fourteen, no regrets

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...

You stomp up your stairs and down the hall to your art room.

You need a distraction. Your thoughts are daunting, you feel like you're going insane. You're starting to obsess over every little thing that involves Kruger.

You need to lose yourself in painting because that's the only thing that truly helps you cope, accompanied by the therapy sessions you have. Speaking of which, you have one later today. So, before then, it wouldn't hurt to accomplish something. Or at least you can say you've been putting more effort into painting lately without it feeling like a complete lie.

When it comes to the painting Armin wants; the half-assed red one for whatever reason—you think you want the subject to be black, to stand out from the red. You just don't know what it's going to be yet. You wish you had more to go on, like what his book is about, but you got nothing.

But... you can't bring yourself to even look at that painting or focus on what Armin wants because Armin's involved with Kruger. You've thought about warning him by contacting his email, but there's no way for you to tell if he's also involved in what Kruger's doing or if Kruger somehow has access to that email as well. Too risky.

So, ... if he gets caught in the crossfire, so be it.

You suck in a breath and release it slowly, shakily. What's wrong with you? How could you think that? It's Anonymous. Sure, you don't know him... but surely, if he's capable of writing heartfelt books coded with (fairly) ethical righteousness... then he wouldn't do something like Kruger is.

You need to find out how those two became friends and why Kruger said "us" instead of "me" last night.

So lost in thought, that you didn't even realize you had started painting on a blank canvas already, streaks of purple and blue dancing together to make a beautiful blur of galaxy colors.

You've been anxiously waiting for Jean to call and tell you the police found something; some type of update so you're not twiddling with your thumbs forever, but it hasn't happened yet.

No matter how hard you try, your mind wanders to last night. The way his hand connected to your ass with harsh strikes and you hardly wanted to stop him once he started. It's a huge blow to your pride.

But it's clear to you, that in the moment, ... your pride happily flew out the window.

Your hands clench involuntarily at your sides and your brows furrow. Never again. You won't let it happen again.

EREN'S POV

"Seriously?" Armin scoffs, tossing his coat on the back of a chair before he pulls it out and sits down.

"What? Gives me something to do," I shrug, turning the page of the old newspaper. "At least I'm not obsessing over a plan that's kind of unnecessary," I mutter.

"So obsess over an alleged murder... because that's so healthy," He grabs my glass of whiskey, his wrist sporting an expensive silver watch, and takes a swig. Without asking, I might add.

I glare up at him for a second. "Yeah, I don't think either of us should be lecturing the other about what's healthy," I say, snatching the glass from his hand and downing the rest as emphasis.

He crosses his arms and says, "Fine. Enlighten me."

I huff as I lay the newspaper flat on the table surface, and flip it around for him to see. "I found other stuff up in that attic, not that I looked around much, but it just feels like this case isn't what it seems on the surface. Tons of stuff suggests it isn't 'alleged'," With that, I slide an old notepad over to him. "I don't have everything with me, obviously, but these newspapers have certain things circled; dates, places, names... like someone was breaking the article down or something."

He sighs as he glances up at me. For a second, I thought he was going to dismiss everything I said, but he decided to hear me out, saying, "Someone believed otherwise." He looks over the newspaper before setting it aside and grabbing the pad.

"Right, and look at the notes over here," I gesture. "Someone was clearly trying to solve it."

He furrows his brows, blue eyes flickering over it. "...1876? Cl- What clan? " He asks, looking over at the date.

I shrug. "Not a damn clue. Looks like that's what they were trying to figure out. Not sure if they ever did."

"And I thought the 'alleged' murder took place in the 80s," He observes.

"It does, but I guess they were trying to say things started earlier than that, I don't know," I say, looking at the bottom of my glass at the the few drops left inside. "It's interesting to think about, ha." I jut my chin slightly. "And Y/n? How is she?"

He nods. "Therapy session."

I smirk. "Think she's gossiping about me?"

He glares at me. "Grow up." He gets up and stalks over to my kitchen, forcing me to turn in my seat to keep an eye on him.

"What?? Can't handle a joke?" I scoff. He doesn't respond and rummages through my fridge. "Bro, really? Don't you have your own food?"

"Tastes better when it's yours," He shrugs.

I roll my eyes. "And this is the thanks I get for changing your diapers when you were a little bitch," I stand from my seat, snatching the glass off the table and walking into the grand kitchen myself.

"You never changed my diapers," He protests, grabbing the ingredients for whatever he plans to make. I raise a brow and he scoffs. "You're only like... what... a year older than me? You couldn't have possibly changed my diapers."

"Fine, you're right, but I ought as well have, done everything else," I grab my go-to bottle from my glass cabinet and pop the lid, pouring me a "healthy" amount of whiskey. I take a sip and let a hefty, "Ahh," leave my lips.

He glares at me. "That was Mikasa. And she didn't even change my diapers."

I open my mouth to retort, but I got nothing, so I take another sip of my drink and walk back out. "So, remind me of this plan of yours again? It's been a few days since I last saw her. I want to... properly reward our brat for taking her punishment so well."

Armin marches out of the kitchen with what seems to be a ... way-too-leafy sandwich on a plate in his hands. "Can you be patient? For once. I just let you see her and now you're itching for her again?"

"I'm always itching for her, it's more of a matter of how long I can suppress it. Why do we need to hold back? I don't see the point anymore. She's stable. You're so worried about us scaring her too much, well if we keep going back and forth, taunting her, that might drive her insane before our di-"

"Alright, I got it, but still, I want to take it slow in revealing to her who I am. We already dropped a hint or two, but waiting for the big moment is all a part of it for me," He cuts me off, sitting down and taking a bite of his sandwich.

I roll my eyes for the umpteenth time and sigh. "And what does that have to do with me?"

He pauses and looks at me. "You're not doing anything more to her... without me," He goes back to his sandwich, muttering, "Obviously," right before he takes another bite.

Y/N'S POV

Sitting across from Levi feels... more tense than usual. Maybe it's because of all the stuff you noticed you're hiding from him. Maybe it's because of how his eyes pierce into yours with no shyness, but rather... curiosity; like an urge to figure you out like he would a puzzle. At least that's what you're assuming. You can never tell with him.

You thought maybe he did already, figured you out that is, ... but he's never looked at you like that before.

He finally speaks up after moments of silence; after a few essential questions before he asks the one that led to your current conversation. You told him that Kruger may or may not have made another move. You didn't specify, but it's enough for the conversation to take an uncomfortable turn.

"And you think keeping this from Jean... more importantly from the cops, is a good thing?" Levi asks from beside you, holding a cup of tea. You made sure to put it on the grocery list last time. Surprisingly, Jean had Sasha drop them off.

It's weird... you haven't heard from him since you both visited the police department. It makes you itch. You should call him.

You look down and as you part your lips to say something, he interrupts, "But you tell me?"

You shrug at that. "You're my therapist. I think what we talk about is confidential anyways, so yeah, why not?"

He stares at you for a second longer before seemingly deeming that logical enough. "Fine. That doesn't answer my first question." His steel eyes sneak a glance at his notes before meeting yours again.

"Listen, I never said it was a good idea, it's probably the worst one I've had." You suck in a breath. "But every time I try to tell someone, something bad happens," You sigh, glancing away. "And I really... don't want to see him again."

"So, he's been in your house countless times, scaring you, taunting you, so far not physically harming you, ... correct?" He gives you those eyes that you've grown accustomed to seeing. Equivalent to how Jean looks at you or... maybe how a parent would a child. It makes you want to scoff but know you don't have the right.

"No, ... he hasn't touched me," You let out a silent but shuddering breath as you rub the back of your neck. "Just... reminders that I can't get help."

"What kind of reminders?" Levi's brows twitch and for a second you stay silent to think of something to say.

"Like... phone calls-"

"Those can be traced."

"I've given my entire phone to the police. They haven't contacted Jean or anything yet," You huff. You're so tired of being tired, so tired of worrying and being afraid in your own house. At this point, you're terrified of your own shadow.

"If I were to report it instead of you-"

This time it was your turn to interrupt. "And risk getting yourself killed? I can't let you get involved. None of us know what he's capable of."

"I'm already involved. And he's not capable of anything I'm not," Levi says with dead seriousness in his face. After a minute of silence, and you staring at him as if he's nuts, he finally says, "If keeping my mouth shut about all this is what you wish,... then so be it." He nods and you perk up a bit, happy that he's complying.

"But on one condition," you pause at his words and wait expectantly. "If I'm not informing the police... then you are. If he's threatening you, Y/n, then as you're therapist, I'm telling you, you need to tell someone important."

"You don't understand-"

"You're right, I don't understand, because you're not telling me everything, are you?" He interrupts, looking at you as if he can see through your lies and all the downplaying. "How long will you keep everything from those who can help you before you're murdered?"

You flinch at his words. You're shocked speechless—nothing to say in response, because you know he's right.

"This isn't just a difficult situation, it's a life or death situation," Levi brings the cup to his lips by the rim, and right before taking a sip, he asks, "So, ... what will you do?"

LilReaper_

Published: 10.04.24

Total words; 2049

Hi, guys! Sorry for the huge delay, honestly no excuses, just been kind of slacking. Writer's block and all that.

But please give my girl, oishittyglasses, some love! She'll most likely be in the chat but if not, I'll have her tagged anyways. She's been feeling down lately, going through some stuff, just send comfort and love and please, please, please, check out her LevixReader! The New Guy!

It's so interesting, especially when stuff starts to really get revealed!

Love you all! ('▽'ʃ♡ƪ)