand, doesn’t seem like a morning person. He covers his mouth and yawns as he uses his other hand to wave him over.
“Mornin’,” he says, sliding a small cup of coffee over. “Thought you bailed on me.”
Levi takes a sip of the offered drink, and with a smack of his lips, places the cup down and lets his eyes trail up to Eren’s forehead. A little anxious, he reads, but not much. “So,” he starts, meeting Eren’s steady gaze, “Do you usually text people you don’t know?”
“Only those who I mind.”
“That’s the shittiest pun I’ve ever heard.”
“I tried.” Eren’s lips curl into a grin, but when Levi responds with nothing but communal silence, he continues to say, “I think I’ve always had this ability. When I was younger, I knew exactly what my parents got me for Christmas, and I knew tidbits of facts about relatives I hadn’t seen since I want a baby. Everyone just kind of assumed I was a lucky guesser, so they didn’t really ask me about it. Those who did, didn’t understand me when I told them that I just knew. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did.”
He reaches over to grab a washcloth. “I found out it wasn’t normal when I was eleven. My friend was telling me about something that happened to him, and I corrected him on a small detail. He said he had never told anyone this story before, and he kind of helped me figure out what ability I had. He and my other friend are the only ones who know.” His tongue wets his bottom lip as he lowers his gaze to the counter, where he’s starting to wipe (to stabilize his apprehension — and as far as Levi can see, it’s not helping any).
“No one knows on my end,” Levi says, with little hope that it would calm Eren down. It does some good. “I eventually figured out I was the only one. Didn’t dwell on it. It doesn’t help me much, anyway.”
Eren’s hand stills. “What do you mean?”
“I can read minds. Literally.”
His brow creases a bit. “I’m not following ..”
The bell behind them jingles then, and a rowdy man comes in and grumbles an order to Eren. He doesn’t even offer a question, so Eren goes ahead and rings him up (though with Eren’s confidence, he already has the cash tray open). As he waits around for Eren to make his drink, he turns to Levi and narrows his eyes. “What,” he spits, teeth grinding down on the cut throat remark. Clearly, this man has not had a nice day today, and it’s evident in the elevated levels of activity in his frontal lobe. When Eren finally hands him his drink, he snatches it from him and leaves without much of a goodbye.
“He’s using anger to mask fear,” Levi says moments thereafter.
Eren nods slightly. “He had a fight with a woman last night, and she was gone this morning.”
The ability Eren has seems to far outrank his own, but he’s sure that such a potent power has more limitations. He knows that, with himself, he can only see the brain and its activities; he actually had to study what each region and movement meant before fully understanding his capability. Although he has barely scraped infinite knowledge, because every person’s brain is different, and therefore they respond in different ways. It’s only after years of assessment that he can say, with a ninety-eight percent accuracy, that this is what the person’s feeling. And from that, he draws whether they’re lying or not.
Eren has a different ability, even though it can very well be categorized under “mind reading” too. He has a hunch about what it is, but since Eren’s standing there in front of him, he decides it better to ask than to beat around the bush and make assumptions.
“So you can read — ?”
“— Memories,” Eren says, fingers trailing together.
It makes sense now. Eren can answer anyone’s question, because all he has to do is take a peep into their memory, and if the memory relevant to the question is present, then Eren knows. That would explain his confidence in answering every question — with the exception of the credit card one. He didn’t know the answer to that one, because Levi, himself, didn’t know the answer. That’s why the sign says “ANY QUESTION ABOUT YOU” instead of “ANY QUESTION.” It’s a smart marketing technique, he must admit.
But there should be some flaw. Even if Eren’s gifted with the power to know everything about a person, he’s no god.
“All memories?” Levi leans in closer, interested.
“Not all memories,” Eren says. “Only ones they remember at the moment. I don’t think I can get into the subconscious level, so if their memory of something changes or if they suppressed something, then I won’t be able to access it. But I don’t know. It’s kind of complicated and weird.” He sweeps his thumb over his lip before turning away to make himself a cup of coffee. As the machine gives a whine and whirr, he continues to explain, “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have this. I mean, it makes money but ..”
Levi raises an eyebrow. What could possibly be the downside to having this ability? Too much information? — That’s something to consider. There are just some things he’s better off not knowing (but people, and by people he means Hanji, always tell him things he never inquired in the first place). He wants to ask for clarification, but before he can, Eren speaks up again.
“My memory’s not that good, so sometimes I think something that happened to another person happened to me. Usually I would be able to distinguish if it’s something I know hasn’t happened to me, but some are similar — like I can’t remember if my parents had wallpaper in their room or not. I think they did but ..” He shrugs. “It’s just little details, though, so nothing drastic.”
“Is that why you added sugar to my coffee the other day?” He doesn’t remember if he thought about adding sugar or not, but he used to add sugar, so Eren probably drew from those memories.
Eren nods. “Yeah, you thought about adding three spoonful of sugar.”
“I don’t anymore.”
His eyelashes flutter. “You’re diabetic.”
“You didn’t know?”
This time, Eren shakes his head. “I can only read active memories — like things you’re remembering at this moment. When you asked about the name of your dog, you weren’t thinking of one, so I just assumed you never had one. And for your coffee, I couldn’t distinguish between what you ordered and what you were thinking, so I guessed.” And you guessed wrong, Levi wants to say, but bites down on his tongue to save himself from spewing any sass.
It’s a confusing ability; he’s not sure if Eren, himself, knows the full potential of it, because Levi surely doesn’t. Though he understands its extent, there are still parts he’s questionable about — like the accuracy of these memories. Judging from the cafe’s popularity, Eren’s spot on with this answers, but hearing this muddled explanation from him now makes Levi doubtful. Least he knows, Eren’s just making educated guesses and so far, they’ve all been right. At the same time, Eren didn’t show any unease when he answered his first three questions from the other day. Perhaps his accuracy took form in arrogance.
Whatever it is, Levi knows now that he’s not the only one with a strange ability.
“So how much do you really know about me?” he asks.
Eren starts listing off with his fingers. “Your name is Levi. You've never had a dog. You were cleaning at 8:00 the other day. You’re diabetic. Uh — this is your second time here. You once bought coffee for a few cents cheaper at another place.” His eyes narrow for a moment. “There’s someone I remind you of. You just thought of her. Red hair?”
“Isabel,” he says without missing a beat.
He tries to black out her face, but it’s too late; Eren already knows.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Stop reading me.”
“Okay.”
It’s been a while since he actively thought about Isabel, but it’s not something he can suppress. She died young. An accident. And though he wants nothing more than to push that vivid image into the darkest corner of his mind, he knows that forgetting means letting go, and he doesn’t want to let go. At least, not yet.
Eren slides him a muffin, a tempting offer until Levi reaches out and nudges it back.
“I don’t need your pity.”
He knows Eren wants to argue, but Eren proves him wrong by returning the muffin to its tray then saying, “You never explained what ‘reading minds — literally’ means.”
Oh.
“I can read brain activity.”
Eren straightens up. “Which means?”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like,” Levi says, but when Eren continues staring at him, as if asking for a more detailed explanation, he lets out a short breath. “You know when people get brain scans to see what’s going on up there? It’s like that. Except I have multiple scans going at once. For example — tell me a lie.”
His gaze fixates on Eren’s forehead as Eren says, “My name is John.”
“Have you jerked off any time this past week?”
“No .. ?”
There it is. “Increase activity in the prefrontal cortex, changes in blood circulation — the brain works harder to fabricate answers, but sometimes it’s hard to tell whether a person is actually lying or just embarrassed or nervous.” He looks back down and meets Eren’s eyes. “I hope you scrubbed your hands clean before coming to work.”
His intentions to embarrass Eren are clear, but Eren doesn't react in that way.
“You know that uh — fantasies are memories too, right?” Eren gives him a sheepish smile.
Cheeky brat.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop reading me?”
“Sorry.”
Though he says that, Levi knows that he’s not sorry at all.
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He chooses to disassociate himself with Eren for the next week. Aside from their shared ability and somewhat mutual attraction (as proven by how many hours Levi ended up staying at the cafe despite the flood of customers that day), he has no business with Eren. When Hanji asks about him, Levi coolly responds that he doesn’t know who she's talking about. She doesn’t ask about him again. The week passes, and he considers dropping by the cafe or perhaps shooting Boy Wonder a text, but that requires effort and commitment and he’s not so sure if he has either.
It eventually works out when Eren, once again, decides to text him out of the blue. He happens to be at work during this time, but he risks a second to check his phone and a minute to reply.
[EREN]
6:35 -- hey
6:35 -- u busy??
[re: EREN]
6:36 -- At work.
6:37 -- What is it?
He tells himself that this is the dumbest thing he has ever done, because he’s a grown-ass man, and grown-ass men don’t text college frat boys at work.
Well.
He doesn’t know if Eren’s in college or a frat boy, but he looks the type. He even sounds like it when, two minutes later, Levi’s phone buzzes and Eren’s message appears on the brightly lit screen.
[EREN]
6:39 -- wanna play 10 questions???
[re: EREN]
6:40 -- Don’t you straight white boy text me.
6:40 -- And I’m still at work.
[EREN]
6:41 -- not straight
6:41 -- and ur still texting me
[re: EREN]
6:43 -- You texted me first.
[EREN]
6:43 -- #1. when do u get off
[re: EREN]
6:44 -- At night.
[EREN]
6:45 -- no i mean from work
6:45 -- when do u get off from work
[re: EREN]
6:46 -- At 8pm.
6:46 -- Which is at night.
6:46 -- Perverted brat.
[EREN]
6:46 -- u worded it like that on purpos
6:47 -- purpose
This is truly the dumbest thing he has ever participated in. He’s not even trying to be discreet now. Not that it matters. By “work,” he means sitting at the receptionist desk doing nothing for hours on end. It gets boring at times, but he’d much rather sit here and do nothing than do something for the same amount of pay.
[EREN]
6:48 -- ok ur turn
[re: EREN]
6:49 -- What’s the point in this?
[EREN]
6:49 -- to get to know u better
6:50 -- #2 - so what r u wearin
[re: EREN]
6:51 -- I’m not doing this.
He pauses, then decides to answer the question just for the hell of it.
[re: EREN]
6:52 -- Button-up and slacks.
[EREN]
6:52 -- no underwear?
[re: EREN]
6:54 -- Underwear, undershirt, a red tie, a wristwatch, some hairgel, and concealer to cover up my dark circles.
[EREN]
6:55 -- not enough sleep
6:55 -- ?
[re: EREN]
6:56 -- I average 4-5 hrs.
6:57 -- Can’t sleep any more, else I’d be grumpy.
[EREN]
6:58 -- maybe u shuld cut back an hour
6:58 -- so ur less grumpy
6:58 -- (:
[re: EREN]
6:59 -- Don’t (: me.
[EREN]
7:00 -- whats wrong w/ (:
[re: EREN]
7:00 -- Stop.
[EREN]
7:00 -- ok ok
7:01 -- so when r u not busy
[re: EREN]
7:02 -- I’m always busy.
[EREN]
7:03 -- ur makin this compilcated
7:04 -- when r u free
[re: EREN]
7:05 -- I’m not dropping by your cafe, if that’s what you’re wanting me to do.
[EREN]
7:05 -- why not?
7:06 -- i’ll make latte w/o sugar this time
[re: EREN]
7:07 -- I’ve had enough coffee for the month.
[EREN]
7:08 -- u dont like coffee??
[re: EREN]
7:09 -- Sometimes.
7:09 -- And that’s your 10th question. This game is over.
He puts the phone down with mild triumph coursing through him. The phone sits there for a couple of minutes, concurring with the idea that Levi has won this round, but then it buzzes and a new message appears.
[EREN]
7:13 -- i only asked 9
[re: EREN]
7:14 -- 10, if you include the one between your #1 and #2.
[EREN]
7:14 -- that doesnt count
[re: EREN]
7:14 -- It does.
Levi’s not one to play games, but when he does, he makes damn sure he doesn’t lose. It doesn’t matter whether he knows the other person’s intentions or not. With this one, he just assumes Eren wants to know more about him — and he’s not all too willing to spew out facts about himself and his life to someone he met two weeks prior.
[EREN]
7:16 -- can i ask a bonus question???
He types in ‘no,’ but lets his thumb hover the send button. What’s the harm of Eren asking his question? There is no harm, because if it’s a question that Levi doesn’t want to answer, then he’ll find ways to sidestep it. On the flip side, if he doesn’t say ‘yes,’ then he’ll spend the rest of the night wondering what Eren wanted to ask him. So with that in mind, he deletes the ‘no’ and replaces it with another response.
[re: Eren]
7:18 -- Go ahead.
[EREN]
7:20 -- can i take u to dinner
7:20 -- on saturday
An intangible weight settles in his chest, and for some time, he just stares at the phone. It doesn’t take long for him to process that Eren’s asking him out on a date, but it does take him some time to respond since, right at that moment, the door opens and in steps a middle-aged women. She removes the cigarette from her mouth and smooths down her skirt before asking to see Mr. Smith, the lawyer Levi works with. He tells her to hold for a moment as he pages Erwin, and while he’s waiting for him to pick up, her eyes wander over his desk. She scoffs then, makes some offhanded comment about how he’s not being professional despite his attire and straight posture. To that, he ignores her and instead, turns his attention to the phone to say, “You have a visitor. Miss —”
“Williamson,” she completes, lips curling back to flaunt her white teeth. He wants to tell her to stop swishing bleach, but ultimately decides to keep the comment to himself to save himself from being fired on the spot.
“Of course,” Erwin says in the midst of his innermost debate. “Send her in.”
Levi points out Erwin’s office from where he sits, and with that, she goes. After she’s out of sight, he turns back to his phone to see three new messages from Eren.
[EREN]
7:30 -- u don’t have to
7:33 -- if u don’t want to
7:39 -- and i mean like friends btw
[re: EREN]
7:42 -- I had a client.
His fingers still.
Does he want to go out to dinner with Eren on Saturday? Yes. That goes without question. What makes him reconsider is Eren’s last text. And I mean like friends, by the way. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve taken it as a platonic signal. Good thing he has studied human reaction, both physically and psychologically, to understand that the long pauses in-between Eren’s last three texts reflect his anxiousness.
[EREN]
7:42 -- its ok
[re: EREN]
7:43 -- To answer your question about Saturday: Sure.
He pauses, then decides to clarify.
[re: EREN]
7:44 -- It’s a date.
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.
.
Unlike last time at the cafe, Levi arrives at the restaurant fifteen minutes early. He tells the hostess that he needs a table for two, because he’s waiting on a “brat” with “the dorkish smile” and that she “can’t miss him” when he comes in. While she nods and goes away to get him a glass of water, he distracts himself by looking at the menu. The words appear blurred in front of him; he can read them all, sure, but digesting them proves fairly difficult. He ends up looking at his phone instead, even though he usually isn’t the type to pull out electronics in restaurant settings (this one time, he pocketed Hanji’s phone because she wouldn’t stop showing him pictures of cats).
At 7:03, the waitress swings by and asks him if he wants a refill or if he wants to order yet. He tells her no, it’s fine. Then he calls her back and requests another glass of water just in case he needs it later. At 7:07, he debates about going to the restroom, because he doesn’t really need to go, but he doesn’t want to risk going in the middle of this — somewhat date. On the flip side, if he goes now, then Eren might not see him and decide to leave. At 7:09, he takes the quickest piss, and at 7:12, he’s back to sipping water. It has almost been thirty minutes that he’s beginning to wonder if the menu sitting on the opposite side of the table will go untouched for the rest of the night.
But that all changes when Eren rushes in and flops down in front of him. “I’m so sorry,” he says in-between gasps of breath. “There was traffic.” Though Levi sees the sparks in Eren’s brain, indicating elevated levels of activity, he knows Eren isn’t lying. Eren has no reason to lie, because if he didn’t want to come, then he wouldn’t be here now.
“Have you ordered yet?” Eren asks as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the back of his chair. “If you want some recommendations, then the prime rib is really good. So is the hamburger, but it’s huge, so you’ll definitely have leftovers. The chicken tenders salad is good too, especially with their dressing. Ranch goes well too, but if you get any salad, you have to try it with their —”
“Eren.”
Their eyes meet for the briefly.
“Yeah?”
“Calm down.”
Eren drops his gaze then, and a notable shade of pink settles on the tips of his ears that peek out under a turquoise knit hat. “I’m calm,” he mutters before hiding his face behind the menu.
They spend the next couple of minutes in silence. Levi skims the menu, this time with ease, and settles on an order of prime ribs with a side of seasoned vegetables. When he places this order, Eren crinkles his nose and proclaims that all greens are “gross.” Then he goes ahead and orders a burger and some fries, which Levi casually mentions are “greasy” and “equally disgusting.” Eren wins their small spat by reminding Levi of how much he used to eat fast food. Levi gets him back later on when he tells Eren to stop thinking about sex.
An hour and two full stomachs later, Levi slouches a little in his seat.
“Don’t you dare,” Eren says, swallowing the last of his burger ("definitely have leftovers," my ass).
“What?”
Eren wipes his mouth. “Think about paying. I see what you’re thinking. So don’t think about it. I asked you out, so I’m paying.”
“We can split it, since you seem worried about not having enough.”
“Stop reading my mind.”
“Then stop reading mine.” After glaring at Eren for some time, Levi fishes out his wallet. “You can treat me next time. Or let me have free coffee whenever I swing by the cafe.”
Eren perks at that. “You’ll come by?”
“That’s what I said.” He gathers the check then and makes his way over to the cashier. When he gets there, he hands the check over hastily and places the card on the counter. “Paying for both,” he tells her.
Before the cashier can even think about reaching for his card, another hand snatches it off the counter and shoves a couple of bills in the woman’s face. “You’re not paying for me,” Eren says, sliding up into the space next to him. “I’m paying for both.” He looks at the woman expectedly, but she looks back with wide eyes.
“Absolutely not.” Levi grabs Eren’s wrist and holds it to the counter while reoffering the cashier his card. “Take the card.”
“No!” Eren yelps. He transfers the money to his free hand and waves it front of her face. “Please take the money instead!”
“Stop making a scene, Eren.”
“I wouldn’t be making a scene if you let me pay.” He struggles to free his wrist, but Levi holds him down.
The woman clears her throat. “How about I split the check?”
“No!” Their voices carry out the dismissal in unison, and without missing a beat, they turn and glare at each other. He narrows his eyes, takes in Eren’s rigid form from his pressed lips to his furrowed eyebrows to his locked jaw and sharp gaze. Full of raw emotion. Beautiful.
Eren breaks their connection first to turn to the cashier who’s placing a couple of dollars and some coins on the counter next to a slip and a pen. “I split it,” she says, red lips stretching into a knowing smile. “Thanks for dining with us!”
Dammit.
Defeated, Levi signs the slip, and while he’s debating about how much to put down for tip, Eren nudges him and tells him that he's got the tip. He then turns and heads back to the table to gather his belongings. While Eren’s doing that, Levi adds a two dollar tip to his own total and hands the slip back to the cashier. She thanks him, and with that, Levi follows Eren out.
“I’m not going on another date with you,” he says.
The winter chills hit their rigid bodies, but it’s only Eren who stops in his tracks. “Wait. Why not?”
Levi scoffs. “I’m not fighting over another check.”
Quick footsteps hitting the pavement fill his ears, and the next thing he knows, Eren’s next to him. “Oh, come on. It’s because you’re stubborn and wouldn’t let me pay.” From the corner of his eye, he sees Eren pout. “All right. Fine. You pay next time. But I’ll treat you to free coffee every time you drop by the cafe. Does that sound good?”
Financially no, but civilly yes.
“Okay.”
.
.
.
He swings by the cafe two times, and one more time after their second date. By then, Eren says they’re “official,” and Levi has no qualms with that claim.
On their third date, Eren tries to hold his hand, but he slaps it away because he’s not ready for that level of public affection (even though they already made out in Eren’s car .. twice). Eren doesn’t make a complaint, but Levi knows better. He wants a little more, and Levi wants to give him more. The only problem lies in his palms. What if their hands gets sweaty? The sheer thought of that disgusts him, so he tucks his hands in his jacket pockets and leaves it at that. Moments later, they wander into a shop for chapstick and ends up buying that along with two pairs of gloves. The latter items are all questionable to Levi until Eren hands a pair over. Once they both have their gloves on, Eren reaches over and grabs his hand. This time, Levi doesn’t shake it off.
The cheeky brat knew about the sweaty palms this entire time. Levi wants to chastise him for invading his privacy, but he knows the invasion can’t be helped. Whenever Eren looks at someone, he sees their current memory. Their abilities similar on that level; he can avoid reading someone’s brain by looking elsewhere or focusing on their eyes, but when his attention slips up to their forehead, he can’t help but focus in on it.
“Do you think it’s gross?” Eren asks, sitting down next to him on the bench. “Looking at brains all the time, I mean.”
“I got used to it.” Levi tilts his head back and peers up at the stars that blanket the darkened sky. “Kind of had to, considering I grew up seeing them all the time. To me, they’re part of the face — just like lips, noses, and eyes.” He pauses, then looks over at Eren. “How do you deal with all the memories?”
Eren hums and moves to lay his head on Levi’s shoulder. “I don’t see memories like movies. They’re more like — slideshows, so I’m not overwhelmed. And I only get a clear image of someone’s memory if I meet their eyes. When you were walking beside me, I could only see you thinking about wiping your hands on your pants, and I assumed you were afraid of the germs on my hands or something. That’s why I bought the gloves.”
At that, Levi can’t help but snort. “I just didn’t want my hand to get clammy.”
“Oh.”
“You’re not so good at this any more.”
Eren reaches up and slaps him with a gentle hand. “It’s because you’re difficult. Most customers have normal questions like what is my name, and they would think about a time they wrote their name. Easy.”
“People have to think about their names?”
“Well, not exactly. It’s more like — their name flashes in their mind when they ask, and it’s so fast that they don’t even realize they did it. When I introduced myself to you, I didn’t think about my name, but I did.”
Levi lifts his head. “Whatever you say.”
“The brain is fascinating, isn’t it?”
He grunts.
“Do you think there are others like us? I know you said I’m your first, and you’re my first too but — we can’t be the only ones, right? The world has eight billion people.”
“It’s possible.” It’s all too possible.
He doesn’t know why he has this ability, and he can’t even begin to imagine why Eren — or anyone else — has it. There’s one thing he knows for sure, though:
“We met by chance.”
He has gone several decades without knowing someone with this sort of extensive intuition, yet Eren’s been here all along. He’s been right here this entire time, and he even advertises his ability on a huge sign on the cafe’s door — a cafe Levi has passed at least once a month for the last couple of years, yet never thought to pay it any attention, let alone go in.
“By chance?” Eren echoes.
Levi looks on, says, “A lucky chance.” Because if they haven’t met, he would have spent the rest of his life thinking he’s different.
And even if they’re the only ones in the world that have these abilities, at least they’re not alone.
.
.
.
= FIVE YEARS LATER =
His pocket feels heavy when he moves to stand next to the table. Eren, bright and glowing under the restaurant's dim lights, looks up at him expectantly. Their eyes meet, and Levi scowls.
“Can you pretend that you don’t know what I’m about to do?”
“What are you going to do?”
A grin flatters Eren’s lively eyes and restless state, and Levi inwardly curses Eren’s ability to look into his memory. He’s been planning this for months, and though he had learned how to tame his mind to block certain things from Eren’s curious gaze, Eren always finds his way around. So it’s not a surprise to him that Eren knows — has known probably — about his plans for the future, but still. He wanted to surprise him.
“Do I even need to ask?” Levi slips a hand into his pocket and runs his finger along the velvet fabric that hugs a small box.
Eren’s on the edge of his seat now. “I’m not giving you an answer if you don’t ask.”
“Fine.”
He resists the urge to roll his eyes by sinking down on one knee and pulling out the ring box that shimmers with attention.
“Eren .. will you marry me?”
Dopamine and norepinephrine fly, hidden behind sparks that illuminate the activity in Eren’s brain. Though he sees all of this, none of it compares to the look on Eren’s face when he flings his arms around Levi’s neck and says, “Yes. Oh my God, yes.”
Yes.
It's a yes.
And with that vow, they will never be alone.