Archive of Our Own ^beta

Levi Ackerman had known for quite a long time that he was in love – hopelessly so – with one Eren Jaeger.

For one, his heart rate increased every single time the brunet entered the café he worked at, and it wouldn’t return to normal until after he left – sometimes not even then. He’d first thought it was a symptom for a cardiovascular disease he’d miraculously picked up – miraculous because he was vegetarian, stick-thin, didn’t smoke nor drink and was rarely stressed out about anything. When he’d expressed his concerns to a friend slash doctor, she’d laughed at him and called him a hopeless romantic, whatever that meant.

The first time they’d met, Levi had been the only barista not sleeping in the empty shop, ten past two AM on a Tuesday night. He’d groggily rung up his order and didn’t bother asking his name, him being the only customer and all.

“Not going to ask for my name?” the brunet had asked, smiling brightly despite it being the ungodly hours of the night. “And here I was ready to introduce myself.”

Levi had blinked, twice, before shrugging and walking towards the bar to prepare his iced caramel macchiato. “Don’t really need it, but go ahead, tell me your name.”

“Eren. Eren Jaeger, though you don’t need to write my surname down on the cup.”

“I wasn’t planning on writing anything down on your cup, but I suppose I shouldn’t deny you your source of teenage happiness.” Levi grabbed a large plastic cup and scribbled Eren in his lousy penmanship, before pouring milk and whatnot into the cup. When he placed the order on the pick-up counter, the brunet squealed in joy and punched his fist into the air – no joke.

“You got it right! You got my name right! Oh holy mother of fuck, I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life, and to think that it’d happen today – now, of all the times I’ve been to a café!” Eren beamed at the cup, holding it up above his head Lion King style.

“You’re kidding me right? Your name is actually E-R-E-N? I thought it was A-A-R-O-N. I deliberately misspelled it to get that stupid smile off your face, and you’re telling me that it’s actually your name?” Levi sighed and shook his head, turning around with a rag in his hand to clean off the counter.

“Why’d you want to get my smile off my face?”

“Because it’s two fucking AM on a Tuesday night. You’re not supposed to be smiling that brightly at two AM on a Tuesday night – heck, you’re not supposed to be smiling that brightly at two AM any day.”

“Why?” Eren sipped his coffee and leaned against the counter, still smiling.

“The fucking moon will get jealous and cut your ears off.”

The bout of laughter that ensued had marked the beginning of a biweekly routine of Eren’s late night coffee run – and arguments with Levi about how jealous the moon would be before it actually started mutilating people.

Or, as Levi would have it, the beginning of his journey to a heart attack.

For his whole life, Levi had always been praised – or chastised, depending who it was – for his observational skills. Some saw it as a great talent whenever he’d beat them in a game of Spot the Difference, others as creepy whenever he’d ask about their almost imperceptible habits of chewing food with their right teeth or wearing a blue article of clothing every last Friday of an odd-numbered month.

To each their own and everything, but you know.

When Eren came in for another cup of caramel macchiato at two AM on a Thursday night two weeks after their first meeting, Levi started noticing things.

Eren was dependent on his scarf the same way most people wouldn’t be able to leave home without their wallets, or phones, or clothes. He fixed it every time he moved, before he entered the shop, and even when he was talking to Levi his hand would unconsciously find their way around the grey chiffon cloth, tugging it here and folding it there. Most people would find it annoying – if they paid attention enough to actually pick up the habit – but Levi had found it pleasant, adorable even.

The boy’s obsession with black skinny jeans and checkered button ups did not escape Levi’s notice, either. For all six times the boy had gone to the shop, he’d always been wearing a different colored version of the same thing. It was as if he was a cartoon character, going about his daily activities everyday wearing the only outfit his illustrator had drawn for him.

Eren was right handed, that much was quite obvious. What wasn’t quite as obvious, however, was the smudge of ink that always seemed to adorn his hands every time he entered the shop. Blue or black, red or green, there would always be a splatter of it either on his palm or the tip of his ring finger, just millimeters away from his bulging writer’s callous. When business was pretty much dead, Levi liked to think about how much like a clingy pet those splotches of ink were.

Hipster college student, Levi thought. English major. Typical.

“Let me guess, another iced caramel macchiato, large?” Levi asked when the bell to the shop chimed at precisely two AM, Tuesday night. He didn’t bother to turn around and see who it was, because who else would go to a deserted café for a midnight stroll?

“You know me so well. I’m flattered.” This was followed by the slap of a bill onto the counter.

Once his drink was done – a messy AARON written on the cup – and his payment entered in, Eren dragged a chair in front of the pick-up counter to have his biweekly dose of Levi-banter.

“So, do you have insomnia or is this just something to feed your writer’s muse?” Levi asked as he wiped off the sink.

“A little of both,” Eren replied, pulling his legs up. “I also do this to trick my parents into thinking that I actually have friends who’d take me out to party at night.”

Levi cocked an eyebrow even though the brunet couldn’t see his face. “You live with your parents?” he asked. “Didn’t know college kids still did that these days.”

“Oh, no. They’ve installed security cameras in my dorm room that send live feed to the TV in their bedroom.”

“Not sure which one is worse.”

Eren chuckled. “Either way, no sleep every Tuesday and Thursday until marriage.”

Levi placed the rag next to the sink and turned around, wiping his hands on his apron. “Yeah,” he said. “No sex until marriage too, I suppose. Unless Mama and Papa Jaeger would like to see some of that Jaeger booty in action.”

A fit of laughter – a colorful symphony to Levi’s ears.

“How’d you know I’m a college student?” Eren asked after regaining his breath.

“English major, sophomore.” Levi murmured as he made himself a cup of tea – earl grey, his favorite. When the brunet didn’t reply, Levi smirked and said, “You go to an empty café in the middle of the night; you wear hipster clothes – they all scream college student. You constantly have ink splattered on your dominant hand – you write a lot. It might just be your notes, but no, a kid like you, you’d use a laptop to write down your notes. You prefer to write your stories with pen and paper, because that’s how you’ve been doing it for the last few years and that’s how your creativity flows out best. An English major then.”

When Levi turned to look at the brunet, he wasn’t surprised to see that Eren was gaping, quite comically, at him.

“Okay, Sherlock Holmes,” Eren said, shaking the gape off his face. “How’d you know I’m a sophomore?”

“A freshman would be too busy trying to get used to college life to go on midnight strolls outside campus grounds. A junior or a senior would be too busy with class. Hence, sophomore.”

A moment of silence in which Levi basked in the sense of accomplishment and Eren wondered what else the man knew about him.

“That’s quite unfair,” Eren finally said, pouting. “You know so much about me and I only know your name.”

Levi stretched out his arms to the side and cocked a brow. “You never asked me anything.”

“Fine.” Eren crossed his arms and tilted his chin upwards. “What’s your full name?”

“Levi Ackerman.”

“How old are you, Levi Ackerman?”

Levi flinched. “Guess,” he said.

“24? 25? 26? You can’t be more than 26.”

Levi almost laughed. Almost, but not quite. “I’m 32.” He said it like it was a curse.

A gasp, another round of gaping, before finally more laughter. “Plastic surgeons all around the world will kill you if you ever tell anyone your secret, you vampire.”

“And how old are you? 19? 20?” Levi asked.

“18.”

As Eren went on about how he’d been allowed to skip his final year of high school and enter college a year early, Levi made a mental note to himself – and his painfully thundering heart – to start keeping a journal at home.

Once, two months into their routine, Eren brought a girl with him to the café.

“Midnight date, is it?” Levi asked, already scribbling the usual order on a cup. Eren ducked his head and chuckled, looking at the girl from under his lashes, blushing. “Don’t tell me you want a caramel macchiato as well.” This, he said to the girl.

“A med iced Americano, please,” she replied, face and voice impassive, eyes pointed directly at Levi.

“That’ll be ten-dollars-thirty.”

Eren paid and Levi rung them up, before going around and preparing their drinks. He poured milk and espresso, pulled on nuzzles and dug cups of ice. By then, he didn’t have to think about what he was doing because he had made those drinks so many times before that they’d all become muscle memory.

And good thing, too, because he wouldn’t have remembered how to make even the simplest Americano with the way his heart was forcing its way down his alimentary canal, hiding from embarrassment.

A girlfriend, he thought as he placed the two cups on the pick-up counter. He has a mother fucking girlfriend.

Eren didn’t sit by the counter that night, instead opting to sit by the table next to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows with the girl. Levi tried to ignore them and go back to the book he was reading before they came in, but despite this, he still found himself constantly looking over the edge of his book to see what they were doing.

They were talking, and they were doing this very quietly. In fact, they were speaking so softly that Levi couldn’t decipher a single word even in the dead silence of the shop. Eren was smiling like the goofball that he was, but the girl was expressionless. It was obvious that she cared about what Eren was saying – her eyes and body language were dead giveaways – and when it was her turn to speak, she toyed with the red scarf around her neck and buried her chin in it.

They talked in hushed voices for another half an hour, and by then Levi had foregone any pretence to reading. He was openly staring at them, wondering how long it would take those two lovebirds to realize what he was doing – if ever. They were so caught up in their conversation – in each other – that they didn’t even turn to look when Levi dropped a plastic cocktail shaker five minutes ago.

Grunting, Levi stood up and made his way to the storage room, slamming the door close with a little more force than necessary.

Fuck them, he thought. I’ll spend my Tuesday night talking to fucking roast beans.

When he emerged out of the storage room fifteen minutes later, he found himself walking into an empty café.

A week went by before Eren’s next visit. This time, he was alone.

Not that Levi cared. Of course not. He could bring his girlfriend, or his roommate, or his parents and their security cameras to the shop, and Levi wouldn’t care. He didn’t want to care.

Levi took his order and made his drink in silence, with his head bowed and his bangs covering his eyes. When he placed the cup on the counter, Eren frowned.

“Are you mad at me?” the brunet asked suddenly, not taking his drink.

“Don’t be stupid. Why would I be mad at you?” Levi answered with his back facing the boy, hands scrubbing the sink with more force than was necessary.

Eren furrowed his brows. “You wrote my name correctly.”

“Congratulations. Go take a picture and share it with your friends.” And girlfriend.

“Levi…”

Levi grunted and whirled around, scowling. “What do you want?” he growled, hoping that the boy would get the message and leave him alone.

“What’s wrong?” Eren asked, slowly, gently, as if a single misstep would cause the injured fawn to run away. “I know you’re upset right now. Is everything okay?” His green eyes bored into Levi’s grey ones, and immediately Levi could feel his insides lurching up, threatening to spill out words he knew he’d never take back.

Levi bit his tongue and shook his head.

Levi hated this. He hated the way Eren could make him feel this way, like his heart was a butterfly batting its wings inside his chest. He hated the way his stomach dipped and soared up whenever he saw the boy, all in his checkered button ups and skinny jeans and stupid chiffon scarves. He hated Eren’s green eyes, and his lanky long legs, and his smile – the smile that could power the whole of Africa; the smile that could thaw a frozen heart.

All those logs of wood fuelling hope – false hope – of a possible relationship…

Levi hated them all.

And so he lied. He told Eren that his cat died, that his bike fell apart on his way to work, when in reality it was a part of him who had died, his heart that had fallen apart.

Eren offered to get him another cat, to ask his family’s mechanic to fix his bike for him. Levi promptly declined the offer.

When he went home that morning, he wrote another line in his journal.

“He’s rich as fuck, and I can barely support myself with my barista salary.”

The following weeks after that, they pretended as if everything was alright. Levi went back to bickering about myths and things that didn’t matter, and Eren to his cheerful, smiling self. They never talked about the dead cat, or the broken bike, both of which Levi never owned.

Levi was content with how things were. Sure, he had to suffer through countless of sleepless mornings thinking about the boy – hopeless romantic rang to mind – and, on the days that were not Tuesdays or Thursdays, he had to deal with the loneliness of the café alone, wondering about who the boy was spending his time with and what they were doing.

But that was okay. Tuesdays and Thursdays were enough for him. Seeing Eren laugh at his horrible jokes, smile at stupid retorts and stumble over his words every Tuesday and Thursday was enough for Levi.

He didn’t want to ask for more. He didn’t dare to. Asking for more could tip the balance they had, and while there was a small chance that he could actually be happier, the risk of driving the younger man upset was too much for him to handle.

So he kept quiet. He silenced his heart, and went along for the ride.

“So you’re telling me that you spend practically all your hours awake in this café?” Eren asked, leaning forward in his chair. “Don’t you have other things to do?”

Levi was washing one of the mugs a group of sorority girls had used a while ago to drink their pumpkin spice lattes. Horrible drinks, Levi had thought when he made them. Very suiting.

“I live to survive. This is my job. What else am I supposed to do?” Levi asked.

Eren shrugged even though the man wasn’t facing him. “Don’t you have a hobby?”

“I like to read. That’s what I do when the day is slow.” And given that he took nightshifts every day, the day was very often very slow.

“Doesn’t your wife complain about you working all night?”

Levi laughed. “I wish –” he stopped himself from saying the next part. I wish I had a wife. I wish I was attracted to women. My plight wouldn’t be so great if I was.

Eren didn’t pick up on the abrupt stop and continued his line of questioning. “Don’t you have any favorite sport?”

“I’m in charge of stocking every single day. Do you think I’d voluntarily sign up for more physical torture?”

Eren sighed. “And here I was thinking that you’d want to play basketball with me some time…”

Levi turned off the tap and turned around. He had an incredulous look on his face. “You want me to play basketball with you? Me, of all people?” Shaking his head, he made his way to the cupboard to place the dried mugs. “I never thought you were this insensitive, Eren,” he said, voice feigning hurt.

“What?” Eren asked, taken aback. Did he somehow manage to insult the older man? Did Levi have a childhood trauma related to striped, orange balls? Did they kill a member of his family?

Levi stretched out his hands to the side, presenting himself in full view. “Look at me, and tell me why I would want to play basketball.”

Eren cocked his head to the side. “I don’t get it. You have four limbs, why wouldn’t you want to play?” When Levi raised his brows – as if to say, Continue looking at me until you see your mistake, you stupid ass shit – Eren continued, “I’m looking at you now… And I’m still looking at you…”

“Yes, you’re looking at me. All five-foot-two of me. Do you see your stupidity now?”

Eren’s mouth opened into a small O, before closing and opening again, this time saying, “But who cares? You don’t have to be tall to play basketball. That’s what makes it fun.”

The noise that erupted from Levi’s throat was something in the combination of a cough and a laugh. “I fail to see how repeatedly getting blocked by people at least a head taller than you is any fun.”

“I suppose that’s not very fun…”

“Precisely.”

As was par for their course, Levi grabbed a chair and set it by the counter across from Eren, a thin piece of wooden flap separating the two men. He pulled his legs up and crossed them, mimicking the boy.

“I take it that basketball is your favorite past time, then?” Levi said. “Aside from visiting cranky old men in empty cafes, of course.”

Eren tilted his head upwards, looking at the ceiling. “Well, it’s not really a favorite past time. I’m not actually very good at it. I just remember liking it back in high school, and I thought you’d like it as well.” When Levi didn’t respond, he explained, “I took you as a sporty guy, okay? You look strong.”

“You need to have some muscles to compensate for a height like mine. I mean, I don’t want to get mugged every time I head off to work, you know.”

Eren laughed. “Good thing I’m tall, then. If I had any muscle on my body, it would be on my right arm – from writing, you know.”

“Of course. From writing. Nothing else would make you significantly stronger on your dominant arm, right?” Levi teased, smirking.

Color rose up to Eren’s cheeks, and he stuttered, something about him not knowing what the raven was talking about.

Levi wasn’t listening because he was too busy thinking.

There goes another line to the journal then, he thought begrudgingly, even as the corners of his mouth perk up at the sight of the flustered boy.

The next three months continued on the same way: Eren coming in at 2 AM; Levi making him a large cup of caramel macchiato, sometimes accompanying it with a complimentary brownie; them talking across each other, knees almost touching had it not been for the slab of wood separating the two from actual physical contact.

Just as he had been three months ago, Levi was content with how things were. Everything had become one giant routine – regular, predictable, unchanging – and Levi had decided a long time ago that he liked routines better than its alternative.

So imagine his surprise when Eren suddenly made his way into the café on a typical Tuesday-two-AM, holding a bouquet of roses, teeth biting his lower lip. When he saw that Levi was staring at him, he blushed and gave him the tiniest of smiles, as opposed to the million-watt smiles Levi was used to seeing.

Levi shrugged it off. Probably heading off to another date after this, he thought.

“What do you want tonight? Glazed donut or a sandwich?” he asked, already turning around to get a plastic cup. He decided to actually spell his name right tonight, just to send him off in a good mood for his date. “I’d tell you to get the sandwich, just because they’re rare and we happen to have them in stock tonight, but the donuts taste like heaven. You choose.”

Eren cleared his throat. “Levi.” His voice was shaking.

Levi didn’t turn around. “You know what, why don’t we get both of them and share? I’m starving right now.” He felt his throat hitch, his stomach flipping and his heart diving into the deepest pits of his gut. At least he didn’t bring the girl here. Levi, get a hold of yourself, you pervert.

“Levi, the drink can wait. Can we talk?” He sounds constipated, Levi thought.

Of course, he didn’t listen to the boy and continued to pump syrup and milk into the cup, his back facing the boy and the roses he was holding. Levi couldn’t look at him – he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to imagine the boy giving them to his girlfriend after his coffee run, couldn’t imagine what sweet words he’d be saying to her… and not to him.

“Talk ahead, brat. I’m all ears,” Levi said as he shoveled ice cubes into the cup. “I know I’m old –” he felt a tug in his chest – “but I still can multitask better that you think.”

Eren was quiet for a while, before he asked, “Why are you so talkative tonight?”

Levi furrowed his brows and let out a strangled sound. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m always very talkative. You just don’t hear me over the sound of your own shit talks.”

Levi took his time in preparing the sandwich and donut, buying time before he inevitably made eye contact with the boy. He unwrapped the sandwich slowly, pretending to struggle with the tape that held the cellophane in place. He inputted the temperature of the oven with sleepy fingers, and then placed the plate in the centre – the exact centre – of the metal tray. The glazed donut was harder to struggle with, since all he had to do was take it out of the cooler and put it on a plate. Still, he pretended to find flaws with all the plates he took, before finally opting to take the plate in the middle of the stack.

It was only when he was sure that there was nothing he could do to prolong their chat that he looked up from his hands and placed the food and drink on the pick-up counter, face – as always – not giving away the thunderstorm he was feeling inside.

He felt so immature, as if he was the brat in their relationship. But what could he do? He couldn’t very well tell the boy that he was jealous of his girlfriend; that he wanted to pursue a relationship with the boy despite all the obvious reasons why they couldn’t.

With an internal sigh, Levi looked up to meet the boy’s gaze, surprised to see that the boy was no longer smiling.

“Are you done?” Eren asked.

Levi gulped and nodded, motioning to the two plates of food he’d set out. “Go ahead and dig in while they’re still warm.”

Eren shook his head. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Then tell me,” Levi said, voice dripping with the confidence he didn’t have.

Eren cocked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “Can you come out here? This isn’t really, erm, convenient.” He nodded towards the counter in between them.

“Just spit it out, brat.”

Eren pursed his lips, and Levi thought about how unfair it was that someone could be that adorable.

“Okay,” he finally said, and Levi pried his eyes away from the boy’s lips. “This might be weird for you, and shit, I really hope that this doesn’t change anything between us, but –” Eren raised the bouquet so that it was visible from above the counter and sucked in a deep breath.

Levi wasn’t sure when it had hit him, whether it was before or after Eren had smiled from behind the roses, or perhaps he’d known it all along but chose to believe otherwise. All he knew was that, when Eren spoke next – the words exploding out of him as though he’d been holding them down for ages – he felt a thousand different emotions, a thousand different combinations of hormones and chemicals coursing through his veins.

Elation was one of them. Confusion, another.

I am having a heart attack, Levi thought. I am going to die.

After a period of silence, Eren ducked his head, trying to hide his flaming face. “Please don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not trying to get in between you and your wife or anything. God no. I just... I wanted to let you know, that’s all.”

“No,” Levi whispered, eyes unfocused. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

“No?” Eren asked, the hand holding the bouquet slowly falling. “No, no, I know. You already have a wife and all that. I told you, I’m not trying to –”

“No,” Levi said again, this time louder. He lifted his eyes to look at the brunet. “I don’t have a wife.”

Eren’s eyes practically shot out of their sockets. “What? Really? That’s awesome! I mean, no, no, that’s not awesome. I just thought that...” He shook his head, eyes locked on the coffee stains on the counter, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. “Wait. So if you don’t have a wife...”

“I’m gay,” Levi said, answering the brunet’s unuttered question.

He looked at Levi now, eyes gleaming. It was obvious that he was still unsure about things, still hesitating to say more, but there was something in his eyes now. Something bright.

Hope, Levi thought, remembering all those times where he had been on the receiving side of the treacherous thing.

Levi shook his head, swallowing the cotton ball in his throat, and Eren looked at him expectantly, like mass preparing to listen to a long awaited sermon.

“I thought you’re straight.”

There was a brief period of silence where Levi was tempted to grab the knife from the drawer behind him and slice his wrists open for saying such a stupid thing.

Eren, however, merely blinked in confusion, before replying, “I’m not.”

“Obviously.” Levi’s voice was barely louder than a whisper.

What is this, Levi thought. He felt queasy, feather-light, unsteady. What territory are we entering? What about our routine?

Eren opened his mouth and was just about to say something when Levi held out a hand to stop him.

“Wait,” he said before ducking inside the staff’s room and coming out with a journal in his hand. He handed the journal to Eren. “Before you say anything else, go home and read this. Please.”

Eren cocked his head to the side. “Can’t I just read it here?” he asked, but a look at Levi’s pained expression and Eren knew better than to argue. He walked out of the shop with the journal in his hand.

Levi turned to see the untouched food and drink, and when he heard the bell chime, he slid down the counter slowly, his back against the cool metal of the fridge, like the stereotypical hopeless romantic that he was.

It was only when he left to go home that morning that he saw the bouquet of red roses next to the door to the café, its stems buried in two inches of snow. He picked it up and brought it home, placing it in a vase on his nightstand, where it would accompany him as he slept through the day alone.

Eren arrived at the cafe at precisely two AM the Thursday following their little talk. He waltzed into shop with flailing hands, his face carefree and mouth stretched into one of his regular blinding smiles. It was as if nothing had happened two days ago.

Well, maybe that was just it. Nothing had happened, had it? They’d talked, just as they always had, and, sure, Eren left slightly earlier than usual. But other than that? Nothing. It wasn’t as if they’d started dating or anything.

So despite all the question marks he still had about everything, despite the possibility of something more blooming between them staring right at his face, Levi went along with the act.

He wouldn’t risk it. He wouldn’t risk Eren.

Never in a million years.

Besides, Levi thought, fighting off the frown that was crawling up his face. He’s definitely changed his mind after reading the journal. Definitely.

Levi shook his head.

 “You like this place too much for your own good. The same goes for your caramel macchiato addiction,” he said, already reaching for a cup and his Sharpie.

“I like you too much for my own good.”

Levi turned to look at the boy. “Eren…” He pressed his lips into a straight line, eyebrows pulled together, begging. Please just stop. We can go back if you just stop talking right now.

Eren shrugged and stuck his hand inside the pocket of his winter coat, fishing out Levi’s journal. “You told me to read this before saying anything else. I went home and read it, and now I’m continuing where I left off.”

Levi shook his head, running his hand through his hair. “You don’t understand. That book’s supposed to stop you from continuing your soliloquy.”

“Well,” the brunet said, the corners of his lips curling up into a smile, “all it managed to do was motivate me to go on.”

“I wrote down a list of reasons why we should not be together on that book –”

“Yes, and what that tells me is that my feelings for you are not unreciprocated.”

Levi dragged his hands down his face, groaning. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to like Eren alone, secretly, hopelessly. Eren wasn’t supposed to like him back. Eren wasn’t supposed to know about his feelings. Heck, Eren wasn’t even supposed to be gay.

“If you have any common sense – at all – you should turn back and leave and forget about whatever you said two days ago,” Levi hissed, feeling his heart running wild inside his chest. “And then, once you’ve realized the sheer impossibility of all this, you can come back for more caramel drinks and we’ll pretend Tuesday never happened and we can all fall back into the routine. Yeah?”

Eren was undeterred, and the smile on his lips indefatigable.

“Why should I?”

“Because –” by then, Levi was already breathing heavily, his hands clenched into fists around his apron – “we cannot – and should not – be together, Eren.” No matter how much I want us to.

Eren cocked his head to the side, and for a while his glowing green eyes watched the panting man the way one would a love letter during Valentine’s, or a bouquet of flowers during an anniversary: softly, delicately, because it’s special and intimate and it makes its recipient feel so many emotions, all of them fluttering inside.

Levi was all of that, and more.

If only he would just see.

Eren cleared his throat and opened the journal to the pages Levi had written on. “You say we shouldn’t be together because of these reasons, right?” he asked the raven, who had taken a great interest in the cash register in front of him. When he gave a small nod, Eren fished out a pen from the pocket of his shirt – English Major Essentials – and started writing on the page.

Levi had been standing on the two strings of spaghetti he called his legs and was pretty much ready to collapse by the time Eren finished writing and gave the book to him. He looked at the open journal, taking in the lines over his writing, crossing out words and adding more in.

He read.

The reasons we should not be together:

1.        He smiles too much – so he needs someone to remind him that the moon is a jealous bitch capable of sawing off his ears

Levi felt the corners of his lips quirking up, and promptly forced them back down again. It wasn’t the time to smile.

2.        He is a hipster English major, which means cute baristas and empty cafes are two of his favorite things

That’s true, Levi acknowledged silently. Doesn’t mean shit, though. There are plenty of other baristas working in empty cafes around here.

3.        I’m old enough to be his father partner (seriously, you’d have to start very early to be my father. 14, if my math’s correct)

This time, Levi allowed himself to smile. Another valid point, yes, but their 14-year age gap still wasn’t what one would call conventional. Not by any means.

4.        We’re both guys and he’s not gay we’re both gay
5.        He has a girlfriend an adopted sister, who just so happens to like me. A lot.

He felt like slapping himself across the face for being such an idiot, for assuming that Eren was straight – even though there was no way he’d know otherwise – and for being jealous of Eren’s sister. He couldn’t believe it: all the nights spent thinking about the brunet smiling and talking and laughing with the girl he’d brought to the shop, thinking about what he wouldn’t give to be in her position, and all this time, she was his sister?

Levi stole a glance at Eren, only to find the boy smiling, biting his lip to hold in a laugh. Levi felt color rising to his cheeks and continued reading.

6.        He likes iced caramel macchiato too much. I like tea to have a reason to come to the café and meet me, because nobody frequents a café for their tea. He actually really likes tea.

Levi didn’t know whether to feel flattered that someone would pretend to like coffee just so that he could meet him, or to feel angered that someone would pretend to like coffee over tea.

7.        I’m short as fuck; he’s a fucking giant  hug-size

Anger. Definitely anger.

8.        He’s rich as fuck, and I can barely support myself with my barista salary meaning that supporting him won’t be an issue I have to deal with – at least not until later on

Later on…?

Levi shook his head, not wanting to think about what Eren might’ve meant. Surely, he couldn’t be thinking about…

9.        We argue about stupid things the way married couples do

…marriage?

No, Levi thought, biting the insides of his cheek. Don’t think about it. Just read.

10.    I won’t be able to make him happy if I’m not together with him

11.    I don’t want to risk losing him – but what’s there to lose if nothing’s even there to begin with?

Levi would argue that they’d be risking their friendship, but what they had wasn’t friendship. It was more.

But here Eren was, offering something even more than what they already had. Would it be worth it? Would it be worth risking their nightly conversations and arguments, their routine and sanctum sanctorum?

Was Eren worth risking his safe haven?

12.    One of these days, he’ll be the reason I get a heart attack – and I him

Am I really worth risking his safe haven?

13.    I love him too much for it to be healthy and he loves me too

Letting go of the journal, Levi hopped onto the counter separating them. And before either of them could fathom what was going on, Levi grabbed Eren by the collar, pulling the brunet towards him.

The second their lips met, Levi found the answer to all his questions.

Eren is worth risking anything, Levi thought, feeling Eren’s arms around him, pulling him closer.

This time, when they touched, nothing was in the way.

When they touched, they touched for real.