Levi had been arrested, and he couldn't believe how glad he felt when they forcefully locked handcuffs around his wrists and pinned him to the police vehicle. They had found him passed out in the middle of the once abandoned road and woke him up immediately to ask him a series of questions. His mouth was incredibly dry and his limbs ached like he had just danced all night. They were serious but passive-aggressive to him, they were asking for his name even though they knew exactly who he was. Instead of imagining what life would be like in prison, all he could think was the last time he had glanced at Eren; his angelic face sleeping away like there was nothing wrong in the world, as if nothing horrible had happened to him. They had screamed at Levi, demanding where his accomplice was, but all he could say was that he had no clue where he could be. He hoped that they would find him eventually.
The memory of his arrest was as clear as day; if he ever wrote a book, it would be accurate for sure. He could recall the taste of the air, the scent of the rain and the dead and empty feeling he was going through as the police shoved him into the car and drove away. As the car buzzed, all he could ask himself was what had happened to him; why he was such a different and changed person after his little misadventure. The old Levi, he liked to call him, was a trouble maker and never got caught. He was a sleek and secretive person who shut the world around him, concealing himself. The one thing he could not fathom was how he let someone in so easily, like he himself was a solid, locked entryway whom no one could get to open, and Eren was some kind of character from a story book who magically appeared out of thin ear and waltz right in, as if it were the easiest of tasks. All of the defense and frigidness he worked so hard for was hammered down effortlessly by some awkward, loud tall kid. This, he told himself many times, was not love but confusion. This was not love. This was mistake.
He had to try harder to protect himself. Because in a world so ghastly and harmful, it was risky to give in and trust others.
Maybe it was better to listen to uncle Kenny's words of supposed whacked wisdom.
---
From what the nurses and doctors had informed him he did not awake for days, and were concerned that he would not make it.
In some ways, he wished that he ended up dying. He was not suicidal but when he finally urged his eyelids to lift themselves after a short nap, he was greeted with an anxiety so horrid that he almost wished he could dig a hole and perish in it. If it were a person, it gripped tightly at his chest and squeezed his neck. He pushed himself up from the hospital bed suddenly and screamed until he could not hear himself no loner. Nurses rushed in to calm him down and see what the problem was, but apparently it was another one of his post-nightmare reactions.
It was the same dream most of the time. Whenever he fell asleep, it would start the same way each time; he would be casually sitting in a matress-less bed in the middle of a radiant ivory room while enjoying a book. Everytime he looked up from his novel he was immediately sprayed with an odd substance that smelled of ciggarettes and breath mints, a scent so weirdly familiar, then violently pushed onto his back until he could feel his spine rub against the harsh pipes and screws of the bedframe, then blindfolded. It was dark and he was alone but with the exception of fading voices ringing into his ears, telling him awful things that he could never recall when he woke up. His throat burned from screaming, but soon he calmed down after being told it was just a dream and that it could not hurt him. But it did hurt, mentally but not physically.
He wanted everything to go away, for all the horrid memories of the past to burn up in flames just like his hopes of getting better. It was starting to drive him crazy, and the call of the void was reaching him like a vigorous demand. Surely it was a traumatizing experience, but one thing he knew he would not get over was the fact that Levi had abandoned him when he was hurt. Not much detail on the stupid note he had left, or anything else toreassure him. He had the scribbled message memorized and pressed into his brain like dried flowers between the fragile pages of a book. He hated himself for it; he detested the fact that he honestly thought Levi would stay. Now he was starting to believe what Levi said about how he was a bad guy. He was right and told the truth. Levi was indeed a bad guy, the kind his parents would warn him about. The kind of bad guy that was dangerously attractive but lethal.
