Chapter Text
“Swaaaaanky!” Kenny crows, staring around the dorm with an unlit cigarette stuck to his bottom lip.
Levi rolls his eyes and drops the box he’s holding on the counter. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That thing where you move your lips and words come out.”
“Don’t be a little bitch just cause yer gonna miss me, brat.”
Levi doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead he throws the car keys at Kenny’s head. Kenny doesn’t even look like he’s flinched, but the keys still go sailing past to clank against the wall behind him. “Go make yourself useful and start getting my shit outta the truck.”
Kenny flips him the bird, but still picks the keys up and saunters out of the room.
Levi wipes the sweat off his forehead and peers around. It’s ungodly hot outside, and they’d been driving for three hours with the windows down since the AC in the Ford hadn’t worked in about ten years. The dorm room is cooler, but Levi guesses the whole building is warmer than usual since it’s been empty for most of the summer and all the doors are open to accommodate the move in.
Kenny is right. ‘Swanky’ isn’t exactly a word he’d think to use to define a dorm room, but this place almost fits the bill. Levi is standing in a common area; there’s more furniture here than in any living room he’s ever had growing up. Plus it all matches. There’s a flat screen TV hung on the wall, and two desks-- one on each side of the room. The walls are painted a serene blue that matches the richer color of the cushions on the sofa and armchair nicely. There’s a kitchenette with a sink, a microwave, and small stove top with two burners. Levi can see the bathroom he’ll share with his roommate through an open door, and what must be his room through another.
He assumes it is his room because the bed is naked, and it’s clear his roommate has already been here. One of the desks sports a very large and very shiny iMac, and there’s crumpled paper in the wastebasket in the kitchen. Levi picks up his box and then drops it on the bare bed; he spends a few minutes pulling out his faded linens and making the bed before he hears Kenny’s boots jangling down the hallway again.
“Hey, kid, fuck do you want me to put this shit?”
Levi resists groaning to himself. Kenny has come back carrying far too much for one man to comfortably carry in one trip. Levi has no doubt that Kenny is strong enough to handle the huge pile of boxes, but he looks utterly ridiculous while doing it.
“Fuck is wrong with you, you’re gonna break my shit,” Levi snaps, snatching the top two boxes out of Kenny’s arms. One of them has Levi’s brand new (to him) laptop in it and he’d be shit out of luck if Kenny shattered it on the hardwood floor.
“I got it!” Kenny protests, setting the other two boxes down on the floor at his feet. “What do you think, I’m some kinda moron?”
“Obviously--” Levi starts to drawl, but he cuts himself off to gape in horror when Kenny clears his throat and spits absently at the sink. He’s standing too far away though, and he misses. “What the actual fuck, you disgusting shit-for-brains--”
He berates Kenny for a good three minutes while he fishes a bottle of disinfectant out of one of the boxes and scrubs at the spot with a fresh sponge. Kenny just shoves his hands in the pockets of his torn black jeans and goes to stare out of the huge window that takes up most of the wall across from the doorway.
“Nice view you got here,” he mutters when Levi is done glaring.
He stalks to the window, about to pull the blinds shut and tell Kenny to go home when he looks down and sees what it is Kenny is staring at. The window faces the lake, and they have a perfect view of the green lawn surrounding it-- and all the bikini-clad coeds sunbathing in the summer heat.
“Oh, what the fuck,” Levi groans. The last thing he needs is literally anyone catching Kenny’s dirty old man routine. “You’re disgusting, get the fuck outta my room.”
“Aw, come on, kid,” he chuckles, pointing. “You gotta admit-- look, there’s a nice frat boy for you-- you queers like it when they’re all muscle-y like that, right?”
“Get out.” Levi grabs Kenny by the collar of his striped black and tan button up and drags him away from the window.
“What, you don’t want me to help you unpack?”
“I got it,” Levi growls.
“Fine, come get the last box then, and your stupid fucking skateboard.”
Kenny sulks all the way to the truck. Levi stares at the scuffed toe of his off-brand chucks after he pulls his skateboard and the last box from the bed of the pick up, and gets his cigarettes from the glove box and his backpack from the floor on the passenger side.
“So, uh,” Kenny mutters. He climbs into the driver’s seat so he won’t have to keep talking. “You, uh. Stay outta trouble, brat.”
Levi rolls his eyes. If he were five years younger, he’d tell Kenny he doesn’t find trouble and it’s not his fault trouble always finds him. But they both know that’s a lie.
“See ya at Thanksgiving.”
“See ya.”
The truck roars when Kenny throws it into gear. They hit a pothole halfway here and now something in the engine is grinding. Levi hopes, secretly, that Kenny makes it home okay, but he’d never say it outloud.
“Hey, brat.”
Levi lifts his chin to show he’s listening. Kenny stares at the steering wheel.
“I’m…” Levi rolls his eyes again. If Kenny’s just going to waste his time-- “Yer mom would be prouda ya.”
He squeals out of the parking space before Levi can fully comprehend what he’s just said. When the words finally penetrate, Levi stares at the empty space for much longer that he should. Then he turns on his heel and climbs the six flights of stairs back to his room; the elevators are too busy to bother with.
Levi keeps his head down as he makes his way back to the room. He passes people hugging their parents goodbye, greeting old friends, wheeling dollies full of boxes and trunks into their rooms. He makes note of the RA’s room as he passes-- they’d told him at check in where it would be located and to familiarize himself with the layout of the floor. There is a dry erase board on the door that says, Hi! My Name Is: Hanji. My Major Is: Biomedical Engineering. My Pronouns Are: They/Them.
Levi noted a similar board on his own door, but he hasn’t taken the time to fill it out yet; he hopes he can avoid it altogether.
When he opens the door to his room, he draws up short. The room isn’t empty anymore.
There is a man sitting on the sofa. A very large, very tan, very blond man. He’s holding the remote for the TV in one hand and eating an apple with the other. The fingers curled around the apple are black and before Levi can blink and figure out what it is he’s seeing, the man is turning his head.
Fuck.
He’s.
He’s goddamn beautiful is what he is. Blond hair, parted perfectly and combed to the side. Blue eyes the color of the lake. A jawline like a renaissance sculpture and wide shoulders and narrow hips to match. He’s dressed in a soft blue t-shirt that probably cost more than Levi’s hand-me-down laptop.
“Hey!” he says brightly, standing in one impossibly smooth motion and Jesus Christ he’s about a full foot taller than Levi. “You must be Levi!”
He carefully takes the apple out of his right hand, and then holds his hand out.
Levi eyes it.
It’s a prosthesis. Levi almost hesitates before he catches himself. He hastily sticks his arm out and feels metal and plastic squeeze his hand briefly.
“I’m Erwin.”
“Nice to meet you,” Levi mumbles, trying not to wipe his hand on his torn jeans-- not because he’s unnerved by the fact that he just shook a robot hand, but because he knows wiping the feel of the plastic away is probably the most offensive thing he could do and so of course, his body tells him to do it.
“Uh, I got here a little early, so. Hope you don’t mind I picked a desk and a room.” Levi blinks at him and he smiles, expression just a little unsure. His cheeks seem a shade pinker when he adds, “Easier for me to get to the plugs on that one. So.” He motions with his left hand toward the desk and Levi takes a closer looks. The outlet under the one Erwin has chosen is situated just to the left of the desk, and easily accessible. Erwin has already set up his computer; he’s got a strange, bulky keyboard positioned in front of it that’s more square than normal, and curved up in places.
Levi says, “Sure. Uh. No problem.”
Erwin is wearing tennis shoes, white gym socks, and gym shorts. Levi can see all the muscles in his calves. There is a tennis racket sitting on the kitchen counter that wasn’t there before, and a new tube of tennis balls.
Erwin carefully transfers the apple from his left hand back to his right, eyes focusing briefly on the prosthesis, thick, beautiful brows furrowing. He catches Levi staring and Levi clears his throat.
Erwin gives him a brief, lopsided smile, and says, “Weird, right?”
“No,” Levi tells him. “Course not.”
Erwin nods once to himself, and Levi realizes he’s being quiet and strange again. Awkward, Isabel would have said, though Levi hates that word. Too many people use it for the wrong reasons.
“I’m gonna unpack.”
“Sure,” Erwin says. Levi disappears into his room to start putting his clothes away. He is alone for maybe three minutes before he hears the clatter of his skateboard trucks sliding against the base of the counter.
“So you skateboard?”
Levi resists the urge to roll his eyes. No, I just like how it looks. “Yup.”
Erwin appears in his doorway. He leans against the doorframe, crosses his ankles, and says, “Cool.”
Levi looks at him from under the fringe of his hair and gives a short, jerky nod. He looks, impossibly, even taller when he stands like that.
“You play tennis?”
“What?” Levi chuckles cooly, lifting his head.
“Tennis,” Erwin says brightly. “Some friends are coming over and we’re gonna go play so. You know, you can come if you want. I’ve got an extra racket you can use if you don’t have one.”
“Never played,” Levi answers, keeping his voice as neutral as he can. As if he’s ever had access to a goddamn tennis court.
“Jean’s shit,” Erwin answers. “So we can show you how.”
Levi lifts his eyes again, takes in Erwin’s perfect hair and his golden tan and bright blue eyes and luxurious gym clothes and says, “I think I’m alright.”
Erwin shrugs. “Open invitation,” he replies.
“Uh. Thanks.”
He doesn’t leave. Levi has to keep his eyes from rolling out of his head. Of course he got the fucking nosey roommate who is probably just dying to be friends. He actually comes into Levi’s room and drops onto the bed, bouncing the neat piles of worn t-shirts Levi is organizing.
He picks up one of Levi’s textbooks (dinged, tattered, spine covered in pre-owned stickers) and says, “Anatomy. Are you a science major?”
Levi’s jaw slides and he breathes out through his nose. The last thing he needs is to get off to the wrong start with the man he’s supposed to be living with for the rest of the school year.
“Pre-med.”
“Sweet,” Erwin says brightly, dropping the book neatly on Levi’s nightstand. Levi blinks when he realizes Erwin has moved the book out of his way. “Wonder how we ended up in the same room,” he muses. “They usually try to pair you with similar majors. I’m a Classics major,” he adds. “Kinda the complete opposite of you.”
Classics. Well that fucking figured. Of all the useless, self indulgent bullshit.
Erwin has an accent. Southern and sophisticated. Levi could practically smell the old money.
“They assigned me last minute,” he admits. His scholarship includes room and board, only some idiot had fucked up in the housing office and filled the dorm he was supposed to live in. He’d gotten a free upgrade as a result, but he’d known he would be the odd man out among a building full of spoiled, pampered brats. Of course, that would probably be the case wherever he went on this campus.
“Oh, me too!” Erwin says. “That’s probably it then.”
“You too?” Levi betrays himself by asking. Erwin fits right in here.
“I was supposed to live in the frat housing,” Erwin explains. “But this building is reserved for special needs students. Closest to campus and stuff. They insisted I be here this year.”
Levi lifts his head. “Um…”
Levi is saved the trouble of speaking when their front door bangs open and a man even bigger and blonder than Erwin barges in.
“Erwin!”
Erwin is off the bed so quickly Levi’s pile of shirts falls over again. He watches Erwin bound into the living room, calling, “Mike!” and feels his lip curling. The whole greeting reeks of a party movie stereotype. Until they reach each other. Then Mike lifts his right hand to reach for some truly douche-y handshake, but Erwin pauses and spreads both his arms.
Mike says, “Oh, shit,” and quickly switches hands. They perform some elaborate motion that is no doubt a secret, and then Mike says, “Dude, let me see that thing, holy fuck.”
Levi hears Erwin laugh, and then he lifts his right arm.
“You look like the fucking terminator, man, that is sick.”
“Wait, wait, look,” Erwin says brightly. The two men turn toward the counter and Erwin carefully reaches out and lifts the tube of tennis balls with his right hand.
Mike drawls, “Dude.”
Erwin says, “It’s almost like I’m a real boy.”
“Man, I didn’t even know they could do that.”
“Me neither,” Erwin admits, twisting his wrist and staring at his own arm. Levi only realizes he is staring at them through the door when Erwin lifts his head and catches his eye. Levi ducks his head, heat in his cheeks. “Oh, dude, come meet my roommate.”
Mike lifts his head and looks through the door. “Roommate!” he calls cheerfully, making the last syllable last about five full seconds. “How’s it going?”
“Uh, good,” Levi answers. “Levi.”
“Mike,” Mike says, jerking his chin. “Hey, man, you wanna come play some tennis with us?” Mike has a racket slung over his shoulder.
“He says he doesn’t play,” Erwin answers.
“Neither does Jean,” Mike replies with a chuckle.
“Uh, I have to unpack,” Levi tells them. He’s trying not to stare at Erwin’s new hand. It’s apparently very new, if Erwin’s friends haven’t seen this prosthesis yet. Levi assumes Erwin had a cosmetic prosthesis, or wore nothing at all before this.
But then Mike speaks again and Levi has to change his assessment.
“Can you still serve?” Mike asks, voice suddenly just a little too casual.
“Uh. I haven’t tried yet,” Erwin admits. “I was practicing a one-handed serve over the summer, but I still can’t get the power I used to have.”
“How do you do it?”
Erwin swipes his racket from the table and pinches the case between his knees so he can unzip it. “Can you open those balls?” Mike complies while Erwin shakes his racket from the cover. When he holds out his racket, Mike drops the ball on it. He bounces the ball a few times, and then says, “According to youtube, it’s like…” Levi watches him tilt the racket until the ball is where he wants it. Then he tosses the ball into the air, adjusts the racket in his hand, and knocks the ball against the door. “Kinda like that,” he says, tucking the racket under his right arm and picking up the ball. “But I don’t have quite as much time to get my racket up, you know?”
“Makes sense,” Mike tells him. “But, like, practice, man. You’ll get it.”
“Yeah, well,” Erwin continues. “I should be able to do a standard serve now, just left handed. I guess we’ll see.” He drops the tennis ball into his right hand.
“Well, fuck, you ready?”
“Yeah,” Erwin tells him. He replaces his racket in its cover and slings it over his shoulder. “See ya, Levi!”
“See ya,” Levi mutters, watching them both go.
*
Levi finishes unpacking (it’s not as if he has a lot of shit to worry about) and can’t tear his mind away from Erwin the whole time. Levi has never been one for first impressions, but Erwin seems nice enough. He’s exactly what Levi expected to find, if he’s being honest-- his fresh clothes and shiny electronics and frat brothers stink of unappreciated glamor and luxury. He probably has no idea what the real world is like, what it feels like to have holes in your shoes and to pamper a second hand laptop like it’s made of gold. Gold would probably be sturdier, Levi thinks wryly. His scholarship had included a stipend intended for supplies, but it had barely been enough to cover all the textbooks he needed. Most of them he was able to get second hand, but a few had required brand new editions since he needed fresh log in codes and you couldn’t buy those used.
His room looks bare. He hadn’t seen the point in bringing the few decorations he’d tacked up to his walls at home. Hanging broken skateboards and tattered band t-shirts around his college dorm room seemed juvenile.
The bedrooms are small compared to the huge shared living space; they’re almost the size of Levi’s room at home. It’s really just an oversized closet with a dresser, a bed, and an end table. Levi sits on his bed and stares at the pale blue walls for a long time before the itch in the soles of his feet tells him to move, to do something.
He grabs the plastic tub of cleaning supplies from his dresser and gives the bathroom a quick wipe down before he stashes the tub under the sink. It’s spotlessly clean already; Erwin has left a green plastic basket of toiletries suctioned to the shower wall, and another smaller, matching container sitting on the sink. Levi stares at the little shower caddy for perhaps longer than he should. Erwin has shampoo and conditioner of a brand Levi has never seen before-- the writing on the bottles looks French. He’s got another bottle of bodywash, and a loofah on a stick. By the sink he’s left shaving cream, a razor, a toothbrush, and five little bottles and tubes that elude Levi completely. They’re covered in kanji. At least Levi assumes it’s kanji.
Levi doesn’t have a shower caddy. Levi has a toothbrush and a three-in-one bottle of Suave for Men that he found on sale at the Dollar General. He retrieves both and puts them in their proper places.
Then he tries to connect his laptop to the wifi, but it won’t work until he steps out into the common area. He eyes the thick cinder block walls with a mental sigh; there must be a reason the desks are out here and not in the bedrooms.
Classes don’t start for a week and only one of them has posted the full syllabus and first week’s reading online. Levi scrolls absently through the assignment; he can probably do it tonight, he decides.
Instead of pulling out his textbooks like he should, he navigates to Facebook.
Levi doesn’t have a Facebook.
But of course, Erwin does.
He toggles to Erwin’s ‘About’ info first. He’s from a swanky town about an hour south of here and it looks like he’s never had a job before. He’s older than Levi by about three years, which Levi finds strange. It is purely coincidental and it doesn’t bother him at all when he sees the words Interested in: Women before he navigates back to Erwin’s wall.
It’s all there. The arm, it seems, is very new indeed.
The first few pictures Levi finds are all bright, cheerful photos of Erwin showing off his robot arm. Some are shared by his father, with captions about how proud he is, how strong, how driven, how stubborn Erwin is. He clicks back through photo albums, sees a shirtless Erwin with wraps around his stump of an arm playing tennis. In another he is riding a horse. In a third, he’s exercising his shoulder in what Levi assumes is a physical therapy clinic. A little farther back, Levi finds a picture of Erwin in a hospital bed. His right arm is a bulky lump of bandages, and his face is bruised and battered, but he’s smiling, giving the camera a thumbs up.
And after that, he is whole again. Two perfect, beautiful arms and broad shoulders and a pearly white smile. He is lounging on the beach with pretty women, he is dressed in a sports jacket with his frat brothers, he is sailing with his father.
Levi clicks back to the picture in the hospital room, scans the comments. There are a lot of them. Stay strong, brother. Praying for you. You got this!
Levi rolls his eyes at the inane platitudes.
The picture is from a little over a year ago.
Levi closes the photo albums, and starts looking for statuses, for an explanation.
Erwin is popular. The number of people commenting on every status update, sharing pictures on his wall, liking all his photos is enormous. And there are more photos from the passed year than Levi thinks exist of him over the course of his whole life.
He scrolls far enough that he finds the day of the accident; Erwin’s wall is flooded with well wishers, with people hoping for a speedy recovery and praying for him. One comment catches his eye: Can someone please tell me what’s going on is Erwin ok?
Mike is the one who replies. Sailing accident. He’s ok, just hurt. Will share updates.
The thread is flooded with comments. When Mike appears back on the thread, he has more details. At the hospital. Yesterday afternoon, Erwin and his dad were out sailing. They stopped to help a capsized boat and there was an accident. He got stuck between the boats. He’s gonna be alright, but his right arm is hurt real bad. He goes into surgery again in a few hours and we’ll know after that if they’ll have to amputate.
Levi is chewing on his lip without meaning to. He knows how the story ends; reading all the comments from Erwin’s friends hoping for good news is making his stomach hurt.
He navigates instead to Erwin’s videos. The first one he finds is from about a month ago.
Erwin is sitting on a doctor’s table, in jeans and a white tank top. His hair is messier than it usually is in his photos, but he’s smiling just like always. It’s the first image Levi has seen of what remains of Erwin’s right arm-- no wraps, or bandages, or long sleeves to obscure it. He’s talking casually to the camera man. Levi assumes it’s his father.
“Wait, it’s live?”
“Yeah, it’s live, say ‘hi.’”
Erwin tilts his head back and laughs. “Uh, hey guys.”
“Tell them what we’re doing!”
“Uh, okay, so, I’m about to test out my first prosthesis,” Erwin says proudly, looking directly into the camera. “And if there’s no problems, I can wear it home tonight,” he adds.
Erwin and the man behind the camera chat; Levi gathers this is one of many appointments, that Erwin has been here before and tested various pieces of the final product.
Then the prosthetist comes into the room. Levi watches her explain to Erwin how to put the arm on and take it off, and then he watches Erwin very carefully open and close his fingers, a look of sheer joy in his eyes.
“Fuck, that’s so cool.”
“Language,” the cameraman mutters. “Your grandmother is watching this.”
“Sorry, Nana,” Erwin replies automatically.
“Can you turn your wrist?” the prosthetist interrupts. Erwin stares down at his hand, eyes narrowing in focus, and Levi watches his wrist move. He gives a giddy laugh and distracts them all for a moment, twisting his wrist back and forth at various speeds.
“So if I--”
The door opens and Levi slams his laptop shut so fast he winces, afraid he’s broken it.
Erwin is dripping sweat and red in the cheeks. “It’s so hot out there,” he complains, dropping his racket on the table and crossing to the full sized refrigerator for a bottle of water.
Levi tries not to look incredibly guilty.
“Want one?” Erwin asks, when he catches Levi looking at him. Levi shrugs and Erwin tosses him a cold bottle. Levi takes a sip while Erwin drains half of his in one go.
“So. Uh. How did it go?” Levi asks against all his better judgement.
“What now?”
“Tennis? You know. Your. Your uh, serve.” Levi winces behind his hair.
“Oh!” Erwin says brightly. “Not bad. Still wierd trying to do it lefty,” he admits. “But easier than it was with only one arm.”
“So that’s,” Levi begins. He knows what happened now, but he’s not sure he’s willing to admit he’d been Facebook stalking the guy. “What happened?” he says finally.
“Boating accident,” Erwin replies simply. “Summer before this. I took last year off to recover and this is my first semester back.”
“I’m sorry,” Levi says. It seems like the thing to say. But Erwin just shrugs, lips quirking in an expression that is almost a scowl, so Levi presses on. “So you’re still a junior?” He knows the dorms are supposed to put students in the same years together, but he’d seen Erwin’s age and assumed there was some kind of special circumstance.
“Yeah. You?”
“Uh, yeah,” Levi replies.
“Cool,” Erwin replies. There is a long silence. Levi finds it exceedingly awkward, but Erwin doesn’t seem to mind. He stares at Levi like he’s waiting for Levi to say something. When Levi doesn’t, he says, “Well, I’m gonna take a shower.”
Levi furrows his brows at the air; that doesn’t seem like something Erwin needs to announce. He disappears into his room, and when he emerges a few minutes later, naked except for a pair of mesh shorts and a towel thrown over his shoulder, he is carrying his right arm in his left hand. Levi watches him set it on the desk and plug it in before he disappears, wordlessly, into the bathroom.
Levi takes one spare moment to swipe his hand over his face before he opens his laptop again and pulls up the reading he’d planned to do later.
When Erwin exits the bathroom, the whole dorm smells fucking amazing. Levi hates it.
“Oh, hey, I meant to ask you. Me and Mike and a few friends are hitting up this bar after the floor meeting tonight. You wanna come?” He’s standing in his doorway, mesh shorts sinfully low on his hips and a towel draped over his head. Levi is absolutely not staring at his chest and at the overly defined muscles in his shoulders. It takes him perhaps a fraction longer than it should to hear what it is Erwin is asking him.
Levi considers it. He really does. Not because he actually wants to go, but because he’s already turned Erwin down for fucking tennis and even if he didn’t exactly come here to make friends, it seems stupid to turn his brand new roommate down twice in one day. Erwin is clearly just trying to be nice. Levi should humor him.
“Uh, they might not let me in,” he says after an uncomfortable pause during which he is thinking of all the reasons he shouldn’t go.
“What? Why?”
“I’m nineteen,” Levi explains, lifting his head from the reading he’s working on.
Erwin draws up short. “What?”
Levi tries not to roll his eyes and only succeeds in not groaning. “Turn twenty in December.”
“You’re a junior,” Erwin tells him blankly.
“I transferred from a community college,” Levi admits grudgingly. “I took a few extra classes last year, and then a full fucking load over the summer so I could transfer in as a junior.”
Erwin raises his brows and drops onto the sofa. “Fuck, dude, that’s a lot of credits for one year.”
Levi shrugs.
“What’s your schedule like this semester?”
“I’m taking eighteen credits,” Levi tells him. It’s the most they will allow him to take, but compared to his course load last year, when he’d had to get special permission to take two extra classes each semester, he hopes this will feel easy.
Erwin’s lips curl a little bitterly. “I’m only taking fourteen,” he mutters. “I usually take one more class, but they didn’t want to overwhelm me,” he drawls. Levi just blinks at him. “I can still walk to class,” Erwin tells him. “And it’s not like I need two arms to study.”
“That’s some bullshit,” Levi agrees. Then he glances at Erwin’s myoelectric (he maybe did a little research when he was supposed to be studying) arm and asks, “Can you type with that thing?”
Erwin shrugs. “Sorta? The hand positions are limited. So for typing, you can use a pointing motion, but it’s slow as fuck. I’m better off just using it for the mouse and typing with my left hand.” Levi nods.
The arm interests him. It’s an impressive feat of modern science and it’s all Levi can do to keep from asking Erwin to tell him all about it. He also knows it probably cost a small fortune. Erwin’s elbow, wrist, and hand are all robotic. Judging from Levi’s very cursory research, the fact that Erwin’s missing his elbow makes fitting him with a prosthetic more complicated; so Erwin’s slim new arm is probably top of the line, represents the cutting edge of prosthetic technology.
Instead of voicing any of this, he says, “Don’t they make those with like, fucking flesh tones? So it doesn’t look like a prosthetic?”
Erwin pulls a face. “Yeah, but it was weird. Like nevermind the uncanny valley thing, you know, like something just isn’t right? It just wasn’t my hand. I like it better that way. With the realistic design, I kept looking down and expecting it move and work like my real hand. And then it just didn’t...” Erwin trails off, stares at his left hand sitting on his knee.
“It’s pretty fucking tight,” Levi tells him, injecting a little confidence into his voice. “You know, the whole, cyborg thing.”
“Thanks,” Erwin smiles.
Levi’s stomach does a strange little wiggle and he realizes he’s been carrying on an actual conversation with a stranger in which he posed questions and the stranger answered. That’s… new. Levi doesn’t talk to people.
Erwin has a very nice smile. His teeth are straight and white and there’s something soothing about it, calming, like a thumb between the shoulder blades.
Erwin’s thick eyebrows go up, just a little.
Levi is staring.
He clears his throat. “Anyway, yeah, if they’ll let me in, I’ll go. Sure. Thanks.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Erwin says. “We bring the pledges there sometimes. They’re usually like, eighteen, nineteen.” He stands up and gives Levi a wicked grin. “You can DD.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Aw, come on--”
“I can’t drive. I don’t have a license.”
Erwin’s face falls. “Oh. How come?”
Levi stands abruptly, laptop in hand. “I’m gonna finish this reading before we go out, so.” He retreats to his room and leaves Erwin staring after him when he closes the door behind him.
His laptop still won’t connect to the wifi in here, but he’s already loaded the page with the correct article. It’s a long time before his eyes actually pick up the words on the page.
*
He has a meeting with the counselor at five PM. When he emerges from his room, Erwin is eating another apple and channel surfing.
“Heading out?”
“Yup,” Levi mutters, grabbing his skateboard.
“Floor meeting is at seven thirty,” Erwin reminds him.
“Yeah, I’ll be back,” Levi replies. He slips out the door before Erwin can ask him where he’s going.
He’s surrounded by yuppies, he decides. He spots more flashy bikes than he can count, and lots of well dressed twenty somethings in boat shoes. A few of them glare at him when he skates past. He sticks to the street when he can-- the sidewalks are carefully laid brick in most places. He’d tried to skateboard on one of those walkways a few years ago and broke his collarbone when his wheel hit a brick that was just a little higher than the ones around it.
Pixis is waiting for him. “Mr. Ackerman! Right on time.”
Levi grunts and slouches into the office. It’s hot outside; he’s overheated from the ride over and annoyed for it. His tattered Misfits t-shirt is sticking to his back and he can feel sweat dripping out of his hair.
“How was your ride here?”
“Long,” Levi answers shortly.
“Traffic?”
Levi shrugs. The ride had been fairly clear; Kenny had dropped him off at ten AM so the roads hadn’t really started to fill up until the last hour or so.
“Find your room ok?”
“Yup.” Levi sniffs and peers at a poster on Pixis’s wall. It’s a kitten hanging from a tree with the caption Hang in there! and Levi has to assume Pixis means it as a joke. He’s an old, balding man with a light-hearted but somehow steely air about him. Levi has only met him twice before, when he came for his student orientation last month, and when he met with his parole officer the month before that.
Pixis stares at him in amiable silence until Levi finally gives him a flat, uninterested glare.
Then Pixis goes on as if there has never been a break in the conversation. “Did you meet your roommate?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you like him?”
“I just met the guy,” Levi protests. When Pixis just stares at him, he says, “Fine. He seems fine. Asked me to play tennis.”
“And did you?”
Levi lets his eyes go wide. “No, sir. See I didn’t know if the fucking tennis court was on my approved list of locations.”
The side of Pixis’s mouth lifts. “Cute.”
Levi has to resit the urge to flip him the bird.
“You know you’re allowed to go anywhere on campus, and anywhere beyond campus within a two mile radius as long as you don’t go south of Second Street.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I can print out the map for you if you’d like.”
“I don’t need a shittin map, alright, I got it.”
“Are you sure? Because you just said…” Levi glares at him. Pixis smiles. “We’re working on an honor system now, Levi. No more ankle bracelets and curfews. It’s up to you to decide where you can safely spend your time. I think you know no one would have any complaints about you visiting a tennis court, assuming you did so with the intent to actually play tennis.”
Levi shifts in his seat. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ve been reviewing your schedule for the semester. You sure you can handle this course load? The classes you’re taking here are going to be a bit more strenuous than the ones you completed at UCC.”
Levi peers to the side. Shrugs one shoulder.
“Frankly, I’d recommend you drop a class. But if you insist on taking a full course load, I won’t stop you. You have two weeks before add/drop is over. I’d look at your syllabi very carefully and decide if you want to move forward with a full eighteen credits.”
“I took more than that last year,” Levi protests.
“You spent last year confined to your uncle’s home except to attend class,” Pixis points out. “This is a bit different. There’s a lot more to distract you here, and a lot more freedom to make unwise choices.”
“I can handle it,” Levi says flatly.
Pixis considers him for a long time. “I assume I don’t need to impress upon you the opportunity you’ve been afforded by attending this university, Mr. Ackerman. You’ve been given a second chance.”
Levi squirms. He has to physically bite his lip to keep from snapping that he knows, that there is nothing Pixis can say that means more to him than what’s been going on inside his own head. Instead he says nothing at all.
“I know you know not everyone is so lucky,” Pixis says quietly. Pointedly. Levi squeezes his biceps with the tips of his fingers to keep from flipping his chair over. “I don’t think I need to tell you not to waste it. I’ll see you next week.”
“Do we really have to meet every week?” Levi complains. “I’ve got shit to study and shit.”
Pixis stares at him. “Make it through this semester and I’ll see about cutting our sessions to twice a month. Deal?”
Levi nods. “Deal.”
He smokes three cigarettes on the way back to his dorm and still doesn’t clear the sick taste from his mouth.
*
It’s been a long time since Levi was in a bar. He’s pulled on a black t-shirt with no holes in it and a thin black hoodie since he always gets cold in restaurants; he hadn’t intended to use it, but now he’s glad he brought it. He looks like a pariah next to Erwin and his loudly dressed frat brothers. There’s Erwin, in a mint green polo and khakis. There’s Mike, wearing the same thing, basically, but in fucking pink. And then three other boys-- Jean, Armin, Eren. Armin and Eren are pledges, Levi gathers-- or will be, since rush isn’t technically over until next week. Eren has been staring at him all night. Levi’s glad he isn’t drinking or he just might start staring back.
There’s almost a problem when they walk into the bar. The bouncer asks to see IDs. Levi keeps his head down and lets the guy mark his hand with an X; just as he’s about to walk past, the bouncer says, “Hey, don’t I--”
But Levi is already pushing into the bar.
He keeps his hood up and tries to figure out what the fuck Erwin and his frat buddies are doing in this bar.
“You come here a lot?” he mutters the first second he gets Erwin alone.
“Not really.” Erwin peers down at Levi and gives him an evil grin, then lowers his voice. “We just come here to fuck with the pledges. Look at Armin. He’s about to shit himself.”
Levi looks up and he has to laugh. Armin does look like he’s about to lose his dinner.
“We really shouldn’t hang out here long though,” Levi insists.
Erwin furrows his brows. “What, are you scared?” he teases.
Levi feels his jaw slide. “Suit yourself.”
There are worse bars they could have picked, but not by much. Levi sticks to the shadows, keeps his hood up, and scans every face that passes by. Even so, he still misses a few of them. It’s not until he looks across the room and watches someone in a leather vest shove Eren so hard he knocks a table over when he falls into it that his heart really begins to pound.
Eren has crazy eyes, Levi decides. He’s seen eyes like that before, in men who were not to be fucked with. But it’s the guy who pushed Eren that really has Levi concerned.
Levi has stuck close to Erwin and now he grabs him by the sleeve. “We need to go. Now.”
Erwin looks across the room, sees Eren squaring up for a fight, and says, “Oh, shit.”
“I got him. Get your boys.”
“Are you--”
“I said I got him.”
Levi reaches Eren just as he’s shoving a chair out of his way to reach Dom. “Okay, time to go, brat.” He grabs Eren by the back of the shirt, keeps his back to Dom, and starts to yank him toward the door.
“Hey, what the fuck, let go of me, I’m gonna--”
“Get your ass kicked,” Levi hisses. He shoves Eren into Erwin-- he and Mike bustle Eren out of the room very quickly.
Levi feels Dom’s hand on his shoulder. “Hey, where you taken’ him, we was just gonna have some fun, shrimp--”
The frat boys, Erwin, they’re busy with Eren.
Levi turns, puts his hand on Dom’s chest, and lets the other man get a good look at his face under his hood before he says, quietly, “Find some other fun.”
Dom’s eyes get wide and he jerks away.
Levi is out the door before Dom or any of his cronies can react further.
He hits the street fast and keeps on trotting. “Come on.” He’s very glad when they all follow him. His brain feels too fuzzy to pay attention to what they’re all saying. It’s not until he’s three blocks away and sure Dom hasn’t followed them that he allows himself to slow down. By that time, Eren is calmer, but still furious, and Erwin and Mike have been trying to talk to Levi for the past block and half.
“Levi!”
“What?”
“What did you say to that guy? Fucking hell, Eren, how stupid do you have to be to pick a fight with a goddamn Titan?” Mike demands.
“He pushed me!” Eren exclaims.
“Levi,” Erwin says quietly. “What did you say?”
“Just told him ‘sorry,’” Levi lies. Then he tears his hood off (they’re in a safer part of town now) and gives Eren a flat stare. “That guy woulda slit you like a pig, dumbass.”
“I can take care of myself,” Eren growls.
“Yeah, well, so could he.”
“How do you know?” Eren spits childishly.
Levi shrugs. “Fuck with a Titan then, see where it gets you.”
Eren is quiet, fuming. It’s Armin who asks, in a very small voice, “How do you know he was--”
“Vest,” Erwin ticks off. “They’ve all got ‘T’s on the front and a lot of them have ‘Titan’ on the back.”
“And tattoos,” Mike adds. “Under the collarbone on the left side. You could see the top of it under his shirt.”
“You’re lucky Levi saved your ass,” Jean laughs.
Eren looks like he’d like to rip Jean’s head off. Levi decides he has had far too much fucking fun for his first day back in the city.