#young levi

His footsteps were heavy, carrying his presence through the maze of streets that made the Underground City. A scent of blood followed him, mixing with the rotten stench of the land itself. A man would be stupid not to fear Kenny as he passed him by, but that did not mean that the tall man posed any danger to the average citizen. The blood on him painted a warning in bright red, telling those who were strangers to him that they'd best keep their distance, but the man was no stranger to making himself a temporary friend or two, in fact he was quite friendly with the ladies who often served him beer. Remaining by their side however, to his grandfather's great dismay, was something he didn't quite manage to do. Though perhaps even that man knew that it was best for Kenny to wander the world alone. Alone, besides of course, that one exception.

His ward, a child Kenny had taken in after a visit that had gone far from how he had hoped it would. A boy that in his own way had brightened Kenny’s life, a queer one, that kid. Kenny fondly recalled how clueless he had been about child care when he first got him. After their first meal out together, once Kenny had introduced him to his home, Levi as he boy was named, had completely ceased to drink, allowing himself to become dehydrated to the point Kenny was certain the frail being would pass away. And in his cluelessness Kenny had allowed it. He had, of course, considered making the child drink by force, but something about it didn't sit right with him. Though the idea never failed to make him chuckle.

Levi's salvation had come to him in the shape of Kenny’s forgetfulness. He had boiled himself a pot of water, intending to use the hot liquid for something that today slipped his memory completely. But exhaust had gotten the better of him, and it had delivered Kenny early to sleep that night. He was a light sleeper, so he had awoken as Levi started rummaging around, dragging a chair over to where the pot stood, the water now cold. Levi had filled himself a cup, and downed it faster than Kenny had managed to properly register what it was he was witnessing, but the message was received, and after dusting off an old Kettle, Kenny always kept it filled with boiled water, clean enough for the child to drink. An expensive affair, firewood considered; this was something Kuchel surely never could afford, but it was an expense Kenny was willing to put out, as long as it kept the kid alive.

As Kenny thought back to the small joys and challenges Levi had offered him, he had neglected to offer the land his attention, and he wouldn't have given it any thought if it had not been for the mention of his name from up ahead. A group of men, some younger than himself stood huddled together, sending him looks that he struggled to read. They did not move as he approached- unlike most men, they did not shy away as they realised his attention had fallen upon them. Instead they seemed excited by the idea that they were in his sight, and once more Kenny heard his name be spoken between them. A man his age, blonde and broad, had a laughter that came punching down on Kenny. And though he was not afraid, it had quickly become clear that these men had no good intentions. They had grouped up not far away from his home, and they were unmoving, despite that warning of red upon Kenny’s clothes. These men were unafraid, but their eyes told Kenny that they knew very well who he was, they knew he was not one to lose a fight, and here they had come looking for just that.

Or so he had thought. As Kenny made his evaluation of the situation, the group quickly dispersed. His hand, which had rested eagerly upon his blade, faltered as the men passed him by. That blonde man came awfully close to him, his shoulder nudging against Kenny’s as he took his leave. Had he not been somewhat weirded out by their behaviour, Kenny might have told them off, but instead he remained silent, his eyes following the group to make sure they remained civil. He enjoyed himself a fight, but this close to his home, he much more looked forward to his rest. So Kenny remained still, only now that they pushed past him, noticing the bloody stains that painted their clothes red.

“Hey kid” Kenny had thrown his hat aside as he stepped into the home he shared with the boy. “How's my favourite runt?” he teased as he moved to also remove his coat, throwing it over the back of an old creaking wooden chair. “Oi Levi” The boy had not replied to him, but there he stood, upon a stool with his back to Kenny. “Forgotten how to speak?” The boy remained unmoving, so Kenny stepped forth, his large hand reaching out for the boy's fragile shoulder. “You ignoring me, kid?” he had broken out a laugh just as he came in contact with the boy, but this laughter just as quickly died as he felt how the child trembled underneath his touch.“Boy!” Worry overcame the tall man as he spun the child around to face him.

“Don't touch me!” Levi's tiny fist had come flying straight at Kenny's face, punching him hard enough to push him away from him. Kenny had no room for anger, the man had not even had the time to think that thought before his eyes fell down on the child's face. The room grew silent about them, time feeling as if it stood still as the man took in the sight before him. The young child was covered in blood, his shirt drenched in the substance. And the boy continued to be soaked, as blood kept gushing from a gash upon the young kid's forehead. 

The first sound that returned to Kenny's ears was the sound of buzzing flies from somewhere within their home, and the second had been a whimper. Then a loud thud as the boy kicked away from the chair, his bony arms wrapping about Kennys neck as he threw himself at his guardian in a desperate attempt at seeking safety. Not knowing what else to do, Kenny embraced the trembling boy, instinctively beginning to rub his hand up and down the young boy's back, feeling how his spine hit against his fingers. He was fragile, like a doll.

As he held the boy, his eyes fell to the counter Levi had been standing by. A bowl laid tilted upon the surface, a container that once had held water now having spat it out onto old wood that would undoubtedly mold, that was of course if they assumed that the stench of mold that had plagued them wasn't already coming from that exact object. 

“I want my mom” Levi's words struck something in Kenny, leaving the man feeling as if his throat was on fire; this time, unlike those times when good booze found its way into his hands, was a kind of fire he detested, one that he had ran from for as long as he could recall. 

A broken wheeze escaped Kenny's dry lips as he bit his teeth together, shutting his jaw and silencing any other unwanted sound from escaping him. As with each breath he took, the fire grew stronger, and so did the trembling of the boy. The child, now crying against Kenny’s musty shirt.

The two of them remained still in each other's embrace until the fire had died and Kenny finally began moving again. His attention now aimed purely at the mess on the counter and what it could mean. It didn't take him long to get it either, despite the boy's odd way of being, he was easy to read. “Okay” with trembling hands Kenny put the boy back down on the chair and moved towards the kettle that held their drinking water. After the spill, that was all the water currently available to him. “How are ya gonna survive if you can't even-” now was not the time to barrate him, mugs were heavy, especially the large flagons Kenny kept their water in until it was deemed drink or wash. 

His knees creaked as he knelt down by the boy with the beautifully painted kettle in one hand, and a rag in the other. Lowering himself before the boy, Kenny soaked the rag before lifting it up towards Levi's face, watching as the young kid closed his eyes, bracing for the cold and the pain.

The air grew stiff as silence commenced once again, with the child unresponsive, Kenny had no reason to keep chatting. The boy was perhaps in need of the silence. Previously sitting completely stiff and straight in the chair, Levi’s demeanor slowly shifted, his head now weighing down on Kenny’s hand, his face still wet from the tears and blood which his guardian now gently washed away. The man's hand was big and rough, much different from- but with his eyes closed, the boy could at least pretend.

“There you go, Levi. All clean, let's get you to bed now.” her voice echoed through Levi's mind, a voice as soft as butter and filled with everything good in the world. Her hands so soft against his skin as she helped him get ready for bed; she often joked, hugging her boy close to herself as she silently whispered things that never failed to drag a chuckle out of his tiny lungs. With her, Levi had never felt small, scared, or fragile, but now without her, the world seemed way too vast, and the hand against him was rough and large, feeling as if it was touching him right by the bone. The world had eaten away Levi's strength and his bravery, his body too. The world was nothing but cruel, a monster that had come for them and left him alone in the care of this strange man. 

That day, Kenny left him. The man who had held him in such a familiar embrace had cleaned him off, and without a word had stood back up, turning his back to the child before calmly making his exit from their home.

Levi had been quick to his feet, attempting to follow the man before the door slammed shut after him. He knew Kenny thought little of those who couldn't protect themselves, he knew that Kenny must have looked at him with disapproving eyes as he cleaned him off. That comfort that Levi had felt, slowly washed away from him, escaping him as quickly as water seeped into cracked floorboards, vanishing only to never be seen again.

Or at least so the boy had thought, crumbling to the floor, the boy's breath caught in his throat and all he could let out was the shadow of a scream, a wheezy pained attempt at sharing his sorrows with the earth. And there on the floor, Levi had remained, falling asleep curled up about himself like some stray dog trying to keep warm.

There Levi remained until a familiar scent filled his nose, waking him from another nightmare. Kenny, with his white shirt now painted a filthy red, stood with his back turned to the child, keeping an eye on a pot of boiling water. Their dining table had been cleared off and set for a new meal. No, not a meal.

Levi pushed up from the floor and slowly made his way to a table that had been set with beautiful porcelain cups, similar to their pot, the cups were painted with flowers upon their small bodies. These were cups Levi had never seen before, but they brought with them a warm sense of familiarity, for they reminded him of her, of his dear mother.

“Sit down hm?” The two of them sat across from each other, a cup now made warm with tea in each of their grips. Levi had leant over his cup, taking in the scent. He had told Kenny about his evenings with his mother, but never had he told him what tea they enjoyed, for the child himself had not been aware of its name. Kenny however, had managed to pick one that smelled the exact same.

“They won't be coming back around here, kid” no, Levi had realised that much. Those men who had come by and delivered him that beating, they would not be going anywhere ever again. Kenny’s sore knuckles and bloody clothes were enough to tell that tale. Levi hadn’t had to tell his guardian a thing, but the problem had been solved regardless, had it not been for his now pounding headache, Levi might just have thanked him for the help.

The child again remained silent, waiting for his tea to cool down, but now he gave the other nods and shrugs in reply to whatever he had to say, no longer freezing him out of his world. It was only until the tea was cold enough to drink however, that Levi remained silent. Kenny had once mentioned that he had never tried this beverage himself, so when he lifted the cup up to his lips, Levi watched on with excitement. A groan soon escaped Kenny’s lips, though it was immediately made clear that the man had tried to keep his composure, only letting it go when he realised Levi had seen.

He looked at Levi as if the child had betrayed him, before he put the cup aside. “You don't want a beer instead, kid?” 

“I'll kill you-” replied Levi, receiving a hearty laugh from the man.

.

Now again Levi stood face to face with the man who had once been his guardian, this time a grown man instead of a young and feeble child. Once more, Levi had blood on his face, but this time it was not his own, rather it belonged to the man who sat before him.”You.. Who were you to my mother?” the blood on his face was allowed to remain, he knew that the other didn't have much time, and any time spent cleaning up would for once feel like time lost.

“You idiot” the man would always find an excuse to insult the boy, his pride and joy, his favourite runt- “Just her big brother” , his nephew.

Instinctively, Levi had wanted to slap that grin off the bastard's face, but he had one more question to ask. “That day, why did you leave me?” That day, they could have gone home together, had another chat over the drink that Kenny hated so, but kept drinking with the boy regardless.

It was an August afternoon, the sun was blazing in the sky, the blinds of the houses in the residential area drawn down. You and the other kids in the neighborhood would ride up the hill behind the block, near the main road, and speed down it on rollerblades, skateboards, and bikes - sometimes without hands.

It was one of the only times you played with other kids outside your friend group, sometimes they were older, sometimes from other schools.

With the handlebars thrown forward, adrenaline pounding in your temples, you felt your fingers tremble over the brakes. Your body was dangerously leaning over the wheel, and suddenly, the balance was off. An instinctive movement of your left hand, a wheel skidded in the asphalt  tipping in suspension, you flew over the handlebars, over the hot, sticky tar. Your arms moved instinctively over your face. And then the momentum sent your legs over your head. Back on the ground. The bite of the tarmac against your face. The gravity. An endless roll. The red fluttering behind your eyelids. The throbbing of your heart in your neck. A squeal of tires. A scream.

Someone probably brought you to the ER, but you didn't remember. The last thing you remembered was Hange's rollerblading figure in front of you, and the next moment, you were waiting in a foreign room. You saw mom rushing in, not a single word coming out of her mouth as her black eyes settled on your face, dirty with dried blood.

Five stitches on the brow bone, a head injury, and a broken arm. The doctor had whispered to mom, "You were lucky”. She looked so lucky indeed, pulling out her checkbook at the reception counter. She hadn't said a word on the ride home. You asked where your bike was. She said she would sell it. So lucky.

Lost a bike, gained a cast. Sitting on the sidewalk in front of your house, you had brought your markers to the small crowd of curious neighbors and hands busied themselves singing on the rough plaster. Levi had drawn a bicycle among the clouds, Moblit little hearts, Hanji monsters, and several little hands signed their familiar names -others less so.

That night, in your bed, by the light of the bedside lamp, you had traced each drawing with your fingertips, gloating over this new attention. And then, behind your elbow, where you couldn't see, you touched something in relief. You had contorted yourself on your bed so you could see what it was. A small yellow flower had been stuck with a small piece of tape. Next to it, a flawless handwriting drew in too small letters, a signature like a whisper. Zeke.

You frowned at the name. His face was blurry in your head, unable to define to who the name really belonged. You sometimes played with the boys, but never with the kids who went to the private school. They were often there when you played on the hill, but you rarely talked to them. You talked to Mike. Because he was nice. And he had a skateboard.

You gently removed the piece of tape, grabbing the fragile flower between your grazed fingers. It was a buttercup.

The next day, while Moblit gave you a leg up to jump over the wooden fence, you thought about how mom had said, "You can only play in the yard." But it was hot and you were bored. Levi shrugged when you asked if he knew a Zeke guy, and Moblit said he would sometimes hang out near the hill during holidays. The three of you had raced across the block, toward the hill. In your hand, a blue marker.

When you got there, you found Hange, bossing around a few kids, but none of them were the one you were looking for. They said, "The boys went to the park earlier, they said they were going to play baseball with their dads."

The park was farther away, and you weren't really allowed to go by yourself. But then again, you weren't supposed to be out of the yard, so you didn’t make much of it.

Leading the little gang, Hange was racing with Moblit on their rollerblades. It was so hot, running through the empty streets, and your head was pounding. You stopped to catch your breath, your friends carrying on their race. Levi turned back, ran up to you and grabbed your hand. He glared silently at the stitches above your brow, and in a single movement, he took off his cap and put it on your head. His hair was ruffled underneath, sticking to his forehead. Your shorts were brushing against your skinned knees, the sun reflecting on the road and in your eyes. You could feel the droplets of sweat forming in the gaps between your skin and the plaster. His hand still in yours, you started running again.

The trees shaded the baseball field, and from afar, figures were stirring, the sound of a ball being hit with a bat, voices breaking out. You heard Levi say that you couldn't go onto the field just like that. So, with both hands on the fence, pushing yourself up on your toes, you shouted. Shouted a name that belonged to a blurred, uncertain face.

Heads turned to your little group, Hange putting a hand over their mouth, Levi his hands over his ears. People were looking at you intrigued, so you called out his name again, a name now so familiar, as it had been running on a loop in your head, trying in vain to remember a pair of eyes.

Finally, he appeared. Among his playmates, he walked towards you, a mitt in his hand, golden hair hidden under a red cap and an insecure look turned towards you. It came back to you, as you had seen him before, sitting on the edge of the hill road, reading books, or chatting with Erwin. But never on a bike. He wasn't part of Erwin's gang, but you'd seen him with them sometimes. Zeke. A vaguely familiar face.

The game had been paused; a few adults suspended in their movements. Moblit helped you get over the fence again. Once on the other side, you ran towards him, and he copied the movement, striding towards you. You stopped a few inches from him, your eyes leveling with his, and only pointed to the empty space on your cast. He looked at you in silence, his eyes wide. You said, "Did you do that?" and his cheeks blushed, his eyes locked on the small empty space, his name signed beside it. He simply nodded, eyes downcast. Then, you handed him the blue marker clutched in your hand, "Draw it," you said, shoving the pen into his hand. "I had to take it off, it was going to get ruined, so just draw it." He reached out with trembling fingers, one hand grabbing the plaster, and with hesitation, he drew. You watched him, trying his hardest. His mitt was long forgotten at his feet, his silver eyes fixed on your arm, the tip of his tongue pointing between his lips.  

When he put the lid back on your pen and handed you the marker, you pulled on your arm so you could see his drawing. The sweetest little buttercup, forever engraved in the plaster. No one else had used the blue pen.

When you looked up at him, you were smilling so hard, your cheeks were strating to hurt. You said, laughing, "You're cute, Zeke". He looked up at you, his face violently changing color, and behind him someone called his name. He opened his mouth to say something, but you had already turned around, disappearing behind the fence, your friends laughing and wary.