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The voice that speaks his thoughts has a German accent. Levi’s not entirely sure why it’s a German accent – because quite frankly, he’s English – but he supposes it’s because he has always been attentive to the Germans’ articulations. He can’t actively recall when he noticed the accent, but he assumes it has always been there. The voice in head has never changed, after all.
It’s not his voice. This, he knows, because – well, for starters, he has an English accent, because he’s English – and because his voice is deeper. Much deeper. The one in his head, in comparison, is light. Bouncy, almost. When it speaks his thoughts, it reasons with his pessimism and makes his somewhat inappropriately misplaced thoughts more tolerable. Call it a gift, call it a curse. Whatever it is, there’s no escaping this voice.
He has only spoken to one person about this: Hanji. Now, the first thing anyone should know about Hanji is that she’s smart. The second thing is that she’s also fucking nuts. When he told her about this voice, this odd German accent that accentuates his thoughts, both good and bad, she told him that everyone has a voice. Some even had voices that were much much higher or much much lower. Why? “The voice in your head is the voice of your soul mate.” Her words exact.
Of course, his primary reaction was to ignore her crazy explanation, but the moment he saw her expression, he knew she was serious. Serious, and absolutely batshit insane. Her hypothesis, if he could even call it such, failed on two accounts: one, he was not – and never had been – interested in romantic affairs; and two, he lived hours away from Germany. But he didn’t lay these facts out to Hanji; it was too much trouble for something that meant so little to him.
At least, that’s what he thought until he wakes up one morning thinking ‘I have to go to work early.’ His initial reaction is to go back to sleep, but when the thought keeps nudging him, he figures he must have forgotten about an important meeting or something of that sort. So he gets up an hour before his alarm goes off, and he heads out. For six in the morning, the streets have already begun to buzz with activity. Vendors are setting up along either side, and apartment residents are propping open their windows for some fresh air. He walks on, briskly but warily, and just as he makes a sharp turn on the second block, someone bumps into him.
They come to a halt when the other man’s bracelet catches his sleeve.
“Oh, shit, again?” The man, shy of his late-twenties it seems, mutters a string of apologies as he picks his bracelet from the cloth. He then says something Levi can’t exactly follow before cursing, apologizing again, and moving past.
Despite having no recollection of this man, Levi feels as if he knows him from somewhere. Usually these gentle nudges were dismissed, but this time, the nudge is far too prominent. While he considers turning back and calling him out, the man speaks up first: “Actually, sir. Can you – can you help me with something?”
‘A foreigner,’ is the thought that crosses Levi’s mind. As diverse as this area is, he can always tell when someone doesn’t belong. It’s the way they move, the way they present themselves, the way they speak. And this man, as it appears, is far overdressed and has a distinguishable accent that reflects many years of fluent English. But there’s something else that bothers him – something specific, something small, almost subtle.
“I’m trying to find this building.” The man jogs back to him and holds out a slip of paper that reads Smith & Co. Levi’s workplace. “I have a meeting with the international relations supervisor in ten minutes and there aren’t any signs, so can you help me?”
He has a German accent, says Levi’s thoughts in the same German accent.
“Sir?”
Levi’s eyes narrow on the slightly taller man. No, he has definitely not seen this man before, but yes, he has familiarities. The voice. His thoughts.
But there’s no way.
“You’re headed in the wrong direction,” Levi tells him.
It’s the man’s turn to narrow his eyes on him now. “Wait, sorry. Did you say something?”
“I said you’re headed in the wrong direction. Smith & Co. is this way. I work there.” He’s not sure why he included the last tidbit of information, but a part of him feels as if it’s necessary.
The man tilts his head. His mouth opens, closes, then he shakes his head and laughs a bit. “My bad, I thought – I have bad hearing.” That’s a lie, and Levi knows it. “Can you, uh .. can you take me there? I don’t want to get lost again. This is a really important meeting.”
He can’t deny it. The more this man talks, the more his voice sounds like the one in his head, which is the dumbest conclusion Levi has ever came to but – it’s true.
“Are you okay?”
Levi doesn’t bother answering. He just turns and starts walking. “Don’t stay too far behind.”
His ears perk to the sound of footsteps hastily approaching him, but they never arrive at his side. He hears the man behind him breathing deeply, perhaps too deeply. Other than that, neither speak. They stay like this, quiet, for another block, but then an unfathomable urge wills him to talk: “Say something.”
“Huh?”
The man jogs up to his side.
“Say something,” Levi repeats.
“.. Something?”
“What’s your name?”
“Eren.”
For some reason, Levi feels that answer is right. There’s no premonition, no memory of why it’s right – it just feels that way.
“It suits you.”
“What’s yours?”
“Levi.”
A pause.
“That suits you too.”
From the corner of his eyes, he sees Eren chewing on his lower lip – a habit brought on by nervousness and uncertainty. Of course, Levi doesn’t know this Eren well enough to know if this lip chewing habit is an actual habit, but again, he just feels as if that explanation is correct.
“You’re not from around here,” Levi says.
“I just moved here from Germany. For work. Your company actually recruited me.”
Levi doesn’t respond, Eren doesn’t push it.
When they approach the building, Eren steps ahead to open the door for the both of them. A perfect gentlemen, especially since Levi has always hated opening doors.
Once inside, Eren stops, turns around, lets out a breath. “I know this sounds a little crazy .. but can I see you later? Lunch break?”
“I’m not interested.”
There’s a twinge of regret that follows him saying that, but he doesn’t take it back.
“I know.” The words rush out of Eren’s mouth, and he quickly saves himself by adding, “I mean. I just wanna talk. About uh ..”
“How do you know?”
Eren hesitates, looks down at his watch. “I gotta go. But lunch break. Twelve. I’ll meet you here.” And with that, he hurries up the stairs.
Despite their odd (seemingly) first encounter, Levi decides to go through with the lunch meeting. He doesn’t have anything better to do, and though he has no particular attraction to this Eren, a part of him is notably curious. So he meets Eren at the lobby, and they head over to the cafe next door.
They have a mere chit chat, nothing special, nothing expected.
But at fifteen minutes in, Eren gulps down the rest of his coffee and sets the cup down with a loud sigh. “Okay,” he starts, stringing his fingers together and leaning into the table. “This is going to sound really weird, but I feel like I know you. I can’t really explain this but .. I - I’m not trying to hit on you. I know you don’t like that, but it’s just .. I don’t know. Like when you told me your name was Levi, something just clicked. It’s as if I knew that was your name all along, but I couldn’t remember it.”
At this point, given anyone else, Levi would have gotten up and left since this is crazy talk – but he can’t do that, because he knows what Eren’s talking about.
“This sounds really stupid, huh? But I swear I’m not crazy, it’s just this .. feeling or something.” Eren runs a hand through his hair. “And your voice .. it’s really familiar like –”
“The voice in your head.”
Eren looks up. Their eyes meet. Levi looks away.
“I hear them too.”
“Wait, you hear my voice?”
“Technically it’s my voice, because it’s my thoughts, but to put it simply: yes.”
Eren’s mouth is hanging open now, and Levi takes this moment of silence to finish off his tea. After he puts the cup down, Eren gathers his composure and asks, “So you’re telling me that you hear my voice in your head?”
“That’s what I said.”
At that, Eren breaks into a shit-eating grin. “Christ, and here I was thinking I was going insane. The first time you said something to me, I thought I had imagined it, but your lips were moving so I assumed – wow. This is weird. Like seriously weird.”
“You said you knew things about me. What do you know?” He is not an expressive man, so whatever Eren knows will lack physical evidence.
Eren’s eyes roll up to the left. Remembering. Simple psychology. “Well, I don’t actively know things. It’s more like a feeling. Like uh .. this morning, when I followed you, I kept my distance because I got the feeling that you didn’t like people standing close to you. And I opened the door because it didn’t seem like you wanted to open it.”
“Impressive.” And slightly disturbing.
“So if I know these things about you, do you know things about me?”
Levi leans back in his seat and folds his arms over his chest. “When you said you had bad hearing, that was a lie. You only bite your lip when you’re nervous or uncertain.” These could all be said through simple observation, though. “And I woke up earlier this morning. If I hadn’t, we probably wouldn’t have met.”
“We wouldn’t?”
“The international relations department is separate from management. I work three blocks down.“
“So basically, you’re saying that fate brought us together?”
Fate, huh.
Maybe Hanji was onto something.
Maybe soul mates do exist.
“I’m not sure,” Levi says after a moment’s thought. “It really is strange.”