Author's Note: Not gonna lie, this was inspired by something super personal. I will say that Levi's situation and my own are different in nature, but the feelings we experience are very much similar. I thought that maybe I could do this idea justice. This fic will only be about 2-3 chapters long, depending on how many words it takes to crank out what I have planned for this.

Also, I'm coming out of my 1 and 1/2 year writing retirement to write this. So apologies if it isn't super high quality. And please pay heed to the tags. I don't want to accidentally trigger somebody, as there may be triggering things in this story.

There's a fierce storm raging in the evening time. Wind and rain are battering the mostly desolate street, sheets of water blowing like mist across the cool pavement.

He's standing on the outside of a high bridge with torrential water raging below from the storm. He's leaning forward, fingertips slippery on the rusty railing. There's a resigned look on his face, peaceful almost, his grey eyes half lidded and staring into the murky waves below. He has nothing to his name; homeless, starving, lacking the basic necessities. Nothing to call his own and phantom bruises aching along his wrists, his face. His left foot lifts up, resting on nothing but thin air and he takes a deep breath in, his fingers loosening on the rail.

He feels his heart squeeze in his chest, an internal primal instinct willing him to hang on, to not let go. Survival, his body is telling him that he wants to live, but his heart is heavy with wounds and aching with the need to let go. Be free of pain, be free of his poisonous thoughts, forget about the cold nights on the street and the fists connecting with the side of his face.

His hair is sticking to his forehead from the sheets of rain pounding against him. Tonight is the best night. The river is raging wildly below. He could jump in. The water would sweep him away, not give him a chance to change his mind. This is what he's been wanting, right? A sign?

Well there it is, all dark and brown with rainwater and looking as deadly as ever. It was storming for a reason tonight, and he's convinced himself that this was it; this is his way out, a way to get the job done. All he has to do is take the first step…

He's startled out of his thoughts when a hesitant voice cuts through the loud pitter-patter of the rain and the crashing of the water below.

He turns his head enough to see someone standing in the middle of the empty road, their vehicle still running and door slightly open, leaving the car lights on to illuminate the inside. Grey eyes flit up to see concerned turquoise eyes staring back at him, widened at the sight on the edge of the bridge. He hadn't even noticed the sound of a vehicle approaching.

"Hey…hey. Are you okay?" The person asks, voice gentle with caution. They look like they want to take a step forward, but apparently they decide against it, keeping their position in the middle of the road.

Well, considering that he's hanging off the side of a bridge in a torrential rainstorm with every intention to kill himself tonight, he could be doing a lot better.

Speaking of which, he directs his attention back to the river below, and his foot which is still hanging haphazardly in the air. He did have an objective tonight, and he shouldn't let any passerby get in his way. They didn't give a shit before, so there's no reason they should give a shit now.

Apparently the guy noticed this too, because now he is taking a step forward, still cautious, and his voice is louder than before.

"I…okay. I know it's not my place to tell you what you should – or shouldn't – do, but listen…whatever is going on that's making you want to do this, it's not worth it, okay?" The stranger swallows visibly, obviously struggling for the right words. "Hurting- killing yourself isn't the right way to handle things. It won't solve anything."

He spares an incredulous look back at the turquoise-eyed person, and sees the look that crosses over their face at his own expression. He licks his lips, tasting rainwater on them, and gives a shake of his head.

People are so quick to try and talk others out of killing themselves, but how many are actually willing to go through the means necessary to help them? He's heard these same lines from others before. This stranger won't solve any of his problems by trying to talk him out of suicide now.

His eyes return to their original target – the river. Yeah. He should really be jumping into it by now.

"I know…I mean, not necessarily, but I know that you've gotta be thinking, 'What does this guy know?'. And you're right, I don't know what's happened to make you wanna do this. But I…I don't wanna see you do this. And not because, 'Oh hey, that'd be pretty messed up', but more so I just don't want to see you hurt yourself."

He hears another step being taken forward. And goddamnit, seriously, why has he not let go of the railing yet? He's pursing his lips instead, the tightening in his chest becoming worse.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself. And I know you might think that I don't care, because I'm just a stranger. We've never met, but I can tell you that I'd be hurt if you hurt yourself tonight. You might think that everyone doesn't care, but I care."

He's squeezed his eyes shut by this point, his grip on the railing of the bridge so tight now he can feel the rusty edges digging into his palms.

"Hey…" He feels a warm hand close gently around the upper part of his arm – not restraining, just reassuring. "Come on, now." And as much as his pride is screaming at him not to do so, he feels himself starting to turn around on the side of the bridge.

He's facing the stranger now, but refusing to meet his wildly bright eyes. Instead, he's staring down at the white-knuckle grip on the bridge's railing, the tendons in his hands pressing against his skin. Another warm hand comes to rest on his other arm and he feels himself being led over the railing. He steps back over the bars, feeling more numb and hollow than before he'd come here.

The stranger exhales, obviously relieved. They're still holding him gently by the arms. A nervous sort of smile spread across their lips, and even in the state of mind he's in, he can't help but notice that they've got a brilliant smile. "Good, wow. Good, thank goodness." A shaky laugh escapes them. "I'm glad you've reconsidered. Really."

He glances up slightly, daring himself to look into turquoise eyes. His own eyes feel heavy – tired. He's suddenly so tired. He just wants to curl up on the side of the road and sleep, even in this horrendous downpour.

The stranger must have noticed this, or maybe it was the way he slumped a little in the other's hold. "Oh- hey. Hey,um. Shit." They curse quietly, scrambling for something else to say. It doesn't take them too long to decide because the next thing he knows, he's being pulled toward the stranger's car. "I know you don't know me, and I don't know you, but I really don't want to leave you out here, you know?" He's lead into the passenger seat and the door is closed. The inside of the vehicle is warm and dry, all bright grey leather and pristine plastic. He feels more at ease.

The other guy gets in the vehicle, switching it from park to drive and pulling out onto the road. They turn the nob on the heating system and suddenly hot air is blowing on his frigid skin. "I promise I'm not a rapist or a murderer or anything and wow, that sounds suspicious on its own. Just, uh…please believe me. I have good intentions, I swear."

The stranger pulls off the hood of their jacket, which they had been wearing while standing out in the downfall, and a head of messy brown hair is revealed. They smooth it out with one hand as best as they can before placing both hands on the steering wheel again. Blue-green eyes glance over at him again. "So what's your name?"

The question takes him off guard. It takes him a moment to find his voice, quiet against the hum of the car's engine and the pounding of the rain on the windshield. "Levi."

"Levi, huh? Okay." He can't help but notice that there's a chipper tone to the stranger's voice. Even when he was talking him down from the bridge's ledge, there was something so optimistic about it. He thinks that maybe he should be annoyed. Any other time, he would have been, but he must just be too tired. "I'm Eren. Eren Jaeger. I promise I'll let you do a full background check on me as soon as we reach my house." The guy – Eren – laughs again, sounding less nervous this time.

"I trust you." Levi replies quietly. And strangely enough, he does. He feels safe in this car, in Eren's presence. If living on the streets taught Levi anything, it was that you couldn't trust just anyone. And yet, here he was…

It didn't feel like a mistake though.

Eren, thankfully, turned on the radio to some pop station and spared Levi the possibility of anymore conversation. He was too tired to talk, almost too tired to think, and he was grateful for the mutual silence. He needed time to reign himself in, to plan his next course of action.

This was all just temporary, after all.

Eren apparently has a nice flat in the city, which surprised Levi because he was pretty sure Eren wasn't old enough to be this well along.

The brunet unlocks the door to the flat and flicks the light on. Levi is greeted with warm brown and cream colors decorating the living room, and off to the right he can see the kitchen with its white walls and sky blue linoleum flooring. There's an open bar connecting the living room and kitchen together, with stools sitting on the soft, white carpet.

The house is warm and welcoming and Levi feels odd to be here. He knows that this is what a home is supposed to feel like, and that just makes him feel even more out of place. He's not used to this feeling.

The sound of keys being tossed onto the coffee table interrupts Levi's train of thought. He notices Eren shrugging off his damp jacket, and now that they're in proper light, he sees that Eren's skin is naturally dark. He thinks so, because it's the middle of November and he doubts that Eren would go out of his way to keep a tan this time of year.

"First shower is yours." Eren announces and Levi starts at that, sending him a questioning look.

"I don't have any clean clothes."

Eren smiles, picking up the TV remote that had been resting on the couch cushions and turning said thing on. "I'll find something of mine for you to wear."

"Good luck doing that." Levi motions to himself, and Eren sends him his own questioning look. "I'm a few inches shorter than you, in case you haven't noticed."

At this, Eren just shrugs. "It might be a little loose, but it's better than wet clothes. I can wash your old clothes while you're wearing mine, anyway." He gets up and makes his way towards the hallway on the left. Levi takes this as his cue to follow him. "Bathroom is right here." Eren motions to a door on the left. "Just leave your clothes on the hamper and I'll pick them up when you're done. I'll bring you some fresh clothes while you're showering."

Levi opens the door to the bathroom and gropes around blindly for the light switch before being blinded by the white of the walls and the floor. He closes the door behind him quietly and quickly goes about shedding his sopping clothing. He's completely drenched, he realizes, and dripping water everywhere. He'll have to clean the entrance to Eren's flat once he's done. It's the least he can do, and he's not about to let himself be messy, even if he has been living on the streets for a while.

When he's fully stripped and the clothes are folded on the hamper, he glances into the mirror over the sink. He grimaces, eyes narrowing and nose scrunching when he notices the shape he's in. Ribs and collarbones protruding against his skin, grime covering said skin, dark shadows under his eyes, skin deathly pale, hair messy and wet. He looks pretty fucking pathetic, if he could say so himself.

He forces himself to move on, stepping into the shower and pulling the curtain forward. A minute or two of messing with the nobs produces the perfect temperature; hot water rushes over his skin and Levi can't help but sigh. It's been a while since he's had a proper shower, having to make do with whatever other means he could use to get clean while on the streets. It wasn't glamorous and Levi detested being filthy, but it was preferable to…to him.

A knock at the bathroom door catches his attention. "Yeah?"

He hears the door open a smidgen before Eren answers back. "Found you some clothes! I'm gonna lay them by the sink, okay?" Levi gives a hum of recognition and soon the door is heard being shut again.

It takes nearly 20 minutes to reach a level of cleanliness that Levi dubs acceptable before he's stepping out of the shower. The entire bathroom is steamed up, windows foggy and floor slippery with condensation. Levi finds the borrowed clothing sitting by the sink and goes about putting them on.

Just like he thought, they were definitely loose on his frame. But they were dry, warm, and comfortable. They smelled nice, too, similar to the way the inside of Eren's car smelled. They smelled like Eren.

He takes his towel and wipes the fog off of the bathroom mirror, observing himself once more. He definitely looks better, all dirt and grime wiped away and hair looking healthier than before. It's a slight improvement.

Better enjoy it while it lasts.

He cleans up any mess he made before leaving and entering the living room. Eren is sitting on the couch, his attention on the television, but his eyes turn to Levi as soon as he enters the room and a large smile makes its way onto his face. "You look like you feel a lot better."

Levi says nothing, only bites his bottom lip as he takes a seat on the same couch as Eren, but on the opposite end. The television is turned on to some comedy channel and laughter can be heard from the crowd in the background.

"You hungry?" Eren asks out of the blue. Levi turns to him, contemplating his answer, but Eren continues before he can say anything. "I know I am! I'm gonna put on a pizza for us while I shower, okay?"

Levi shrugs, feeling small in Eren's large shirt. "It's your house."

The brunet is up and heading for the kitchen, but not before giving a small laugh at Levi's retort.

An hour flies by and most of it is spent eating pizza and watching television.

Eren's hair is still slightly damp when they finally finish the pizza. Levi is feeling pleasantly full, hunger sated for the time being. The brunet takes their plates away to the kitchen, and when he returns, it's with a question in tow. "So…you wanna talk about it?"

Levi affords him a defensive look, fighting the urge to scowl and ignore the question all together, but he remembers that this is Eren's home, this is the guy that talked him down from suicide and took him in a little over an hour ago.

"I was feeling spectacularly shitty tonight." He reaches for his teacup on the coffee table and takes a sip of it, still warm on his tongue. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little happy when Eren mentioned that he could make tea.

Eren's eyes follow his hand on the cup. "Why do you hold it like that?" Levi's eyes flit over to him once more, and Eren motions to the cup. "The cup, I mean."

Levi looks down at his hand, the one that's holding the cup from the front. He figures it wouldn't hurt telling him the truth behind it. "I'm afraid of breaking it." He eyed the fragile handle on the side of the cup. "I used to have a nice set a couple years ago, one that I saved up some money for. I accidentally broke it when I tried to pick it up by the handle." Taking another sip, he closes his eyes. "It's a force of habit, I guess."

When he looks at Eren again, the brunet is smiling. Levi shoots him a questioning look, one thin eyebrow raised. Eren just shakes his head. "It's nothing. It's just, that's the most I've heard you say yet." Eren shifts on the couch so that most of his body is facing Levi. "Mind telling me why your night was so shitty? I mean, only if you want."

At least Eren has half a mind to respect his privacy. Because in all honesty, Levi doesn't want to go into the details. He'd rather not think about it, but those questioning turquoise eyes are still on him, and damn it, he owes Eren some kind of explanation. People don't just jump off of bridges because they're having a 'bad day'.

So Levi sighs, and sets his teacup down on the coffee table again. He realizes that his eyes are feeling heavy and his body is sagging with exhaustion. The thought of curling up and going to sleep sounds fantastic.

"I'm homeless." He begins, voice low and eyes downcast. "I had to leave home because of my piece of shit father." He nearly hisses the last word out, voice dripping venom and loathing. "I've been taking care of myself for a while now, trying to make ends meet. Things got shitty, I didn't see the point in trying anymore, and well…you know the rest."

Eren nods, expression grim and matching Levi's. "I'm so sorry to hear that. That's…wow. That's really crappy." He notices Eren scooting forward a little bit, the space between them shortening ever so slightly. "What did your dad do?"

And this is where Levi draws the line. "Can we not talk about that?" He grits out. Steely grey eyes meet Eren's turquoise and he sees the other shrink back a little.

The brunet is quick to throw his hands up, apologizing. "Sorry, sorry. I know that must be personal, and it's none of my business. Sorry."

Levi sighs, deflating a little. Eren's being way too nice and he's probably acting like an ass. Which isn't any different from how he usually acts, but he can at least try to be pleasant to the stranger who's let him into their home.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it." He stretches his limbs out a bit, feeling and hearing the joints popping from the strain. He's so comfortable on this couch, in this house. He can't remember the last time he's felt like this. He feels a yawn bubbling to the surface and suppresses it by pursing his lips.

Eren apparently notices anyway and nods towards the hallway. "There's a guest room on the left, before you reach the bathroom. If you're feeling tired, that is."

Levi nods sleepily and stands up to head to the kitchen while draining the rest of his teacup. He deposits the dish in the sink and begins to walk towards the guest room, but stops by the couch where Eren is still sitting.

He takes a moment to think, to try and think of something suitable to say to Eren after everything that's happened. He settles on something simple. "Thank you. For this."

He doesn't have to look to know that Eren is smiling at him. He can hear it in his voice despite not seeing it. "Nah, it's fine. I promise."

He simply nods once before continuing on. He closes the guest bedroom door behind him and all but collapses on top of the bed. The comforter is soft and plush under his body, a stark contrast to the cold, hard wet stone of the street.

He barely has time to reflect on everything that has happened before his eyes become too heavy to hold open anymore and he's fallen asleep.

When he wakes up, it's to the smell of breakfast.

Levi blinks open his eyes, groggy, but insanely comfortable. He's warm and cozy, nothing but soft fabric covering him. That's when he notices the comforter covering him.

If he remembers correctly, he didn't get under the covers last night.

As much as his body protests, he makes himself get out of bed and head to the living room. But not before remaking the bed and setting everything back to the way it was before. Again, he's not going to let himself be a slob.

When he walks into the living room, he can see Eren through the little bar in the kitchen. Still feeling sluggish, he takes a seat at one of the stools. The brunet turns and smiles when he notices Levi. "Good morning! I'm making some omelets, so I hope you're hungry because they're huge." He turns around, muttering something about 'how 4 eggs didn't look like too much for a single omelet'.

Levi rolls his eyes, but it's more out of amusement than anything. His stomach, though not feeling nearly as constricted as it usually does, is telling him that is he is in fact hungry.

He actually finds it endearing. How long has it been since someone made breakfast for him?

How long has it been since someone good made him breakfast?

It only takes a few short minutes, and then Eren is sliding a plate loaded down with an omelet in front of Levi. One look at it tells Levi that it's loaded down with about 5 more things than it should have. But it smells good and it looks appetizing, so he's not one to complain.

"Thanks." He murmurs quietly. Eren has taken a seat beside him and is already eating. He nods in recognition, and Levi is grateful for the good manners. He wouldn't have been able to stop himself from correcting Eren otherwise.

The omelet does taste good, and Levi is, surprisingly, able to scarf it all down. He feels almost bloated after eating it, but it's a welcome feeling.

He and Eren resume their activities from last night; another batch of tea brewed for Levi, the television turned on to the same channel, except Eren is now on his laptop.

This is where Levi starts feeling extremely out of place.

It doesn't take long for him to feel like he's overstayed his welcome here, that Eren is waiting for him to leave any moment now. He feels the need to fidget where he's sitting, but manages to hold himself still. He knows he needs to leave, but he's reluctant to do so.

The clothes he'd been wearing last night are freshly washed and clean and he'd changed back into them earlier. Eren's borrowed clothing is in the hamper in the bathroom. Nothing is keeping him here now.

He knows that as soon as he walks out the door, it's back to cold streets, rainy nights, and edging starvation.

He doesn't want to leave.

But he has to.

Might as well do it now.

As much as his legs want to root themselves to the carpet, he forces himself to stand up and look down at Eren, who is now looking up at him from his laptop. His palms are starting to feel sweaty and the first dregs of anxiety are beginning to creep up on him. His chest is feeling heavy again.

"Thanks." He manages to get out. Eren smiles at him again, eyebrows raising a little. "For letting me spend the night here." Levi nods, he doesn't know why. Maybe to reassure himself. He forces his legs to move towards the entryway.

It's only when he's put his shoes – and what poor condition they were in now – back on and is halfway out the door that he registers the sound of footsteps on the wooden part of the entryway. A hand shoots out and stops the door from closing, and Levi looks up to meet worried blue-green eyes.

The laptop is abandoned on the coffee table. He can see that over Eren's shoulder. Eren is staring at him like he's about to disappear forever, which probably isn't too far from the truth. He'd be back on the side of that bridge in no time. He knows that much.

Eren's throat works, he swallows hard. "Listen, Levi…I, uh. You…you don't have to leave."

This is something he both wanted and didn't want to hear.

He wants to stay, oh yes he does. He likes this house, he likes the tea and Eren's cooking, and he finds Eren nice to be around. He's figured that much in the short time he's been here.

But it's not right of him to stay. Eren has to take care of himself, and as much as a part of him yearns for someone to help him, he's not going to let himself become a burden. The thought of giving Eren grief outweighs the thought of sleeping in a warm bed and eating good food.

"I can't." And it's all Levi can get out. His throat feels constricted, full with something akin to cotton. He feels like he wants to disappear right now, to fade out of existence. "It's not your job to take care of me."

He forces himself to turn away from the cracked door. If he can walk away now, he'll be alright. Well, he won't, not really. But he won't let himself come up with reasons to stay.

He takes his first step away, but Eren's hand shoots out and grabs his. And it's a repeat of last night on the bridge. Eren's holding him back from hurting himself again, hand grasping his upper arm. Gentle, but not restraining. All the same.

The door is all the way open now and Eren is staring him down, eyes full of worry, mouth open in an oncoming protest.

"I know it's not." The brunet says, and his voice is soft. "But it's something that I want to do." Levi knows he shouldn't, but his body turns just a fraction towards Eren. "I'd rather know that you're safe in my home than out there on the streets. Or worse, on the side of another bridge."

Levi's mouth is feeling dry, and his lips chapped. He licks them nervously.

He really shouldn't.

But he lets Eren pull him back into his flat.

The sound of the door clicking shut is heard faintly and Levi is left standing in the entryway. He feels a strange combination of both relieved and hollow. "How can you do this." He means it as a question, but it comes out flat.

He feels Eren grab onto his sleeve lightly, urging him back into the living room. "Trust me, I can. I have more than enough. I work at a pretty fancy restaurant nearby and make some hefty tips. It's enough to support more than one person."

Levi has enough sense to toe off his shoes before stepping onto the carpet again. He feels a familiar burning sensation in his nose, his eyes itching uncomfortably. He doesn't say anything in return to that, doesn't trust his voice at the moment.

When Eren is met with silence, he turns back to face Levi, taking the lack of retort as disbelief. "Really, it's not a prob…lem…" He filters off, noticing Levi's hunched shoulders, his hands in fists at his side, the slight trembling of his figure. That's when the brunet notices. "Are you okay?"

He knows he shouldn't talk, shouldn't even try to use his voice right now, but the words come out anyway. They're shaky and weak and he feels ashamed for sounding like such a crybaby, but he can't help it.

"I've never been treated like this before. Never."

And it's like a dam has broken and he's crying silently, tears rolling down his cheeks. He wants to wipe at them angrily, but doesn't. He hears a soft "oh" from Eren, but pays it no mind. He's making himself look pathetic right now and he should really-

The feeling of warm arms wrapping around him is a shock and he nearly jumps at it. But it's just Eren. He's come forward and now he's crushing Levi in a tight hug, arms encircled around his torso, hands splayed out on his back, fingers touching along the ridges of his spinal column.

He doesn't even fight it, presses his forehead into Eren's shoulder, his hands against the other's chest, but not pressing away, just resting them there.

And he cries out all his pain and sorrow and it feels so good to let it all go, because he's alright now. He's safe, and he can hardly believe it.

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