Chapter Text
Max wasn't sure why he ever thought this was a good idea. Ean just had such a strong way with words. He was walking uncomfortably close to Ean down the alley. Their long, black, wool coats brushed against each other with every step. Both of them had worn their Doc Martens for the sake of looking like badasses, but Max knew they would stand out anyway. Neither of them had ever broken the habit of military posture.
“I think we've made a mistake,” Max said. Ean shook his head.
“This is our target population,” Ean insisted. “There may even be some veterans here. Most of the time we'll only see these people when they come in for treatment.” Max gritted his teeth.
“I hope you actually grow out of the adolescent invincibility phase one day,” Max muttered.
“I somehow doubt that will ever happen,” Ean admitted. "If the Army couldn't take it away from me, then I guess it's here to stay."
They turned onto another street and there were large warehouses on either side of them. Ean swallowed and looked around. There were plenty of street lamps, and the moon was full. The area still looked very dangerous somehow, too many shadows. Ean's adrenaline was already pumping.
“How did you even find out about this?” Max looked down at Ean. Ean grinned.
“That seedy looking guy at the gym,” Ean said. Max looked forward again. “He really is selling drugs. So I bought I little bit off him and asked where I could go if I ever got tired of the gym.”
“You bought drugs from him?!” Max's eyes went wide and he stared down at Ean.
“Calm down,” Ean chided. “It was just a little coke. I flushed it.”
“Ean,” Max snapped. “What the fuck?”
“Max,” Ean reached up and put a hand on Max's back. “Do you remember when we played Dungeons and Dragons as kids?” Max wrinkled his nose down at Ean. “I was always chaotic good right?”
“That doesn't translate to real life, Ean!”
“Sure it does,” Ean said. He pulled his hand away from Max then and began walking towards the alley between two warehouses. Max stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed Ean. Ean took his phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight. Down the alley, he could see the handles to the metal staircase they were supposed to take.
“That's it,” Ean said. “It goes down to the basement.” Max grabbed Ean by the back of his coat and pulled him back.
“Ean,” Max snapped. “I have a bad feeling about this. It doesn't smell right.” Ean looked up at his friend. He trusted Max's nose, sure.
“I can't explain why I want to do this,” Ean said. “But you and I have both been attracted to extreme violence all of our lives, Max. We've always understood that about each other without judgment. And there's nothing more violent than a basement full of drugged, fighting men. If this is too much for you, I'll gladly walk you home. But I'm coming back.”
“What if I threatened to tell Felicia?” Max face was firm. He would do it, and Ean knew it. But Ean just shrugged.
“If she's going to refuse to marry me based on the insanity that attracted her to me in the first place, then I will be better off without her,” Ean said flatly. He loved Felicia. But he wasn't going to miss out on things he wanted because of her. Max snorted and gritted his teeth. Ean turned and began walking towards the metal staircase.
The farther he and Max descended the stairs, the louder Ean's heart was pumping in his ears. Then it seemed like the walls were vibrating. And they were. Down at the bottom of the staircase was the metal door with the slot in it. On the other side, there were loud noises. Some of it was obviously heavy music, but Ean and Max both could hear screams over the pounding of the bass. Ean turned the flashlight on his phone off and put it back in his pocket.
Ean and Max reached the bottom of the staircase and stood in front of the door. Max elbowed Ean gently, and Ean looked to his right. Max was holding out his fist with something in it. Ean put out his hand, and Max dropped some bright orange ear plugs into Ean's hand. Then Max, started rolling the ear plugs between his fingers to mold them, and stuffed them in his ears. Ean followed the example, and the pounding music on the other side of the door were muffled as the ear plugs expanded in his ear canal.
Max knocked. Ean looked up at him. He never understood why Max followed him like this. He didn't deserve such a good friend, such a lawfully good friend. But they had been inseparable since high school. Then they joined the Army together, and did their full four years intending to earn G.I. Bills. Max couldn't afford college otherwise. Max even demanded Ean tutor him so they could get into the same college when they finished. Then, Max chose the same major as Ean, for no reason. Max didn't want to do substance abuse counseling in the VA. He was just following Ean. And now they were here together. Ean turned to look back at the door. Nothing happened for what seemed like a long time.
The slot in the door opened, and through it, Ean could see a single eye. The other eye was sewn shut. Without a word, Ean quickly signed the hand sign that the seedy gym guy had taught him. He had to practice it for three days after he had learned it to make sure he was confident with the motions. And when he had Googled what it meant, he found out that it had been American Sign Language for: “Invite me in, mother fucker.” When the guy on the other side of the door saw the collection of hand signals Ean made, his eyebrows raised. He closed the slot in the door. They heard the heavy lock in the door turn.
The door opened, and Ean stepped in first. Max was right behind him. Ean stopped and pulled the cash out of his pocket. The door man was holding out his hand, and Ean put the bills in the large hand. The man counted it before putting it in his pocket. Transaction complete.
Ean turned from the cyclops then and began walking. Max followed. There was a long hallway that opened up at the end like it might in a stadium. The hall wasn't wide enough for them to walk side by side, but Ean could feel Max's eyes on his back. Excitement and uncertainty was rushing under Ean's skin, and he could feel his chest vibrate with anticipation when he breathed.
At the end of the hallway, the basement opened up. There were metal staircases to scaffolds and catwalks where most of the observers were standing. Some were standing around the pit where a fight was currently happening. Ean stepped forward towards the circle of men that surrounded the shallow pit. From the looks of the basement, it had once housed heavy and large machinery. But it had been cleaned out once the business which was using it had sold the building. Ean wondered who owned the building now and whether they knew about the fights. He guessed they must. Max caught his arm, and Ean looked around at him.
Max shook his head and began pulling Ean away from the circle of men near the pit. Ean's eyebrows furrowed together, and then he realized his mistake. The circle of men was for upcoming fighters. They were standing close to look at the competition, most of them shirtless. Ean allowed himself to be dragged away, and Max took him to a staircase for a catwalk above the pit. Max led the way and Ean followed, careful of his footing. The staircase didn't look steady, but it didn't matter. There were plenty of men much bigger than Ean or Max on top of the catwalk already.
When they reached the top of the staircase, Ean took the lead again, and he found a place along the railing where he and Max could see the fighters best. Some of the men had laughed at them as they passed because they saw Ean almost walk into the fighters circle. But Ean was too busy. He was already analyzing the men standing around the pit. Then his eyes turned to the two fighters who were bare fist boxing. The loud, primal music was drowning out the sounds of impact of fists hitting skin.
Max leaned in close.
“Start guessing what drugs they're on based on how they fight,” Max yelled. It sounded like regular speaking in the loud arena. “We'll compare notes afterwards.” Ean nodded, but didn't turn away from the fight. He didn't really care about Max's game. He was too mesmerized by the blood and bodies.
That's when one of the fighters hit the other one squarely in the face, right on the nose. The aggressor kicked the man when he was down. Ean tilted his head and wondered why the winner had done that. He decided it must have been a very personal fight.
Two men from the ring of men dragged the downed man out of the pit, and a trail of blood from his head was left behind. He had probably cracked his skull on the concrete. The winner was holding his fists, wrapped with white athletic wrap, up in the air with his victory. The wrap was turning a pinkish color from the blood of his knuckles and challenger's face. Ean's eyes trailed over the man's body. He was in very good shape. There were assorted tattoos or varying styles and professionalism on his skin. The most noticeable was an Imperial Eagle from the Third Reich of Nazi Germany spread across his shoulder blades, with a swastika under it, of course. Some prison variety tattoos covered the rest of his back. When the man turned to face the rest of the crowd, Ean saw the big, black swastika on the man's left collarbone. Normally the swastika would have been on his neck as a proclamation of his loyalties, and Ean's eyebrows furrowed.
“Why your collarbone?” Ean wondered. “Does it hurt more? Is pain a commitment for you?” Bone tattoos were the most painful kind, is what Ean had heard. The fighters around the pit were all reluctant to step into the make-shift ring. Many of them were standing back with their arms crossed, quiet. If the winner left the building right now, he probably wouldn't make it home alive. But Ean's thoughts were dismissed as soon as he saw the next fighter step into the pit.
His breath caught. Ean stared at the man's face. He knew that man. He didn't know how, but he was definitely familiar. There was something about the irritated but also disinterested look of his features that Ean recognized. The young man was much shorter than the winner, and he had a head full of black hair. His long hair was pulled into a big bun on his head with a tall undercut below it, and his pale skin was rippling with lean muscle. The challenger wasn't wearing a shirt. There was an eagle, globe, and anchor on the left side of his chest, the United States Marine Corps insignia. His fists were wrapped in black athletic wrap. He wore pink fighting shorts that hung loosely on his lean body. Above those shorts, was a trail of dark hair that led from his navel down below. For some unknown reason, Ean's mouth watered. He lost focus, but shook his head and continued his analysis.
Ean thought it was stupid that they weren't wearing gloves, but obviously none of them had day jobs. So there was no one who needed an explanation for their scraped knuckles. Either way, if any of them ever wanted to get help, scarred hands would be difficult to explain without blatantly lying.
The winner seemed to be degrading the challenger now. He was pointing aggressively at the tattoo on the challenger's chest, obviously belittling it. Part of him wished he could be in the circle of challengers now. Not to fight, just to get a better look or to hear what was being said. It was obvious that he and Max had not come to fight though. They stood out in their nice coats and boots, but no one bothered them. Bets were being placed now. There was a line of men making their way to a corner of the room to a man holding up tickets in his fist. Ean's eyes went back to the fight.
While the winner seemed to be yelling or trying to provoke his challenger, the young, dark haired man only stood there with the same disinterested look on his face. He looked thoroughly unprovoked and even tired or bored. No matter how hard the winner tried to rile the challenger, there was no response. Max elbowed Ean then. Ean looked up and met Max's gaze.
“I bet you Taco Bell that the short one wins,” Max said loudly.
“It's a Marine fighting a Neo-Nazi, Max,” Ean retorted. “He'd better win.” Max smirked. Ean didn't know why Max suddenly seemed to be enjoying this when he had been so reluctant earlier. He blamed the new found excitement on adrenaline. The loud, bass heavy music helped. Ean turned to look back at the fight. It still had not started. The winner was still yelling, and had not made a move towards the challenger.
“He's stalling?” Ean thought. It seemed like the winner was nervous, and Ean tried to understand why. The challenger had decided he was tired of waiting, and he spread his feet, bent his knees, and put his fists up near his head, knuckles out. While Ean couldn't recall the name of the stance, he knew that it was from a discipline of Martial Arts. He would look it up when he went home. The winner visibly stiffened, but then went into his own position. It was a boxing style, and Ean was worried that Max would lose his bet. While Martial Arts was a full body weapon, something as concentrated as boxing could overwhelm a good fighter. Not to mention the boxer was Southpaw. Max and Ean's eyes were both completely glued to the fight now.
“Pink shorts,” Ean mused. “That's Muay Thai, isn't it. The challenger has actually studied the discipline. So he's broken two taboos then. He's a military man with Martial Arts training in underground fighting.”
Ean couldn't keep up with what was happening in the ring. All he could tell was that the winner was throwing punches, and the challenger was dodging, smoothly. He was waiting for an opening, putting very little energy into the dodges, saving his energy. The circle of men standing around the pit began to thin out when they realized they didn't want to fight either man. Another punch was dodged, and the challenger lifted his left foot from the ground, slamming it into the winner's rib cage. All of the force from the challenger's hips met squarely against the skin of the winner's side. The winner stumbled back and held his ribs for a moment. At least one rib was bruised, maybe broken. The power and momentum in those limbs was incredible. More men around the pit began leaving. Some were cheering on the challenger then, mostly the ones who had been angry at the Nazi.
The winner threw a punch, and the challenger dodged. During the dodge, the challenger lifted his foot again and slammed it, full force, into the dead-center of the Nazi's right knee. The knee had been locked and rigid so all of the force from the challenger's kick broke the man's leg just below the knee. Pure white bone was visibly poking out from under the skin just before the Nazi crumbled to the floor. He would probably never have proper use of that leg again, due to the joint damage.
The men who were left standing around the pit began to leave now that the fight was settled. They didn't want to challenge the Marine, but they were cheering him on as they walked away. Most of the men that had been standing on the catwalk began leaving too. Their bets were ruined. Pink shorts and a small stature had thoroughly fooled them. That's when the new winner, the short man, leaned over the broken man and spit directly on the swastika tattoo just before he was dragged out of the ring. A shiver ran up Ean's spine.
“Fuck,” Ean breathed. The winner looked around the pit then. There was no one left to challenge him. A few men stepped forward to try and drag the broken boxer out of the pit, and he struggled the entire way, seemingly insist he could fight.
The man, who had been taking bets in the lower corner of the room, walked over to the winner in the pit. He threw some bills at the winner's feet and began counting the rest, shit eating grin on his face, as he walked towards the exit. The money wasn't much. Ean counted a few twenties, but there were mostly smaller increments of cash. Maybe less than $300.00 total. The winner knelt down to collect the money. Max leaned down to speak into Ean's ear.
“Track marks,” Max commented. Ean's eyes fell to the winner's arms as they reached out to collect the money. He hadn't noticed the red splotches on the inside of the man's elbows before. From the inside of his elbows, a trail of little red and pink marks reached all the way up to his shoulders on both arms. Some were fresh. None of them looked infected. The winner stood, rolled up the bills and stuffed them in his underwear, as it was the only pocket he had. Hiding his money had pulled his shorts down a little too far, and it left his right hip bone exposed. Ean licked his lips.
The music stopped.
“Five-O!” someone screamed. “Get the fuck out!” Max grabbed Ean's arm and pulled him. Ean couldn't take his eyes off the winner though. Even if the police were coming, he needed to say something to the winner.
“Marine!” Ean called. He didn't know why. The winner looked up at the catwalk then.
Silver met blue. Erwin remembered. Levi took a step back, reeling from all of the memories rushing back into his mind. That was his Commander.
“Levi!” Erwin screamed, then. Levi's eyes spread wide and he was motionless with shock, lips parted. Mike was pulling on Erwin's arm. Max was Mike! Erwin's head was swimming.
“Ean! We have to go!” Mike turned began running, his boots ringing loudly on the metal under them. Quickly, Erwin fished his phone out of his pocket and threw it down to the pit below him. He turned and ran after Mike then. He didn't get to see if Levi caught the phone.
“Let's go!” Erwin yelled, to no one, to Levi maybe. Mike was far ahead of him now. There was a huge smile on his face.
They made it down the stairs and ran out of the way they came. He didn't turn to see if Levi had run too, but he knew that he had. Now Levi had his phone, and he could call him. Erwin ran as fast as his legs could carry him, glad that he and Mike were still in good shape.
When he and Mike ran up the stairs down to the basement, Mike chose a direction, and Erwin followed closely. The sound of sirens began getting louder and Mike turned down another alley.
The two young men ran down enough alleys and took enough turns that they were able to stop and lean against a warehouse to rest. The sounds of sirens had stopped now because the police had arrived at the entrance of the fight club. It was empty now, of course.
“What the hell happened back there, Ean?” Mike accused between panting. “You know that junkie?” Erwin was bent over, resting his hands on his knees. He smiled and nodded.
“Yeah,” Erwin smiled at the ground. He knew that man, and he was no junkie. That was Levi Ackerman. That was Humanity's Strongest Soldier.
“How?” Mike's voice was harsh now. Erwin thought about what he should say. Mike still had not remembered.
“Former lover,” Erwin muttered. Erwin stood up straight then and adjusted his coat around him. He pulled the ear plugs out of his ears and put them in his coat pocket. Mike was standing, staring at him incredulously.
“You've never dated anyone except Felicia,” Mike accused. “Especially not a man!”
“Not that you know of,” Erwin insisted. Mike's jaw clenched, and Erwin wished his could explain. “Let's go home, Max.” Erwin struggled with Mike's new name, and would have to be very careful not to say the wrong thing.
The two young men turned and walked down the alley casually. They would have to go back to the main part of town to get a taxi.
“Were you ashamed to tell me?” Mike finally asked.
“Of course not,” Erwin said. “It's more like,” Erwin paused and thought about it. “It wasn't necessary for you to know.”
“Did you use drugs with him?”
“No,” Erwin assured Mike. “I knew him before he lived this life.” Mike huffed and reached up to scratch his mustache. Erwin smiled. Mike was still the same, even if he didn't know it.
“You owe me Taco Bell,” Mike said. Erwin smiled and nodded.
“Do you want to stop by there on the way home?”
“No,” Mike shook his head. “I'm not hungry now.” Erwin looked up at Mike and saw the stress on his normally stoic face. He wondered how Mike would feel when the memories returned to him again. A fight club would pale in comparison to the carnage of Titans. Erwin's innocence was gone now. He was truly an adult in a young college student's body now. All of the knowledge he had from his past life would help him find Levi.
“I need to see Felicia anyway,” Erwin said. Mike smiled.
“Yeah,” Mike agreed. “The adrenaline made me hard too.” Erwin laughed and furrowed his eyebrows at the same time. “Maybe I'll go see Rachel.” Erwin nodded.
“Can I borrow your phone?”
“Where's your phone?” Mike frowned down at him.
“I dropped it while we were running.”
“Sucks,” Mike said. He fished his phone out of his pants pocket from under his coat. Mike unlocked it and handed it to Erwin. Erwin looked through Mike's phone contacts.
“You don't have Felicia in here?”
“Why would I have your fiance's number in my phone?”
“Emergencies,” Erwin said. Mike frowned. “I'll kik her.” Erwin pulled up Mike's kik application and typed in Felicia's screen name.
Lost my phone. Call Max's number: 555-0262 – Ean
Erwin turned the volume up on the ringtone and turned the screen off before he handed the phone back to Mike.
“She'll call soon,” Erwin said. His walk felt different now, more confident. Everything felt so strange and new. Knowledge was flooding his mind.
Mike and Erwin were riding in a cab back to their apartment by the time Felicia called. When it rang and Mike didn't recognize the number, he handed the phone to Erwin.
“Hello?” Erwin answered.
“Hey, baby,” Felicia said. “You lost your phone?”
“Yeah,” Erwin said. “Can I come see you?”
“Sure,” Felicia said. “I just got out of the shower,” she added with a sultry tone. Erwin swallowed and tried to keep his voice even. Normally, he loved to hear that, and now it made him uncomfortable.
“I'll see you soon,” Erwin said.
“Alright. I love you,” she said. Erwin hung up, and let out a breath he had been holding. She would be pissed by the time he got to her apartment now.
“Mi-Max,” Erwin stammered. Mike was looking at him oddly now. “Do we have any whiskey at home?”
“Unless you've drank it all,” Mike said. Erwin nodded.
******
At three in the morning, Erwin stumbled back into the small apartment he shared with Mike. It was dark, and he figured Mike really had gone to see Rachel. He shut the door behind him and locked it before moving to his bedroom with purpose.
Felicia had been devastated, naturally. She had thrown the expensive ring at his feet so hard that it bounced against the floor, but he ignored it. Part of him wanted to comfort her, but instead he had just walked out on her. There was no way for him to explain to her what had happened anyway.
Erwin opened the door to his room, closed it behind him, and walked to his desktop set up.
“Levi.” Sitting down in his desk chair, he swiveled to the computer and moved the mouse until the screen turned on. Steam was still up, and he closed and exited from it.
Erwin pulled up Chrome and went to his Gmail. From his Gmail, he could make a phone call. He pulled up the phone application and typed in the phone number to his cellphone. Erwin put on his headphones with built in microphone. Then he dialed.
Three rings later.
“Yeah.”
“Levi,” his voice was breathy with excitement. Erwin had a huge smile on his face. “Can you hear me alright?”
“Where... are you calling?” Levi's words were slurred and he was talking very slowly. He hadn't even been able to complete the question. Erwin's heart dropped, the smile faded. Undeniably, Levi was high. His speech was slow. So he was using a depressant. And if it was intravenous, then he was probably using heroin.
“Home,” Erwin said. “I'm calling you online.”
“Huh,” Levi said flatly. There was silence then. Erwin expected Levi to say something else, but nothing happened.
“Darling,” Erwin muttered, devastated.
“Erwin.” Levi sounded really far away. Erwin closed his eyes and his head hung heavily.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” He held his breath when he waited for the answer. “I'll take you out for coffee. Or tea.” Erwin remembered Levi enough to know what would do the trick. There was a long pause, and he wondered if Levi had passed out.
“Can you come get me?” The question was weak. Erwin lifted his head and opened his eyes.
“I'll come get you now,” Erwin offered quickly, his eyes running over everything in his field of vision without actually seeing anything. The panic in his voice was obvious, and he needed to calm down. If he panicked, Levi might hang up on him.
“Not now,” Levi slurred. “Tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Erwin nodded, his headphones bobbing on his head. “Tell me where and when.”
“Whatever,” Levi's voice sounded weaker. He obviously couldn't think straight.
“I'll come get you at 1400 tomorrow,” Erwin said. He pulled up a Notepad on his computer. “Tell me where.” Levi didn't answer right away. “Levi,” Erwin murmured. “Can you hear me, darling?” Erwin automatically put a hand to one earphone as if that would help. It wouldn't, the volume of his earphones were turned up to the maximum.
“Erwin,” Levi said. The voice filled Erwin's head.
“I'm here,” Erwin assured him. “Tell me where to pick you up tomorrow.” Levi slowly, uncertainly, told him the name of a library, and Erwin typed it out in front of him on Notepad. He hoped that Levi was remembering the name correctly. “I'm coming to get you at 1400,” Erwin repeated. “Can you remember, darling?” Levi went silent while Erwin pulled up the address on Google maps and looked at the building so he would recognize it the next day. Levi didn't even want Erwin to know where he lived. He hadn't even remembered the name of the library correctly, but Google had corrected it when Erwin searched for it.
“Erwin,” Levi repeated.
“Yes, darling,” Erwin said. “1400 tomorrow. 2:00 pm okay,” Erwin repeated. He desperately hoped Levi would be able to remember.
“I'm so happy.” Levi's voice was painfully slow, hoarse. Erwin smiled anyway. That definitely sounded like heroin. The euphoria of that drug was notoriously strong. Still, Erwin wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe Levi was happy to see him.
“I am too,” Erwin said. “Levi.”
“Uh huh.”
“Let's hang up for now,” Erwin offered. “I'll see you tomorrow.” He didn't want to hear Levi talk anymore.
“Stay,” Levi muttered. “Stay until I fall asleep.” Erwin's eyes creased, and his chest hurt. He didn't want to listen to Levi anymore, but Erwin couldn't deny the request. Levi wouldn't be awake for much longer anyway. Erwin just hoped that Levi hadn't taken too much this time.
“I'll stay with you,” Erwin promised.
On the other side of the phone, Levi was staring at the ceiling of the shitty apartment. He blinked slowly. A roach crawled across the ceiling and disappeared into one of the holes in the walls. This place was worse than what he had remembered of the Underground from his first life. But he didn't care. Not even a little. There were tears running from his eyes and into his ears, but there was a goofy smile across his lips. He was so happy. His breath was shaking with every inhale. All that mattered was Erwin was on the other side of the phone, and he would see him tomorrow. Levi closed his eyes again. He couldn't keep them open for long.
“Levi?”
“Erwin.”
"Levi, are you laying on your back?" Levi took a shaky breath. "Levi, roll over onto your side."
"Erwin-"
"Levi, this is an order, roll over on your side now," Erwin demanded. Levi's brows furrowed, but he felt the desire to fulfill the order. Carefully, slowly, he rolled over onto his left side, the phone perched against his right ear with his hand.
"Yes, sir," Levi breathed into the phone. Erwin sighed into the phone, relieved. Levi nodded off again. An indeterminate amount of time passed for him, but he jerked awake, instantly saying the first thing that came to mind. "Erwin," Levi muttered.
“I'm here, my love,” Erwin said. It sounded so sweet. It was Erwin. He was still there.
“I've dreamed of you,” Levi heard the slow words, but he couldn't feel his mouth move. “I've dreamed of you,” he repeated. He didn't know if he had actually said the words or only thought them.
“I've dreamed of you too. All of my life,” Erwin said. Levi's lips pulled into another smile, and the phone fell away from his ear when his hand relaxed.
Erwin waited and listened.
“Levi?” No response. No sound of breathing. The phone would probably die soon, but Erwin couldn't disconnect the call. He had promised to stay. He minimized the Chrome window and pulled up Steam to browse through games. Erwin had zoned out from the phone call until he started hearing a shuffling noise.
“Landon,” a deep, male voice said. “Get up,” it demanded.
“Landon,” Erwin thought. “Levi's name?” Erwin leaned over the desk and put his forehead in the palm of his hand while he listened.
“Get up, babe,” the voice said again, softer this time.
“Oh, my God,” Erwin felt dizzy. Levi was with someone. Maybe a partner, and the man didn't sound surprised by Levi's condition at all. Partners in dope. There was some more shuffling and some mumbling.
“I've got an idea to make you feel better, baby. Let's give you a speedball.” Erwin's eyes widened.
"Levi! Wake up!" Erwin screamed into his microphone.
“Who the fuck are you talking to, Landon?” The call disconnected.
Erwin sat there, holding his head in his hand, his mouth still hanging open. He closed his eyes, tightly, suddenly praying.
"Don't take it, Levi."