Notes: I took a week or two to get my shit together. But allow me this, BAM SON 'NOTHER CHAPTER DONE. Every chapter completed is a step towards the end and I haven't finished a multi-chapter story EVER so goddangit I'm hoping I'll finish this one.

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Summary: Levi reminisces about his past, more of being sexually confused, and then crying on a couch ._. Basically.

(Please help find mistakes! If you see one, comment it!)

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Levi

In the past, I used to hear the moans and groans and the screams in my ears everyday. All the time. The dirty bedsheets and the smell of sex would permeate my mind until I couldn't think of anything else and I wasn't anywhere but there. In that small hallway outside the wooden door that stood in a corridor of lots of other wooden doors. That space was a dizzying maze of dark wood and tan, cracked walls. I used to think that I would never get out. The walls were bland and colored with peeling, tan paint, the doors and the ceiling were outlined in chipped, dark wood, and the floor was covered in battered, frayed carpet if you can even call it carpet -- it only came in patches and the rest was a dirty, cold, cement flooring. Whenever it was too hot, I'd huddle on the cement spots for coolness and when it was too cold, I found myself huddled on the small patch of frayed carpet just searching for warmth. Sometimes she remembered to give me some blankets and sometimes she forgot in her exhaustion.

She being my mother. What I'd told Eren about me never having met my parents was only half true; I'd met my mother. I just didn't want to think of the unpleasant memories. But that night when I'd gotten that text message from supposedly Eren's girlfriend, despite my protests they resurfaced in vivid fashion as if they'd been waiting to spring on me at any moment. Before then, I'd thought I was on my way from letting go -- from forgetting. But I should've known that you can't forget that. No matter how many times you try.

There was a reason I painted my walls anything but a light tan and why I adored hardwood floor -- all light colors. Sometimes, if I see a certain color or smell a certain smell it'll take me back to when I was young. But why is it that I'm never able to identify where it's coming from?

I remember my mother in vivid detail. Her hair was brown and not black like mine -- I'd gotten that from my father -- and we didn't share the same eyes either -- hers were brown while mine were a dark blue. Honestly I was reminded of my father just by looking in the mirror and I hate that, but at least I look like my mother in the shape of my nose and the shape of my eyes. I often wish I had brown eyes like hers. They were always so warm. Brown eyes remind me of the chocolates in freshly baked chocolate chip cookies where the chocolates are melted and still too hot to even eat. That's what hers were like -- warm. I'd never understood how people hated brown eyes since their reason was usually that it was the same color as shit, but trees' trunks are usually brown so whenever you look at a tree it reminds you of shit as well?

I dislike my blue eyes. They're so dark that it makes me look like a shark or another dangerous predator which means people automatically stay away from me. Blue eyes are cold like ice and they don't have any warmth -- at least, none that I can think of. Blue eyes can cut like daggers the easiest and they're so uninviting. It's extra hard to look friendly. It doesn't help that my natural face makes me look pissed off.

Everyday when I was younger, she'd whisper softly to me reassuring words before she put me outside the door and told me to cover my ears and not to listen in. Usually, she'd add on for me to run down the hallway and to get away from the door. At first, I'd listened to her and kept my distance from the door and had my hand over my ears almost all the time while she got her "work" done. I didn't know what was happening to her then in my young and innocent state, but now I realize that my mother sold her body so she could feed me: prostitution. Guilt couldn't help but leak through.

If there was anything that I'd deduced from my memories of my mother, it was that she was strong. Selling your body to others is a thankless and dangerous job, but it paid for the essentials: food, clothes, etc. I must've been around four-years-old during these memories.

The first time that I took my hands away from my ears and listened, I heard my mother scream. It scared me so bad and I started to cry. I thought, I need to save her! I need to save her from whatever's inside that room! Yet I couldn't save her. My tiny fists were banging on the door but in the end I gave up and believed that something awful had happened to my mother. I slouched down on one of the carpeted spots of the floor next to the wall and sobbed my eyes out for hours. In the dead of night, I saw a tall, burly man open up the door to our room and leave with an odd look on his face. Inside, my mother made no noise. A hysterical part of me thought that perhaps my mother was dead and that's why she was silent, but the other half told me that I should inspect her before jumping to conclusions. At that moment though, my biggest concern was the tall man leaving our room.

I snuggled myself closest to the wall that I could manage and held my breath. I didn't know what he'd do if he saw me outside, but I didn't think it'd be good. He was in the room when I'd heard my mother scream and he'd probably caused it.

People like him came everyday. I decided I shouldn't be ignorant as to what was happening so usually I wouldn't cover my ears anymore, but sometimes it was just too much and I huddled next to a wall using the blanket's warmth for comfort as I attempted to use the cloth to cover up the noises.

It wasn't always like that, though. Sometimes, there was a woman. She had red, dyed hair that was styled into a pixie cut and several piercings around her nose and ears. I only ever remember seeing her in a white shirt and pants, but I'm sure she wore other things. Her name was Amelia and she was nice despite her rough appearance. If I was lucky, Amelia would come and take me away to her own room which was on a different floor. There, I would color pictures and learn things like how to count and write the alphabet. She taught me how to read. I read a lot -- mostly picture books and easy things. If I wasn't doing that I was practicing my numbers. When I was almost five, I could count up to over 1,000. Unfortunately, Amelia didn't come often. I think she was a friend of my mother's but I can't be sure -- my memories are so faded nowadays of the happy times. It seems I'm only able to remember the bad.

By my birthday on December 25 -- Christmas if you celebrate it -- my mother had fallen gravely ill. I knew it was the men's fault. How could it not be if they made her scream at night and left while she was laying in bed exhausted beyond belief? It was them and I was sure of it. My five-year-old mind couldn't process what had been happening in that room, but later when I think back on it I understood. My father was one of her clients and he'd gotten my mom pregnant. Who he is, I have no idea, but I assume he was a bad guy since he visited a prostitute in the first place.

Kuchel Ackerman -- my mother -- died in her sleep shortly after New Years on January 6 early in the morning. I sat right next to her and watched her die.

Growing up in the orphanage was difficult, but it was made easier by two people whom are still my friends today -- Farlan and Isabel -- but even they couldn't stop my memories from haunting me in my dreams. I thought about what those men did to my mother, and I thought about how she didn't deserve it. In my mind, she was just a mother who was trying to take care of her son the only way she could. I remember that even when she was beat-dead tired, she'd take off the sheets of the bed in our room and wash them. We cleaned the entire room and though I wasn't much help at my young age, I still helped in every way I could for when I swept that broom, I could imagine that I was sweeping out the disgusting presence of the men that visited her.

I decided that after what my mom had to go through, I wouldn't end up like those men. I would never consider defiling my partner in any way, shape, or form. I wouldn't defile another human being like that either. I would hold them in high respect and take great care of them because they were fragile things. If they cared for me, I would care for them. Simple as that.

The experiences with my mother traumatized me to where the mere mention of sex made me uncomfortable. I'd fortunately gotten to the point in my later years where I could talk about it, but I wouldn't partake in it. It was not only the feeling of vulnerability that I loathed, but the awful memories that it brought back. All my life I've wished I could go back in time and make absolute sure that I never lifted my hands from my ears and I wouldn't have such an adversity to sex, because unfortunately that's what a lot of partners liked. I couldn't deliver and so many people wouldn't even give me a chance because I mentioned it. Friends are nice to have, but they don't guarantee that they'll be with you 'till you die. That's all I'm looking for in a partner.

I thought I'd done a good job at treating the people I cared about with respect and kindness. It might take you a while to actually become somebody that I think about, but if you did, I could guarantee that I'd actually care. I thought that every person that cared about me, I'd treated them well enough. So really, I thought that I didn't deserve any of the shit I got in life. That was my immediate reaction when I realized Eren had been cheating on me: I don't deserve it.

I realized pretty quickly that throwing myself a pity party wouldn't solve anything. Whether I deserved it or not, I got shit in life and I just have to deal with it. You can't change the past, but I'm always working towards a better future.

And yet . . . as I sit across the girl he's been dating behind my back at this two-person table at Starbucks which still reminds me of him, I can't help but think, I don't deserve this. And it seems, that no matter how hard I try to have a good life, something ruins it. I can't blame the world for this because I let Eren in in the first place, but that's only because I don't want my past to rule me anymore. I want to try and be normal and act not as fucked up as I am because I realized that I'll never get anywhere if I keep going on as I have been.

So this is just a bump in the road. Having my trust betrayed and my heart broken is just a bump in the road for me and I'll get past it. I will.

Back to the present. There's a girl who claims to be the person that Eren was cheating on me with standing a few feet away from me in the Starbucks that I work at. I have no reason to believe her and I have no reason not to believe her, but I do know one thing: this is absolutely pointless and she's an asshole for wanting to meet with me.

The girl has shoulder-length black hair and dark silver eyes. Her clothes look slept in and I don't appreciate the fact that she didn't at least clean herself up before meeting with me. I can tell she's trying to be confident but the slight shake in her voice when she spoke to me earlier and the fact that the smile that adorns her face is just a bit too forced betrays her, making her look more nervous than either of us want to admit. I don't know what she thought this meeting would accomplish and quite honestly I don't care. I have shit to say and it shall be heard.

I'd been halfway out the door when she'd spoken up, but now I was fully turned around and staring at her with cold eyes. Just this once, I was happy for my blue eyes that would hopefully make her uncomfortable. I was disappointed when I realized that she herself had the same shade of dark blue.

I narrow my eyes at her. "This is pointless," I spit out. I don't sound friendly and I'm not trying to. "Why is it that you called me up and not Eren?"

She looks to be slightly more comfortable as she sizes me up and takes in my personality -- figures out a way to deal with me and the situation.

Her eyes narrow as well. "Because this for our benefit." She seems to have lost her friendly tone and it's replaced with something much colder, determined, and sharp. She comes off as a bit scary and intimidating as she can change her situation so well, but she also seems like a good person to have around since she can adapt to situations quickly.

"I don't think talking to you is going to help. You're not the root of the problem. Confronting Eren would give me better results."

"Then why did you come here?"

"Because I didn't want somebody continuously trying to contact me because they stole their boyfriend's phone."

She sighed. "Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. If we could just take a moment and talk about this I'm sure we'll get rid of the misconceptions we both have, yeah?"

I didn't miss that she didn't deny stealing her boyfriend's phone. She was starting to seem a little like a scary kind of person to me -- more so than when I first met her.

"Fine," I begrudgingly agree. "But on one condition." She nods her head for me to continue. "I talk first."

"I can live with that."

She walked over to a small table-for-two close to the window. The people outside and inside the coffee shop seemed so much happier than I felt. This part of Michigan is full of lots of nice and happy (and rich) people in my opinion. I haven't lived much anywhere else so honestly I can't make any accurate conclusions, but it certainly felt friendlier here than some other places.

We both sat down at opposite sides of the table with equally stony and annoyed looks on our faces. I was annoyed because I felt this was a waste of time and she was annoyed because I wasn't enthusiastic . . . or maybe it was because I mentioned stealing her boyfriend's phone. Or should I say ex-boyfriend?

"Talk," she ordered. I wasn't fond of her commanding tone. I shot her a quick glare.

"This is pointless. What good will happen if I'm talking to you? Nothing. I don't need answers because it's blatantly obvious that Eren's a liar and I'm a bit ashamed to say that I didn't catch on quicker. And if I do need answers, I'll confront him about it and not you. See? Also, it makes you seem like a dick to invite me here anyways." She didn't flinch. "It's basically you just rubbing it in my face."

She kept staring at me for a moment and if looks could kill, I'd be dead. I nodded my head once to show that I was done talking. It was good thing that I did because it didn't look like she could fathom what I was saying anymore or she simply didn't want to.

She began sharply since she seemingly had given up on using a friendly tone with me, "I didn't call you here to rub it in your face. I'm not that much of a bitch. Also, to be very honest, I'm such a selfish person that I called you here just so I could get answers. You may have the courage to face Eren but I don't. I don't think I could take that. So, let me ask you a few questions before you decide you're too good to talk to me and fly out of here on your peasant-drawn carriage."

"You just insulted me and you expect me to answer your questions?"

"I'd call it even since you just called me a dick."

"Touché. I'll answer your questions. Shoot."

She visibly relaxed and her face got more emotional. It was such a change that it almost made me widen my eyes in surprise. I could sense that this wasn't normal behavior for her and that this was a sign of something close to desperation. Eren had meant a lot to her, too, huh. I'm not surprised really; Eren might be a bit harder to get along with because of his passionate personality, but he listens and I like to think that everybody wants to be listened to at some level.

"Okay, well . . ." she began shakily. "Um, I haven't even properly introduced myself, so firstly, I'm Mikasa Ackerman."

"You did introduce yourself earlier. I'm Levi by the way." I didn't mention the odd fact that we both shared the same last name.

"Oh, right,  yeah, hey, Levi." She was wringing her hands out of distress under the table. Was she gonna ask me a question or not? "Tell me, did Eren ever act distant to you?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Not really, but he would randomly become unavailable. I assume now that that's when he'd go off to meet you."

"He'd do that to me as well, but that's not really what I meant. More like, did he ever feel like his emotions were cut off? Like he was hiding something from you? Like he was just using you?" She looked so nervous. It was surprising.

"I gained no pleasure from kissing Eren. I kissed him on the cheek from time to time to show affection, but other than that we just talked. To be honest, we felt more like inseparable friends than a couple." She looked a bit confused. "I'm asexual. When I get a boyfriend or a girlfriend, it's to have the comfort of someone always being there for me, not to have sex."

Her nervousness melted into sadness. I could see it in the way her eyes and gaze lowered. "Is that right, huh?"

It's as right as you need to know, I thought. The truth's that I don't honestly even know what I am anymore, but I've gotten comfortable with that fact a while ago. I'm 35 for gods sake and you'd think I'd have myself figured out at this point, but apparently not. Am I asexual or am I just afraid of sex? I don't know and quite honestly don't feel like figuring it out.

I nodded my head in response. Her eyes glistened with tears.

"Eren would . . . come to me just asking to kiss me. In about the last six months, he's been so distant emotionally. He had no problems being with me, but he wouldn't talk to me like he used to. He used to be an open book to me, but then it seemed he just closed himself off. I have a feeling it has something to do with his parents' deaths, but then you could be the reason for that also. It seems Eren was just using me for my body, huh. Recently, the only time that he'd started spending time with me without making out was last night . . . when we went out for my birthday."

I felt . . . bad for her. I mean, at first she was a little bit weird with how fast she could change her personality, but I can see that through all of this . . . she was just being used by someone that she obviously cared about greatly and probably loved if I'm reading into this correctly. Even worse, she'd found out on her birthday.

"One night," I began, and she lifted her head up to look at me with the tears still threatening to spill over, "Eren came to my apartment crying. Eren's normally such a happy person, you see, that having come to me bawling his eyes out hurt. No one would like to see someone they care about crying especially as hard as he was." I swallowed. I'd always considered this a bit of an intimate moment with Eren and I was a bit hesitant to share. "He told me that he was just told that both of his parents had been shot and stabbed during a robbery gone bad. And I . . . didn't know how to comfort him. I never knew my parents well, so when they died it was less of a shock for me and I just felt normal if I mentioned that my family was dead. He spent the night with me and he fell asleep on my lap. I remember thinking that I was lucky he'd chosen to come to me for support even though all I could do was pet his hair and whisper words of comfort into his ear."

The tears had started to fade from her eyes as she concentrated on my story and when I finished she just stared at me. "What was the point of telling me that?" she asked breathily. She was so quiet that I had to strain my ears and half guess to make sense of what she said.

"I don't really know," I admitted. "I just felt like sharing."

Her eyes were downcast. "I really was just being used, huh. I thought I meant more to him than that, y'know?" Her voice cracked.

I nodded. "I have a question." She nodded her head at me. "On a scale of one to ten, ten being extremely surprised and one being you didn't even blink an eye, how surprised were you when you found out Eren was cheating on you with a man?" It was a sad attempt to lighten the mood.

She didn't miss a beat with her answer: "Zero." I raised my eyebrow in surprise. "I've known Eren was bisexual since we were 13 and he figured it out. It's strange because the guy he had a crush on for maybe two weeks before he decided he was a dick-head, he's still friends with. There's still some dissonance between them since that guy -- his name's Jean but spelled like jeans -- that guy admitted he had a crush on me and Eren didn't appreciate it." She giggled as if recalling a happier memory from a happier time which she probably was. The giggle's happiness faded to a melancholy note before slowly dying out -- almost as if it wasn't even there.

I sighed loudly to clear the air. "Well, maybe this meeting wasn't so bad after all."

"What do you mean?" she asked quizzically.

"I found out how much of a dick Eren could be. I mean, how could he do that to such a pretty girl like you?"

She giggled a bit. Let's be clear, I was not flirting but trying to get her to stop being so damn sad. She was killing my vibe of confidence I'd had going.

"Thanks," she sighed. "For answering my questions and for the compliment."

I managed a small smile. "No problem."

Despite our talk, I didn't feel remotely better. I still felt as if I'd been used and it turns out he hadn't been okay with not being able to kiss me. That's just another thing he'd lied about it seems. I used to have faith that I somehow could still work this out, but it didn't seem like that was gonna happen now. In fact, I don't think I even want that to happen after hearing about what he'd done to Mikasa. I'm not "friends" with her per se, but it would be disappointing if she died.

"How long have you known Eren?" I asked suddenly.

She seemed a little taken aback, but she answered, "Since we were 10. I was his neighbor a few houses down. Neither of us had many people we could call actual friends at the time so naturally we drifted towards each other. When did you and Eren start dating?"

Since I thought that's what a good boyfriend does, I remembered our anniversary like it the back of my hand which I know pretty well. I said, "December 5, 2014. We started dating exactly one year after I met him. That's quite a funny story, but for a later time. How 'bout you?"

I'd just slightly mentioned that perhaps I'd see her at "a later time", but I didn't really care what this was or what this could be at this point.

"We started dating in June of 2013."

"Ah. Did he or you ask him out?"

"I did," she chuckled. "He's always been a bit oblivious when it comes to relationships. He never was the romantic type either. He ended up acting really awkward."

An alarm sounded off in my pocket and I made quick work of silencing it. I looked down and saw it was time for me to go to work. I looked up at Mikasa.

I said, "That was my alarm telling me to get to work. I work here if you didn't already know and my shift starts at one."

She nodded in understanding. "Of course," she said. "Thank you again for answering my questions. Also, if you don't mind my asking, but how old are you?"

I don't know if it's actually hard to tell what age I am, or if she was just being polite, but I was pleased either way.

"Don't you know it's rude to ask people their ages?" I smirked.

"I thought that rule only applied to women," she countered.

I sighed. I hope to god she doesn't think of me as a pedophile. "I'm . . . 35."

Her eyes couldn't help but widen in surprise before she realized that was a rude reaction and forced them down to their usual magnitude.

"Yeah, I understand kid. I get it. But like I said, Eren was honestly more of a friend than anything so don't think I'm a pedo or anything."

She nodded her head as we both stood up.

"Right. Of course," she said. I could tell she was still surprised though but I didn't see any disgust which was good. Mikasa Ackerman was an interesting spectacle and I wouldn't mind getting to know her better; that would be hard if she thought of me as disgusting or disturbing.

"I'll see you later then, Levi." She gave a curt nod and began to walk away after I offered one myself. She was odd and seemingly almost as good at acting as Petra, yet interesting and not off-putting.

The conversation had given me a lot to think about that's for sure. I'll think about it as I'm staring off into space at the door, waiting for a young, care-free, college student wearing this extremely faded green, sunset hoodie to walk in through the door and order a chocolate milkshake. That's when the thought finally occurred to me: we must be the only Starbucks to sell chocolate milkshakes.

I worked until around 7 and when I got off, I was tired off my ass. It felt different today, but it was Friday and I wasn't looking forward to a lonely weekend. I still felt like I needed answers and only Eren could answer them.

I drove by his apartment and I had originally planned on confronting him then and there, but I just couldn't do it. I didn't have the energy both physically and emotionally. Driving past his house but feeling like a stranger hurt. I didn't like it. I had been so neutral about this whole thing -- I hadn't cried once despite the awful tearing feeling in my chest. Eren Jaeger had made a nest in my heart and now that I knew we were on bad terms, I felt empty -- hollow you might say. I wish I didn't. I'm trying so hard to hide my emotions. I'm usually so good at this, but for some reason I still care about Eren.

I still care about him a lot.

I stared at his apartment window for a bit and took note of the blackness within the apartment. I wondered how he was feeling. A part of me hoped he felt bad, but another part hoped he didn't feel anything at all -- happy even. I don't know what Eren saw in me, but I still felt a little special knowing that he came to me for comfort. Except, Eren basically used Mikasa.

I'm so confused. I just wanna sleep.

And sleep I did, with my head rested on Hanji's lap as we sat on the couch in a pool of my own tears, because even though I'm accepting  this, I haven't gotten over it.

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Next Chapter Coming January, 23 . . . hopefully :)