Chapter Text
Hey
The chair was too soft. Levi shifted again, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the blinds that never closed right. Light leaked in, sharp stripes cutting across the floor. He didn’t like the room—too clean, too quiet, too exposed.
Isabel didn’t mind the quiet. She never did. She sat across from him with her notebook balanced on her knee, pen capped, waiting. Always waiting.
Levi let out a sigh through his nose. “You gonna just stare at me the whole hour?”
Her mouth ticked up at one corner. “I was hoping you might fill it.”
“Not much to say.”
“That’s not what I think.” Isabel leaned back a little, uncrossing her legs. Her tone was calm but firm, the way it always was when she’d made up her mind. “Levi, we’ve been circling for a while now. You keep dodging around the edges, but I want us to start with something solid. Let’s go back to the beginning. High school.”
He scoffed. “What the hell does high school have to do with anything?”
I'm doing good it's nice to greet ya
“Everything,” she said simply. “That’s where the threads start. Before the fame. Before the mess. Before all of this. I want you to tell me about who you were then.”
Levi stared at the strip of sunlight, jaw tight. The room was too warm, or maybe it was just him. “High school was… a lot of noise. People everywhere. Didn’t care much for any of them. I kept my head down. Did my work.” He hesitated, thumb brushing against his sleeve. “But that’s when I started writing. Erwin shoved books in my hands, said I had a voice. Said I should use it.”
Isabel didn’t say anything, just waited, eyes steady.
Levi swallowed, the words thick in his throat. “That’s how I ended up in AP Lit. Senior year.”
Her pen hovered now, ready.
Levi shifted again, eyes flicking away, voice lower. “That’s where I met him.” A pause, sharp and heavy. Then, almost unwillingly: “Eren.”
The name sat in the room like a weight. Levi leaned back, folding his arms tighter across his chest, as if he could hold the memory back where it belonged.
How's your day?
“High school’s where it started,” he said finally. “The music. The mess. Him. All of it.”
Isabel clicked her pen open at last, the sound small but final. “Then that’s where we’ll begin.”
Levi didn’t want to say more. The name alone was enough to rattle something loose, something he’d spent years trying to bolt down.
But the blinds, the antiseptic smell, Isabel’s steady stare—all of it fell away.
When he blinked, he was seventeen again.
The AP Literature classroom smelled like chalk and old paper, the air stale from too many years of use. Desks were shoved into clusters of four, meant to “encourage discussion,” though Levi figured it just encouraged noise.
He sat at one of the back tables, arms crossed, notebook open but empty. Erwin was beside him, already writing down the date at the top of his page with that neat, practiced handwriting of his. Across from them, Hange was mid-rant about last night’s reading, gesturing wildly as if punctuation marks were bursting out of their hands.
Mine is great now that I've met ya
“—and when the narrator says time slipped like water, that’s not just a metaphor, that’s an existential crisis, Levi. Existential.”
Levi groaned, running his thumb over the spiral edge of his notebook. “It’s eight in the morning. Existential crises aren’t on the schedule.”
Erwin smiled faintly but didn’t intervene. He’d learned long ago that Hange only burned out when they felt like it.
Before Levi could say more, the classroom door swung open. A draft of cooler air slid in with the sound of sneakers squeaking against tile.
Two figures stepped inside, both holding late slips. One was short, blond, and nervous-looking, his eyes flicking around the room like he was bracing for impact. The other—Levi noticed him immediately. Taller, messy brown hair, sharp green eyes that carried a restless kind of heat, even as he smirked at something the blond whispered.
The teacher barely looked up from her desk. “You must be Armin Arlert and Eren Yeager. Take the two open seats at the back.”
Levi’s stomach dropped when he realized where those seats were—at his table.
Swing my way
Hange leaned forward instantly, grin wide. “New blood. Finally.”
Erwin straightened politely, already nudging his notebook aside to make room.
Levi clicked his pen open and pressed the tip against his page, pretending to write. But his hand wasn’t moving in straight lines. Words, unformed lyrics, scratched themselves out instead.
The blond—Armin—sat down quietly, offering a tentative smile. The other one, Eren, dropped into his chair like he owned it, elbows on the desk, green eyes sparking as he looked around at his new tablemates.
Levi kept his gaze fixed on the page, but his grip on the pen tightened.
Something had just shifted. He could feel it.
The days blurred together, the rhythm of the class predictable. Read, discuss, write. Levi usually tuned out most of it, but with the two new kids at his table, the noise shifted.
I'm praying that you'll show a sign
Armin always came prepared, arms full of books, notebook corners filled with clean handwriting. He slipped into conversations with Erwin and Hange like he’d been waiting his whole life to talk about literature with someone who cared. Erwin leaned in with thoughtful questions, Hange spiraled into theories that ran off the rails, and Armin lit up in a way that made Levi’s teeth ache.
Eren didn’t.
Most days, he slouched in his chair, pencil scratching out doodles in the margins. Dragons, wolves, twisted cityscapes. Sometimes his sketches looked half-finished, other times too sharp, too heavy for the notebook paper he scrawled them on. He rarely spoke up unless he was forced to, and when he did, it was usually a blunt observation that made the table go quiet.
Levi noticed. He wasn’t sure why.
It didn’t take long to piece things together—Armin and Eren weren’t seniors. Juniors. They’d wrangled their way into AP Lit instead of AP LAC just so they could fit in a video game design elective.
“Video games?” Hange had asked one morning, eyes sparkling. “You’re designing them?”
Armin nodded eagerly. “Yeah, our school’s piloting a program. It counts as a tech elective. We thought it would be fun.”
So cuff your jeans, and sip some wine
“Fun?” Hange clapped, grinning like a mad scientist. “It’s revolutionary! Literature as code! You’ll be writing myths with pixels before you’re out of high school.”
Armin’s face flushed, but he was glowing. He launched into an explanation of mechanics and dialogue trees, and Erwin leaned in politely, jotting down thoughtful notes like he was already planning questions for later.
Levi tapped his pen against his notebook, more interested in the rhythm than the words. The conversation was fine. Too eager, too bright. But it was Eren he kept glancing at—Eren, head bent over his page, shading in a pair of glaring green eyes on a dragon that looked like it was ready to eat the whole class alive.
Levi smirked before he could stop himself. “You gonna write an essay with that, or just scare the shit out of Ms. Saeki when she grades it?”
It came out sharper than he intended, a jab meant to sting. But instead of bristling, Eren glanced up at him, grin tugging at his mouth. And then—he laughed. A short, rough sound, but genuine.
Levi blinked, caught off guard. He hadn’t expected that.
“Maybe both,” Eren shot back, twirling his pencil between his fingers. His voice had that unpolished edge, a little reckless. “Bet she’d give me an A just for creativity.”
With me tonight
Hange gasped theatrically. “If that works, I’m never writing a paper again.”
Armin groaned, shoving his glasses up. “Don’t give them ideas. Please.”
The table dissolved into easy chatter again, but Levi stayed quiet, pen pressed against the margin of his notebook. Still, his ears caught the low sound of Eren’s laugh lingering, like static you couldn’t shake off.
For the first time in weeks, Levi wrote more than a line or two. Not notes, not lyrics exactly. Just fragments. Words that circled around green eyes and careless grins, around the sound of laughter that had cut through him sharper than it should have.
Something had shifted. Slowly. Quietly. But Levi could feel it.
By the end of September, the air outside had cooled, but the classroom still buzzed with restless heat. Ms. Saeki stood at the front with her usual stack of papers, glasses perched at the end of her nose.
“We’re starting a group project,” she announced, loud enough to cut through the chatter. “Each table will be assigned a Greek myth. You’ll read the story, analyze it, and then perform a short play—fifteen to twenty minutes—based on your myth.” She gave the room a thin smile. “Yes, that means memorized lines, costumes if you’re ambitious, and real stage presence.”
No way
A collective groan rose from the class, Levi’s included. He hated group work. He hated performance. And most of all, he hated being told what to do.
Ms. Saeki shuffled her papers and called out the assignments. When she got to their table, she said, “Orpheus and Eurydice.”
Levi frowned. He remembered the name from somewhere—music, tragedy, something about looking back when you shouldn’t.
Hange slapped the desk like it was the best news they’d ever heard. “Oh, this is perfect! The musician who charms the world with his voice, only to lose it all because of one mistake—it’s practically made for us.”
“Us?” Levi muttered, not liking the way their eyes had already fixed on him.
“Levi’s Orpheus,” Hange declared, pointing across the table like a judge delivering a sentence.
“The hell I am,” Levi shot back instantly.
I love that TV show you've watched
“Yes, you are,” Erwin cut in, calm but firm. His voice had that tone that left no room for argument. “You’re the only one here who can actually sing.”
The words landed heavier than Levi wanted to admit. He felt a flicker of heat crawl up the back of his neck. He didn’t look at Erwin—didn’t want to—but the silence at the table shifted.
Eren was staring at him now, curiosity sparking in those sharp green eyes. “Wait. You can sing?”
Levi snapped his gaze up, catching the smirk tugging at the corners of Eren’s mouth. Something in his chest jolted. “Better than you can draw wolves with fangs the size of a desk, that’s for sure.”
Eren barked out a laugh, sudden and unrestrained. The sound lit up the space between them. “Guess I’ll have to hear it to believe it.”
Levi grumbled and dropped his pen onto his notebook. “Fine. I’ll do it. But only if Hange isn’t Eurydice.”
“Hey!” Hange squawked.
Since like sixth grade
Before Levi could brace for more chaos, Eren leaned forward, grin crooked. “I’ll do it. I’ll be Eurydice.”
The table went quiet for half a beat. Armin’s eyes widened. Hange’s jaw dropped. Erwin’s mouth pulled into the faintest smile, like he’d just witnessed something inevitable.
Levi felt his stomach twist, though he kept his face carefully blank. “You’re insane,” he muttered, but the words lacked bite.
Eren only leaned back in his chair, pencil twirling between his fingers, as if he hadn’t just set something in motion that none of them could take back.
The table was still reeling from Eren’s casual declaration when Hange suddenly shot their hand into the air like a kid volunteering in grade school.
“Then I’m Hermes!” they announced with glee. “Guide of souls, messenger of the gods, a trickster with impeccable style—it’s perfect!”
Levi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you’d pick the one who never shuts up.”
I wish that we grew up together
“Exactly,” Hange said, entirely missing the insult. They scribbled the name Hermes in big block letters across their notes, already sketching what looked suspiciously like a pair of winged sneakers.
That left Armin and Erwin staring at each other, both looking reluctant.
“Well,” Erwin said after a moment, voice mild, “I suppose I could take Hades.”
Armin gave a nervous laugh. “Which leaves me as Persephone. Great.” He pushed his glasses up, cheeks tinged pink. “I guess it fits. I like spring.”
“Perfect!” Hange clapped their hands together. “We’re the dream team. Orpheus, Eurydice, Hermes, Hades, Persephone. The tragedy writes itself.”
Levi scowled, but the decision had been made. Across the table, Eren was still smirking, green eyes glinting with something Levi couldn’t quite name.
Levi picked up his pen and clicked it hard, the sound sharp. “Whatever,” he muttered. “I’ll do it. Just don’t expect me to prance around like an idiot.”
Is it too late?
That earned a laugh from Hange and a knowing smile from Erwin.
Eren leaned closer, elbows on the desk. “Good. Orpheus wasn’t an idiot.” His grin widened, sharp and teasing. “Guess that means you’ll do fine.”
Levi didn’t answer. His pulse was already too loud in his ears.
A week later, they crammed into Erwin’s living room after school. His house was big, neat, and lined with bookshelves that screamed “responsible parents.” The kind of place that felt too orderly for the chaos that came through the door in the form of Hange Zoë.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Hange declared, dropping a stapled packet onto the coffee table with dramatic flair. “So I wrote the whole play. One night, one sitting, pure genius.”
Levi groaned, flipping through the pages. The script was crammed with dialogue and stage directions, half of which read like fever-dream notes. Orpheus sings, audience weeps uncontrollably. Hermes enters with a twirl, preferably on roller skates.
“You’ve lost your damn mind,” Levi muttered.
I'm not bilingual it's a challenge
“Correction,” Hange said brightly, “I’ve elevated this assignment.”
Armin, already cross-legged on the rug, skimmed his lines with a furrowed brow. “This is… a lot. But it’s actually kind of good.”
Erwin settled into a chair with his pages. “Let’s run it. We’ll see what needs cutting.”
They started rough, voices stumbling over mythic lines about love and death, Hange chiming in with sound effects, Armin going red whenever he had to talk about flowers or marriage. But when it was Levi’s turn, all the air seemed to tighten.
Eren stood across from him, script in hand, posture loose but eyes locked on Levi. He read the line, voice low and surprisingly steady:
“Your song is the only thing that keeps me here. Don’t stop playing, Orpheus.”
Levi’s throat went dry. He knew it was just paper, just Hange’s rushed script, but the way Eren looked at him made it feel heavier. Too real. He forced himself to answer, words clipped but sharp:
“I’d go to the ends of the earth if it meant I could keep you by my side.”
Tryna read your body language here tonight
The room went quiet for a beat longer than necessary. Armin’s eyes darted between them, Hange grinned like they’d orchestrated the whole thing, and Erwin only raised one brow.
The room went quiet for a beat longer than necessary. Armin’s eyes darted between them, Hange grinned like they’d orchestrated the whole thing, and Erwin only raised one brow.
Eren broke the silence with a laugh, but it wasn’t mocking. It was rough, warm, caught between nerves and thrill. “Didn’t think you’d actually sound like Orpheus.”
Levi rolled his eyes, trying to disguise the heat rising in his chest. “You’re an idiot. Stick to your lines.”
But when they picked up the scene again, his voice came out stronger, steadier—and Eren’s grin lingered, like he knew something Levi wasn’t ready to admit.
By the time the sun dipped low outside Erwin’s windows, the group had run through the play twice. Papers were scattered across the coffee table, marked up with Hange’s scribbles and Armin’s corrections. They were arguing good-naturedly about pacing when Hange suddenly smacked the script with the back of their hand.
“Wait—we’re forgetting the most important part.”
So tell me I'm not crazy
Levi groaned. “What now?”
“The song!” Hange’s eyes gleamed. “Orpheus doesn’t just talk his way into the underworld. He sings. He moves gods and mortals alike with his voice. We can’t leave that out.”
“No.” Levi’s answer was immediate, flat. “Not happening.”
“Yes,” Hange shot back, grinning. “It has to happen. Otherwise it’s just dialogue.”
Levi shook his head, already rising to his feet. “I’m not performing a concert in Erwin’s damn living room.”
Armin, still perched cross-legged on the rug, looked up with a thoughtful frown. “But you will have to sing in front of the class eventually. It’s kind of… central to the myth. Might as well try it now.”
The words made the room tilt. Levi stared at him, lips pressed thin. He wanted to argue, to shut it down before it went further, but the silence that followed pressed in too heavily. Eren hadn’t said a word, but Levi could feel his eyes on him like a weight.
'Cause only, fools fall in love
With a muttered curse, Levi dropped back into his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. “Fine. But only a few lines. Then you all shut up about it.”
The room went still as Levi exhaled, let his shoulders loosen, and closed his eyes. He didn’t think about the people in front of him or the ridiculousness of it all—he thought about the way words lived in his chest, the way they always had, pressing to get out.
When he started, his voice was low, steady, carrying more than he meant it to. The melody was rough around the edges, improvised, but it filled the room in a way that surprised even him.
“Stay with me,
even when the dark is calling.
Follow my voice,
and I’ll bring you home.”
The last note lingered, soft but certain, before the silence swallowed it.
Levi opened his eyes.
Eren was staring straight at him, green eyes sparking with something he couldn’t place. Awe. Curiosity. Maybe something deeper. Whatever it was, it hit Levi hard enough that he had to look away, his chest suddenly too tight.
With somebody who wants a body
Hange whooped, clapping so loudly the neighbors probably heard. Armin muttered something about “incredible control,” scribbling notes as if he were documenting a study. Erwin only gave a satisfied nod.
But Levi barely heard them. His mind was stuck on the look Eren had given him, the kind that stayed burned into the backs of his eyelids.
“Okay, we need fuel,” Hange announced, bouncing on their heels. “This kind of genius doesn’t run on thin air. Pizza run!”
Everyone groaned but agreed. Erwin pulled out his wallet, handing Levi a few bills. “You and Eren go. There’s a place down the block. The rest of us will tidy this up.”
Levi opened his mouth to protest, but Hange had already shoved Eren toward the door, chanting, “Orpheus and Eurydice, on a quest!”
“Idiots,” Levi muttered, shoving the money into his pocket.
The evening air was cool, sharp against his skin after the warmth of the house. They walked side by side down the quiet street, sneakers scuffing against pavement. For a minute, there was only the sound of traffic in the distance.
That doesn't look like yours at all
Then Eren started talking.
“You ever play The Last Guardian?” he asked suddenly, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “I just got it, and it’s insane. You’ve got this giant creature—part dog, part bird—and you have to build a relationship with it. It’s clumsy as hell at first, but then, when it starts trusting you—man, it hits hard.”
Levi raised a brow. “Sounds like babysitting with extra steps.”
Eren laughed, shoulders shaking. “Yeah, kinda. But it’s more than that. The design is beautiful. The way they make you care about something that’s just pixels? That’s art.” His hands slipped free of his pockets, gesturing wildly as he spoke, words tumbling out fast, like he couldn’t keep up with himself.
Normally, Levi tuned people out when they rambled. He hated filler words, hated voices that didn’t know when to shut up. But he didn’t feel that now.
Instead, he found himself listening. Really listening.
The way Eren’s voice picked up when he got excited. The way his eyes lit in the streetlights, green flashing like sparks.
So tell me I'm not crazy
Levi shoved his hands deeper into his own pockets, trying to disguise the tug in his chest.
“Hm,” he muttered. “Didn’t think you had that much to say about anything.”
Eren smirked, kicking at a stray pebble on the sidewalk. “Guess you bring it out of me.”
Levi didn’t answer. He couldn’t, not with the way the words twisted something inside him. Instead, he just kept walking, letting Eren’s voice fill the space between them. And for once, he didn’t want the noise to stop.
They turned the corner, the glow of the pizza place sign cutting through the dusk. Eren was still talking, words spilling out faster than Levi could track, this time about a game coming out next month. Levi found himself almost disappointed when Eren finally paused.
“Hey,” Eren said suddenly, glancing sideways at him, “you doing anything for Halloween?”
Levi shrugged. “Same as every year. Hange and Erwin make me sit through dumb horror marathons until Hange passes out and Erwin pretends he’s not asleep. Tradition.”
'Cause only, fools go to die
Eren grinned. “Sounds thrilling. But you should come to my friend Jean’s party instead. He’s throwing a costume thing—big deal every year. Half the school shows up.”
Levi snorted. “Costumes? No chance in hell I’m showing up in some dumb mask.”
“You wouldn’t have to try that hard,” Eren teased, bumping his shoulder lightly against Levi’s as they walked. “But seriously, you should come. It’ll be fun.”
Before Levi could come up with another excuse, Eren held out his hand. “Phone.”
Levi narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because you’re gonna need directions. And because if I just tell you to text me, you won’t.”
Levi almost refused on instinct. He didn’t hand his phone over to anyone. But something in Eren’s grin—confident, challenging, impossible to ignore—made his resistance falter. With a muttered curse, he dug into his pocket and handed it over.
For a man with other plans
Eren’s thumbs moved quickly over the screen, then he passed it back. Levi glanced down at the new contact glowing on his screen.
Eurydice.
He blinked, caught between irritation and… something else.
“You’re insane,” Levi muttered, shoving the phone back into his pocket.
“Maybe.” Eren’s grin widened, green eyes bright in the neon light of the pizza shop. “But now you’ve got no excuse not to call.”
Levi felt his chest tighten, a pulse of something sharp and new running under his skin. He pushed the door open, the smell of grease and dough rushing out to meet them, but even as they stepped inside, the name on his phone burned in his mind.
Eurydice.
And other lovers on his mind
Over the next week, their conversations slipped into a rhythm. In class, nothing changed: Armin still dove headfirst into discussions with Hange and Erwin, Levi pretended to take notes, and Eren filled his margins with sketches of snarling beasts and broken swords. At the table, Levi hardly spoke to him more than usual. But outside of class, when the screen lit up, things were different.
It started with jokes. Eren leaned into the roles they’d been given, always calling Levi “Orpheus,” teasing him about practicing for the performance. Levi shot back with dry remarks, claiming Eren would probably trip over his own feet before they made it halfway through the underworld.
Eren never seemed to mind. He laughed, pushed harder, kept the thread alive until Levi gave in with another barb.
And then, late one night, the tone shifted.
The clock on Levi’s phone read past midnight when another message came through. Eren asked if he was always up this late. Levi replied that it depended, then asked why.
Just wondering if I’m the only idiot awake, Eren sent back.
Levi stared at the screen longer than he meant to before answering, Takes one to know one.
So tell me
The next pause stretched, and when the phone buzzed again, the words carried more weight. What would you sing, Eren asked, if you only had one chance to bring someone back?
Levi’s chest tightened. He typed, deleted, retyped. Finally, he sent, Don’t know. Depends who I was singing for.
The reply came quick, sharp, almost electric: Good answer, Orpheus.
Levi lay back against his pillow, the glow of the phone fading as he set it on his chest. He told himself it was nothing. Just words. Just a joke spun too far.
But the look on Eren’s face when he’d said he’d be Eurydice, the way his laugh had filled Erwin’s living room, the weight of those green eyes after he’d sung—
Levi closed his eyes, but none of it left him.
For the first time in years, he didn’t mind being wide awake.
Hey
The weeks slid by in fragments.
At school, nothing much changed on the surface. They still sat at the same table, Erwin and Armin scribbling neat notes, Hange filling margins with doodles and wild annotations. Eren slouched low in his chair, pencil scratching out wolves, ruined cities, swords caught mid-swing. Levi kept his arms folded, expression flat, but every so often he caught himself watching Eren’s hand move across the page, listening for the low sound of his laugh.
The group met twice more at Erwin’s house to rehearse. Each time, Hange brought more outlandish stage directions, and each time Levi argued them down until only half stuck. The others found it funny. Eren found it funny too—but he also watched Levi whenever he opened his mouth, green eyes sharp, amused, interested.
Outside of class, the texts didn’t stop. Sometimes it was banter, Eren pestering him about singing, calling him Orpheus like it was a private joke between them. Other times it was softer. Random late-night messages about games, about what he wanted to build when he was older, about the future. Levi never thought he’d care about half the things Eren rambled on about, but he read every word.
One night, close to one in the morning, Eren had sent a blurry picture of his sketchbook: a rough outline of a boy with a guitar slung across his back, standing at the edge of a cavern. Guess who, he’d written.
Levi stared at it longer than he should have before replying, Your drawing skills are garbage.
But he saved the picture anyway.
You read me right
By mid-October, the air had turned sharp, leaves scattering across the parking lot in dry spirals. The group rehearsals took on a different energy—less chaos, more polish. Lines came smoother, cues tighter. And every time Levi sang, the others quieted, even Hange. Every time he opened his eyes, he found Eren watching, gaze lit with something Levi couldn’t quite put a name to.
The week before Halloween, Eren asked again, casually, as they left the pizza place after rehearsal.
“You’re still coming to Jean’s party, right? You can’t bail on me, Orpheus.”
Levi scoffed. “Not wearing a damn costume.”
Eren just grinned, walking backwards for a few steps, green eyes flashing in the streetlight. “We’ll see about that.”
And Levi hated that his chest tightened at the thought.
Before Levi knew it, Halloween night had crept up.
And I've been fighting this since May
He sat in the back seat of Erwin’s car, the low hum of the engine mixing with Hange’s nonstop chatter from the front. They’d gone all in on the theme, lab coat flapping as they waved their hands like a deranged scientist on the run. Erwin, steady as ever behind the wheel, wore a pressed army uniform that looked like it had come straight from his father’s closet.
Levi glanced down at himself and scowled. Black jeans, plain white shirt, and a leather jacket. He didn’t look like he was going to a party—he looked like himself. He’d fought Hange and Erwin both on coming, but in the end, it wasn’t either of them who convinced him.
It was a text.
Eurydice: Trust me. Wear this. It’s a costume. You’ll see when you get here.
Eren hadn’t explained further, and Levi hadn’t pushed. But now, sitting in the car as the headlights carved their way through dark streets, he felt ridiculous. Everyone else would be in masks and fake blood and elaborate getups, and he’d just be… him.
“Cheer up, Levi,” Hange said, twisting in their seat to grin at him. “If you’re supposed to be brooding musician, you nailed it.”
Levi grunted, sinking lower against the door. His phone buzzed, and he glanced down at the screen.
I'm thinking we could try this out
Eurydice: Almost there? Can’t wait to see you.
The corner of Levi’s mouth twitched before he caught himself. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, gaze fixed on the blur of orange streetlights.
Whatever Eren was planning, Levi wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
But a part of him—the part he couldn’t shake—was curious anyway.
When they pulled up to Jean’s place, the street was already a mess. Cars lined both sides of the road, kids spilling off the lawn with red cups in their hands, laughter and music blaring loud enough to rattle the car windows.
Inside, the house was worse. The air was thick with the smell of cheap alcohol and sweat, half the lights dimmed, a strobe in the corner throwing disjointed flashes across the crowd. Teenagers pressed shoulder to shoulder, already too many drinks in for the night to have just started.
Armin found them first, weaving through the bodies in a toga that looked like it had taken him hours to pin together. His face lit up when he spotted them.
If that's okay?
“Hey! You guys made it!” He adjusted the laurel crown slipping down his blond hair and gave them each a once-over. “Erwin, that uniform looks incredible. Hange, you look terrifying—in the best way. And Levi—” Armin paused, brows raised. “Honestly? That works. Very… James Dean.”
Levi frowned. “Not a damn costume.”
“It is if you say it is,” Armin said brightly, then leaned closer. “Anyway, you might want to check with Eren. He had some kind of plan about it.”
Levi’s jaw tightened. “You seen him?”
Armin nodded toward the back. “Last I saw, he was outside with a couple people. Should still be in the yard.”
Without another word, Levi shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and cut through the crowd. The music pounded, bass shaking the floor under his boots as he pushed past sweaty kids laughing too loud, stumbling into each other. He made it to the sliding glass door and stepped out into the yard, the cool night air sharp in his lungs.
The backyard was just as crowded. Clusters of people huddled around makeshift fire pits and folding tables stacked with beer cans. Levi scanned the scene once, then again, irritation prickling hotter with each pass. No sign of messy brown hair, no flash of green eyes.
But this is new to me I'm frightened
He lingered by the porch railing, the chill wind tugging at his jacket. Eren was supposed to be here. He’d said trust me. He’d promised Levi would see the point of this outfit.
But he was nowhere.
Levi’s hand twitched toward his phone, but he stopped himself. He wasn’t going to look desperate. Not for him.
Still, his chest felt tight as he scanned the yard one more time, waiting for a glimpse that didn’t come.
What Levi didn’t expect to see was Eren.
Not in his usual jeans and hoodie, but in a bright pink satin jacket with Pink Lady stitched across the back in looping black letters. The jacket caught the glow of the patio lights, practically shouting for attention, and the black skinny jeans he wore with it left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Levi’s eyes lingered longer than they should have. Too long. He forced them away, jaw tight, and shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets before making his way across the yard.
Can I be scared and excited?
Eren spotted him instantly. His whole face lit up, a grin spreading wide and unrestrained. He excused himself from the circle he’d been holding court in and strode forward, clapping a hand on Levi’s shoulder before pulling him straight into the group.
“There he is,” Eren said loudly, voice full of triumph. “My T-Bird finally showed up.”
Levi blinked, thrown. “What the hell are you talking about—”
Then it clicked. The leather jacket. The white shirt. The jeans.
Grease.
Eren had made him Danny Zuko without ever saying the word. And now, standing there in that ridiculous pink jacket, Eren was grinning like Sandy and Rizzo had been rolled into one.
The group around them laughed, a few people throwing out comments about the pairing. Levi wanted to scowl, wanted to brush it off, but his throat went tight as Eren leaned just a little closer, green eyes sparkling under the backyard lights.
Praying this ain't unrequited
“See?” Eren murmured, just low enough for Levi to hear. “Told you it was a costume.”
Levi huffed, looking away as heat crawled up the back of his neck. He muttered under his breath, “You’re a damn idiot.”
But his chest was thrumming, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of that pink satin glinting in the dark—or the way Eren’s smile had been just for him.
Eren kept his hand slung casually over Levi’s shoulder as he turned back to the circle of people. “Alright, introductions,” he said, grinning like he’d been waiting for this. “Since my T-Bird finally showed up, it’s only fair.”
He started with a short blonde girl in a yellow corset and matching skirt that shimmered under the patio lights. “This is Historia. She’s Belle tonight, apparently.”
The tall brunette standing comfortably close beside her, in a sharp blue suit with gold trim, raised a hand in greeting. “And that’s her girlfriend, Ymir—the Beast. Obviously.”
Historia smiled sweetly, Ymir smirked, and Levi nodded once, storing the names away.
So tell me I'm not crazy
Eren gestured next to a lanky guy standing a little apart from the pair, wearing a cape and cheap plastic fangs. “And this guy? The one with the horse face? That’s Jean.”
Jean rolled his eyes, baring his fake fangs. “Screw you, Jaeger. At least I committed to a costume.”
“You committed to being ugly,” Eren shot back, earning a laugh from Historia and Ymir.
Levi’s mouth twitched before he could stop it.
“And last but not least,” Eren said, turning to the girl leaning against the fence. She was dressed in all black, simple but sharp, with a pair of sleek cat ears perched on her head. Her dark hair framed a face that mirrored Eren’s in subtle ways—same jawline, same restless eyes.
“This is Mikasa,” Eren said. “My sister.”
Levi blinked, caught off guard. “You have a sister?”
'Cause only, fools fall in love
Eren shrugged, as if it were nothing. “Story for another night.”
Mikasa’s gaze flicked between them, steady but unreadable, before she gave the faintest nod of acknowledgement.
Levi returned it, though his chest was still tight. He wasn’t used to surprises—and Eren was turning out to be full of them.
The circle dissolved into easy chatter, but before Levi could process much more, familiar voices cut across the yard.
“Leeevi!” Hange’s sing-song shout carried over the music. They came bounding across the grass, Erwin and Armin trailing behind like reluctant chaperones.
When Hange finally spotted Eren at Levi’s side, their face split into wild cackles. “Oh my god,” they howled, clutching their lab coat like it might fly off. “You didn’t tell me this was a group costume! This is incredible!”
Levi scowled. “It’s not—”
With somebody who wants a body
“Don’t even try,” Hange barreled on, eyes darting between the leather jacket and the Pink Lady satin. “This is Grease, isn’t it? Danny and Sandy!” Their grin widened until it nearly split their face. “Oh, don’t tell me you two started dating and just didn’t bother to let the rest of us know.”
Levi felt his stomach drop, heat crawling up the back of his neck. “We didn’t—”
But Eren only chuckled, not looking the least bit embarrassed. “Maybe I’m just waiting on someone to finally make a move,” he said casually, flashing a grin at the group.
Historia snorted. Ymir laughed outright. Even Jean rolled his eyes. The rest of the circle chuckled and brushed it off as another one of Eren’s smart remarks.
But Levi… Levi caught the flicker in his eyes. The way the grin didn’t hide the spark of truth beneath it.
And something clicked.
The late-night texts. The look across Erwin’s living room after he sang. The way his chest had tightened seeing Eren in that ridiculous jacket tonight.
That doesn't look like yours at all
Maybe this wasn’t just annoyance. Or curiosity. Maybe what had been gnawing at him for weeks, what he couldn’t shake, was simpler than he’d let himself admit.
A crush.
Levi looked away quickly, pretending to scan the crowd, but his chest felt tight, restless. The noise of the party blurred at the edges as the thought sank in, unavoidable now that it had surfaced.
He liked Eren.
And that was going to be a problem.
That haunted Levi for the rest of the night.
He caught himself glancing toward Eren more times than he wanted to admit—just to see how he reacted to things. When someone cracked a joke, Levi looked for Eren’s grin before he even realized it. When Hange started waving their arms, telling some wild story about roller-skating Hermes, Levi’s eyes flicked sideways to catch the way Eren tried and failed to hide his laughter.
So tell me I'm not crazy
And when Eren excused himself to grab another beer, Levi’s focus didn’t follow the conversation at all. His gaze trailed across the yard, locked on the way Eren moved through the crowd, how the pink satin glowed under the patio lights, how his jeans clung when he bent to grab a can from the cooler. Levi looked away quickly, but the image stuck, burned into his mind like a riff he couldn’t shake.
He hated how restless it made him. Hated how easy it was to notice every little thing.
But later, when the noise of the party blurred and he found himself leaning against the porch railing, half a beer forgotten in his hand, it all pressed in.
For weeks, he’d been trying to drag scraps of lyrics into something solid, scratching half-lines into his notebook only to tear the pages out. Nothing fit. Nothing worked.
But now—after meeting Eren—pieces were starting to fall into place. Words found rhythm. Images had weight.
Eren was chaos and spark, sharp edges and reckless grins. He was the look that lingered across a crowded table, the voice that cut through late-night silence, the laugh that stuck in Levi’s head long after it faded.
He was more than just a classmate. More than a scene partner.
'Cause only, fools go to die
Eren was his Eurydice. His muse.
And Levi wasn’t sure whether that would save him—or ruin him.
The night had worn on, the music thumping inside while the backyard pulsed with voices and laughter. Levi had retreated to the patio, leaning against the railing, half-finished beer dangling loosely from his hand. He let the noise blur into static, focusing on the cool air and the shadows stretching across the yard.
The door slid open behind him, and then Eren was there, leaning against the railing at his side, facing out toward the yard. His grin was easy, unguarded, the kind of goofy smile that tugged at something Levi didn’t want to name.
“So,” Eren said, voice carrying over the muffled bass, “how you liking the party?”
Levi’s mouth twitched. “It’s fine. Loud.”
Eren chuckled, reaching over without asking. He plucked the bottle from Levi’s hand, set it down beside his own on the edge of the railing, and before Levi could protest, he hooked his fingers through Levi’s and tugged.
For a man with other plans
“C’mon.”
Levi stumbled a step as Eren pulled him off the deck, down the slope of the lawn. The hum of voices and music grew distant, fading with each stride until it was just their footsteps and the faint rustle of leaves underfoot.
At the edge of the property, the grass dipped, and Levi could just make out the shimmer of water in the dark. A pond, reflecting slivers of moonlight.
Eren dropped down onto the cool grass, tugging Levi down beside him without hesitation. “Better,” he said simply, leaning back on his hands as he looked out over the water.
Levi sat stiffly at first, his pulse still buzzing from the suddenness of it all. The pond rippled faintly, quiet and calm in contrast to the chaos they’d left behind. It was just the two of them now—the distance swallowing the noise, leaving only the sound of crickets and the wind threading through the trees.
Levi glanced sideways. Eren’s profile was lit faintly by the moonlight, messy hair catching silver at the edges, that damned grin softened into something quieter.
And for the first time all night, Levi didn’t feel like running.
And other lovers on his mind
Eren pointed across the water toward a row of houses tucked against the far shore. One window glowed faintly, a square of yellow in the dark.
“See that one? That’s mine,” he said, his voice softer now. “Kinda weird, looking at it from here. Makes it feel like the light’s waiting on me to come home.”
For a moment, Levi let his eyes rest on the reflection dancing over the ripples.
Then Eren’s grin came back, bright and sudden. He plucked another blade of grass, flicking it away. “Me and the guys used to come out here all the time. Half the dumb stuff we did started right on this bank. Hell, I even convinced Jean to go swimming once. He thought he was tough until he inhaled half the pond. Sick for a week. His mom nearly banned him from ever hanging out with me again.”
The memory pulled a laugh out of him, full and unguarded, like it still lived right under his skin.
Eren’s laugh faded into the night, carried off by the wind and the soft ripple of the pond. Levi felt something loosen in his chest, and before he could stop himself, words slipped to the edge of his tongue.
So tell me I'm
“You’re—” he started, but the rest caught in his throat when Eren turned.
Green eyes locked onto his, sharp even in the moonlight, and for the first time Levi noticed something he hadn’t before—a faint swirl of gold caught in the green, like sunlight sinking into the water.
The air tightened between them.
Levi’s breath stalled, heart pounding against his ribs. He didn’t know what possessed him—didn’t want to think about it—but his hand was already moving, reaching up to cup the back of Eren’s head. His fingers slid into messy strands of brown hair as he pulled him close.
The kiss was clumsy at first, more urgency than grace, but it was real. Levi’s lips pressed hard against Eren’s, tasting faintly of cheap beer and something electric underneath. For a moment, Eren froze, breath caught.
Then, slowly, he leaned in, kissing back. The hesitation broke, replaced by something warm, unsteady, and alive.
Levi didn’t let himself think. Didn’t let himself pull away. He just held Eren there, the world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the cool grass beneath them, and the pond’s quiet ripple in the dark.
Tell me I'm not a fool in your eyes
Eren’s palm pressed firmly against Levi’s chest, easing him back until his shoulders hit the grass. The cool earth caught him, grounding and fleeting all at once, while the heat of Eren’s body replaced everything else.
Levi’s breath stuttered as Eren swung a leg over, settling across his hips. The weight of him was solid, anchoring, and yet it set Levi’s pulse racing. His hands hesitated for a heartbeat, then slid instinctively to Eren’s waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket as though to make sure he wouldn’t pull away.
Eren leaned down, catching Levi’s mouth again. This kiss was deeper, hungrier. Their lips parted, collided, pressed harder, until Levi felt the sharp edge of his own restraint slipping. Eren’s breath mingled with his, hot and uneven, and when Levi tilted his head just slightly, their mouths fit together in a way that made his chest tighten almost painfully.
Eren shifted, pressing closer, and Levi swore he felt sparks where their bodies connected. His grip on Eren’s waist tightened, pulling him down until there was no space left between them. Eren groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against Levi’s mouth, and the rawness of it made heat flare low in his stomach.
Levi broke the kiss just long enough to draw in a sharp breath, only for Eren to chase him, lips brushing his jaw, his neck, before returning to his mouth with a desperation that left Levi dizzy. The world had narrowed to this: the crush of Eren’s body above him, the grass digging into his back, the taste of beer and warmth and something untamed on Eren’s tongue.
Levi had kissed before. He knew the motions. But this wasn’t just a kiss. This was losing himself in someone else entirely.
And he didn’t want it to stop.
So tell me I'm
And they didn’t stop that night.
What began at the pond carried into the days that followed, spilling into every corner of their lives. Between classes, in empty hallways, whenever no one was looking—Eren would lean in, grin flashing, and Levi would find himself kissing him like he couldn’t help it.
They carved out spaces just for themselves. Lunch breaks stolen in the front seat of Levi’s car, the windows fogged as they laughed quietly, trading stories and touches they couldn’t risk anywhere else. Study sessions that turned into excuses to be close. Late-night texts that bled into dawn, words slipping between teasing and confessions Levi hadn’t thought he’d ever make.
For weeks, it felt like the world shrank down to just the two of them. The noise of the classroom, the chaos of the parties, even the weight of the future—it all blurred at the edges. What remained sharp, what remained real, was Eren. His voice, his laugh, the feel of his hand at the back of Levi’s neck.
It was reckless. Dangerous. Impossible to ignore.
And for the first time in a long time, Levi didn’t want to fight it.
The day of the performance came faster than Levi expected.
Tell me I'm not just wasting my time
The desks had been cleared from the AP Lit classroom, pushed back against the walls to carve out a makeshift stage. Costumes rustled, props clattered, and Ms. Saeki sat perched at her desk with her grading sheet ready, glasses low on her nose.
Their group stood at the front, scripts tucked away at last. It was time to put the weeks of work into motion.
Hange strutted across the stage first, lab coat flaring like wings, declaring themselves Hermes with wild gesturing that earned a ripple of laughter. Erwin followed with calm precision, voice carrying steady authority as he settled into Hades. Armin, cheeks pink but posture strong, stepped forward as Persephone, his lines delivered with quiet conviction.
But it was when Levi and Eren took the center that the room changed.
Eren stood across from him, their “costume” nothing more than dark jeans and a crisp white button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Simple. Unremarkable. But with the way he moved—intent, eyes locked on Levi—he didn’t need more.
Levi’s pulse hammered as he began, his voice low, carrying weight beyond the script.
“I would cross every shadow, play until my hands bled, if it meant you’d follow my voice back to me.”
Oh I'm on the verge of just giving up
Eren’s lips parted, and when he answered, it wasn’t just a line. It was a vow.
“Your song is the only thing that binds me here. Don’t stop, Orpheus. If you look back, I’ll be gone.”
They circled each other, the rest of the class gone silent. Even Hange’s exaggerated Hermes had stilled, watching with wide eyes as if they’d forgotten this was only a play.
Levi reached for Eren’s hand, fingers brushing his, and the contact jolted like a live wire. It wasn’t acting anymore. Not for him.
The scene built toward its inevitable end. Levi, as Orpheus, led Eurydice toward the edge of the underworld—toward safety, toward the promise of a world together. His shoulders stiffened with the weight of it.
Then, at the breaking point, he turned.
The script said it, demanded it—but it hit Levi’s chest like betrayal anyway.
'Cause losing you would be just my luck
Eren froze mid-step, breath catching audibly before his grip slipped free. “You looked back,” he whispered, voice thick, aching. “And now I’m gone.”
The line dropped into silence.
For a heartbeat, the whole classroom seemed to hold still. Levi’s lungs burned. Eren’s green eyes met his, holding more than the script asked for, and Levi knew every word had been meant on both sides.
Then the room erupted.
Applause broke out, scattered at first but quickly growing. A few whistles, the scrape of desks as classmates leaned forward, murmurs of “damn, that was good” rolling through the crowd.
Hange cackled like a maniac, throwing their arms in the air. “Our Orpheus and Eurydice! Academy Award level! Broadway, here we come!”
Armin ducked his head, flushed but smiling, while Erwin gave a steady nod as if he’d expected nothing less.
Text me back, call my name
Ms. Saeki looked over her glasses, tapping her pen against her paper. “Well,” she said finally, her voice dry but betraying the faintest hint of a smile, “I suppose that’s what happens when you give teenagers Greek tragedy. Nicely done.”
Levi forced himself to stand straighter, swallowing down the heat that hadn’t left his chest. Eren, beside him, grinned that reckless grin, but when their eyes met again, Levi saw the truth under it.
They hadn’t just acted.
They’d lived it.
Later that night, Levi sat cross-legged on his bed, guitar balanced against his knee. His notebook lay open beside him, half-filled pages littered with scratch marks, arrows, and lines he’d crossed out a hundred times. But tonight was different. Tonight, the words came smooth, unbroken.
They’d started flowing the moment he got home, still raw from the performance. Every lyric he wrote fit together with the next like they’d been waiting there all along, just under the surface. Every chord progression he played hummed with certainty, the notes ringing clean and sharp as though they already knew where they belonged.
He didn’t have to force it. He didn’t even have to think.
Say you love me, I'm insane
All he had to do was picture Eren.
The reckless grin when he delivered his lines. The low ache in his voice when he said “And now I’m gone.” The green of his eyes, catching him like a hook he couldn’t shake free from.
Levi’s pen scratched across the page, his fingers strumming the strings, and the song began to take shape—honest, aching, alive. It wasn’t about Orpheus. It wasn’t about tragedy. It was about Eren.
For the first time since he’d picked up a guitar, Levi felt like he wasn’t just writing. He was confessing.
Eren was his Eurydice. His muse. The reason the silence finally broke.
And as the last note lingered in the air, Levi knew one thing with absolute certainty.
This song was theirs.
I'm on the brink and it's in my head
Levi set his guitar down carefully on the edge of the bed, staring at the words scrawled across the open notebook. The melody still hummed in his chest, vibrating through his fingertips. For once, it wasn’t just an idea half-formed and abandoned. It was whole. Finished. Alive.
And he knew exactly when to perform it.
The winter talent show.
It was only a few weeks away, a stupid tradition he’d never cared about—until now. The thought of standing in front of the whole school, guitar in hand, had always made his stomach twist. It wasn’t him. Levi wasn’t the type to show off, wasn’t the type to crave an audience.
But this wasn’t about the school. It wasn’t even about the crowd.
It was about Eren.
Levi wanted him to hear it. To know it. To understand, without any more late-night texts or stolen kisses in empty corners, exactly how much space he’d taken up in Levi’s head. In his chest.
'Cause losing you must mean love is dead
It was reckless. Out of character. Borderline insane.
But Levi couldn’t help himself.
For Eren, he’d do it.
For Eren, he’d sing.
The auditorium buzzed with chatter, the kind that rattled Levi’s nerves more than he’d admit. Students packed the seats in clusters, some half-bored, some restless, all waiting for the next act. The stage lights glared hot against the curtain, and Levi could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips as he tightened his grip on the neck of his guitar.
He hadn’t planned to care. Not about the show, not about the audience. But then, just before his name was called, his eyes scanned the crowd.
Text me back, Call my name
And found him.
Eren sat a few rows back, slouched casually in his seat, but his eyes were locked on the stage as if he already knew Levi was looking. Even from here, under the harsh lights, Levi could see the spark of green and gold.
Levi’s chest tightened. He forced in a slow breath, steadying himself. Then he stepped out.
The spotlight hit, the chatter dipped, and the room blurred until it was only him, the guitar, and the boy in the crowd.
The first chords came smooth, steady, carried by hands that somehow remembered what his head threatened to forget. The words followed, each one pulled straight from the notebook pages, straight from the long nights when it had been just him and the thought of Eren.
And then came the last verse, the one that had burned in his chest from the start.
His voice rose, raw and unshaken:
“Won’t you tell me
Tell me I’m not crazy
’Cause only fools fall in love
With somebody who wants a body
That doesn’t look like yours at all.”
The last line hung heavy in the air. And as he sang it, Levi’s gaze found Eren again. This time he didn’t look away.
For that moment, the whole room disappeared. It wasn’t the talent show anymore. It wasn’t a performance. It was him, laying himself bare in front of the only person who mattered.
The final chord echoed, then faded, leaving silence in its wake.
Levi’s hands shook, just faintly, but his eyes never left Eren’s.
The applause still thundered from the auditorium, rattling through the thin curtain. Levi had barely set his guitar against the wall when the backstage door shoved open.
Eren came through fast, breathless, his eyes blazing. “Levi—”
He didn’t get another word out. In two strides he was there, hands gripping Levi’s jacket, pulling him in like he couldn’t hold back another second. Their mouths collided in a kiss that was urgent, desperate, full of everything Levi had just sung onstage.
Levi froze only for a heartbeat before his arms moved on instinct, one hand finding the back of Eren’s neck, holding him there, deepening the kiss until the roar of the crowd outside faded into nothing.
When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing hard, Eren’s forehead rested against his.
Levi’s voice came out rougher than he expected. “Be my boyfriend.”
For a second, Eren just stared at him, stunned. Then his lips curved into a grin—wide, lovesick, brighter than any spotlight.
“Yes,” he said, almost laughing with the force of it. “God, yes.”
Levi’s grip tightened, and this time when he kissed him, it wasn’t urgent. It was steady, certain, like he’d found the only answer that mattered.
Behind the curtain, the applause kept going, but for Levi, the world had already gone quiet.
The sound of applause still echoed in his memory when the present pulled him back.
The yellow walls. The blinds leaking slivers of light. The weight of Isabel’s gaze across the small room.
Levi shifted in his chair, arms crossed, as if the movement alone could steady him.
Isabel tilted her head slightly, her pen poised above the notebook. “And what happened next?”
Levi let out a long breath through his nose. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor, but the words came anyway, rough and unpolished.
“We were Orpheus and Eurydice,” he said. “Everyone thought we were made for each other. He helped me record my songs, build a following online. I helped him scrape through math homework he would’ve bombed without me.” His throat tightened, but he forced the rest out. “The song I wrote about him was my first hit.”
For a moment, silence filled the room. Levi’s jaw clenched, his hands curling against his sleeves.
“But just like Orpheus…” His voice dropped, low, bitter. “…I turned my back to him.”
The words hung heavy between them, sharp enough that Isabel didn’t write right away. She just looked at him, steady and patient, waiting for him to keep going.