Archive of Our Own

The teacher’s lounge is bleeding with color. Greens, blues, reds, whites, golds. The main lights are off, enhancing the glow of hung Christmas lights, a stark palette in the dim confinement of the lounge. Bows, baubles, ribbons clutter the walls, the windows. Decorative cloths engulf every single table, the countertops of the kitchenette. One tablecloth has candy canes and mistletoes, another has presents, one with snowmen, and finally, one with a plethora of ‘Ho, Ho, Ho!’s. Erwin internalizes the cringe that wants to surface on his face when he walks into the lounge alongside Hanji—they had dragged him back into the school from his car despite his quiet, unspoken dismay. He’d nearly gotten away. He never liked social gatherings. He’s mildly surprised to see how many staff members showed up. Although, the administration of this school has always been quite friendly and welcoming, emphasizing the importance of building bonds and establishing a positive work environment.

“Something tells me you were in charge of decorations,” he says to them, standing beside the beaming science teacher at the open double doors. Jingle All the Way with Arnold Schwarzenegger is playing on the flatscreen mounted on the wall—the Santa brawl scene is occurring. He sees that even Mike showed up, who Erwin has known since he first started working here seven years ago. Mike, with his inclination towards solitude and introvert behaviors. He’s sitting at one of the outrageously decorated tables with Nanaba—the PE teacher. Even the librarian is here, who seems the type to do her nine to five and get the hell out as soon as possible. Everyone just calls her Ms. Rico because the students horrifically butcher the pronunciation of her Polish surname.

“With some help from sweet, little Moby,” Hanji says, gesturing to said man who’s talking with the school nurse—Petra. Erwin doesn’t mention that Moblit is, indeed, colorblind because something tells him they already know that. Now the state of this lounge is beginning to make sense to him.

“Grab some punch!” Hanji encourages loudly past the noise of the TV, patting him heartily on the back. “If you want to spike it with something more fun, Dot hid vodka in the bottom left cabinet next to the fridge. Don’t tell anyone, and if you plan on going crazy, I can drive you home. There’s also egg nog in the fridge!”

They dart away, immediately throwing their arms around two of their fellow coworkers at one of the longer, rectangular tables absolutely cluttered with trays of confections and red party cups. He feels a bit like a scrooge in these parts: he wore his typical attire today, unlike the other teachers and staff members who went above and beyond, dressing up in glittering Christmas-themed coordinated outfits. Hanji is no exception. The flickering lights on their sweater nearly blinded him when they accosted him at his car. Erwin seldom feels holiday spirit, hasn’t since he was a teenager. Frankly, he doesn’t care. Maybe it’s a bit egotistical of him, but he always found himself above this nonsense.

Wandering over to the punch, he finds four different glass pitchers of varying colors. They’re labeled with different flavors. Erwin grabs the standard tropical fruit punch and pours himself some, then turns to the cabinet next to the fridge. He debates for a second. Drinking with his coworkers sounds better than spending time with them completely sober, but it’s also not exactly wise of him to be contemplating it at all. Part of his therapeutic treatment pertains to budding alcoholism—which may be in the past at this point, but still a temptation that he needn’t give into. He turns away from the cabinet, and just stands behind the island counter for a minute, observing.

While he sips at his fruity punch, Erwin takes note of everyone present. There’s Gunther, their German teacher. Eld, photography and journalism. They’re sitting together at one round table, talking over plates of snacks, drinks of egg nog. Petra has rejoined the pair, abandoning Moblit (their beloved guidance counselor who seems to be on good terms with every single one of their students). He naturally gravitates over to join Hanji. It looks they’d bombarded two of their administrative ladies: Lynne and Nifa. Gelgar obviously has indulged in the vodka; he’s laughing uproariously with Pixis. Erwin cannot recall Gelgar’s role at their school, actually. Pixis’ presence, despite being the principal, is not surprising to Erwin. He’s the one that talks most of having a pleasant workplace, about making friends and all that nonsense—additionally, he’s unashamed in sharing that he’d rather spend time with his lovely coworkers than sit up alone at home for the holidays.

Slight movement at one of the corner tables earns his gaze. You’d think the corners would be spared the gaudy decorations, but no, even the furthest corners are beaming. Red and green lights act as backdrop illumination for a hunched figure, their elbows planted upon one of the outrageous tablecloths. Their gaze is trained up on the TV. It’s then that Erwin realizes they’re laughing—their shoulders are shaking, hiding their smile behind a hand.

Ah, wait. That smaller form, the dark curtain of hair, cropped short. Erwin has seen this guy before, but only in passing. He’s been working here for about four months now or so, Erwin believes. The new custodian—the best they’ve ever had. For the life of him, Erwin can’t recall his name. Hanji had mentioned him once or twice, stating that he’s a weirdo but interesting to talk to, or something like that. After realizing how little Erwin cared about new hires, Hanji had just gone on to talk about their latest projects, which Erwin had infinite more interest in. And that was that.

Erwin squints, watching the mysterious custodian attempt to hide the fact that the Santa-on-Santa violence is cracking him up. What the hell is his name? Why is he even here? Hanji mentioned he’s a little abrasive and anti-social. Out of all of them, Erwin would’ve imagined his absence easily. He’s sitting alone, one lone cup placed before him. Intrigue pricks at Erwin like a pinch, an itch to take himself over to that table. But why? Social interaction is one of Erwin’s strong suits in the sense he can bullshit his way through it to get what he wants, to build connections and his impression on others for the sake of manipulation, but enjoying it is one thing Erwin can safely say he does not. It’s not like he would need to add the custodian to his hand of cards, either. Maybe that’s what makes it so interesting. He would be building rapport with this mysterious man for the sake of fun. It’s like a cat playing with a mouse of three, after giving one to its owners as a gift and consuming the other. Not necessary, but satisfying.

Erwin’s life is a monotonous slough of boredom and medicated depression. It never occurred to him that this one chip in the pot of many could be promising to distract him from that boredom, even if momentary. But the four months wasn’t all uneventful—he’s certainly noticed this haunting, dark presence in the halls of their school at the ungodly hours of the morning. Passing by him, watching him in his peripheral vision. Taking note of the shadow along the wall and determining it inconsequential. Objectively interesting in a window of perhaps ten seconds, before ultimately concluding it’s a presence not worthy of his effort.

But now, Erwin wants to turn the card and see what lays on its surface, wants to take the chip and consider its value. He steps around the island counter, cup in hand, and is engulfed in the varying lights of Christmas while pacing past the many tables. He meets Mike’s eyes as he steps by, and Mike lifts a big hand lazily in an unspoken hello. Nanaba glances at Erwin, smiles, then promptly refocuses on her cheesecake. Erwin nods at Mike in passing. He finally comes to a stop at the other side of the round table, facing his new interest. The shadow notices him, glances his way.

He’s never made eye contact with him before—or even see his face up close. The right side of his face is heavily scarred, a disfigurement that Erwin never took notice of before, inexplicably so. It seems the stitching wasn’t done right; his lips don’t align perfectly. But it doesn’t take away from his appearance. No, it adds this rugged charm, a gruesome story. One eye is a stormy cloud, the other onyx under the dim lighting, tinged with red by the hanging bulbs above him. Lowering his hand from his jaw, Mr. Custodian closes it around his fist, resting comfortably against the table. It’s then that Erwin realizes he’s missing two fingers; the index and middle fingers of his right hand. This contributes to Erwin’s interest, a growing flame. He stares up at Erwin.

“Mind if I join you?” Erwin asks, gesturing to the other folding chair with his cup-wielding hand. The other man shrugs.

“If you want. Don’t expect me to chat with you just because you’re sitting in my proximity.”

Erwin likes that answer. He’s always been a practical man, and unashamed honesty is a trait he appreciates in people, even if he’s poor at expressing it himself. Not out of fear, but out of self-preservation. He lowers into the chair and takes notice of the large red plate between them; it’s full of Christmas-themed cookies. There’s a small basket of poinsettia placed beside it, accented with gold ribbon.

For five minutes they sit in silence. Erwin watches him watch the TV. He’s slouching again, jaw placed back in his palm, elbow against the table. Once in a while, Erwin catches a subtle smirk, but it’s always fleeting.

“Would it bother you if I asked for your name?” Erwin decides to open with. He waits until the other man glances at him before taking a drink of his punch, to establish an air of relaxation. Mr. Custodian shrugs. Defensive gesture? Self-comforting, maybe.

“No. I’m Levi.”

Erwin nods. Now he remembers, from when Hanji spoke of him briefly around the time he first started working here. Levi—quite an unforgettable name, yet Erwin still forgot it all the same. Being a history teacher, the origins of the name isn’t beyond him. To him, Christianity seems like the default Western religion, much like how heterosexuality is the norm, the expected of every single person until proven otherwise. So this makes him wonder: why is Levi even here, at a Christmas party? That being said, he’s assuming. Maybe Levi is nothing at all, just like Erwin himself. Just because he was given that name, it doesn’t automatically place him in any preconceived box—rather, it shouldn’t.

“It’s good to finally put a name to the face,” Erwin replies, smiling, earning a flick of intense eyes. “My name is Erwin.”

“Is it?” Levi mutters, refocusing on the TV. Erwin watches him, pausing, attempting to decipher what he means.

“Yes…” Erwin begins hesitantly. “It is the name my parents gave me.”

Levi snorts. He glances at him past his fringe, an amused sneer on his face. It pulls at the taut skin of his scars.

“Smart ass.”

“You don’t find it pleasant, finally introducing ourselves?” Erwin inquires, staring at Levi’s profile—he’s keeping his eyes on the TV. Erwin wonders if he’s the type to find eye contact uncomfortable. His nose is sharp, short, a straight bridge. His top lip is thin, his bottom lip fuller. In proportion to his face, he has big ears. Long, narrow eyebrows. Erwin is charmed by the ambiguity of his appearance. It’s different, especially when joined by the facial scars.

“What happened to your arm?”

Levi’s question jolts him from his studying. He hadn’t even looked away from the TV, asking him this. Erwin reflexively brings his hand over to touch at his residual limb, but then stops himself, the gesture hidden under the table. His momentary silence earns Levi’s yin-yang gaze. He lifts his right hand to waggle its remaining fingers.

“I get to ask that, because that means you can ask me.”

Erwin can’t help but chuckle at that. Somehow, the noise of conversation, the movie, and the softly playing Christmas music makes him feel at ease talking about it. Otherwise, in a silent room, it rings too loud.

Honesty, Erwin. Honesty.

“Drunk driving,” Erwin answers. “When I was twenty-five. I felt I’d be less of a threat considering I was out alone in the German countryside at two in the morning. My arm was pinned under the car for seven hours until I was discovered by one farmer’s son.”

Levi lowers his hand from his jaw, curls his fingers around the base of his cup, spins the cup idly. He keeps his eyes down as he speaks. “Drunk driving? Someone straight-laced like you? Why? That shit is fucking stupid. No two ways about it.”

Erwin expected the punches to be left unpulled. He nods in agreement.

“It is. It was. I had a drinking problem, and I wanted to leave the house to watch the sunrise. There was a spot I knew. Needless to say, I didn’t drive very far.”

“Hopefully that stays a ‘had’ problem.”

Erwin remains silent, unsure if he should be offended here or not. He chose to be honest, to tell Levi about the truly worst night of his life, and Levi is scolding him about the dangers of drunk driving as if Erwin hadn’t contemplated suicide over this particular event many times throughout the following years due to the self-hatred. Well, he’s not defensive when it comes to his past. The shame has long since passed. Now, he’s indifferent, he supposes. He was stupid. It was back when dealing with grief was difficult for him.

“I imagine that was… horrifying,” Levi mutters. His attempt at sympathizing, Erwin assumes. Levi winces after he says it. “No shit it was horrifying. Probably sucks to think about it again. I should’ve assumed it was traumatic or something, huh?”

“Not necessarily,” Erwin replies. “I could’ve been born this way. It was a fair question, and an understandable response.”

Levi nods.

“I aimed poorly while chopping an onion,” Levi says, sitting up and leaning back against his chair, crossing his arms. Erwin watches the muscles of his biceps bunch from the act, his hands curled around his elbows. He has black crossing tattoos on his inner forearms, mimicking a tree, Erwin thinks. They look interesting, almost like slashes from an ink brush. It takes him just a split second to realize that these are concealing tattoos. Erwin looks away, chuckling at Levi’s attempt at humor while his stomach clenches.

“Oh, wait, no,” Levi continues, reaching out to grab one of the Santa shaped cookies. “I closed my car door on them. That’s right. Almost forgot. Or was it the Chinese finger trap? Shit. My face was the cat, that I do remember.”

Erwin can’t help but grin, genuinely amused by him.

“I should start doing that,” he says, chuckling. Levi glances at him, smirking around Santa’s hat. He bites it off, says past the cookie, “Lost it in an arm wrestling match?”

Erwin tips his head back with the laugh that abruptly rises out of him. He muffles it with his hand, ducking his head to somehow smother the laugh back into his lungs. He peeks up at Levi, chuckling into his palm now. Levi is watching the TV again, but he’s smiling.

“Well,” Levi begins with a sigh, averting his gaze down, staring at the basket of poinsettias, “Since you were so painfully honest with me, I guess I have to be decent and offer the same.”

Erwin composes himself, studying the other man’s somber expression. Levi pans his gaze up to meet Erwin’s. Erwin finds himself staring into the gray abyss of his damaged eye, hypnotized. Levi offers a faint, sardonic perk of his lips. It looks a touch bitter, tinged with loss. He leans in closer towards Erwin, bracing his elbow against the table. Erwin watches, tense, readying himself for Levi’s truth. Levi’s voice is low and genuine, his onyx eye searching in Erwin’s.

“I aimed poorly while chopping an onion.”

He leans back against the chair, grinning slightly while Erwin stares at him, processing. He then reaches out to steal the half-eaten Santa cookie from Levi’s fingers. Levi lurches, eyes whipping back onto his, and watches with muted shock as Erwin pops it into his mouth.

“That—that was my cookie.” Levi sounds appalled. Offended. Erwin stops chewing, staring at him. It occurs to him what he’d just done, how idiotic and infantile he’s behaving. He ducks forward, torso shaking as he tries to internalize his laughter. Levi blurts out a sharp laugh, saying again as if to further establish this undeniable fact, “That was my cookie, asshole!”

“Liars don’t deserve Santa cookies,” Erwin replies, attempting to regather himself as he begins to realize he’s being silly. He’s sure his fellow associates are staring now, amazed by this unusual, previously-unseen behavior. He didn’t anticipate Levi to be quite so funny. His face is burning as embarrassment registers. He clears his throat, fixes his button-up shirt, sits back into his chair calmly. Levi is watching him with a faint smirk on his face. He looks at Erwin closely, as if he hadn’t actually gotten a good look at his face until then. As if, like Erwin, he was writing him off as insubstantial, unimportant. A momentary disturbance in the calm, boring waves of life. Around them, they hear Hanji’s screaming laughter, Gelgar’s loud voice always raised and ready to argue.

“I wasn’t lying,” Levi mutters, reaching out to snatch another cookie—this time, ornament shaped. “Just keeping you in suspense.”

“Ah, yes, I do love a good amputation story,” Erwin says in a completely neutral tone of voice. “I’m simply not satisfied with my own. I’m at the edge of my seat, Levi.”

Saying his name so soon after learning it feels almost too intimate—if he were younger, Erwin would be blushing. Levi snorts. Erwin likes being able to joke about it without making others uncomfortable. He stopped doing that years ago—not that he did it often, regardless. Eyes trained on the TV again, Levi speaks, lower this time.

“I used to work as a mechanic. I was training a newbie. Mistake happened, my fingers were crushed.”

Erwin frowns. He can’t help but wonder, a bit impulsively, how Levi sounds when he’s screaming in agonizing pain. The thought is abrupt and unwanted. He winces at himself and conceals it by nodding.

“How deadly cars can be to humans…”

“Depends on how humans handle them,” Levi replies. Erwin nods again. A wordless moment passes, a laden one. It seems Levi was contemplating. He releases a deep exhale, speaks lowly.

“My face was about four years ago. Got jumped. Fuckers had me outnumbered.”

Erwin frowns. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

Levi shrugs, pops the remainder of the ornament cookie into his misaligned mouth.

Silence takes over for a couple minutes. Erwin is beginning to think Levi is the type to stay silent unless someone else speaks up first, but, no—he picks up where they left off.

“Don’t you think this is all a bunch of bullshit?” Levi asks, turning to face him again, grabbing his cup of punch to finish it off. Erwin isn’t sure if he’s talking about the traumatic amputations or Christmas. Levi gestures around them vaguely. He shrugs, dropping his hand.

“I grew up poor. This shit didn’t matter. It was just about solidarity. Togetherness.”

Erwin wonders what Levi finds so trusting about him to just confess these intimate things. Maybe it’s because he revealed himself first. He laid his cards out and Levi decided he was enough. It hadn’t even occurred to him until now: he’s the one being played. He never kept his cards close to his chest—as soon as he sat down and started talking to him, such a mysterious, interesting shadow, his reservations were stripped, inexplicably. Was it because he saw his hand? Subconsciously, he decided they were alike, thus he could trust him? Strange.

“I think it’s all bullshit, yes,” Erwin answers, the corner of his mouth lifting. Levi huffs.

“At least it falls on my birthday. Takes the attention off me.”

Erwin pauses, watching Levi under the red and green lights while conversation continues on around them.

“Your birthday is on Christmas day?” Erwin asks. Levi glances at him, eyes narrowed. He shrugs, nods once. Erwin hums thoughtfully.

It’s then that Hanji flies in out of nowhere, colliding with the table and nearly toppling it over. Levi and Erwin both jump. The plate of cookies goes sliding, balancing precariously at the edge. With one hand braced against the tasteless tablecloth, Hanji has their other arm raised high. Brow furrowed, Erwin’s eyes naturally flick up to distinguish what they’re holding. It becomes quite apparent to him what it is they’re holding. Meanwhile, Levi rises from his chair and steps back considering punch is now dripping from the table. Predictably, he snaps at Hanji.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Uh oh, guys!” Hanji calls out in a sing-song voice, wide eyes glancing between them with a devious grin stretching across their face. “Look what I fooound! Pucker up!”

They’re holding a mistletoe, waggling it back and forth. Erwin would assume they’re drunk, but no, this is just how they behave. Erwin gets up, and decides he’ll grab the paper towels from the kitchen area. Moblit seems to have predicted this, and thus promptly retrieved them. He steps past the other tables, holds them out for Erwin with an apologetic grimace on his face. Erwin thanks him, takes the roll, and rips off a generous amount.

“Guys! Tradition!” Hanji cries. “Come on! Even the cheek would be fine!”

“I’m pretty sure that can be considered sexual harassment,” Nanaba pipes up from the table shared with Mike. Mike chuckles, a deep sound beyond the Christmas music. Erwin begins mopping up the punch while Levi mutters his way out of the lounge room. Erwin looks over, watching him stride out past the ajar double doors. Well, Hanji scared him out of the party. Levi seems like the type who doesn’t enjoy abrupt confrontations, or unexpected surprises. That would make sense, considering how long it took for them to finally meet.

“Do you want his number?” Hanji asks him, suddenly as calm as the sea after a violent storm. Erwin nearly jumps again. He glances at them, face impassive. He folds the wet paper towels one-handed, cleans up a few remaining streaks. To his right, Moblit is grabbing the tray of cookies and carrying it out of harm’s way, back to the island counter. Erwin tosses the soiled paper towels into a nearby trashcan.

“From you? No.”

“Ahh,” Hanji vocalizes their understanding. They tap knowingly on their temple, then click their tongue while pointing at Erwin. Erwin shakes his head.

“Considering you know me as a person, and you seemed to grasp Levi’s personality by its basic foundation, I would assume you could conclude that neither of us would’ve enjoyed that interruption,” Erwin says, eyes flat and brow stern. They look sheepish. They laugh, scratch at the back of their head.

“You’re right, sorry Erwin. You two were being all chummy and laughing it up, I was just happy to see it, that’s all! Neither of you are exactly cheerful. I wanted to be a part of it, I guess…”

Erwin nods. Hanji likes being involved in the fun, he knows. But this was different. It would’ve been different if he was talking to anyone else in the room. He wouldn’t have minded then.

Shortly after cleaning up, Erwin leaves the lounge with a promise to return. He wasn’t quite finished with Levi. He has a pretty good idea where he’s gone off to, if he’s still on property. Erwin steps out of the administration building and into the cold evening air; the sun is far into its descent, casting stark purples and oranges across the sky. It reminds him of Two Men Contemplating the Moon. His footsteps pierce the stoic quietness of the courtyard, crossing over to the corner where a gazebo of tables sat. The winter sky has yet to open up and grant them their first snowfall, so Erwin doesn’t have to worry about ruining his dress shoes. But it is certainly cold, and he feels it through his button-up and vest.

As predicted, he finds Levi there. Rather than seated at one of the tables, he’s leaning against the wall, looking up at the sky. Erwin has spotted him here on multiple occasions, before and after school, smoking on his breaks. His footsteps announce his presence far sooner than he does. Levi glances at him just to establish his identity, then refocuses on the sky. In the light of the setting sun, Erwin gets a better look at his attire of the evening; a long-sleeved black v-neck, over a gray undershirt. Fitted black jeans, boots. Quite plain, but it suits him. It seems he didn’t dress up for the occasion, like Erwin.

“Not interested in kissing Hanji?” Levi asks flatly, bringing his lit cigarette to his mouth. His cheeks suck in when he pulls at it, the smooth scar tissue stretching, pulling from the act. Erwin leans against the wall to Levi’s right, an arm’s length between them.

“I thought I better leave that to you,” Erwin says, his breath slightly visible in the cold air. Levi laughs dryly. Erwin smiles. He peeks at Levi. Levi is looking at him, too. That intense, undamaged eye isn’t black now; it’s a somber blue, almost like steel.

“You want to go grab some actual food?” Levi asks him, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Our conversation was cut short.”

“Absolutely,” Erwin replies without hesitation, his smile becoming genuine, pleasantly surprised. “Where to?”

The address Levi gave him is an independent diner named The Underground Diner. It seems Levi is familiar with it considering how he provided its name promptly. Erwin follows him there with GPS guidance—it’s in a part of the city he doesn’t frequent often. The parking lot is small; he manages to pull in directly next to Levi, who steps out of his sedan already lighting up another cigarette. With hooded eyes, he watches Erwin turn off his car and step out. He’s holding his lit cigarette between the thumb and ring finger of his right hand, taking a drag while Erwin locks up his car and paces around the hood to join him. He trains his blue eyes up on the illuminated, neon lettering of the diner.

“The Underground Diner,” Erwin reads aloud. “Sounds homey.”

“I know the owners,” Levi replies. “We go way back, so don’t say anything mean.”

Levi begins towards the front door, his boots loud against the pavement. Erwin grins slightly, unsure if he was being sarcastic or not. He’s wagering that yes, he was being sarcastic.

“I wouldn’t dream of saying anything mean about this refined establishment,” he says, following the other man into the diner—Levi holds the door open for him, the gentleman. Levi huffs around his cigarette, leveling Erwin with a cold stare. He points at him with a warning finger. Erwin holds up his hands in surrender. He thinks he spots a slight smile on Levi’s scarred lips, but he turns away before Erwin could really confirm it. Glancing around, Erwin notices how there are only a few faces, and he wouldn’t be surprised if they’re regulars. Seems like the kind of place. It’s lowly lit in here, which makes it feel more intimate and private; hanging lights illuminate the tables. It seems the owners have an eye for décor. It’s not a gaudy diner with blinding colors or peeling booth seats. The atmosphere is nice.

Levi paces casually into the diner, walking past the host desk and snatching two menus along the way. Erwin follows. Levi drops into a corner booth by the windows, adjusting the blinds so the slats are more open, allowing him a view of the road. He places the menus on the table, pushing one towards Erwin’s side. Erwin slides into the seat across from him. The booth seats are polished so perfectly, Erwin almost feels reluctant to put his ass on it. Levi takes in a long drag from the cigarette, cheeks sucking in, and then plucks it from his lips to put it out in the ash tray tucked in the corner of the table. Erwin glances at other nearby tables and takes note of the accompanying ashtrays. It’s been a while since he’s been at a restaurant that allows smoking.

“Lee!” a voice exclaims from behind Erwin, startling him and nearly making him jump. Before he even has a chance to look over, a woman with red pigtails leaps into the booth beside Levi and throws her arms around him. He doesn’t seem thrilled with this, but he still puts his arm lazily around her and grunts, “Hi, Izzy.”

He pats her on the shoulder while she exclaims excitedly, “Hi! How ya been?! Missed ya! You never come over an’ see us anymore!”

She seems to sense his discomfort; she pulls away from Levi, but reaches up to ruffle his hair. Erwin quietly observes the red that’s tinting Levi’s cheeks, wondering why he’s embarrassed. ‘Izzy’ places her elbows on the table, props her cheeks in her hands, smiling radiantly. She’s freckled, has a gap in her teeth, and seems to be the embodiment of sweetness. Something tells Erwin it’s misleading. Levi fixes up his hair with rakes his fingers, muttering, “Brat. Nothing’s changed since I texted you last night, believe it or not. And this is Erwin. Erwin, this is Isabel.”

Isabel grins. She doesn’t even look at Erwin despite the introduction. Erwin doesn’t mind. He’s still absorbing the sound of his name wrapped up in Levi’s deep, smooth voice. She goes on energetically, unbothered.

“I just haven’t seen you in person in a while! I’m happy to see ya.”

Levi huffs, a slight scowl on his red face. Isabel giggles.

“And ya still burn like a tomato when I catch you off-guard!”

Erwin sees Levi rolling his eyes, before flicking them over to meet his gaze, frowning.

“Now I remember why I don’t come here anymore.”

Isabel laughs, pushing him lightly on the bicep while crying, “Now who’s the brat! Don’t lie, you come here all the time. Hey, do you want me to put on your playlist? Ya gonna be here long?”

Erwin just smiles faintly, witnessing this exchange. It seems like they’ve been friends for a while. Levi shrugs.

“Sure. Look, Ms. Hostess, you gonna go take orders or what? Give us a damn second to think?”

It occurs to Erwin then that Levi’s speaking with an inflection in his voice, sharpening his speech and shortening the words. So, childhood friends, then? Where from, though?

Isabel pointedly stares into Levi’s eyes, who stares back, and then slowly turns to make eye contact with Erwin. Erwin smiles at her politely.

“I’m Erwin, as Levi stated. Pleasure to meet you.”

Isabel sticks out a small hand, grinning toothily at him. Erwin takes her hand, shakes it. Her grip is very firm, excessively so, to the point of pain. There’s a glint in her eyes. Erwin cocks a brow. The protective friend, then.

“We’re coworkers,” Levi says flatly, perhaps sensing this. “I clean up after the shitty little kids he teaches.”

“Ooh!” Isabel looks at Erwin with a newfound wonder, releasing his bigger hand. “Cool!”

She then slaps her hands down on the table and rises, planting her hands on her hips instead. She’s wearing an apron around her waist, dressed in slim jeans and flats. Observing her appearance, he thinks from a neutral standpoint that she’s quite cute. He wonders if it’s simply platonic between these two, or something more.

“Want coffee?” Levi asks, training those stormy eyes on the silent, observant Erwin. The red in his cheeks has subsided, and now he looks like his typical aloof self again. Erwin clears his throat, adjusts in his seat and shakes his head.

“No, thank you.” He directs this towards Isabel, smiling.

“And I know you don’t want anything, bro, otherwise you’d be barkin’ for it already,” Isabel remarks cheekily. ‘Bro’? Platonic, then.

“I’m not that much of an asshole,” Levi huffs, flipping open the menu. Erwin does the same, then realizes he’s mirroring Levi. Isabel laughs.

“Yeah, well, maybe not with me.”

“I may be an asshole, but I’m not an asshole to those working in the service industry, whether they’re my shitty little friend or not.”

“Oh, then explain the time we went to IHOP and you practically exploded at the waiter.”

“I had good reason for that,” Levi replies flatly in a long, impatient tone as if he’s already said this many, many times. “I worked in food service myself, Izzy, as you’re well-fuckin’-aware, so I notice these things. You know you’re supposed to use a fresh fuckin’ rag when wiping down the fuckin’ tables, not one that’s been sittin’ in the fuckin’ sink for five fuckin’ hours.”

Levi says this calmly while browsing the breakfast foods, and Erwin is struggling to stifle his amused grin at this point. Levi goes on, and Isabel is making no effort whatsoever to hide her own broad grin.

“Did you not see the stains on that fuckin’ thing? The fuckin’ gall to whip that cloth of disease out and slap it around on our table while seatin’ us, as it was a fuckin’ favor. Hey, wipe that grin off your face, Izzy! Now you’re just rilin’ me up.”

Levi’s inflection is getting thicker, more passionate the longer he rants. At this point, Isabel begins cracking up, arms wrapped around her waist. She reaches out to clap her hand on Levi’s shoulder, squeezing him there while howling, “Every time, Lee! It’s too easy!”

Levi huffs, shaking his head. He goes back to staring at the menu, indicating he is done with talking to her. Isabel chuckles, pats him on the back, and practically skips away. Erwin smiles to himself while retraining his own attention on the menu. Levi sighs and speaks in a mumble.

“She’s a lot. Sorry.”

Erwin glances up to see Levi staring pointedly at the menu.

“I didn’t mind it. She seems sweet. How long have you known her?”

Levi shrugs.

“We met in middle school.”

“Ah, okay. Where, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Levi flicks his steely eyes up to his.

“Noticed the accent?”

Erwin nods, smiling faintly. It’s absent again, as if Levi puts effort in managing his speech. Levi drops his gaze, flips the page of the menu.

“North Carolina,” Levi answers. “I didn’t stay there long enough to develop one as bad as hers. She grew up there in a pretty, uh… Southern family.”

“And how did you end up in Washington, the two of you?”

“The three of us,” Levi remarks, gesturing towards the kitchen with a jerk of his thumb. Erwin glances over. He sees Isabel beyond the serving station, talking with someone in the kitchen area. It’s then that the other person ducks down to peek through the serving window to the kitchen. It’s a man with blonde hair, looking as young as Isabel, dressed in a black chef’s uniform. Levi lifts a hand. The other man waves in return, but doesn’t come running out like Isabel.

“Wanted a change,” Levi replies, and leaves it at that. Erwin nods. Maybe that question had an answer that was too heavy. He drops his gaze to the menu and focuses on deciding.

Isabel returns a couple minutes later, brandishing a notepad and a grin. Levi asks for waffles with blueberries, and Erwin gets soup with bread. Isabel doesn’t get chatty this time. She takes their order, winks at Levi which has him rolling his eyes, and runs off, leaving them both glasses of water. Levi stares out the window while taking a drink, watching passing cars. It takes Erwin a moment to decipher the meaning behind that wink, watching Levi’s partial profile. She must think this is a date. Does Levi bring his dates here?

“Why history?” Levi asks suddenly, drawing Erwin out of his wandering contemplations. Erwin is pinned by those eyes again, one a swim of mist, the other a strike of steely blue. Levi pushes the sleeves of his black shirt up to his elbows, then props his chin in his hand, elbow against the table. Erwin keeps his gaze pointedly trained on Levi’s, withholding the urge to look at his tattoos again, his muscular forearms. Gradually, it’s becoming apparent to Erwin that he’s attracted to this man. He sits up a little straighter himself.

“My father was a history teacher, as well,” Erwin answers. “And I prefer history being taught accurately. Seems to me that our school districts thrive on retelling American history.”

Levi snorts, hiding his stifled grin behind his fingers, though Erwin sees it regardless. It occurs to Erwin that when he grins, the scar across his mouth pulls taut and tugs on his upper lip. It’s kind of cute. Erwin enjoys the moment, smiling faintly himself. Levi lowers his hand from his face, a stifled smile suffocated between thinly pressed lips.

“Well, shit, that’s good to know. At least I’m not associating myself with an ignorant asshole.”

“Don’t speak too soon, Levi.”

That has Levi cracking a dry laugh, his smile broadening. An odd feeling blossoms in Erwin’s stomach, one he hasn’t felt in years. Levi speaks in a murmur, his rumbling voice sending a shiver down Erwin’s spine, eyes searching between Erwin’s.

“Alright, I’ll keep my eye on you, Smith. You haven’t earned my trust yet.”

Erwin grins, his stomach flipping again in a way that has him questioning himself. Strange. He speaks past a soft laugh, keeping his eyes on Levi’s.

“I’ll be on my best behavior, then.”

A week comes and goes since their introduction at the party. Erwin barely has time to process his meeting with Levi before they’re on Christmas break. And Erwin cannot get the custodian out of his head. At this point he knows it’s an infatuation of some kind. An interest, an intrigue. Almost like a game, he wants to learn more about the mysterious, grim janitor that stalks their halls, chewing out students and stirring nefarious rumors. The knowledge that Levi’s birthday fell on Christmas day follows Erwin around during their time off. The week he spends at his mother’s place, visiting her for the holidays alongside other extended family, Erwin is seldom mentally present during moments of Christmas monotony.

While subjected to the dull necessities of holiday gatherings, he revisits the faculty party, the evening he spent with Levi. Their walk through a nearby park after the late-night dinner, smoking together and talking in length about multiple subjects. Levi came across as bright beyond the books. A hands-on, street-smarts intelligence. The kind of guy you could trust with anything, to help you out when you needed it. A complete juxtaposition to Erwin—and it’s charming.

He thinks back on the conversation they had about Erwin’s hybrid car; Levi had described in length about how fucking annoying they are to deal with, and if he had to choose, he’d always stick with non-hybrids. When Erwin had asked why, that sent the other man off on a tangent. But Erwin has always been a good listener. And he’s discovered that he could always listen to Levi.

That being said, as he stands to the side watching his nieces and nephews tear into their presents while Christmas music plays, Erwin wonders what Levi is doing for his birthday, the holiday occasion. During their talk, Erwin had confirmed through asking that Levi celebrates Hanukkah and not Christmas, so his time of religious celebration has passed. But, surely, he spends time with others who might be celebrating Christmas? If not for religious reasons, then for the sake of being together?

Erwin has been hovering over Levi’s number, staring at the set of digits as he contemplates how appropriate (or inappropriate) it would be to text him. But, he decides against it.

In the end, he goes home after sufficient time has been sacrificed with his family, eager to be alone again. The flight back is short and merciful; a couple hours from Northern California to Seattle. The first night on his own, Erwin goes out to his café of choice to read and enjoy luxury coffee, but he can only focus on reading for half an hour before the weight of his phone in his pocket regains his lax attention.

It’s unlike him to diverge like this, unable to keep his mind engaged on the task at hand. It’s been like this for the last two weeks. He thinks of a deep voice speaking his name, of stormy blue eyes raging an unspoken war in the wrinkles of dark irises. He pictures the painful, secretive trees on pale, toned arms. The faint, frequent smirk on his face like he’s already got him figured out, while Erwin falls behind, unable to pick him apart and dissect the ambiguity of him. Busy comparing fractures of him as if he were trying to rebuild a mirror or a puzzle to see the entire image of him, though pieces are always missing. He wants to witness the war, and he wants to understand the meaning behind the trees, the slashes of ink. He wants to wrap his hands around his wrists to get that thrill, to touch the old scars on the knuckles of his broad hands.

With his head tipped back against the wall of the café, Erwin watches the ceiling fan lazily spin, listening to the typical coffeeshop music drone on gently. He wonders if it would be too telling if he were to text him now. Probably. He has better self-control than that. He’ll wait until he can see Levi again in person.

On the drive home, Erwin is stuck in traffic at the heart of the downtown shopping area, passing through the crowded street to reach the interstate. There, he stares at the displays through the storefront windows, gifts advertised at a discounted price due to it being the third of January. This has him pausing, contemplative.

He signals to escape the slow traffic and searches for a parking spot.

Walking through the school halls after two weeks away hasn’t been this exciting in years. Erwin is almost anxious, expecting to see that shadow creep up on him. Passing by, withdrawn, introverted. It occurs when Erwin is making his way to the lounge for lunch. There are a couple students in the hall—they’re meant to be in the cafeteria, kept there by their staff-made-guards. Erwin sighs, readying himself to redirect them back to the lunchroom. As he approaches, Erwin sees Levi abruptly stalking over with an industrial broom, dragging it behind himself. His low, agitated voice booms through the hall, something Erwin has never heard before.

“Oi, you brats! What’s the matter with you, you skippin’ lunch or something? It’s important that you eat, otherwise you’ll lose the few precious braincells you have left!”

“But Mr. Levi—”

Erwin recognizes the students. It’s Eren Jaeger with Armin Arlert. These two—they share history together in Erwin’s seventh period. They seem to be good friends. Undoubtedly, Eren was the one who dragged Armin out here for some unimportant reason.

“Does it seem like I give a crap?” Levi interrupts the boy sharply, and Erwin has to wince a little. He’s heard endless praise about Levi’s work as the custodian, which Erwin assumes is the reason why he still has his job. Yelling at the students never ends well, especially if you’re “just” the custodian. But it seems like he’s managed to get by doing so. It appears no one questions Levi’s authority—especially the students. Erwin stands back, observing. Levi goes on, gesturing towards the direction of the cafeteria.

“If you need to go to the nurse’s office, I’ll walk you there myself, otherwise get back to the cafeteria. Have you always been this annoying, or does it come with age?”

Eren mutters an unenthused apology while Armin nervously squeaks out ’Sorry, Mr. Levi!’ and promptly grabs Eren by the wrist, dragging him back towards the lunchroom. Erwin has a feeling that Eren would’ve argued if Levi wasn’t known for knocking skulls. Eren has argued with him multiple times in the past over his history grade, or to dispute in-class reprimanding. As soon as the students flee around the corner, passing Erwin on the way, Levi finally notices him. He huffs, lifting his head proudly as he spits, “What? Someone’s gotta keep ‘em in line around here.”

“No judgment from me,” Erwin replies, smiling faintly. He begins walking towards Levi. Levi drops his gaze, finding the industrial broom at his feet quite interesting. He kicks the angle of the broom back into place, clearing his throat.

“I have something to give you, actually,” Erwin begins, coming to a stop beside him. Levi is so compact and muscular, a domineering presence, but standing close to him like he is now, it becomes quite apparent to him how significant their height difference is. Levi smells faintly like bleach. His hair seems unaffected by the chemicals he uses; it’s obvious he cares for it. His inky black locks are shiny and soft-looking, styled nicely. Erwin admires this, face impassive, while Levi lifts his head and looks up at him with a cocked brow. He sweeps his gaze along the other man in a passing, scrutinizing look, and then squints up at him.

“What? Why? What is it?”

“Which question shall I answer first?” Erwin teases, withholding his smile. Levi pauses, huffing a slight laugh. He rolls his eyes.

“Now I remembering what it’s like trying to have a conversation with you,” he says in a low mutter, looking away. Erwin spots the blush as it blooms in Levi’s cheeks, and he has to wonder what it is he said that evoked embarrassment. He was simply teasing. Either way, it’s cute. The red is staining Levi’s ears. It seems when he blushes, it really shows. Erwin stares, realizing his own stomach is filled with that same buzzing, eager feeling. His hand is restless, yearning to reach out and touch, to feel those midnight locks which remind him of a raven’s feathers—he wonders how soft they truly are. There’s a powerful urge to trace the shape of his ears that are a little too big and feel the heated skin from his blush. Instead, he clears his throat and slides his hand into a pocket of his khakis.

Erwin has carried the silly thing around with him all day in case he ran into the other man out in the halls, just like they are now. Closing his fist around the gift, he withdraws it from his pocket and holds it out. Levi hesitates a moment, and then presents his open palm. Erwin places the keychain in his hand. It’s a stupid joke gift, one that Erwin found at a craft store; it’s a zinc metal keychain with a broom, a bucket, and cleaning gloves. It was either that or something related to cars, but he found this infinitely more amusing and unrelated to past trauma. What would Levi do with a car figurine, anyways? Regardless, Erwin has always been poor at gift-giving. Levi grimaces, staring down at it, and then bursts out a laugh. His hand flies up to stifle it.

“This is the worst gift I’ve ever received,” he says into his hand, looking at Erwin with disbelieving eyes. He can’t repress the flurry of giggles that bursts out of him, though it’s obvious he’s trying to rein them in. Erwin grins himself. Levi continues chuckling, lowering his hand from his face to reveal the broad smile exposing his teeth and bringing out slight dimples that make Erwin’s heart flutter. His facial scar tissue strains visibly, as if these seams are what hold his face together, ready to burst if he grinned a little too widely. It occurs to Erwin then that Levi is missing two of his teeth, both in the far back—one on the top and one on the bottom. Interesting. He didn’t notice before. His bottom row is a touch crooked, too. Hooking the keyring onto his finger, Levi examines the dangling charms closer.

“This fucking sucks. I love it. Thanks, Erwin,” he says with great amusement, directing his uneven grin towards the other man. “So, what’s it for?”

“Your birthday,” Erwin answers, smiling faintly. “Happy birthday. Though I am a week late in saying so.”

“You could have just texted me,” Levi mumbles, spinning the keychain on his finger, searching between Erwin’s eyes. “Modern technology makes it easy, I promise. Remember the bricks we had back in the nineties? I hated the keyboards on those things. So much effort.”

Erwin brings his hand up to thoughtfully rub at his jaw, humming as if he were truly contemplating it.

“Good point. If I were being honest with you,” a shocking notion coming from himself, he realizes, “I thought of it. But I didn’t want to interrupt anything, nor overstep.”

The next laugh that comes out of Levi is flat and dry. He stops spinning the keychain and tucks it into the pocket of his navy blue jumpsuit.

“What a fuckin’ gentleman. Erwin, you can text me. That is why I gave you my phone number,” he says, crossing his muscular arms, the handle of the broom tucked into his elbow. He’s wearing a long-sleeved thermal undershirt—probably due to the weather. Erwin regrets that he can’t admire the visual of his bare arms, and then promptly feels like a pervert for the thought. Levi goes on, cocking a narrow, scarred eyebrow at him.

“You seem like the type of guy who will just pussyfoot around it so, how about this: when are you going to take me out again?”

Erwin pauses. He searches Levi’s face, detecting nothing but stone and a hint of annoyance. This threw him off. He opens his mouth, closes it, turns his head slightly as he regards Levi with mild confusion, brow furrowing. The smirk that pulls at the corner of Levi’s mouth makes Erwin feel like he’s the butt of some joke he isn’t understanding.

“Are you being serious with me?” Erwin decides to ask, because if he can’t figure it out on his own, then he needs more to work with. Levi uncrosses his arms to fold both calloused hands over the top of the broom handle, propping his chin on his hands. Erwin can’t help but glance at his residual fingers, at the smooth scars marking pale skin. He regards Erwin with a flat expression. Erwin wonders what test he’s currently failing. Levi speaks in a low murmur, staring right into his eyes unflinchingly.

“Yes. Unless I misread you.”

“What indicated that I may not be heterosexual?” Erwin asks, amused. “I’d like to think I’m not that transparent.”

“You don’t care much about anyone, male or female. Almost like everyone bores you,” Levi says quietly, continuing to watch Erwin’s face as if he were studying his features for subtle, little truths like Erwin is currently searching for himself. “But when we met, I’ve never seen you stare at someone so intensely. I figured, hey, maybe that’s just how he is when meeting new people. But you didn’t stop. And you’re still doing it. Plus, you’re a thirty-something bachelor and I’ve caught you checking out Mike more than I’ve seen you checking out Nanaba, or Nifa. Nifa’s cute. Everyone checks out Nifa.”

Erwin blinks, eyebrows raising. He didn’t expect that much elaboration. Levi seems to realize he ran at the mouth and straightens up from the broom, shrugging.

“You notice things when you’re the person people overlook.”

“Well,” Erwin begins, mildly amazed that Levi seemed to figure that much out. He supposes it just takes someone who’s watchful. “You… are not wrong. On any of those accounts.”

Levi huffs a laugh. He begins playing idly with the handle of the broom, looking over to the side as he says, “So you do think Nifa is cute.”

Erwin laughs, a chuckle that earns a sidelong glance from the other man, past a fringe of black. Levi smiles faintly. Erwin admires it, staring. His heart rate is faster than it should be, he realizes, beating quickly against his sternum.

“You’re doing it again,” Levi teases. Erwin spots the red that’s beginning to stain his pale skin in splotches. Levi sighs. Now he understands why Isabel gained so much joy from flustering the other man. His embarrassment is very conspicuous, endearingly so. Erwin speaks softly, tempted to reach out and touch him on the arm, but restrains the urge.

“Because when you smile it is very…”

He trails off. He can’t find a word that summarizes what he thinks, while also remaining outside the threshold of something romantic or flirtatious. He supposes it’s inherently flirtatious. It’s hard to put it into words how Levi appears to him while also doing him justice. Levi grunts, frowning.

“Shut up. You going to ask me out or what?”

It seems he doesn’t enjoy compliments. Erwin can understand that. He relates to it.

“Of course,” Erwin murmurs. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

Levi huffs. He’s flushed a vibrant vermilion, and seems to sense this. He probably feels it burning. Levi turns his head away towards his shoulder, hiding his face, and raises a broad hand to scratch behind his ear. His deep voice comes out in a low mutter—almost like he’s watching the volume of his speech now.

“You think of it this time. I brought you to the diner, so you contribute something. Or do you want to seem lazy and unimaginative?”

“Fair enough. You’re right.”

Levi doesn’t look at him again. Erwin admires his sleek black hair, the back of his head where his hair is cropped short, his bright red ears. Adorable. Erwin could almost smile, simply watching him. Levi fixes the angle of the broom and begins promptly pushing it down the blindingly polished floor of the school hallway, walking away from the other man as he says flatly, “Text me.”

The remainder of the walk to the lounge a smile lingers on Erwin’s face, and that odd, giddy feeling in his stomach persists.

That same night, Erwin thinks constantly of the other man, and finally builds the nerve to text Levi after he completes his lesson plans. It’s strange, almost, taking a seat on his couch in eager anticipation of texting another person. He hasn’t experienced excitement in this way in many years. If it weren’t for his antidepressants and past addictions, he’d certainly enjoy pouring himself a glass of whiskey while contemplating what to send to the other man. Instead, he grabs a diet soda and drops onto his sectional. He turns on the TV and opens up Netflix to put something on for the sake of noise. Then he grabs his smartphone from the coffee table and checks the time. It’s nearly seven. Not too late to message him, right?

Erwin hasn’t done this in a long while. Not just texting per se, but the flirting. The careful navigation of conversation. Levi nailed it right on the head earlier: everyone bores him. There is no need for deduction with the majority of the people he interacts with. Erwin enjoys the game of figuring someone out, someone who actually interests him. The back and forth give and take in conversation, the banter, the cleverness and wit. And Levi is interesting. Very much so. And he certainly excels in the banter aspect.

Staring at the open text conversation with Levi, still unoccupied by a single message, waiting for his move, Erwin thinks about it.

But what, exactly, is Levi expecting from him? While Levi might be clever in his own ways, he seems like a simple man in his own right. He doesn’t want Erwin to constantly flex his intellect, whether in the form of awful one-liners or not. But that’s the mystery, isn’t it? What does Levi want? The answer for that has yet to come, and like with most things, Erwin needs more information before he can come to an accurate conclusion. For this reason, Erwin decides he doesn’t need to impress either of them. This is just normal, easy-going interaction between two single men. Right?

“Good evening,” Erwin begins to type, one-handed. He stops, hesitating, and immediately deletes it. It sounds similarly to an opening of a business email. No, now he needs to create distance between their work and personal relationships.

“Hello,” he provides instead, but deletes that, too. ‘Hello’ sounds far too polite and formal. But ‘hi’ sounds immature and lazy. Erwin sighs. And what if there’s a developed vernacular for texting that he isn’t familiar with? He doesn’t want to establish polite speech behavior.

“Hey there, Levi,” Erwin tries again. Sounds better. Not perfect, but it’s something. He frowns, staring down at the screen of his phone. Again, he isn’t attempting to build a perception of himself for Levi. Levi is simply asking for him to text him. There’s no façade he has to create for this. This is just supposed to be… him. But what, or who, is he?

This isn’t the time for an identity crisis. Erwin decides, fuck it, and finishes the text, sending it before he could allow himself to contemplate it further. With a little notification sound it sends, and uncertainty curls like a venomous snake in his gut. Staring at the message, he rereads it over and over again.

“Hey there, Levi. It’s Erwin. I hope your night is going well. Do you prefer daytime or nighttime outings?”

Erwin lets out a deep breath. He can’t be sure Levi will even reply anytime soon. He sets his phone down on the coffee table and runs his hand over his face, elbow propped against his knee. Staring at the open text conversation, Erwin begins threading his fingers through his gelled hair, breaking it free from its impeccable state. He sits like this for a couple minutes, stare alternating between the TV and his phone. Then he sees a typing bubble appear under Levi’s name. This has him freezing, his stomach flipping in excitement. He grabs his phone, smiling, watching the thought bubble disappear and reappear twice. A text pops up, and Erwin eagerly reads it.

“Hi. You can just call it a date, because we’re going on a date, if I wasn’t clear enough. I don’t have a preference. Don’t suggest a movie. Other than that, I’m flexable. And my night is great now that you grew some balls and texted me. I was waiting.”

Erwin grins. Levi noticeably misspelled ‘flexible’, which is endearing. If it was anyone else, Erwin would certainly correct him, but he respects him far too much for that. Despite being a quiet, sullen guy in general, Levi seems to be quite chatty when he develops some level of trust with you. Or maybe it’s simply interest? He would expect Levi to be the silent type.

Erwin begins forming a reply. It doesn’t take him nearly as long as last time.

“I’m sorry for making you wait. But the anticipation made it that much more rewarding, didn’t it? And it was certainly clear to me that I wanted the same, though I didn’t want to assume that of you. I was actually thinking of driving somewhere. I’m more interested in talking to you than doing something in particular. How does stargazing sound?”

They go on seven dates.

Stargazing. A visit to an art museum. Eating at a sushi lounge (an intimate, luxury lounge that ran the bill high). An indoor farmer’s market. A ferry ride to Bainbridge Island. Another walk together, this time around a lake, grabbing food afterwards. A drive-in movie theater.

And then they decide on an eighth. Erwin insisted on cooking dinner for Levi, so he invited him over to his home. Without hesitation, Levi agreed on one condition: Erwin better not expect that he put out the night of. Erwin was eager to agree; he was a little concerned about precisely the same thing. The stern expression on Levi’s face when he told him this made Erwin wonder if there’s a particular reason why he was quick to shoot down the mere consideration of sex. He wagers it comes down simply to preference. He may be the type to wait, and that’s just fine by Erwin. He’s never been blinded by lust, and he certainly won’t let it cloud his judgment now, even if he is dating a beautiful man. They haven’t even kissed yet, but Erwin has never believed in forcing it.

Regardless, it takes the pressure off his back, as well. The expectation to make a move or perform exhausts him. Instead, he can focus on relaxing and enjoying his time with Levi.

The evening of their date, Erwin is cleaning the pots and pans he used to cook when the doorbell rings. He did hear his phone go off about three minutes ago, and he assumes it was Levi saying he was nearly there. Erwin rinses his hand and dries it off before making his way to the front door. The evening air is cold and biting, seeping into the warm household as soon as he unlocks the door and pulls it open. There Levi stands, dressed in a thick hoodie and black jeans, accompanied by a scarf and a beanie. His nose is pink. Erwin blinks widely. While Levi is a pleasant sight indeed, seeing the snowfall has him pausing—it descends slowly behind and around Levi, reminding Erwin of thrown petals down the aisle, of nauseating romance movies he never cared very much for. Levi smiles, seeing his expression.

“It started snowing on the way here. Pretty, huh?”

It hadn’t snowed in a couple weeks, so the layer of snow on the ground had become condensed and ruined—no longer quite as picturesque. Evidently, that will soon be replenished. The gentle drifts of snow build on his lawn, the cars, the road. Snowflakes are clinging to Levi’s shoulders and beanie. Erwin reaches out to place his hand on his back, saying, “Very. Come in, the dinner isn’t out on my lawn, believe it or not.”

Levi snorts. He strips off his beanie alongside his scarf, giving Erwin a wry grin. He steps into the threshold, and Erwin shuts the front door after him. He pulls open the closet door in the mudroom and indicates towards it, saying, “You can put your things in here, as well as your shoes. Any preference for music?”

“Whatever you feel like,” Levi replies, turning to the cabinet to put away his beanie and scarf. “You still have to show me more of your so-called ‘old man music’. I liked some of the other shit, even if it was definitely something an old man would listen to.”

Erwin watches him lean over to unlace and pull off his boots. It has him smiling, his heart warming at the mere sight of the other man simply existing here, in his home. Levi drops his boots beside Erwin’s in the closet. Turning, he seems surprised Erwin is still standing there. He looks up at him with alert eyes. Erwin steps closer, draws his arm around him. Levi sinks into it easily, hands coming to his lower back. As always, Erwin greatly enjoys how comfortable it is holding Levi like this, and how undeniably small he is in his embrace. It must prod at the protective, possessive side of him, because he wants to hold him like this forever, encased in his affection.

“You’re so warm,” Levi mumbles into his shoulder. Rather than simply rest his hands on his back, Levi draws his arms fully around his torso and squeezes him in return. Erwin kisses him on the top of the head. Heat rises to his face, doing something as chaste as that. It really has been a while since he’s engaged in romantic intimacy like this. Levi makes a faint sound, as if he, too, was surprised and equally flustered by the act. Erwin presses his nose and mouth into his black locks made disheveled by his beanie. He smells good.

“You smell lovely,” he decides to confess, voice soft. “And you look handsome.”

“You—say that—every damn time,” Levi grits out, voice staggering as if the embarrassment is too much to bear. Erwin doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so he pulls away, though lets his hand trail down Levi’s arm to take his. His hand dwarfs Levi’s in comparison. Levi isn’t meeting his eyes anymore. He’s blushing. His nose and cheeks were already pink, but now he’s simply red. Despite this, Levi squeezes his fingers in return. Erwin smiles.

“Because I mean it. But I’ll spare you for now. Let’s go eat; the food is ready.”

Levi nods a little, keeping his eyes down.

Half-way through the dinner it occurs to Erwin that something is amiss. Like always, Levi is engaging in undemanding, good-humored conversation with him, cracking his sarcastic jokes, attempting to make Erwin smile or laugh (which, it turns out, is not a difficult feat when it comes to Levi). There’s that feeling of ease which surrounds Erwin, as it often does around the other man. There’s no need to put up walls or fabricate lies for the sake of maintaining a preconceived image. No pressure to be a new man, a different conversationalist meant to fit the topic at hand. It’s just himself that Levi wants, and it’s been strange, but welcome, to adjust to. It’s not often people want him for Erwin. It’s not often he wants that of himself.

That being said, while that ease is there for him, he can tell it is absent for Levi. Levi doesn’t input as much as he typically does, and his smiles are infrequent, or die fast when they do appear. He doesn’t seem to eat much of his food. He pokes at it or lingers on his drink more than actually consuming the short pasta dish Erwin made. Normally, Erwin wouldn’t ask if someone seems troubled, because he has no mental space to provide for someone else’s problems, but with Levi he certainly cares. He would let Levi rant to him for three hours straight if that’s what he needed of him. He would drop everything just to see that smile.

“Levi…” Erwin begins, deciding to address it as they’re standing and gathering their dishes from the table. It earns a glance from the other man. Hesitating, Erwin keeps his eyes down as he calmly piles his utensils on his empty plate. It takes a moment for him to formulate his next words.

“I know we haven’t been seeing each other for long,” he begins lowly, keeping his hand busy by neatly folding his cloth napkin. “But you know I would support you in whatever way you needed. I want you to feel like you can rely on me, that you can talk to me. Because you mean a great deal to me already. If that is too bold of me to say this early, I understand, and I apologize. But I want you to know.”

The silence that follows is heavy while Erwin carries his dish to the sink, depositing it gently. He wants to give Levi the physical and emotional space to process this without pressure to provide a prompt response. Thus, Erwin keeps his eyes off Levi while returning to the table and picking up his drink glass as well as his cloth napkin, taking both to the kitchen. He’s beginning to think he should just get a tray like a waiter and transfer dishes that way, as silly as it sounds. It’s tiresome making so many trips sometimes.

Levi finally joins him in the kitchen. He places his dishes in the sink and begins rinsing both his and Erwin’s, while Erwin starts putting away leftovers. It takes a minute of silent organization and the clinking of the dishes before Levi sighs and speaks in a low mutter.

“I feel the same. I… I haven’t felt so intensely for someone like this in a while—hey, keep facing the fridge, buster. Don’t look at me when I’m saying this mushy shit.”

Smiling, Erwin obliges and turns back to the fridge, resuming his efforts in reorganizing the containers. Levi goes on.

“I really like you, too. And I-I don’t want you to feel like I don’t want to do more with you. You know. Like, kissing, and shit. Because I do. But… I don’t want to… I don’t know. I don’t want to take that from you before you’re certain.”

“Certain of what?” Erwin asks calmly, shutting the fridge door. He turns to face Levi, crossing his arm and tucking his hand under his residual limb. He studies Levi profile; he’s still focused on washing the dishes, though slower, more thoughtful now. His brow is furrowed, and his mouth is in a deep, uncertain frown. Levi shrugs.

“That you’ll want me. I should’ve told you earlier, maybe, so you wouldn’t have wasted so much time. But I was—I was enjoying it. The feeling that someone like you would want… someone like me.”

Levi seems to find that statement distasteful; there’s a sharp edge to his voice that Erwin detects.

“Can you elaborate?”

Erwin wonders if he’s talking about their difference in education, or how they come from different social backgrounds. Levi had talked about his past in crime, confessing that that’s part of why they packed up and moved to Washington; he, Farlan, and Isabel. But why would that affect if Erwin wants him sexually or not? If it did turn him off enough to warrant putting an end to this newfound relationship, then he would’ve said so back then. And the mere thought of Levi doubting Erwin’s attraction based on their difference in book smarts is pretty outrageous.

Levi tips his head back and sighs. His eyes are roving over the ceiling, as if in contemplation. Erwin simply waits patiently, watching him. Levi then rinses his hands, dries them off, and looks over to meet Erwin’s eyes.

“Let’s go outside and smoke.”

Erwin nods. He’s stalling. Maybe he needs a minute to recuperate, to gather the courage. He can tell Levi is anxious; he sees him cracking his knuckles, rubbing at his scarred residual fingers while pacing over to the front door. He grabs his beanie and scarf from the closet, throwing them on. Erwin sees him stand there, staring at something, only to reach out and grab it—it becomes apparent it’s one of Erwin’s coats. Erwin smiles, seeing him shrug it on. Cute. It’s swimming on him. Levi passes Erwin a coat as well, earning a softly spoken thank you from the elder man, and then they’re both stepping into shoes before Levi opens up the door.

The snow continues falling gently in sheets of white. It’s a beautiful sight; the snowflakes have built considerably upon the front yard, decorating the sidewalks, the trees. Erwin looks over to see Levi pacing across the facade of the house under the protection of the roof eaves. He stops beside one of the frontal windows, turns to lean back against the wall. He gestures Erwin over. Erwin begins crossing the snow, leaving footprints that are twice as large as Levi’s. It has him huffing in amusement. Are Levi’s feet really that small?

They stand together, nearly shoulder to shoulder. Levi retrieves his pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his thick hoodie, alongside his lighter. He plucks out two, passes one to Erwin. He holds it out without turning his head to look at him, Erwin observes silently as he accepts it, their fingers touching. This must be truly bothering him. He really thinks that whatever he has to say might drive Erwin away. What could it possibly be? While Levi lights up, Erwin ponders.

Levi holds out the flame for him. He peeks at him from under his beanie, pulled low over his brow, only to glance away once Erwin leans over, closer to him. He studies Levi’s face while he lights up, the flame illuminating his features better in the darkness. His eyelashes fall in strict lines across his upper cheeks, the shadow of his nose made sharper. The dangerous rift made in his skin, a fault line through his cheek, up through his delicate eyelid to split his eyebrow. It occurs to Erwin then that he should have turned on the light before they stepped out. Oh, well. It’s still nice, regardless. The darkness makes the occupancy of snow seem almost somber, their world smaller. Erwin watches it fall while they smoke in silence, leaning against the wall.

It takes a long few minutes before Levi speaks. It starts with an audible draw of breath, followed by a deep exhale.

“Fucking hate this shit,” Levi mutters acidly. Erwin simply listens. Levi clicks his tongue angrily. “I shouldn’t have to feel… guilty, or whatever the fuck."

“Why would you feel guilty?” Erwin asks softly, and Levi waves a hand, agitated.

“Just—shut up for a second, Erwin, alright? I’m just annoyed that I’m put in this fucking position. We didn’t get together in ways I typically get with people. I didn’t meet you in a place where I can anticipate acceptance. I don’t even know you that well. Yeah, you’re a great guy. But I know that on the surface level, you get me?”

Erwin is becoming a touch impatient that Levi isn’t spitting it out. And now he’s going on about acceptance. That Erwin might not accept him. Over what? Levi is just making assumptions now.

“I—“, Levi begins and then promptly cuts himself off with a sigh, bringing his hand wielding the cigarette up to grind his thumb into his inner eye. He shrugs. He speaks flatly.

“I don’t have a dick that you’re expecting to find. I don’t want us falling into bed all fuckin’ rose petals and lit candles only for you to open my pants and find disappointment. I’m not going to put either of us in that position because it’s fucking humiliating. I’ve been there.”

Levi sighs again, heavily.

“And no, I don’t have a micro cock or something. I’m saying I’m...”

He trails off, and doesn’t pick up the sentence again.

“Now who’s pussyfooting?” Erwin says quietly. Levi snorts, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Yeah, exactly,” Levi mutters, huffing a laugh, letting the smoke travel from between his lips. Erwin feels like he missed something. He tilts his head, waiting for the explanation, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Levi sighs again, shrugs.

“That’s… that’s it,” he says. “That’s all. I don’t have a typical dick. If–if you want to save yourself the time and effort and find someone who has what you’re looking for, fine. I don’t hold that against you. People have preferences.”

Bringing his lit cigarette to his mouth, Erwin rolls this confession around in his head, wondering what it means to him. The answer is quite simple. It means a lot to him in the sense that he is glad Levi could trust him enough to tell him this, while it also means very little to him because he wasn’t dating Levi for whatever is in his pants. While it does rearrange his perception of what sex with Levi will be like, it doesn’t dampen it.

“Alright,” Erwin says. “Thank you for telling me. But it doesn’t make me want you any less. As long as I can make you orgasm with it, then it works just as well for me.”

Levi sputters out a startled laugh, bringing his hand up to press the back of it to his mouth. Erwin smiles.

“You do that whenever you laugh. It’s cute,” he says softly, gazing half-lidded at Levi’s surprised expression. “Like you’re trying to hide your joy.”

“It’s ‘cause of my teeth, you moron,” Levi snorts, eying him. “You make everything so poetic. I could smack you sometimes.”

“I think your teeth are just fine,” Erwin chuckles. “Charming, even. My teeth were very crooked growing up. I took it from my father, I think. He had crooked teeth, and kept them that way. He said that he felt it added character to his plain face. But my mother didn’t give me the chance to make that decision. She practically wrestled the braces into my mouth herself.”

“Well, you could’ve relapsed if you wanted to. With the retainers and shit, right?”

“I’d rather not welcome relapse of any kind in my life.”

Levi tips his head back against the wall and laughs gutturally. Erwin grins.

“I see the alcoholic jokes are the ones that get you the best.”

Snorting, Levi whips his hand out to knock him in the side. Erwin accepts it with grace, finishing off his cigarette with a final drag, a smile curling at his lips. He drops his spent cigarette filter on the cold ground, pressing it under his heel while expelling the smoke away from Levi with a turn of his head.

“You really don’t mind?” Levi asks quietly to his side. Erwin glances at the other man again and finds those stormy, enigmatic eyes trained on him, studying him, a frown on his face. Erwin looks into the shadowed wrinkles of his iris, the hints of color and flecks that reveal something about him, and wishes he could read his fears in them. But for now, they’re kept a secret, a secret he’ll respect. Levi’s nose and cheeks are red from the chill. Yearning to reassure him, he reaches out to cradle that pink cheek in his big palm, thumb following the splotch of red color in his pale skin, stroking him there. Levi gazes up at him with soft, hopeful eyes, as if he just wants it to be true. Searching in his eyes Erwin speaks lowly, feeling that special, sparking sensation in his stomach again.

“I don’t mind at all. I don’t mind because I… well… I am beginning to think I’m falling in love, but it’s hard to recognize something that I haven’t felt before. So, no, it doesn’t matter to me. I want to be with you, because you make me happy. And if you knew everything about me, Levi, you would know how substantial that is in my life.”

Levi looks a little speechless, rightfully so. Erwin releases a deep breath, smiling faintly. His heart is beating faster, his stomach tight. He can’t recall if he ever told someone that before and actually meant it. Levi seems overwhelmed, his eyes dropping from Erwin’s to instead stare at his mouth. Should Erwin give him space? Was that too much? Levi flicks his tongue between his lips, taking in a breath. Erwin takes his hand from Levi’s face, deciding he shouldn’t be overbearing after such a confession. But then Levi reaches out to clutch him by the wrist. The smooth scar tissue of his residual knuckles feels strange against his skin. Erwin meets his gaze, surprised. Levi looks at him with fire in his dark eye—something Erwin hasn’t seen before.

“Hey. Me staring at your mouth, and licking my lips? That means I want to kiss you.”

The way Erwin’s stomach flips really is a testament to what Levi does to him. Erwin can’t help but grin, laughing lowly as he recognizes his own foolishness. He nods. Levi smirks up at him, gently pulling him closer by the wrist. Erwin leans over, and he thinks he catches Levi arching up onto his toes, but he can’t be sure. He’s too focused on kissing the other man. Firmly pressing their mouths together, he cradles Levi’s head in his broad hand, fingers outstretching within those beautiful black locks that run like silk against his skin. Levi tastes like cigarettes but his lips are soft and gentle, imploring Erwin closer with every smiling purse.

The way it makes Erwin feel has him wondering how he could’ve missed out on it all this time. All those months of walking past this introverted apparition, crossing paths with a man he once thought insignificant. Unwisely choosing to leave that path unpursued, placing the value of his presence far too low. How utterly mistaken he had been. For that reason, he is so breathlessly thankful that he decided to approach that shadow in the corner of the teacher’s lounge. Kissing Levi—feeling the smile on his scarred mouth, the chilly hands on his sides, sneaking in under his coat—makes him feel warm, wanted, and staggeringly happy.