FicWad

"Are you okay?!"

It was Eren's first question and, oddly enough, Levi's as well. The brunet was baffled as to why Levi would be concerned about him - he wasn't the one risking his life, after all - but the officer insisted on a play-by-play, so Eren obliged, for the most part. He told Levi all about how he spent his time alone - how often he ate, how he entertained himself, and his sleep schedule - keeping to himself the nightmares and panic attacks. Levi didn't need to know about all that.

In return, Levi filled him in on his medical problems and the negative possibilities. The loss of feeling in his right leg, the loss of control in his left. The gaping wound in his stomach that would require a skin graft. How Hange had offered to provide donor skin, but Levi had rejected the notion vehemently.

"Can we go on video?" was Eren's next question, to which Levi had warned him, "I've only got my phone."

Eren didn't care. Neither did Levi. They didn't wait to click the little icon in the corner of the screen. They didn't bother to stop their smiles at the sight of one another, and Eren didn't bother to stop the tears that fell.

"Levi . . . "

"Eren."

They stared at each other a moment, searching expressions, reassuring themselves that the other was okay, and then Eren finally spoke again.

" . . . you look like hell, man."

Levi gave a small snort. "Fuck you."

"Maybe when you're not stuck in a hospital bed," Eren teased, unable to hide his smile at Levi's slightly startled expression. It was like the sun coming out after a cloudy day; seeing the ravenet's face, hearing his voice, just knowing he was okay, had Eren forgetting all about the troubles he had faced in the past several days, all his loneliness and paranoia ebbing and fading until it vanished from his mind completely. Eren couldn't help it, though it was slightly embarrassing how happy Levi made him.

The captain recovered quickly, and a small smirk curved his lips. "Is that an invitation?"

In response, Eren's own smile faded a little, a blush replacing it. He recalled the more pleasant - albeit perhaps a little stressful - thoughts that had plagued him in the past several days, and all too suddenly the idea of being in bed with Levi was a little too vivid in his mind.

"Calm down, Eren, it was a joke," Levi said a little more gently, though the sound of the brunet's name on his lips sent a tingle down Eren's spine. He fought down his blush as his friend continued. "You don't look too hot, either," he noted, brows furrowing at the sight of slightly swollen eyelids and the deep purple bags under them. "Have you been sleeping okay?"

Eren felt the lie on the tip of his tongue. I'm fine. He nearly said it. But guilt washed over him; why lie to Levi? Levi, who he had nearly lost? Whose first instinct when he had the chance was to call Eren? To make sure he was okay, checking on him when he himself had nearly died? It wasn't fair, Eren scolded himself, not fair to lie to someone that had been so honest with him and clearly cared so much.

So he admitted, "Not really," and prepared himself for a scolding.

Instead, Levi asked him, "Why not?"

Why not, indeed? Was it the crushing loneliness? The anxiety that came with the idea of sleeping, elicited by the fear of the nightmares that had plagued him for weeks? The senseless paranoia caused by the excessive darkness that his most basic instincts loathed? The irrational periodic fear that had him checking over his shoulder every few seconds, swearing he heard or saw something? The terror that if he slept one second, he would miss an important call from his friends - from Levi, even?

It was all too sudden, too overwhelming, and Eren felt sick, horribly sick. He covered his mouth as bile threatened to rise. Aside from the anxiety, there was shame. How had Levi slipped in there? He couldn't fool himself that easily, though; looking back to the sparse phone calls and their timings, it wasn't hard to see that Levi had become something like a savior to Eren nearly every time, intercepting dissociation, paranoia, and loneliness with his sporadic check-ins.

"Eren?"

God, he was still there, wasn't he? He was still there, and Eren was forcing him to witness this meltdown, to deal with his bullshit. The brunet muffled a weak sob with his palm. Levi had more important things to do than even grace Eren with his presence, let alone bother with a decent conversation, and certainly he didn't have time to put up with Eren's little breakdown. He didn't even know why he was having one.

"I-I'm sorry," he managed, forcing a deep breath to calm himself despite how sick it made him feel. "I should go. You probably need sleep."

He couldn't look at Levi. If he had, he would've seen the startled expression, the confusion in those furrowed eyebrows, the slight hurt and abandonment in searching silver eyes.

"Eren?" The voice was uncertain, gently probing, as if fearing another outburst. "I just woke up. I don't need sleep. Are you all right?"

"You need plenty of rest," Eren insisted, trying to sound fussy, as though Levi's welfare was actually the motive behind pushing him away. He hated himself even more because it wasn't - even more knowing the reason was so incredibly irrational, and yet he was doing it anyways. "Get some sleep so you can get better."

If he had just taken a glance at the officer, maybe the insecurity would have faded. Of course he didn't. Instead, the same sort of insecurity grew on Levi, making him rub at his neck uncertainly.

"Are you sure? I can stay if you want me to."

What was a hopeful offer from Levi was a hurtful hint to Eren. While Levi was merely looking for Eren to reach out, Eren only heard the passive mention of him being a burden. A strangled sort of noise left his lips, and he shook his head violently.

"No. No, I won't keep you."

Eren only wanted to relinquish Levi from his burden. He was a mess, and that was the last thing Levi needed to take care of.

"Well . . . okay. I'll call later then."

If only he would just look. If only he could see the hurt scrawled all over Levi's expression now - the hurt caused by Eren himself. Would it make him take back the violent rejection? Would he backpedal? Try to fix their misunderstandings before they got worse?

"Yeah. Later."

Instead, Eren was too much of a coward, and after a few moments of pregnant silence, the familiar soft beep of the call dropping greeted his ears. A familiar hollowness filled Eren's chest as he closed the laptop.

Just earlier he'd been panicking. Now he only felt empty. Maybe he would just sleep it off.

Before he could slide under his covers and close his eyes, there was a soft chime from his cell phone. He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled the device out of it, staring blankly at the message on the screen. Mikasa. Did he really have to answer? He was tired. But then there was another chime, and another, and then another for a different conversation. Eren supposed he could give a brief answer.

Despite the exhaustion dragging at his eyelids and darkness clawing at the deepest corners of his mind, he slid his finger across the screen to unlock it.

.-.-.-.-.

"Looking great there, champ."

An irritated sigh greeted the sarcasm, and Levi pushed a hand through his hair. "Leave me alone, Four-Eyes."

Hanji plopped down in the extra chair in her friend's office. She set a mug of coffee on his desk - the design was a heat-activated scale of how much he'd drank correlated with how agreeable he was, a gift from his squad. A pang of grief ricocheted in his chest. He ignored it.

"I come bearing gifts," Hanji replied warmly, ignoring his attempt to send her off. "What's the problemo, short-baby?"

"My leg is doing fine," Levi responded shortly. A lie, obviously, considering the cane propped up beside his desk, but it was the topic he thought she wanted to hear.

"Mm, try again. There's trouble in your eyes."

"In my eyes," Levi repeated flatly.

"In your eyes," Hanji echoed, nodding seriously.

There was silence, and Levi stopped typing, his mind far from the report in front of him. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. He could sort of move the left one now, but it was like pulling a puppet by the strings. He was sure all these desk hours weren't helping, but Erwin insisted he should rest. Asshole.

What was the problemo? There was his leg, and Marlo, and Eren -

"I guess . . . I guess there's a lot."

"Then tell me," Hanji coaxed, rubbing his back.

Damn it, she was the only one that could pull so much out of him so easily. Levi leaned forward on his elbows and massaged his temples, sighing deeply.

"Do you think my legs will ever be the same?"

Hanji exhaled sharply, as though she'd been expecting the question but hadn't hoped for it. "Do you want the nice answer or the honest one?"

"Tell me, doc," Levi drawled, trying to lighten the mood, "will I ever play hockey again?"

"Honestly? No, I don't see it happening." Levi flinched, but Hanji continued. "If you'd come straight out of surgery retaining at least a little mobility of that leg, I'd say sure, why not? But you couldn't feel a thing, Levi. Nerve damage can be repaired, but it's rare that people come back from that point." She paused, contemplating. "I figure Erwin might pressure you anyways, but if he so much as says a word about you going back into the field, I'll throat punch him."

He supposed she was right. Some part of him wished he could go back to the field. He had no love for desk work. But then . . . the field was always filled with bloodshed. He'd lost so many people. Could he handle the weight of even more deaths on his shoulders? He could hardly bear the ones he already held. Not to mention how many parents, siblings, loved ones of the deceased hated his guts now.

"I saw Marlo earlier," Levi admitted quietly. Hanji perked up, and her voice lowered.

"Not good?"

"He looked at me like I was a monster." The ravenet raked his fingers through his hair. "He lost his best friend in that raid. She died trying to be a fucking hero. He lost everyone . . . "

"Baby, it's not your fault."

"It might as well be."

Silence followed as they both contemplated his words. He was right; whether he was at fault or not, people only ever saw Levi as the culprit, the one who took the lives of his men. He supposed it was something you grew numb to, but Marlo was just a child. He shouldn't have even been in that raid. None of that NY squad should have been. It was horrible. Levi didn't lose his first close teammate until he was two years older than the guy.

"That's not all, is it?"

Levi wasn't so weak as to admit that no, that's not all, but his silence answered Hanji just as clearly.

"Is it Eren?"

Levi exhaled slowly. She always knew.

"He's just so confusing, Hanji."

"To you," she snorted. "Spill the beans. Get a lady's analysis."

"Last week . . . " He found himself at a loss of words, and had to try again. "We haven't video called in a while. Last week . . . fuck, I don't know. He shoved me away out of nowhere."

"Was it really out of nowhere?"

"All I did was ask how he was."

"And did you think that maybe he hasn't been doing great?"

"Obviously, Four-Eyes," Levi scoffed, getting a little irritated. He softened a little when he remembered the scene - Eren's eyes watering, the way he tried to hide his quivering lip, his cracking voice. "Why wouldn't he just talk to me?"

"He's going through hell, you know." Hanji leaned back in her seat and sipped her coffee, reminding Levi his cup had still been untouched. He reached forward and pulled the cup to his lips as she spoke. The warmth was soothing. "Do you have any idea how stressful the darkness and loneliness is? And you know damn well he's probably not using his happy lights like he's supposed to."

Levi frowned, staring down at his coffee. "That just brings me back to the question of why he won't confide in me. That little brat, he knows I'm here. I'm talking to him, aren't I?"

Hanji tilted her head. Levi wasn't sure if she was thinking of an answer or how to phrase her response. Eventually, she settled on, "You have your own problems, too, don't you? He probably doesn't want to burden you."

"At the cost of his own mental health?"

"Not everyone is as strong as you, Levi." Hanji took another sip of her coffee. "He's fucked up over his situation, and he doesn't want you to worry about it, too."

Perplexed, Levi recalled, "But I invited him to tell me."

Patiently, Hanji responded, "That doesn't necessarily mean anything to someone with mental illness."

"Fuck," was the only thing Levi could respond with.

How had he been so blind?

He was a war veteran, he'd lost people, he'd watched best friends become totally unresponsive vegetables from the PTSD, he'd led people to their deaths, he'd told so many families their children and brothers and sisters were slaughtered. He' seen so much misery. He'd watched lives fall apart. Levi was no stranger to suffering. So why hadn't he realized how fucked Eren was? How hadn't he recognized the signs of someone barely holding it together?

Eren was just another soldier, fighting for his life and well-being, and he was losing. He needed someone to lead him victory.

"He needs you, Levi," Hanji said softly.

Startled, the ravenet wondered if he'd thought aloud, but no, Hanji simply knew. She always knew. Downing the rest of her coffee, the brunette stood and headed for the door.

"Go to him."

She shut the door behind her for privacy.

.-.-.-.-.

"Why don't you tell him?"

"I guess I never really realized it."

Only half of the truth. Rejection was soul-crushing. The fear of it was what put that handful of pills in Eren's hand. Mikasa's insisting stuck with him. His hands shook. Water sloshed out of the glass. Was he really doing this? What about Levi?

"Well, tell him anyways. He sounds like he likes you, too."

A choked cry escaped the back of his throat. Levi. This wasn't fair. He just wanted to stop hurting, but what would Levi think? He was a coward.

That was what led him to his computer and made him open Skype. He angled the screen further back so Levi wouldn't see the water and pills on his desk, internally preparing. Just click the button. Click the button, and if he doesn't answer, Eren can end it all.

Before he could, a call came through. Eren yelped in surprise, heart racing. Levi?

He answered, and there his knight was, nursing a cup of coffee.

"Is it later yet?"

Eren forced a smile. "It is. Hi again, old man."

Levi snorted. "I am in my prime, you shit." He sipped from his cup, one Eren found oddly amusing. "Anyways, what's going on in that cute head of yours?"

For a moment, Eren forgot his fears. For a moment, the depression slipped away.

But only a moment. He frowned a little, glancing away. "I, uh . . . I have a confession to make."

Levi's eyebrows raised, and he leaned closer to the screen, curious. Eren's fist closed around the pills. This was it.

"What is it, kid?"

Eren swallowed past the lump in his throat.

"I like you, Levi."