Chapter Text
During those years, I was invincible. I was young and wild, racing through life reckless, spontaneous, and free of responsibility. The world was my playground. I did as I pleased in the heat of the moment, not caring about opinions other than my own, never taking anything seriously. I’d wake up at 7:30am, maybe later if I felt like sleeping in, got dressed in my school uniform, and ride my bike to school. I was, essentially, a 21 year old stuck in the perpetual mindset of a 12 year old kid.
I’d meet up with various people along the way to school whom of which I’d somehow managed to put up with. They’re the closest things to what I’d call friends, but even that term is far-fetched. I let them stick around though, since we all had one thing in common: we couldn’t give a rat’s ass about learning. We’d rather goof off and bend the rules, making it harder for teachers to effectively do their job. Reiner Braun would be the first one I’d ride by since he lived two streets down from where I was. We’ve known each other since he was practically in a stroller, but we never really got along until I had to repeat my senior year for the third time. I’d hit him as I pedaled past, snickering at the big ‘thunk’ his large, hollow cavity of a head would make upon impact.
“Fuck off, Levi,” he’d yell out after me as I rode on, provoking him to catch up to me if he could. He did eventually, since he was one of those big, broad shouldered, athletic guys, and we’d ride to school together, sticking out limbs when we felt like it, trying to throw off each other’s balance just for kicks.
Further down the road, we’d meet Connie Springer, who’d probably slept in, guzzling breakfast along the way. Connie was one of these guys who just couldn’t take anything seriously for even one bloody second. He would always either be doing these stupid acts he’d like to call his “magic shows”, which was really just a series of lame pranks that were meant to make you laugh but just made you want to punch him in the face instead, or making puns so often that it would make anyone wish that they could cauterize their ear holes shut just for the purposes of not being able to hear him speak again. He did have a couple of good ones now and again, though, so it wasn’t all insufferable spending time with him. And then there was Jean Kirschstein, resident asshole, who we’d meet at school. His usual greeting would be a toss of a basketball at my head, and a comment somewhere along the lines of “Are you paralyzed? Do you not know how to catch a goddamn ball?” He was such a ridiculously cocky person that we coined a nickname for him that everyone went by—‘Cockstein’— and the name stuck, much to his dismay. He’d usually start a conversation by showing off his limited edition basketball cards, and we'd stand around our lockers, showing off our stashes, arguing over which player was better, or begging to trade cards until we were told off by a hall monitor somewhere that it was time to go to class.
That goddamn classroom was like a prison to me. I’d been stuck in this cage for two years going on three now. I’d managed not to care about my academics for a couple of years straight, letting my grades hit rock bottom, because I didn’t want to believe that grades were what defined intelligence, were what determined who was a failure and who wasn’t. I know I’m not a dumbass. I don’t need some stupid number to tell me that I’m not. Fuck institutionalization. So when I handed in almost every single assignment blank, or with answers so idiotic that it would’ve been better off handed in as blank, Principal Smith had a chat with my parents, explaining that if I don’t manage to pass all of my subjects after a third time repeating, I’d get the boot. He also pulled me aside, chastising me for my lack of effort, while throwing in the fact that ‘if it weren’t for him, I’d get a mediocre education and wind up on the streets somewhere’. Not that I really gave a shit, though. It was just his piss-poor attempt at trying to give me the impression that he’s an upstanding citizen. School was just a whorehouse for suck ups and teacher’s pets. And since when was any of this shit useful anyways? For all I cared, I could find a job at a game design company and be a beta tester. I’d still make cash; who needs calculus to play games? I’d scoff at the scholars and poke fun at them, hoping that one day they’d realize how pathetic they actually were.
My victim that year was a kid so serious about everything that no one can ever hope to take him seriously. A brunet with this permanent fixture on his face that was meant to make him look determined and ambitious, but just made him look he was chronically constipated. The kind of look that phony adults would acknowledge and turn to their kids pointing out that ‘this boy has got a clear direction in life’. He had transferred in the middle of the first semester, and I had the misfortune of sitting behind him. He didn't have to do anything. His simple essence of being, his presence in itself was irritating enough. The first time he sat down in front of me, I kicked the back of his seat before propping my feet up on his backrest, just to spite him in the heat of the moment. The look plastered on his face as he swiveled around, and the way his eyebrow twitched in a pathetic attempt to maintain his composure made me almost pity him for a split second.
“The fuck is your problem?”
That almost killed me. I somehow managed to keep a straight face and gave the chair another solid kick. “Nothing in particular,” I countered smoothly.
“What the fuck man? You wanna fight??” He screamed, suddenly standing upright from his seat.
“Well gee, I wonder what would happen if the new kid got into a fight on their first day of school,” I responded, feigning innocence in my voice for a sarcastic effect, and proceeded to flick the eraser dust off of my desk at him. The way he practically seethed with rage twisted out the sadist within me, and I silently made it a goal to make the rest of this brat’s school days a living hell. What’s that determined look of yours doing for you now, fuck-face?
“You’re a real jerk, you know,” Reiner leaned in to comment. I shrugged him off.
“Shut the fuck up. What, you forget to take a shit today?” I countered, boredom dripping in my voice.
“I’m just saying you could just leave him alone, it is his first day after all.”
“I don’t really give a shit,” I continued, unfazed.
It wasn’t until attendance was taken that I learned of his name: Eren Jaeger. I figured I’d leave him alone for now, because despite his ridiculously laughable outburst, those mysterious aquamarine eyes were surprisingly pretty. No matter what nagging doubt that gnawed in the deep crevices of my mind, I’d refuse to admit that that was what threw me off of my antics. Besides, he would be the type of person that’d have the exact same reaction to everything I do.
Oh he was still just as annoying as ever; he still felt like a thorn stuck in my side since I had to listen to the mediocrities going on in his life that he tends to only ever want to talk about regularly. He seemed to only have two friends, a blond boy who looked like a classic sweater-wearing, calculator-loving nerd, and a tall, dark-haired girl who seemed to get away with the uniform regulation by wearing a red scarf around her neck all the time, both of which I wouldn’t have known existed had they not come up to Eren’s desk damn near every break or free period. And as if that wasn’t enough, the entire class had to listen to the teachers dote over either him or the blond kid, Armin, on how they topped the class ranking for whatever test we recently had. They’d constantly be competing for first, and even I could tell that their ‘congratulations’ to each other had a resentful, competitive edge. Aiming for the top was all just a wild goose chase if you ask me, because there’s always the insecurity of being replaced. It made people like Eren and Armin look ridiculous for even bothering to try.
During one particularly insufferable history class with Mr. Zackly, who had the worst habit of being able to make practically everything seem like the least exciting thing in the world, I made what I would like to call the worst and best decision of my life.
Seeing as we were sitting in the back row, clearly not paying attention to the monotonous hum of Zackly’s voice, Cockstein had a proposal.
“Hey,” he leaned over and whispered across his desk space at me. Reiner and Connie leaned over from the other side of my desk to listen. “Since we’re all clearly falling asleep because of old man Zac’s shitty teaching, why don’t we do a thing?”
“What kinda shit are you spewing, Cockstein,” I whispered back through an exasperated sigh. Jean can literally make you feel exhilarating annoyance as soon as he even began to open his mouth, and I was in no mood to listen to him run it when I’d rather be enjoying a nice long nap through this class.
“Since Reiner keeps boasting that he could hold out as long as he wants when jerking off, I’m willing to place my bet that he’s just talking shit. SO…let’s do it.” He flashed us a shit-eating grin, and flicked out a Grant Hill 1 in 1000 limited edition card. My eyes almost bugged out of my sockets when I saw it.
“How the fuck did an asshole like you manage to get that,” I whispered fiercely.
“Because I’m fucking awesome,” he snapped before continuing. “Anyways, so if Reiner lasts longer than you do, Levi, then he wins the bet and I give him the card.”
“What’s in it for me?” I demanded. I didn’t do anything for anyone unless it provided me with some sort of benefit.
“You get to kill your boredom,” Cockstein simply said.
“Fine, I’ll do it.” What did I have to lose, anyways?
I flashed a challenging glare over at Reiner as I unzipped my fly, trying to think of the porn magazine I had read the previous night, willing myself into a growing erection. Jean gave a flick of his hand to indicate the ‘go’ signal, and we starting pumping, going at it as fast as we could, but not fast enough to begin the lead up to orgasm.
Connie, being the fucking prankster he was, decided to shoot a rubber band at Reiner’s groin, and he let out an involuntary groan of pleasure upon impact, causing Zackly to actually pause for a brief moment.
‘Reiner, if you’re going to be disruptive, stand up and read the next page.”
Reiner shifted in his seat uncomfortably, bowing his head down over the textbook, humiliation clouding his face.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Go on, stand up and read.”
I lost it right there, accidentally letting out a disgustingly loud snort of laughter. Much to my misfortune, the whole class heard, and Zackly decided to turn the tables on me.
“If you think this is so funny, Levi, why don’t you read to the class instead?”
I froze, realizing that I had no way out of this one.
I kept my head lowered as I mumbled into my textbook. “Napoleon rose quickly through the ranks of the French army. In 1792 he became a captain, and two years later-“
“Stand up and read, if you will.”
“Now’s not really a convenient time…” I offered unhelpfully.
“I’m not giving you a choice here, you are testing my patience,” old man Zac said, a tone of warning slipping into his voice.
I sighed, and admitted defeat. Throwing every last bit of dignity that I had managed to retain out the window, I stood up with my pants hanging well below my ass and my family jewels proudly displayed in front of a class full of mortified kids. I side-glanced at Reiner, who was probably secretly thanking me for the distraction while desperately tugging his pants back on. Next thing I knew, I was dragged outside the classroom into the corridor, getting an earful from Principal Smith.
“Masturbating in class. Masturbating. IN CLASS.” His voice had a cutting edge of discipline coupled with a certain degree of anger in it that I had never heard before. And believe me, I’ve been taking shit from him since I had first enrolled in this school. “In all my years as an academic administrator, I have never encountered anything as outrageous as this. I’ve seen students plagiarize, cheat, bully, beat each other up, even smoke on school property. But nothing is as shameful as what you just did in there. This really is the first time I’d ever seen a student stoop down so low.”
“Would’ve gotten away with it too, and then you wouldn’t have had to see it anyways,” I mumbled under my breath, realizing that I was treading on thin ice, but still not really able to give enough fucks.
“You just earned yourself a full semester’s worth of detention. I hope you realize that I don’t like to do this, Levi. I know you have a lot of potential, and it simply makes me angry to see you throw it all away.”
Bullshit. You just want me to graduate so I’d be out of your hair for good.
“You would’ve sent me in there sooner or later anyways,” I retorted. He simply ignored me, and turned to walk back into the classroom.
“Jaeger, come here for a minute,” Principal Smith instructed, and Eren practically trotted over like a loyal puppy. The sight was almost sickening. “You’re an obedient student that gets excellent grades. I want you to sit behind Levi, keep an eye out on him, and maybe influence him to be more like you.”
Eren flinched, and simply nodded in compliance like the goody fucking two-shoes he was. I, on the other hand, felt white-hot rage searing throughout my body.
Excuse me, what.
“You’re both dismissed. Now get back to class,” Principal Smith ordered.
I made sure that Eren saw me throw him the dirtiest look my facial muscles could possibly contort into before he turned and headed back inside.