Summary: Eren is just an ordinary college student, wondering how long he can put off his art projects and if it's possible to live off of only ramen and mac 'n cheese. Oh, and if his medical alert bracelet is really necessary, because honestly, it shouldn't be. His part time jobs as a barista and a photographer for a major newspaper help pay the bills, but when he gets assigned the task of photographing the upcoming professional soccer match, he can't believe his luck. He has been given permission to legally stalk his idol, center forward for the Scouts, Levi Ackerman!

Levi Ackerman is a famous soccer player, and the object of millions of girls' and guys' wet dreams. For Levi, the life of a celebrity is nothing to complain about. He can walk into any bar and leave with his choice of men to take home. And with a sexual appetite that can rival that of a porn star, this is a benefit of stardom he takes full advantage of. The only problem is, it's hard to keep secrets when constantly under a spotlight. What the world doesn't know is that he's gay, and he's determined to keep it that way. Levi struggles to keep his deep, dark secret out of the public knowledge, but a certain green-eyed brat who works for the press is making that exceptionally difficult.

So this is the first chapter of a new fic I'm working on. Honestly this one is driving me crazy. I thought I was ready to start posting this, but then the other day I changed literally everything from the third chapter up to what I have so far. So I'm going to post this first chapter as kind of an experiment to see how you guys like it. The first few updates might be slow as I continue to take a chainsaw to this work, but if I get some decent feedback and you guys seem to like it, then I'll keep posting. Because honestly I am in love with this concept (and the fact that it's not incredibly angsty like my other works), I'm just having the hardest time writing it. The ideas are all there, they just won't make their way onto paper the way I want them to.

Anyways, enough rambling for now. Here's the first chapter. Tell me what you guys think, either here in the comments or feel free to message me on Tumblr. Feedback will be immensely appreciated! Plot ideas, questions, observations, constructive criticism... I want all of it! Especially since this is an experimental chapter.

Chapter 1: College Student Has Unlikely Encounter!

Eren

"Eren! Get your art shit off the kitchen table!"

I cringe at Mikasa's sharp tone. I wasn't expecting her home so soon. Usually I have another hour to clear up my things. With a sigh, I push up off my bed and pad barefoot into the front room that doubles as a living room and a dining room. In the front half of the room is a flat screen perched on top of a small entertainment system housing our hundreds of DVDs and our gaming systems, all surrounded by a horseshoe of two short couches and a reclining chair. The back half of the room is where the rectangular dining table sits, surrounded by its six mismatching chairs. A pile of brushes, pencils, papers, canvas, erasers, and paints sits haphazardly on one half of the table. I don't know why she always complains. There's only three of us in this apartment. Why does she need the whole table?

In the small kitchen, separated from the front room by a long bar, Mikasa bustles about, pulling out ingredients for dinner. I wonder what she's making, and if I can steal some of it. I don't feel like cooking. But when do I ever feel like cooking anything more complicated than ramen? I grumble as I carelessly scoop everything into my arms and carry it into the bedroom I share with Armin. I'm wearing my painting shirt anyway, so who cares if I get charcoal or paint on it?

"How's your project going?" I hear Mikasa call from the kitchen.

I dump everything on my large desk, then head back out into the front room. I plop myself down on one of the bar stools, leaning my elbows on the smooth laminate countertop as I watch her move around the small kitchen.

"Eh. It's going," I say, answering her question.

"Have you even started it yet?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at me. Oh she knows me so well.

"Of course I haven't," I reply with a snort. She should know better than to ask silly questions like that.

"And when is it due?" she presses.

"Friday," I reply casually, as if that weren't two days from now.

She sighs and just shakes her head. This is our fifth semester at Trost University. She's used to my incessant procrastinating. But hey, in my defense I think I do some of my best work under pressure. And what better pressure is there than having to complete an entire project hours before it's due?

"Where's Armin?" I ask her, looking around the small apartment, as if I could've somehow walked right passed him.

"He called to tell me he'd be at the hospital late tonight. He said something about getting to sit in on a surgery," she replies.

I nod. This isn't super uncommon. Armin is a med student, and is completing his residency at Trost General Hospital. His hours are often irregular and long. I watch as Mikasa dumps a pound of hamburger into a frying pan.

"What are you making? And more importantly, can I have some? Honestly I don't even care what it is, I just want some."

She laughs. She actually laughs at me. "What? You don't feel like eating macaroni and cheese for the third time this week?"

"Hey now, don't hate on mac 'n cheese. It's good. And cheap."

She rolls her eyes at me and agrees to let me mooch off her dinner. Just then, my phone rings in my pocket and I hurry to fish it out. I see my boss's name flashing across the screen. Heh, boss... He's my age, and he was a friend before he became my boss, so it's weird to think of him that way. Mouthing the words to my ringtone, I hit 'accept' on the screen. I hope he's not calling with a new job. I really shouldn't be taking one right now. You know, because of that art project I haven't started yet that's due in two days.

"Yellow," I answer, in the way that I always do, because saying 'hello' like a normal person is boring. Who wants to be normal? Nobody, that's who.

"Hi Eren!" God why is Marco always so happy? And why am I so annoyed? "One of my photographers got sick this morning, and he won't be able to complete his assignment tomorrow night. I was hoping you could fill in for him."

"Tomorrow night? I have a project I need to work on..." I say, starting to give him my excuse, but then stop myself. Tomorrow night? Could it be...? "Which assignment is it?"

"I know you've never done sports before, but it's for the Scouts ma-"

"I'll take it!" I shout, jumping to my feet. Mikasa startles, nearly dropping her spoon. She shoots me a glare and I just shrug with a innocent smile.

I've always been a huge fan of the Scouts soccer team, and when I first took the job as a photographer for Trost Daily, I had been hoping for the opportunity to get to photograph one of their matches. Finally, that day is here!

"Perfect! Okay, so the article is celebrating one of their players. It's his one hundredth match, so we'll mostly need photographs of him. It's-"

"Ackerman?!" If my voice goes up any further, I could try out for soprano in Trost University's choir.

Marco laughs. "Yes, that's the guy. Center forward, Levi Ackerman. Come by the officer before the match tomorrow and I'll get you your sideline pass."

"Ohmygod thank you!" I say, my words mashing together in my excitement. Mikasa looks over her shoulder at me with a raised eyebrow, and I know I have a shit-eating grin on my face, but right now I really don't care. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Marco laughs again. "See you tomorrow, Eren."

I hang up and clench my phone in my fist as I punch the air, doing my happy dance around the apartment. Sideline passes? And permission to stalk and photograph my idol, Levi Ackerman? I can't even begin to describe my level of excitement. An entire year taking stupid assignments for stupid articles has finally paid off.

"Eren," Mikasa's warning tone cuts through my giddiness. "You have an art project due Friday morning that you haven't even started yet. Are you sure taking a job tomorrow night is a good idea?"

"I have to take it, Mikasa! It's the Scouts match! And the article will be featuring Ackerman. I'll finish the project tonight," I tell her, hurrying back towards my room. "I promise!"

...

God I hate school so much. Why are college courses so slow? Maybe if I fall asleep it'll go by quicker. It's just a stupid general education course. Who needs to pay attention in Calculus anyway? I mean, this shit is so easy. The squigglies are for... and the weird Greek 'E' thing does... and the thing my professor calls a 'derivative' works like... Well since I'm going to fail this class anyway, I might as well sleep. What the hell do I need math for anyway? I'm an art major.

Professor Shadis dismisses the class and I could cry in relief. I shove my notebook in my backpack and sling it over my shoulder with the strap for my camera bag before practically sprinting from the classroom. I pull my keys from my pocket as I exit the building, separating the key to my bike lock.

I take off down the crowded sidewalks, calling for people to get the fuck out of my way! Not really, but I want to. Once I leave the busy campus, the sidewalks clear up and I race towards the office of Trost Daily. I could burst from excitement. As I wait at a stoplight for my signal to cross, I peer at my watch for the hundredth time today. Five o'clock. I should get to the office a couple blocks down by five thirty, and then I can head straight for the stadium, which is a few miles away. I should be able to get there by six thirty, and the match starts at seven. Perfect.

I feel a dull pain growing in my knee, and look down to see a bruise starting to grow just above my kneecap. Damn. Why now? Oh well, it doesn't matter. I'll be fine. I have my regular doctor's appointment scheduled for tomorrow after my classes, so I'll let the doctor deal with that then.

I was born with some stupid genetic disease that does something to my blood. Hemo... phobia? No, hemo... hemo-something. Hemophilia! That's it. Well, whatever it is, it sucks. I guess my blood doesn't clot like it does for normal people. All I know is that I have to check in with a doctor once every two weeks and hope I don't need a transfusion, I have to take my medication, and most importantly I have to be careful. Cuts and bruises are no bueno for me.

I always hated it as a kid because it kept me from doing fun things with the other kids. I have been in and out of hospitals my whole life, but it was worse when I was younger and didn't fully understand what was wrong with me. I always promised my mom that I'd beat it, that I'd get better so I could play like a normal kid. But as I got older I realized that it was incurable. That doesn't stop me now, though. Sure I have to be cautious, but so what? I won't let this stupid thing hold me back. I never tell anyone about my condition anymore, because as soon as I do they start treating me like a fragile flower that could break at any moment. Or worse, they treat me like a leper that needs to be avoided, as if this disease is something that they can catch. So nobody except for my parents, Mikasa, and Armin know, and I'm going to keep it that way. It's easy enough to brush off my numerous bruises as accidents with the explanation that I just bruise easily. Although, I think my drawing professor, Professor Hannes, thinks someone is abusing me...

The signal switches from the red hand that's missing its pinky and the top of its ring finger to the white man that's missing an arm and its head. Poor man. Good thing he doesn't have hemophilia too. That could be a problem.

When I get to the office, I hastily lock up my bike in the small bike rack around back and hurry into the office. I race through the halls, almost knocking Jean over. His tall stack of newspapers wobbles, but doesn't fall.

"Jaeger, you idiot! Watch where you're fucking going," he curses at me, continuing down the hall.

Stupid horse face. I don't know what Marco sees in that blockhead. Speaking of Marco...

"Oh good, there you are," he says, a huge smile pulling at his cheeky, freckly face. He's always smiling though, so I'm used to it.

"Here I am!" I agree, still huffing from racing my bike all the way here from campus. And I still have a long way to go to get to the stadium. Jell-o legs and respiratory failure here I come!

"You're even dressed for the match," he observes.

I'm confused by Marco's observation for a moment, and then I remember, looking down at my shirt. It's a Scouts jersey. In fact, it's an Ackerman jersey. I laugh with a nod. "You bet I am!"

Marco hands me a large, bright orange card attached to a thin blue lanyard. "Keep that around your neck, and just flash it to the security guards near the west entrance. Someone will point you in the right direction and tell you the rules."

I nod, only half listening as I look over the card that reads 'Trost Daily. Sideline Access. Photographer'. I excitedly pull it on over my head, then turn to head back out the door, Marco's laughter fading away behind me. Jumping back on my bike with my trademark shit-eating grin plastered to my face, I hurriedly pedal in the direction of the stadium. My doctor should be proud of me. She's been hounding me to get more exercise, saying that it'll help with my condition. Here you go, Doctor Zoe! Is this enough exercise for you?

When I reach the stadium, I'm huffing and puffing hard enough to put the big bad wolf to shame. I find a bike rack and quickly secure my bike before hunting for the west entrance. My heart is racing, and it's not from the long ride over here. It's because I've never actually been to a Scouts match before, and I'm more excited than I can even begin to describe. I'm a broke college student. I don't have money for these kind of things. But I've watched all of the matches on TV. Now I finally get to see one live. And from the sidelines! And I get to stalk my idol and take hundreds- no, thousands!- of pictures of him. It's a dream come true. No, really, it is. I mean that literally. I've had more than one dream where I got to photograph Levi Ackerman during a match.

I find the west entrance and show them my pass. They read it quickly and look through both my backpack and my camera bag before letting me through, telling me that I am assigned to the northwest corner of the field, and that I can't pass the goal box. I nod and hurry into the stadium, getting my camera out as I walk. Hopefully Levi will be up near this goal a lot. At least, he should be during one half of the match, hopefully scoring goals. Wouldn't that be cool if I got a picture of a goal scoring kick? God I'm so excited!

When I enter the stadium, I look around in awe. I immediately bring the view finder to my eye, fiddling with the focus and shutter as I snap pictures of everything. This is my personal camera, so I can take pictures of whatever I want. And I do. I take pictures of the stadium, of the fans, of the vendors, of everything. After a few minutes, I turn my camera to the field and lower it from my face. I see two colors running around on the grass. I immediately recognize the deep green as that of the Scouts. The other team is wearing bright red jerseys. I think it's the Garrison. The Scouts are practicing on my half of the field, and I scan the numbers on the back of their jerseys. I soon see him, and my heart feels like it's trying to commit suicide by slamming itself against my ribcage.

He's standing near the sidelines, talking with a tall blonde man wearing a green collared shirt. I recognize him as the head coach. Erwin Smith is his name, I think? I quickly raise my camera to take a picture. Jeez, is Erwin really that tall? Or is Levi just shorter than his stats say he is? His stats say he's five foot six. That can't be true. Even though he's standing a dozen or so yards from me, I can tell he's not the same height as me. He's most definitely shorter than me. I stare at the man so long that I'm afraid he'll notice, but I can't tear my eyes away from him. I've seen him hundreds of times on television, but now I'm seeing him in person, and he's not even that far away from me!

I lift my camera again and zoom way in, practically zooming up the forward's nose. I snap a dozen pictures, then pull the camera back to look at them on the screen. I've never seen such clear images of his face. The closest I've ever gotten are magazine images of him in advertisements, but we all know that those are edited. But jeez, not that they need to edit his face. I stare at the image on my screen, marveling at the sheer perfection of it. His skin looks so smooth, his cheekbones high, and his jaw line strong. His undercut is perfectly shaved and half concealed by the fall of his black hair. His eyebrows and lips are drawn down in what seem to be a natural frown. But what stands out the most is his eyes. On TV the shots never get close enough to see the color of his eyes, and in magazines they are always a gorgeous, glowing blue. But as I stare at the undoctored image on my screen, I notice that his eyes aren't blue at all. Sure, they have a bluish tinge to them, but they're really grey. And I find that I like this color on him so much more than the edited blue I've always seen in magazines. It just... fits him better.

I look back up to see that he and the coach are gone. I see Smith walking back to the sidelines a couple dozen feet down from me, and I catch sight of Levi's number, twenty-three, jogging back towards the rest of his team out on the field. Number four passes him a ball and I quickly raise my camera to snap a few pictures of his fancy footwork before he passes it on to number twenty-eight. I try to think of who all the numbers belong to. Well number four was Eld Jinn. He's the right winger. And number twenty-eight is the left winger, Farlan Church. I see number fifteen, Schultz, running up to steal the ball from number ten, Bozado. Gunther Shultz is the left inside forward and Bozado is the right inside forward. What's his first name again? Oluo? Auruo? Alublahblah. I have no idea. I've heard them say it on TV so many times before but like hell if I can remember how to pronounce it. The three halfbacks are number fourteen Ian Dietrich in the center, number nine Mitabi Jarnach on the right, and number seven Moblit Berner on the left. The two fullbacks are number eleven Dita Ness on the right and number twenty Luke Siss on the left. And finally, the goalkeeper is number nineteen, Mike Zacharias.

I focus back on Levi, taking a few more pictures as he takes a shot at Zacharias in the net. The ball curves, sailing over even Zacharias' tall reach and into the net. I start to cheer before I remember that they're only practicing. I feel eyes on me and I look to my right to see a few other photographers and sideline staff staring at me. I just chuckle nervously with a shrug, then turn back to my camera, my cheeks slightly red. So what if I cheered? That was a good goal.

After a little while, the players all leave the field to get ready for the start of the match. I take a few pictures of the Scouts' huddle on my side of the soccer field. When both teams file back onto the field, it's followed by a young girl who sings the national anthem. Then, the two captains of each team head to the middle of the field for the coin toss. Ackerman and Zacharias meet with two players from the Garrison, and I catch a few photos of them shaking hands.

I get more and more excited as the ref flips a coin and the players take their positions on the field. The Scouts are starting with the ball on the far side of the field from me. Good, that means Levi will be up on my end of the field mostly. At least, for the first half he will.

When the ref blows the whistle to start the match, I watch with wide, excited eyes as Ackerman, Church, and Jinn pass the ball up the field, followed closely by Schultz and Bozado. Jinn almost loses the ball to one of the Garrison players, and I cheer loudly when he manages to pass it back to Bozado. Oh shit, I'm supposed to be taking pictures. I lift my camera and watch the match through the view finder as the Scouts make their way towards my end of the field.

A Garrison fullback intercepts a kick from Church to Ackerman and I boo loudly, ignoring the photographers within earshot that stare at me. Just because these shutterbugs are only here for their job and hate sports and all forms of entertainment doesn't mean I can't enjoy the match. I actually like the sport and team I'm here to photograph. So suck my-

The crowd erupts in boos, and I look up to see one of our fullbacks sprawled out on the ground down the field with one of the Garrison forwards. It looks like Ness. I missed what happened, but it seems like it was a foul by the Garrison player, if the crowd is anything to go by. And sure enough, the ref picks up the ball and awards the Scouts with the kick. He places the ball at the site of the penalty, and Ness uses a powerful kick to launch the ball down the field. I get my camera ready as Levi takes off down the field, looking back over his shoulder as the ball comes sailing towards him. I catch sight of the Garrison fullback charging towards him and my breath catches as Ackerman leaps into the air. Damn, that shorty can jump. He gets his head on the ball before the Garrison fullback can, and sends it flying towards Eld. I hold my finger on the shutter, catching dozens of photos of his leap, and his fall back to the ground, tangled in the limbs of the fullback.

Ackerman isn't even fazed in the slightest as he gets back to his feet and races forward to continue the play. The fullback rolls around on the ground for a few seconds before realizing that the refs aren't going to call it and gets to his feet to do his job and defend the goal.

The match continues as it started. The ball goes back and forth, but can't seem to find a net. Levi gets a few attempts on goal, but is blocked each time. On more than one occasion I forget that I'm here to take pictures. It's not like I don't have plenty, but this is my job, so I have to keep snapping away.

With only two minutes left in the half, the Scouts get the ball back and come charging down the field. I watch through my camera as one of the Scouts halfbacks, it looks like Dietrich, launches the ball down the field. I watch as Ackerman chases after it. My breath catches in anticipation. Hurry! It's about to go out of bounds! Ackerman is looking over his shoulder as he sprints after the ball. He's getting closer and bigger and closer and-

Shit. I lower the camera just as Levi makes a leap for the ball, trying to get to it before it crosses the line. He misses the ball, but he doesn't miss me as he lands and stumbles forward. We both fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

"Fuck," the most beautiful, velvety voice I've ever heard in all of my short existence breathes in my ear.

Oh my GOD! Levi Ackerman is laying on top of me! Holy fuck! I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I don't even care if I cut myself in the fall and will have to rush to the hospital to get a transfusion. Levi Ackerman is ON TOP OF ME! Woah that actually sounds really dirty... Not that I'm complaining or anything, if you know what I mean.

He struggles to get back to his feet as two of his teammates, Church and Schultz, run over to help him up. Levi stands, and grabs my sleeve as he does, pulling me to my own feet. I knew it! He is shorter than me. He can't be taller than five foot three. What a little shorty.

"Sorry-" I start to apologize.

"Next time," Levi says, cutting me off as he turns back towards the field, "get out of my fucking way."

I stare after him wide eyed as he jogs back out onto the field. Holy shit I swear his glare has the power to kill, and it almost killed me. But in a completely different way than I think he was intending. Jesus Christ if my heart beats any faster than it is now I'm going to have a heart attack. I think most people would be turned off to their idol if said idol talked to them like that. But not me. For some reason, that glare coming through those gorgeous eyes and that velvety voice do very funny things to my insides. Oh damn. Don't tell me my obsession with an idol is turning into something else.

As the match continues, I reach down to pick up my camera. I check the precious piece of equipment before I check myself. I breathe a sigh of relief. The camera still works. With that determined, I look myself over to see that I'm not bleeding anywhere. Good. I'm going to be as bruised as a three week old banana tomorrow morning, but that was so worth it. I get to brag that I got tackled by Levi fucking Ackerman.

With a smug smile on my face, I continue to take pictures of the match. Once the half ends, the score zip to nada, I don't get many more good shots. Levi is now on the other end of the field. I manage to get a few more, including his attempt on the goal that sails just past the goalkeeper's extended fingers. I cheer with the rest of the stadium. One Scouts, zilch Garrison. And that's how the match ends.

It's dark now, but one wouldn't notice inside the brightly lit stadium. As the crowd clears out, I hang around on the sidelines, eventually sneaking my way over to the short fences that funnel the players down into the locker rooms. I wait by them as both teams hurry off the field. I snap a few pictures of the Scouts and Garrison players walking together, talking together, and acting as friends rather than rivals.

After the trickle of players ends, I realize that I didn't see Levi. Looking back towards the field, I see him over near the center of the field with the head coach. He and Smith are talking as they walk towards the locker room, Levi wiping at his forehead with a towel. Two security guards are trailing behind them, now that the stands are clearing out. I watch the two of them, taking a few pictures as they approach the fence funnels.

"Hey, Ackerman!"

My eyes widen, and I look around. Did I just say that? N-No! I didn't mean to call out to him! Fuck, he's going to think I'm the press, or something, and he's going to hate me! He already does, right? I got in his way. He tackled me to the ground a little over an hour ago.

But Levi and Erwin Smith are looking directly at me, so I must've been the bonehead that called out to him. I stutter though, not sure what else to say. What was the point of that, you dweeb?! I call out to him, and now I can't think of a single thing to say? Great, now he hates you and he thinks you're a moron.

"Ackerman isn't making any statements right now," Smith says, urging Levi forward.

"Wait! I-I'm not the press," I quickly tell them, holding up my obnoxiously orange sideline pass. "I'm just a photographer."

"I'm not going to fucking pose for you, of that's what you want," Levi retorts. Damn, mister sassypants.

"N-No. That's not... I just... Could I get an autograph?" I finally manage to force out. Jesus, has anyone seen my confidence? You know, the one that allowed me to give a ten minute presentation on the anatomy of a fish without having prepared for it in the slightest? The one that, coupled with my loud mouth, usually gets me into shitty situations, like calling out to my idol without knowing what the hell I'm going to say to him?

Levi sighs and nods, walking over to me. "I guess I owe it to the brat," he says to Smith. "I did take his scrawny ass out at the end of the first half."

My cheeks burn bright red, embarrassing me further. What's wrong with me?! I never blush. At anything. What is this man doing to me?

"Do you have a marker?" he asks.

"U-uh..." I start patting my pockets down, and my embarrassment only grows as I don't find one. I already know I don't have one, but that doesn't keep me from groping myself trying to find one. I don't even have one in my backpack. I'm an art major! Why don't I have a freaking pen?!

"Fucking shit, does anyone have a marker?" Levi asks, turning to the three men behind him. Erwin just shrugs, but one of the security guards pulls one out of his breast pocket. Levi takes it, uncapping it, then turning back to me. "Turn around."

I quickly comply, pulling off my backpack to expose the number twenty-three and the name Ackerman written across my jersey. His hand presses against my back and my heart explodes in my chest. Jeez, calm down before you have a heart attack and embarrass yourself even more.

"Bend over," he says, and fuck did I just imagine his tone lower a little? Oh fuck my insides are tingling, and so is my dick. Well fuck me sideways...

I lean over a little, my cheeks on fire as he begins to scribble across my back. When he finishes, his hand leaving my back, I straighten again and turn back to face him. He's putting the cap back on the marker and tossing it to the security guard. The four of them head back towards the tunnel without another word.

"Uhm, thank you!" I call after him.

"No problem, brat," he says, waving a hand over his shoulder.

I know I have a shit-eating grin on my face, but I can't help it. At least I'm not embarrassed any more. I pull my backpack back on and tuck my camera back into its bag, heading for the exit. Today was a very good day. Well, after my lesson on the importance of squigglies, that is. I got to go to my first ever Scouts match, got to watch from the sidelines, got tackled by my idol, and the same idol autographed my jersey. He also said something sexual to me. Well, I know he probably didn't mean it like that... Fuck it, yes he did! He totally said something sexual to me. No one is going to believe me when I tell it like that, but I don't really give a damn.

When I get back to the apartment, Mikasa and Armin are already in bed. The match took longer than I thought it would, and it took me forever to bike home in the dark. I quietly enter the bedroom, trying not to wake Armin sleeping on the other side. I sit at my desk and boot up my laptop. I need to get these pictures to Marco soon so that he can get the newspapers for tomorrow printed. Pulling the memory card from my camera, I pop it into my laptop and bring up the images. I sort through them, attaching a few good ones to an email. I try to get through them quickly, and not linger.

Once I pull all of the ones suited for the article, I send it off to Marco. I'm about to shut down my computer, but I hesitate, my mouse hovering over one of the first pictures I took of Levi. I click on it, and his face fills my computer screen. Well, this definitely beats my tiny camera screen. It's one of the ones I took while he was on the sidelines before the match, one of the ones where I zoomed way in on his face. I don't know how long I stare at Ackerman's face like a love struck schoolgirl, but I eventually shut down my computer and shrug out of my clothes. I remember the autograph on the back of my jersey and I take it out into the front room where I can turn on a light without waking anybody.

His signature is surprisingly neat, considering he wrote it with a marker, on a jersey, while it was on my back. He wrote it up the stem of the '2'. I smile, and even blush a little as I remember that awkward encounter. And that comment. That beautifully sexual comment... Well if anything, I know without a doubt that I am definitely gay.

Taking the jersey back to my room, I fold it nicely and set it aside before crawling under the covers and closing my eyes. I try to fall asleep, but a pair of dark, brooding grey eyes keeps me awake.

So? What do you guys think so far? This will mostly be an Eren POV fic, but there are a few chapters where I feel like Levi's thoughts need to be heard, so there will be occasional Levi bits. It won't be for another few chapters though.

Anywho, let me know what you think guys, on here or on Tumblr (zoey04ereri. tumblr. com)