a/n: a ton of bad shit happened in my life and i hit a huge black streak so uh yeah sorry for the late update (shit its been nearl r)
this chapter takes place directly where the previous one left off (handjobs and levi crying and missed phone calls);

i know a lot of time has passed and most readers probably have forgotten what the fuck is this fic even about so i'll try my best to somehow remind some details of what's happened in the previous chapters (more like im too lazy to make a proper recap page on tumblr again oops), also sorry for my writing skills which have become very rusty due to the long break

huge thanks to everyone who believed in me when i said i wouldnt abandon this fic, to those that have supported me during this shitty time and when i was on the verge of abandoning this fic, and are now still reading this. it means more to me than i could possibly convey in words.

huge thanks to kai for betaing and helping me w coming up with the chapter title!

Eren's breath came against Levi's ear in short, erratic gasps as the teen pumped himself to release, effectively milking the last of Levi's. His skin was too sensitive and the older man bit down on his lower lip sharply as the seemingly electric current coursed through his muscles.

He felt Eren's body tensing up against his and a split second later hot liquid hit his stomach, some droplets reaching his chest and neck.

With the afterglow fading, the lines of whose body belong to whom were no longer blurred and the temperature of Eren's skin against his was distinctly scorching.

Levi lifted his hand and felt the dampness around his eyes, it was definitely there—yet he still couldn't feel himself crying. The tears that clung to his eyelashes felt foreign and alien. He couldn't pinpoint why they were falling in the first place.

Neither could he stop the tears from flowing nor find the strength to finally push Eren away and end this moment of frailty. The teen was still hovering above him – breath only now slowly calming and eyes locking with Levi's. The man tried to shy away, cover his face because the last thing he wanted was for Eren to see him like this. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

'It's alright.'

Was it, really?

Levi's body was still flushed and warmer than usual, creating a stark contrast with the quickly cooling semen on his stomach. Tears were still streaming down the sides of his face and if he didn't stop it now then his nose would start to run soon.

The skin where Eren had peppered light kisses – his temples and cheekbones – now burned. Now he knew that Eren had been kissing the tears away and that was too much for him to take. It made him wonder whether the saltiness still lingered on the boy's lips—if Eren could taste it if he were to swipe his tongue over them.

He was trying to think of any reason why this moment of inappropriate intimacy had resulted in him ripping apart at the seams years of bottled emotions bursting out at a mere touch. He prayed Eren wouldn't read it the wrong way, wouldn't see it as regret.

All he knew for sure was that the pressure in his chest appeared to leave along with the tears.

Levi didn't sob, he didn't sniffle. The line of his shoulders was perfectly still, breath even.

"I don't—" his voice cracked, the only auditory indication of the breaking point he had hit, and Levi had to start over, words now leaving his lips in the form of a crackling whisper, "I don't know why I'm… I don't understand—"

Eren hushed him and swept Levi's still damp hair away from his forehead – the touch so surprisingly light and gentle that the man's eyes fluttered shut for second, blurring his vision even further.

"When was the last time you cried?" The question was tentative— Eren's voice low, as if he was afraid of startling the older man.

Something akin to a breathless laugh left the man's lips and it was enough of an answer for Eren. He honestly couldn't remember, and in some way it was almost shameful.

The memory of Eren breaking apart, weeping against him like a child was so fresh in his mind, and with abrupt clarity he understood that crying was the opposite of weakness.

He couldn't look at the boy anymore – Levi turned his face to the side and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, although it didn't help much. He was afraid soon the first sob would break from his throat and then it would never cease.

Eren caught his wrist with the clear intention of pulling it away from Levi's eyes, but his hand simply lingered there – the grip neither firm nor entirely gentle – as if asking permission. Levi let his arm go limp against Eren's soft palm, fingers so soft, young and unmarred with calluses, unlike his own.

He let himself be pulled up slowly and Levi distantly appreciated the strength of Eren's arms—he wasn't sure if he'd be able to force his own muscles to cooperate right now to sit up.

Eren brushed the wetness away from underneath Levi's eyes with his thumbs – the action cruelly mirroring what Levi had done not even half an hour ago – and the man was tempted to look away again, to crawl out of the bed and to just go away, no matter where to, before more harm could be done.

The look in Eren's eyes made Levi wonder whether in some way the teen knew what had made him cry in the first place—they were brimming with compassion and understanding, and Levi found himself stunned. He didn't protest when Eren tugged him closer, instead slumping against his chest.

He was thankful that Eren didn't feel the need to say any words of comfort or further question him. The only thing on Levi's mind now was the sentence that had been whispered against his lips. He heard it in Eren's voice and felt a phantom tingle in his lips; Levi repeated it over and over again like a mantra.

Eren's heart was beating fast and steady, the sound of it somehow so soothing that he felt the urge to lift his hand and press it flat against the teen's chest, just to feel it pulse with life underneath his palm, life that he had nearly taken.

Levi didn't notice when had the tears ceased, he didn't count the seconds and minutes as time evaporated from his mind. It was Eren's voice that pulled him back to reality.

"I'll get a towel, clean you up—" Eren started, voice quiet as if not to shatter the moment, but the man shook his head, the illusion gone.

He pulled back from the loose embrace to realize that he was still exposed while Eren had tucked himself in at some point. The embarrassment was short lived as Levi swiftly pulled his boxers back up.

His head didn't hurt and his eyes weren't particularly strained – it felt as if he hadn't cried at all and for a moment he wondered if he'd imagined it all, or if simply too much time had passed—he couldn't tell which it was. Yet the concern in Eren's eyes and the tilt of his head as the boy tried to get a better look at Levi's expression told him otherwise.

"Can you get my phone? It's probably on the living room table." Levi's voice sounded odd to his own ears – too hoarse and weak. His throat was parched.

Eren hesitated, but eventually slid off the bed. One last look was directed at Levi—the meaning of which he couldn't quite decipher, something akin to shame lurking beneath the vibrant green—and Eren was out of the room, leaving Levi pondering over the meaning behind it, for something didn't sit quite right with him.

If it weren't for the bodily fluids coating his stomach, it would've taken considerable effort for Levi to get off the bed.

Only upon seeing his severe state of disarray in the mirror did the gravity of his own actions truly crash upon Levi.

His hair was a mess and face splotchy and Levi was tempted to get another shower—the once hot sweat was now cold and clung to his skin uncomfortably. It put even heavier emphasis on how dirty he felt and that trail of thought led his thoughts back to Eren again, wondering if the boy felt the same way. The last look he had given the older man wouldn't leave his mind. It only then occurred to him how odd Eren's sudden calmness about the situation was when usually his emotions were nearly explosive in their impulsiveness.

It was as if he had expected this to happen, even prompted it in some way other than physical.

All this time he had been so afraid of fucking up, of the tension between him and Eren proving to be one of much more complicated quality, and yet when it had finally happened—when Levi had absolutely fucked up, throwing his remaining morals out of the window—it was as if a dam had burst inside of him, ridding him of that tension, only to be replaced by another built on questions too complex to comprehend.

The fear that had blossomed in the pit of his stomach when Eren first kissed him— he had fed it with his own roaming thoughts, until it paralyzed him and rendered Levi unable to outright push Eren away.

Levi still wasn't free of that fear – in a sense it had only gotten worse, for now he could see it for what it was. A fear of longing, one which had nothing to do with Eren being only 15 years old.

That little fact, however, made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He owed Eren an apology for his weakness, for not being able to be a responsible adult. Levi himself had done much worse when he was Eren's age, but that didn't matter, didn't nullify the fact he had essentially taken advantage of a child, for whoever had initiated held no weight.

The point was that Eren wasn't him, didn't have his 15 years of baggage, of wrong choices, and Levi had no right to drag the teen into it. Yet in some way he had managed to do exactly that and there were no excuses to be made.

Levi closed his eyes and exhaled until his lungs ached, eyes squeezed shut. The last look Eren had given him wouldn't leave his mind, overriding his guilt with something much different. How well did he know the boy, really? For all of Eren's naïve, childish attraction, there was something deeper there, and for a moment he entertained thoughts of whether he'd been played like an instrument, responding to every tentative touch.

He had no idea what to do; to be frank, he didn't want to think about it, to even indulge in the possibility that all of this had been done with intent; so Levi wet the edge of a towel before running it over his stomach to clear away the last of the evidence, hoping to also rid his mind of it.

Splashing water on his face helped somewhat and Levi considered getting that second shower after all—this time a cold one, to shake him back into cold rational reality that was already creeping up on him.

The sound of Eren's bare feet padding across the floorboards reached Levi's ears and he knew there wouldn't be time for scrubbing himself clean again.

The provided comfort might have distracted him from the current stressful events surrounding their return home, but they all trickled back, like ice snaking down his spine, along with an edge of paranoia as he saw Eren approaching him in the mirror, phone in hand, and the still undecipherable look on his face.

Levi dried his hands, taking a moment longer than needed, before turning around and taking the phone.

Unspoken questions muddied the air between them, but neither of them said anything.

Eren had said that it's okay— okay to cry, weep like a child with a scratched knee. The rush of arousal had long evaporated, the afterglow having dimmed; the act itself and the wrongness of it put aside for a fraction of time, or rather locked away in some crevice of Levi's mind so he wouldn't need to deal with it now as Levi stared at his phone screen.

Two unanswered calls. A private number.

He bit down on his bottom lip harshly, a sudden gut feeling flooding him that those two calls had been important.

Only a handful of people called from encrypted, private burner phones. There were two options as to why— either a call for help or a warning of something to come. Levi couldn't decide which would be the worse possibility.

He waited for the person to reach out to him again whilst shooing Eren off to his own room; but as seconds trickled by, he feared that it was too late, and Levi's insides clenched uncomfortably at the thought. Some guilty part of him was almost glad for the unpleasant distraction, providing more reason to distance himself from what had occurred this morning, and even more so, his sudden doubts about Eren's intent.

Not even five minutes had passed before the boy returned, now properly dressed and standing a hair too close, peering over the older man's shoulder as the phone was still in Levi's hands.

Levi still hadn't changed his attire, only wearing underwear and the same white, unbuttoned shirt.

He stood still even as the screen of Levi's phone dimmed and the man appeared to be frozen on the spot, brows furrowed in deep thought, making Eren's patience wear thin.

Levi didn't need to turn around to know that Eren's cheeks were still flushed and hands probably clammy. The boy didn't know what to do with himself now— whether to apologize or to simply turn around and walk back to his room without uttering a single word. The anger at Levi's past actions still hadn't dissipated either, couldn't be ameliorated by simple touch, or so Levi thought, for he could only speculate at what the other was thinking.

Levi felt as if he owed the boy an explanation as to why he had suddenly burst out in uncontrollable tears— ones that had only ceased after minutes— minutes that felt like hours of Eren stroking his hair, fingers as gentle and soothing as the steady beat of his heart next to Levi's ear, lulling him back to ease.

He felt the need to explain that it was not out of regret or repulsion, albeit the former being neither the truth nor a lie.

The apology was stuck in his throat, for the man didn't know who had taken advantage of whom, whether the child or the adult was to blame, but his 28 years of blood-stained life weighed heavy on his shoulders, only made grander by the fact there was now an ache lit in his chest to feel those warm hands around him again, to be told that it's alright over and over again.

Eren was still standing behind him, still too close to pretend everything was like before.

"Who called?" Eren asked, tentative and wary from startling the older man.

Levi didn't reply, lips set in a tight line.

Something had changed; Levi turned around slowly and there was a dimness in Eren's eyes, as if he had asked the question just because it was the correct thing to do.

As if he knew the answer.

Something awful had happened and Levi could feel it slithering up his spine, chilling him to the very marrow of it.

"Levi..."

Eren's voice was quiet, unsure, and the older man heard the rustle of clothing as Eren shifted from one foot to the other.

He didn't answer, still standing too close to the boy and having to look up slightly. The intrusive thought, nagging at the back of his mind and reminding him that he didn't know the boy before as much as he thought at first, was back in full force. But as Levi parted his lips to ask what the matter was, Eren beat him to it.

"There's something I need to tell you," the brunet started, "but first I must ask you something."

Levi nodded, as if dazed at how it appeared to be easier for Eren to put aside what had just happened than it was for him. Or perhaps they both simply wanted to avoid the subject for the time being. For once he had no idea what was going through the boy's mind, and usually he was like an open book for Levi to read, but the look on Eren's face was something new to him—it knocked the man down from his horse of authority.

The boy muttered something about coffee and Levi needing to get dressed and turned around swiftly to go to the kitchen, and Levi was only left to wonder whether the other left to collect his thoughts or to let Levi get his own in order. For the first time it felt as if he was the one being read as an open book, vulnerable and at another's mercy.

He dressed slowly, absent-mindedly pulling on a loose jumper and a pair of jeans after fishing for a pair of fresh underwear.

By the time he was done getting dressed there was a faint aroma of fresh coffee and food wafting from the kitchen.

Phone still clutched in hand, he came down to the kitchen to find two plates of poached eggs, toast and steaming cups of coffee. Eren's face hardened, only faintly noticeable, upon seeing him as he put away the apron.

They sat down at the table without exchanging a word as Levi patiently waited for Eren to finally elaborate on what he had hinted at earlier. He didn't bother thanking for the breakfast before tasting it— and despite his expectations, it wasn't awful, but then again it was just eggs and toast. Not even a salad to go with it, and Levi was sure Eren would fuck that up with too much vinegar.

He watched the boy across him carefully— noting how the lineaments of his face had hardened and the youth had seeped from handsome face, making Levi yet again consider how all the unfairness had made him grown up too quick.

Eren had promised him information, for once without himself or Hanji literally squeezing it out of the boy, and Levi's pointed look, albeit somewhat softened, silently pressed the boy, who, despite that, kept tight lipped, eyes downcast at the now empty plate.

"What was it you wanted to ask me?" Levi chose the easiest route for Eren, not having the strength to push him into obviously uncomfortable territory.

Eren peered up at him carefully, not answering right away, instead busying himself with clearing away the plates. Under different circumstances Levi would've been thankful.

The sound of the water running from the faucet nearly made Levi miss the question.

"For how long have you known Erwin Smith?"

The alarming feeling that something was off came back the second he heard it. He wanted to talk about anything but Erwin, as the man had pissed him off with the surprise appreanace during Eren's rescue operation. And Levi could no longer judge where he stood, as his action appeared to be against the upper echelon's wishes.

"Nearly six years." He paused, waiting for the other to continue. As seconds trickled by, he edged on. "Why?"

Levi bit his tongue and hoped the boy wouldn't drag it out. Yet it appeared he was out of luck as Eren simply continued to wash the dishes, the line of his shoulders tense.

The brunet turned around once he was done, wiping his hands against the jeans he was wearing and Levi winced at the sight.

Green eyes watched him carefully before the boy finally spoke.

"Do you trust him?"

Levi's brows furrowed at the odd question— the automatic answer would be a clear yes, but all the secrets surrounding the man tangled his tongue and the man found himself unable to give a clear answer.

"To a great extent." After mulling it over, Levi chose to give a vague answer. Erwin had gone great lengths to save his ass in the past, and, albeit Levi didn't really want to admit it, if Erwin hadn't shown up in that warehouse shootout then maybe Auruo wouldn't be the only one who'd died. Yet the man had kept him in the dark too many times, making Levi into a mere pawn, destroying their equality.

Eren finally sat back down at the table, his slim yet childish fingers tracing the smooth wooden surface as he parted his lips to speak again.

"And what if you become a liability to him?"

Levi snorted, pushing back into his chair as the mere thought seemed ridiculous to him. He'd always been trustworthy to the industry, even if now it was rocky.

Liability; that was a strong word for a fifteen year old.

"And how could I become one?" The tone of Levi's voice dropped, as if to warn Eren not to meddle in something his 15 year old mind couldn't fully grasp. Yet Levi had to remind himself about the files Eren had on both him and Erwin— ones that contained information that was supposed to be buried; and the odd look he was given earlier flashed behind Levi's eyelids.

Eren's eyes dropped to his fingers again; he had now ceased tracing patterns and there was a faint tremor in the slim digits. Levi watched him like a hawk now— noted how the boy swallowed, hard, his pulse picking up faintly.

"By becoming involved with me."

He wanted to shoot back that they both been involved from the very beginning, that it was the very point of everything, but snapped his mouth shut as the meaning of Eren's words dawned upon him.

Levi paled visibly as the words Erwin had once told him resonated in his mind—

Don't let your heart grow too soft.

The walls here always had eyes and ears, and Eren knew this. There was no way they weren't being watched, even now.

A quaint chill ran down Levi's back as he stared back at Eren, who was now peering up at him through thick lashes—shame laced with ice cold determination.

Erwin had always meant to use Eren's apparent attachment to keep him on a short leash, and at last Eren had figured it out. Levi could tell from the hard edge in the boy's eyes that he wanted leverage. And Levi was his leverage.

He reined in his anger for the places where Eren had kissed him so softly still burned, and something broke inside the man, because that couldn't have been an act.

It was apparent that Eren had expected some outburst of anger—some violent reaction. Yet the blank stare he received from Levi was punishment enough.

A lengthy silence engulfed them as Levi surveyed the boy before him carefully.

"You used me to either gain leverage, or to get me to do something." His voice was surprisingly calm and level, yet the man's eyes gave away the hurt.

"What you want most of all is for this to end, isn't that so? For your friends to be safe?" He couldn't bring himself to express the bubbling disappointment and anger that boiled in the pit of his stomach.

Eren stayed still and tight-lipped, eyes trained on his lap where he was wringing his hands nervously.

"You have to... you have to talk to Mikasa. She was the one who told me what to do when you came-" Eren stopped abruptly, a look of shock slowly lining his face, mirroring the one that was now on Levi's. The boy's mind hadn't caught up with his tongue.

Eren was supposed to be in the blind, he was never to know that an assassin would come for him. He'd acted as if it was all a surprise once it had happened, down to the terrifying fear he had appeared to experience, and all of it had seemed so genuine, even able to fool Levi.

Yet he had known. From the very beginning, he'd known someone would come for him. Was Mikasa Ackerman really the key to the mysteries and riddles surrounding them?

"I gather this is not what you meant to inform me on when you said you wanted to tell me something earlier."

Eren slowly shook his head, the look on his face still frozen in place.

"I can't talk about that."

"You will."

Levi knew he could make the kid talk, even if he was apparently very good at keeping secrets. There were ways to break the hardest of men, ways he had learned during his years of service. Inhumane, yes, but effective. But Levi had an inkling of suspicion that the boy was tired, too exhausted from keeping secrets.

"I don't even know anything! Mikasa is the one who knows more!" He took a sharp breath, eyes wide, "After my parents disappeared, she did too, but I got a phone call from her, not from her number, a private one, she said it was a secure line or something. She told me that someone would come for me and that I should go willingly and—" The boy gasped for air as the words flooded out of his mouth, but stopped abruptly, eyes now pinned on Levi, desperation clear in them.

"And she told me that this person would be my only way out."

If Levi had thought he'd known nothing before, now he felt like a fool— a good soldier, a true puppet— that much he could gather after a while had passed since joining the Industry, but now it had escalated to a point he wanted to laugh. He was a puppet alright, but he no longer had even the slightest idea who was pulling the strings. The inaccuracies and peculiarities of Mikasa Ackerman's birth certificate were fresher than ever on Levi's mind, sending it reeling into possibilities, but Eren spoke up before he could spin even a single theory that'd make any sense.

"You're not expendable; it's the opposite of what you assume. And I never thought I'd... I never thought I'd develop feelings for you, but I couldn't help it."

Silence enveloped them again as Levi sat back, trying desperately to process this new information and to draw a conclusion—of Mikasa's role in his this, of people disappearing and running all of a sudden, as if something ominous was looming above them that only Levi was oblivious to; yet Eren's last words were stuck in his head and wouldn't get out, clouding his rational mind despite his efforts to push them away, to think clearly.

Eren was the one to break the silence, voice barely above a whisper. "And neither could you. It just happened."

Levi closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply. He didn't want to talk about that. He no longer wanted to really talk about anything, but they had to. The conversation was far from over.

Now he understood what Eren thought was his way out, what he now wanted.

He wanted to run.

And it was true that only Levi could help him, and that plea would be fulfilled so much smoother if he held attachment to the boy. The thought alone made Levi grit his teeth, that someone—a mere kid—had wormed his way through Levi's barriers, slithered under his skin, desperate to escape the cage he had been put in.

It was smart, even if there were loopholes and leaps of trust to be taken. Levi could only sarcastically congratulate Eren on his plan, whether it worked out or not, but the man kept his tongue.

Yet there was a very compelling paradox—where had the determination, the ferocity for revenge gone when Erwin had told him about his mother's death. He could remember the look in the boy's eyes as if it had occurred yesterday—full of rage and anger, nearly animalistic and eerily resembling the other side of the boy. He fleetingly wondered if that was the true source of Eren's bloodlust.

What he saw now was fear. There was a question of much more importance lingering on his tongue and Levi had to hold himself back from asking it—something that had nagged at him ever since Eren's return to the place he now called home. But now wasn't the time for it, not before Eren finished what he had started to say.

"Why were you asking about Erwin?"

He looked at Eren, eyes ice cold and stern to demand a straight answer.

Eren grit his teeth, but held the gaze that was directed upon him.

"At first I didn't recognize him. My memories were blurred, but with time I remembered his face." Eren took a long breath to collect himself. "He… brought me there. For a test." He paused after every sentence, swallowing thickly, now unwilling to look at Levi's face. "I can't say he made me do it, because I am responsible for their deaths. But he pushed me. Observed me. He brought me there, told me what to do, and—and once it was done he said I'd succeeded."

It took Levi a while to connect the dots.

"Ask Eren Jaeger to tell you a story he's told you before."

He didn't want to believe it; his mind raced to the conclusion that Erwin must've been acting under orders of the upper echelon.

Then, slowly, it dawned upon him.

Grisha Jaeger had been a part of the upper echelon—not a mere genetics engineer and researcher. He had crafted Eren, made him into an unwilling atrocity. But that didn't explain why he had been disposed of, or why his remains were discovered such a long time after death.

Yet Levi still couldn't understand what had changed in Eren, just when had rage turned into fear—and for that there was only one missing link.

"Eren…" He spoke slowly, softly, even, because if there was an answer to come, it would not be pleasant in the slightest and Levi could feel it—an eerie atmosphere surrounding them as soon as he opened his mouth; and he had a feeling that Eren knew what he was about to ask.

"What happened in Germany?"

Eren's expression morphed into one of dread mixed with panic. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out and for a while the boy just sat there, lips parted, as if the weight of the world sat on his shoulders. A shadow of fear passed over his face, the source of which Levi couldn't comprehend.

"The final stage of the Eotena Project has been reached."

The man froze as the words left Eren's lips; memories of what had been the incomplete stage – the boy before him turned into a bloodthirsty animal – flashed before him.

He was too afraid to ask what the final stage implied. The man simply stared at Eren, knowing that there were no words of comfort he could offer and all that Eren saw was fear mixed with an inkling of pity.