Chapter Text
I’ve always been a fucking lazy ass, and tonight was no exception as I lied sprawled on my couch like dog shit smeared on the sidewalk. And I was feeling shitty indeed. Which was nothing new, since I’ve been like this pretty much ever since I came out of my mother’s cunt - Perpetually pissed at everything and everyone, fed up with the entire world, and thus lazy as fuck.
My sluggishness usually reached its peak in the evening, as I came back home from that shitty hole of a school where I scrubbed dumps and polished the hallways filthied by those brats’ muddy shoes. Clearly it was too much of a hassle for their parents to properly educate them and teach them to use doormats. But why should they bother? After all there would always be an underpaid asshole to clean up after their mess. And in this case, that underpaid asshole was me.
The urge to throw up when I mopped the floors was overwhelming but at the end of the day I felt proud of myself for making that shithole shine (and occasionally scaring to death the students that lingered in the school after classes. God, their terrified spotty faces were priceless).
I’m not gonna lie, I would have gladly stuck my wet mop in some of those kids’ faces (especially that Jaeger or his friend Kirsch-something, when they fight over the half-asian girl), or thrown bleach in their eyes (thiswas actually something I would have done to headmaster Pixis, who always spills rum on his fucking desk and leaves it a sticky mess). But I never acted on such impulses; I was not that big of a jerk. And those snotty brats had nothing to do with my shitty problems.
I rolled on my side and grunted. In that moment the sound of an electric keyboard and a drum’s thumps came from the kitchen, soon followed by Jake Shears’ shrill voice. It sent shivers down my spine, like nails dragged on a chalkboard. “I don’t feel like dancing” was the ringtone I had chosen specifically for him, though it didn’t fit him at all. You should have seen the face he made when once I couldn’t find my phone and asked him to make it ring. Mouth slightly agape, his piercing blue eyes had gone impossibly wide.
I let Shears sing some more until the call ended, and stretched my legs in satisfaction. I knew he was going to call again, maybe in two minutes, maybe half an hour. I knew this because I did this little game every single time he called. After I would always come up with some lame, half-assed excuse for not picking up earlier, and he’d believe me every fucking time. Or perhaps he’d pretend to. No, he most definitely pretended. After all, his job required the ability to put up with and overlook his “client’s” weirdest shit; if he wasn’t able to, his liver would burst (as well as his balls). I got drunk on the feeling of having this kind of control over people, it was like an addiction that I had no intention of kicking. Having people hang on my every word just felt too good.
I was on the verge of dozing off when I heard Shears going off once again. I got up slowly and grudgingly dragged my sorry ass to the small and neat kitchen where I picked up the phone
"Yo."
"Ah, good evening Levi."
Gosh, his voice sounded like honey even on the phone. I hopped on the table and let my feet dangle lazily.
"What do you want?" I wasn’t annoyed by him or anything. It was just how I normally acted and he knew it.
"I’m in your neighborhood right now, checking on some families in the area. Are you at home?"
I felt thrilled knowing that he was nearby. Toying with a pack of cigarettes in one hand, I told him “Mh. Wasn’t the visit scheduled for next week?”
He answered without losing a beat -fuck, I had never caught this bastard faltering. Ever. “You’re right, but I’m close to your home so I thought I’d take the opportunity and check on you, too. But if you’re busy we’ll just stick to the original plan, don’t worry”
I glanced at the clock that hung close to the window. It was half past eight already, and he usually got to work at nine in the morning; he always worked overtime and never got anything out of it. He was a public employee, and one of the lowest ranks too: a social worker.
"You had dinner yet?"
"No, actually I haven’t had lunch ei-"
I didn’t even let him finish his sentence. “Frozen pizza okay with you?”
Ah, this time he did falter. Wonderful. I felt so elated at the thought that the corner of my lips lifted in a smirk and my toes curled up. He couldn’t see me anyway.
"Actually, I don’t think that’s a good idea…" he regained his composure, but I could sense a note of uncertainty underneath. My cute little social worker. Mingling with clients is a big no-no, ain’t it?
"Is it okay or not?"
He sighed. “Yeah, yeah, it’s okay.”
"Right. See you in a bit."
I hang up and ran to the freezer to retrieve the pizza. You know, I never eat at the table. I usually just put whatever my dinner consisted in on a plastic plate and took it to the couch. I don’t have any money to waste on too expensive water bills. I had a better use for water, and that was for washing the floors and having showers regularly, thank you very much. If it wasn’t for Erwin, the one who strenuously fought so that the state provided me with this shitty excuse of a house, I wouldn’t even have a roof on my head. Nonetheless I didn’t really show him much gratitude for that; the world owed me big time after all. I’ve been fucking unlucky since the moment I was born, so it seemed only right that others did for me the things I didn’t have the means to do. I didn’t particularly care.
I put the hard-as-marble pizza in the oven and started setting the table with, hear-hear, propercutlery. Weird as that was, I didn’t really question it. I just went with the flow and acted by instinct; I found taht always second guessing people was annoying as fuck. If I felt like using real glasses, and forks and plates to have dinner with Erwin, then I’d use real glasses, forks and plates to have dinner with Erwin. I felt like picking my nose? No, never, that’s fucking gross.
It didn’t take long for Erwin to get his fit ass to my apartment. I heard the doorbell go off and knew it was him (well, it could have been Auruo and the others too but they didn’t really come to my house to hang out that much. Especially Auruo, who had the freaking disgusting habit of biting his tongue when he talked, and sent blood flying everywhere. I hated cleaning the messes he made) but I took my sweet time to open the door. I wanted to make him wait a little bit more, so in the meantime I took the steaming pizza out of the oven, cut it into slices and arranged them on the plates. Just as I was finishing, Erwin rang the doorbell once again; it was like I could see him, standing in the shabby hall of my condo, unblinkingly pressing his finger to the buzzer.
I opened the door and made my way back to the kitchen without looking at him, picking up my slice of pizza while sliding in my seat. I always tried my best to piss him off, to coax some kind of reaction out of him, but it was no use; he was always like that, perfectly composed and imperturbable. Sometimes I just wanted to punch him in the face. Well, more than sometimes. Kinda often actually.
From where I was sitting I saw him making his way through the doorway, mumbling a quiet “I’m coming in…
Even after eleven fucking hours of work weighing on his shoulders, the bastard looked as hard as a rock (not like that,you damn perverts) and handsome as a Hollywood star. But he also looked more human and less flawless, with the slightly slouched posture and teeth still clean (though not shining like a damn 100 watt lamp) as usual. Frankly it kind of annoyed me to see him standing in the hallway like some kind of ethereal apparition, calmly taking off his jacket.
Sometimes I wondered if he were even real. I was equal parts bothered and pleased by his attractiveness. You know what? I would have thrown him on my creaking couch and gladly enjoyed every squeak as I rode him hard. I often conjured up this image while masturbating. Come on, don’t make those faces. It’s kind of late to act all prissy like fucking bigots.
Even now with his tired face, soggy pits (eww gross) and crooked tie I’d have fucked him without a second thought. He perspired testosterone from every pore, but still acted all proper like some kind of dapper private school boy (whydear Lord couldn’t the brats at school be like him? Not talking about the looks though, I’m not a freaking pedophile). I didn’t know anything about how much action he got, or if he was even good at screwing, and I almost felt the physical need to know. I was dying to know if he had a lover; in my head I imagined Erwin to have a girlfriend and I usually referred to that faceless woman as a whore. I know it’s not “politically correct” but I don’t really give a fuck. And thinking of Erwin actually ditching that woman to screw me instead was the hottest thing ever and got me off like nothing else.
Either way, I had never really made any moves on him or anything. I was fine with using him as jacking off material only, and really it was better to leave things like that. Well, not that I had a choice to begin with, ‘cause Mr Dapper here was just too considerate and proper to even think about fraternizing with “public service users”. You’d think we were actually going to perform some satanic rite from the way he gingerly approached the table, with an almost pained and vaguely regretful look. And being brutally honest, he actually looked like the boring, romantic type, all nice manners and classy dates and sweet wooing and shit like that. And I really couldn’t care less about all that lame stuff; the only thing I was interested in was the not-so-little friend in his pants.
"Did you stop to take a shit on your way here?" I asked him, twirling the fork in my finger before lifting it up to my mouth.
He smiled tiredly and sat in the seat opposite mine. “Yes, I mean, no- sorry, I had to drop by the Yorks.”
"The ones with the super dyke mulatto daughter?" I didn’t really give a shit which way the girl swung, since I myself wanted in the pants of the man sitting in front of me.
Erwin’s brow furrowed and he looked at me with stern eyes, as he began to cut out his slice of pizza. He sat gracefully with his arms close to his torso like some stuck-up etiquette freak, unlike me who didn’t give two shits and had my elbows planted on the table.
"Levi…"
"Yeah?"
”…Nothing. But yes, I had to go to the Yorks because there’s been issues with Ymir.” He kept his eyes low as he talked, and it was like in his head he was still there.
I took a sip of coke. “What issues?”
"She hit her mother." He sounded almost nonchalant. He was probably used to deal with this kind of thing on a daily basis, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t affect him; he just tried his hardest not to show it. "Then she broke a few things and ran away from home."
"Uh."
"Yeah."
"She still hasn’t come to terms with the adoption thing? Shitty ungrateful brat, they could have left her to rot in a fucking orphanage or with that junkie of her mother. She didn’t even thank you." not like I was any different. I hadn’t thanked him either when he’d worked his ass off to get me state subsidy.
He shrugged and popped a piece of pizza in his mouth. “She’s going through a difficult time.” He poured himself some water and took the glass to his lips. “She has it tough especially at school.
"I’ve heard that everyone’s giving her shit for being mixed race and a lesbian."
"Precisely."
"Really, it’s a shame I don’t have the morning shift. I would have loved to stick up a broom up each one of those fuckers’ asses." My disappointment was genuine. Those bastards needed to be put in place with a few well-aimed kicks.
Erwin didn’t say anything and just kept on chewing in silence, eyes fixed on his plate. I decided to tease him a bit.
"Why are you telling me this stuff anyway? Isn’t this, like, "confidential" or something?"
He looked up at me with a small smile on his lips. “Well, the news will spread like fire tomorrow at school anyway. At least I can give you a first rate, reliable account of the events right?”
"Ah right. ‘S not like you confided in me or anything, is it?"
"Positively not."
I watched him as he finished eating, picking up a few stray olives from the plate, and noticed a few things. The last time Erwin had visited me was the month before (between one check-up and the following could pass weeks or just a few days, depending on the higher-ups’ decisions and protocols) and some things are far more noticeable after a month of absence. His hair had thinned out. The once immaculately parted, thick and glossy strands looked now dull and frail
"What have you done with your hair? You ran out of shampoo and decided to use piss instead?"
"Uhu?" from the look on his face I realized he didn’t have a clue about what I was telling him. He brought a hand tho the back of his head and tried to sneak a glance backwards. "Do I have greasy hair?"
"No, it looks so damaged that someone might think you actually soaked it in vinegar and salt" I stood and brought our plates to the sink.
"I guess you have a point. I didn’t really notice it though"
"Well, with how much you work I wouldn’t be surprised if one day you won’t be able to get it up anymore and still won’t notice a thing." I was just kidding, but Erwin’s face got beet red. He looked like some kind of ridiculous red light, with his flustered and mortified expression.
"They need me at work, that’s all."
He always, always had a retort at hand. Every time he spouted this kind of idiotic, painfully cliché claims to wriggle his way out of complicated situations, I wanted nothing more than to slap him really hard a few times. I fucking hated it when he forgot that he was human too, and needed to care for himself and sleep like anyone else. I didn’t know what he got up to when he went back home at night; but I wouldn’t be surprised at all if he actually spent the hours he should have used to rest, to pour himself over tons of paperwork, revising dossiers upon dossiers. For a brief moment I wondered if he ever read mine too.
"Whatever. You want coffee?"
"Yeah, sure. Thank you"
At that exact moment his phone rang. Jesus, his ringtone just screamed “old man”. It was one of those plain, lame as fuck ones that only phones from the 50’s still had. I hoped it was not a call from someone at work, or honest to God I would have flipped the table. But by the way he hurried to answer, I got the feeling he actually hopedit’d be a work-related call. He was worried sick for that girl. I knew her; Ymir was tough and wouldn’t let anyone fuck with her.
But no, Erwin just had to play Jesus at all time, picking up stray fucked up people from the streets and trying to patch up their lives. And every time he didn’t succeed in helping someone, he regarded it as a personal failure. I found this thing pathetic… but also kind of respected him for it.
"It’s the police…sorry." he told me, rising swiftly from his seat. "I have to go, I asked them to call me in case they found Ymir. I gotta run-" he paused, and I watched him with a stunned look as he lifted his hand to touch my arm; but he changed his mind halfway, and tried to pass it up as an attempt to straighten his shirt sleeve.
"See you." he added out of breath, already making his way to the hallway to slip on his jacket.
"Yeah, whatever" I was so pissed at him, I didn’t deem him worthy of a proper goodbye.
He looked at me with big, regretful eyes like a giant damn puppy as he brought the phone back to his ear. But I wouldn’t accept his silent apology.
"Hello? Yes, yes." with one arm trapped awkwardly in the jacket, he clumsily opened the door with the other’s shaky fingers. "I’m the social worker, Smith. About Ymir…" and then his voice faded through the stairs, and the further he got the more pissed I became. If I knew he’d stick around for not even an hour I wouldn’t have bothered to take out those fucking ceramic plates.