I'm Sorry... (Depressed Eren X Levi)

7

Levis pov

Eren went to remove my pants when a small knock at the door I was pinned too chimed through the house. My eyes widened and I pushed eren off, completely red faced. Eren sighed and moved me aside, well more like shoved me behind the couch, ruffled his hair and made himself look tired. He opened the door and there stood..Luke?

"Hello sir, I'm looking for Levi?" He asked, I poked my head out.

"Sam made dinner, he wants you home...sorry to...err interrupt you too." Luke said awkwardly, I sighed and got up. Eren who was once taking charge and not shy now converted to his shy and nervous self.

"Bye Levi.." he murmured, I grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him down to meet my lips and I gave him a soft kiss.

"Bye brat" I said and left with Luke.

"Your g-"

"Luke I put circles to shame with my gayness" I said, luke laughed his dog like laugh and continued ahead of me.

Erens pov

I grabbed at my hair and fell on the couch.

"Idiot!" I yelled to the empty house, the word echoing back at me. Despite the empty halls and rooms I felt like I was drowning. I was, my demons laughing as they watched me swim through the sadness and fear, pulling me Down to watch me sink! I grabbed my phone and ran outside, running to god knows where. I stopped when I heard something...a song..? I looked up to see a man talking into a Mic, looking to be almost in tears.

I don't own this!

" I'm not the only kid
who grew up this way
surrounded by people who used to say
that rhyme about sticks and stones
as if broken bones
hurt more than the names we got called
and we got called them all
so we grew up believing no one
would ever fall in love with us
that we'd be lonely forever
that we'd never meet someone
to make us feel like the sun
was something they built for us
in their tool shed
so broken heart strings bled the blues
as we tried to empty ourselves
so we would feel nothing
don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
that an ingrown life
is something surgeons can cut away
that there's no way for it to metastasize

it does

she was eight years old
our first day of grade three
when she got called ugly
we both got moved to the back of the class
so we would stop get bombarded by spit balls
but the school halls were a battleground
where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day
we used to stay inside for recess
because outside was worse
outside we'd have to rehearse running away
or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there
in grade five they taped a sign to her desk
that read beware of dog

to this day
despite a loving husband
she doesn't think she's beautiful
because of a birthmark
that takes up a little less than half of her face
kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer
that someone tried to erase
but couldn't quite get the job done
and they'll never understand
that she's raising two kids
whose definition of beauty
begins with the word mom
because they see her heart
before they see her skin
that she's only ever always been amazing

he
was a broken branch
grafted onto a different family tree
adopted
but not because his parents opted for a different destiny
he was three when he became a mixed drink
of one part left alone
and two parts tragedy
started therapy in 8th grade
had a personality made up of tests and pills
lived like the uphills were mountains
and the downhills were cliffs
four fifths suicidal
a tidal wave of anti depressants
and an adolescence of being called popper
one part because of the pills
ninety nine parts because of the cruelty
he tried to kill himself in grade ten
when a kid who still had his mom and dad
had the audacity to tell him "get over it" as if depression
is something that can be remedied
by any of the contents found in a first aid kit