A/N: The last story I wrote was like four months ago... that's almost kind of funny. Anyhow, as I've been recently introduced to SnK and have become obsessed with Riren- here's an angst ridden piece of surreal drama for you people to enjoy. Please read and review~
Disclaimer: I don't own SnK. I wish I did though.
12/08/13: Edited a lot of typos I didn't notice. Sorry, guys...
They are but human beings, trapped forever behind a wall that separates them from life and a gruesome conclusion, but even then Eren's always wondered what it would be like to fly. It was a hunger that came to him along with the ones of revenge and that bloody concept of an eye for an eye, until every last Titan died for what they had subjugated everyone to. The desire was a bit difficult to describe with the orthodoxy of words; its core was the feeling of intangible freedom versus that of a dream close at hand, the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins as he's falling falling falling-
(And there was no weight in the skies, nor fear of horizontal drop, past terrors or ghosts that would not leave him. There is only silence and acceptance and the gates to a place where stars purify the burdens of reality.)
This is what he imagines: the Corporal's lips on his collarbone, planting butterfly kisses that speak of a word that he has feared since its conceiving- starting with L and ending with a breath of stereotypical fantasies. It's foolish, and he knows this, but he's still willing to cling on imagination and something that almost resembles a childish disregard for facts that he would rather have whited out from the rules that dictated the mechanics of everything. He makes up endings for stories that already seemingly have conclusions.
Eren isn't stupid though. There are limits to how much the world will give back, and he wasn't as rash as to gamble on a worthless bet that just might squander everything he's wished for. For now he twists half-truths around his fingers and cherishes every whisper that Levi might have given, every feeling of affection that he might have displayed. Sometimes he wonders if he's just an idiot, because he knows that it's just a physical thing and that's everything it'll probably ever be.
There is something unpleasant about being regarded as a dangerous tool turned fuck toy, but it's better than nothing. He had been in the agreement all along. The expectations (zero) have been clear from day one.
Everything is fine.
The chess pieces are spread out in tantalum, like that of ebony wraiths scattered amongst ivory snow, struggling to retain definition to the dim background of the room. Eren's played this game a hundred times over, with superiors, with bystanders (monster- kill him-) and he knew how it worked like the back of his hand. He doesn't recall the last time he played though; it's been too long since any of them had the time. It was either killing or trying to recuperate. Everything was a jumbled mess anyway.
"You're hesitating." He frowned, tapping the hard mahogany of the table, "Please."
"The game requires more than just rash actions."
"Jaeger," the voice is smooth, cold (unfeeling), "you know you're not a leader. Follow the King onto his grave, as they as they say."
There is something about that voice that he feels he should remember- a tonal chord within the undercurrents that he should have heard, but did not in favour of the deafening silence that surrounds them. He gulps and looks away, but stillness still extends past reach.
"I thought you said you know."
"I do- but listen to me; what do you see at the end of your path?"
He frowns, slightly offended. It's not like he was losing badly, but even the slightest mistake was…
"You don't remember, do you. Not a word."
"What do you mean? I'm trying, but it's not-"
"Then try harder. Just because."
There was something touching him; something at the side of his head, like ice but not ice, cold but not cold. Then he woke with a flash and wondered blindly what the hell just happened.
Levi's breath is ragged in his ear as he thrusts harder and harder into Eren's body, making him feel like as if he was going to break in half any moment. They were never gentle with each other, but he's always wondered if there was a reason behind the Corporal's almost sadistic bites that break his skin, the raw fervour that is almost animalistic in his eyes when he sees Eren writhing underneath him. It always feels like the first time when they're doing it, and he knows that there must have been something about him that always made the older man come back, but he's still yet to discover it. Sometimes he hates himself for this twisted weakness, but that doesn't deny him the satisfaction when he comes all over Levi's toned chest.
He begs for more and hears a scoff, followed by steel grey eyes eying him in such a way that makes him shiver. The other smirks faintly at this, but obliges, and soon he's moving again inside and it feels so damned good-
"How shameless," Levi scoffed, and it was almost a deadpan despite the whole lewd situation they were in, "You're sluttier than I thought, brat."
He obeys, like he's been taught to; runs his tongue over his commanding officer's neck and sucks on the spot that's right above Levi's shoulder which he knows will make the other pleased. A hand tightens around his hair and suddenly Eren is flipped over so he sees nothing but the shadows that dance in the corners of his room.
Maybe it's better this way. Maybe if things continued like this, he would stop having those stupid daydreams that were starting to ruin his common reasoning. Maybe he could forget that he-
This is what he imagines: a sandy desert that is surrounded by sea, languid heat in the autumn, when the first leaves start changing colour. Someone threading their fingers through his damp brown hair, rushed nonsense spoken to his ear that might have made sense in another lifetime.
The walls are gone, and humanity is saved. His friends (even the dead ones) are there, if only for a while, and he is happy like he's never been for some time. Levi waking up groggily next to him, eyebrows twitching when he's told he's overslept.
Mikasa's quiet reassurances- "Everything is over now. We can live."
Falling asleep and knowing for once that he is safe.
"You always talk about things that don't even matter in the relevant context," Eren says moodily, staring at the black knight (to E7), "Well, what do you know?"
There is a thoughtful pause, almost a lull in time. Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimes twelve.
"Everything that there is and is not."
"Yeah, exactly like that. You're not saying anything, just babbling about some dogmas that-"
"Jaeger, have you ever wondered why our world works the way it is?"
Eren's lips fold downwards and he slowly pushes his piece forward, "If this is about how I'm bad at chess, it's an interesting way to break it."
A heavy sigh. Silence.
"No, it has nothing to do with that, but it has to do with chess at least. Look at this board, a virtual stimulation of a war. How would you go about saving what's left?"
"Who are the pawns, the bishops, the king? Are you this expendable-" knocks down a pawn "-or are you willing to go further? Even the lowest pawn can become a more powerful piece."
He shrugs, confused. Strategy's never really been his thing- he thinks with some degree of defeat, but something about the game seems wrong, faked, somehow. The words that are being spoken to him stir a feeling of unease.
He shakes his head, wondering if it was right to act upon the best move that came to him. A few moments later he notices his opponent's queen open. No way- was this-?
"But sometimes," the voice says to him again, "It's so much easier to just sacrifice the most important piece to ensure the survival of the others."
He looks up. Hollowness stares back at him.
(Checkmate, says his opponent.)
He couldn't think straight as he whimpered into Levi's shoulder with the older man's hand between his legs. It felt so good, but it was so dirty and wrong to be sitting in his superior's lap like this, while the Corporal was working him with one hand and finishing paperwork with the other. He is seeking release but Levi is intent on teasing him until he breaks. A touch here and there that is enough to make Eren cry out, but not orgasm. If the other sensed that he was close, he would instantly cease all action and watch in amused mockery as Eren would try to grind against his leg (like a dog) in frustration.
But he's not the quietest, nor Levi the most patient. Soon, he is thrown on the couch and fingers part him unceremoniously with spit used as the only lubricant. Then Levi enters him without much of a warning and stifles a groan while Eren's green eyes blink feverishly, pupils dilated with drugging pleasure.
Please- ugh... I need… I need-
Spit it out, brat. You're still so tight…
S-stop- stop teas- ah! Nhhh- sir, I'm so… close… please.
He feels Levi's eyes on him, and suddenly feels more naked than he ever was, even in his deranged state of mind. There is something smothering behind the emotionless stare that he can't quite put his finger on.
This is what he imagines: death by the sword, elegant and clean. Levi's promise to him that it was he that was going to kill Eren and no other. No blood, only smoke.
To be killed by a blade meant so many things, and not just symbolically; the white steel- purity, complete defeat of the enemy, a fallen angel being ripped in two. He's held one out of hatred for the flesh eating monsters outside this gilded cage for his entire life. One day, they're going to kill them all and he's probably going to be the only one left.
There is something so ironically daunting about it that sometimes he laughs about the implications when he is alone. Despite the fact that he's essentially become the spearhead for humanity's effort against the Titans, it's just so incredibly weird how he is one technically, and a part of him still fails to accept this.
Sometimes he wonders what Levi's face would look like when he does make that final blow.
"That's cheating you know, if you move a piece when it's not your turn."
He furrows his brow, curious. He's done so such thing, would do no such thing. How do you cheat in chess?
"You keep fighting me," the voice said again, leaden with just a dash of disappointment, "You resist every window I give to you for alternation."
Eren laughs, but it is too rushed, too unnatural, "You implying that I should lose? Voluntarily?"
Silence. Stillness. The cold is starting to give him shivers.
He feels a chill crawl up his side, and the lack of spoken word is becoming awkward, "I still don't know your face."
(And neither, does he think, will he ever.)
"Look at the board, and tell me what you see. Black and white, yes- but truly, what was there and what has been absent from there?"
Green eyes narrow in suspicion, "What are you talking about? I'm playing chess, right? Isn't that what you want?"
"Where is everything else though?"
He looks down and sees the black king, standing along on the checkered crystal. At that moment, he wonders if it had always been alone in the first place.
It doesn't take him long before he is undone and boneless against Levi, who is frowning at the mess that he has left behind and surely to complain about it when he feels less like he's floating on post-coital bliss. The Corporal's not yet done though; it was rarely just one round for them when they had the chance, and the older man's always taken a perverse pleasure in fucking Eren so hard he could barely walk the next day.
So he holds Eren against his desk and it hurts hurts hurts but there is something else to it- something sharp and sinfully good under the pain and it makes him cry out in choked moans, urging the other to go faster. He feels like a slut but Levi likes it that way, so he's obliged to do his duty. It's raw and it's good and anything but gentle. Levi and gentle together in the same sentence is an oxymoron, but that's what he imagines sometimes. Besides, there were times when he was permitted to stay the night, even though the Corporal was always gone by morning.
They kiss, and he bites down on Levi's lip unintentionally, drawing blood. Levi doesn't seem to notice or particularly care because he's biting along Eren's neck anyway, and he's vaguely wondering if it's the fact he can regenerate so fast that attracts the older man. No matter what, he will stay an unmarked canvas.
Something flutters in his stomach.
They are connected, and it's this carnal desire that makes himself complete. He can feel Levi's hot breath across his neck and feel his scars under calloused hands, because during that split second, he could- he could kiss his commanding officer and pretend for a moment that what they had between them wasn't just for the sake of fucking alone.
This is love this is love- this is not-
(No, he couldn't. Not now. It wasn't worth it. The stakes were too high and the outcome too improbable even for his tastes.)
He kisses Levi again and again and it's as bittersweet as all the regrets scattered across fate's eye.
This is what he imagines: an office, a look of disgust, and pieces of something shattered so thoroughly that it is an impossibility to piece back together.
Levi stared at him, his face more grim than usual- Are you kidding? You love me? You think this is a fucking fairy tale, don't you, idiot? Maybe you're waiting for someone to rescue you from a damned tower as well? Don't be stupid. We're at war.
And everything is ruined, a smoking, blacked out mess. He was too close. Too close for comfort.
"What do you want with me?" he asks, voice trembling (almost), "How long have we been sitting here, playing this game? Tell me what's going on."
"We do what we have to do to survive, you know. Sometimes you have to cheat in chess. Sometimes you have to move sideways; sometimes you have to move up."
He tries for a moment to remember what the pieces looked like before they vanished, how the dew of a dawn streaked day felt on his tongue, edged by ash and wind and fire. He finds that he doesn't remember.
"I'm so tired."
"So tired. Of all of this."
"I know. I know better than you. I am you."
And Eren doesn't really get it but he looks up, and everything is gone. The chessboard and the room. The byproducts of disillusionment hidden in a veil of surreal symbolism.
The world is still. Breathe in and-
If he is the pawn turned knight turned something- and that idiot Jean was the other one- Mikasa the queen and Levi- what was he? Or was the king the only piece there in the first place, was that supposed to be him?
It's too hard to think. The air is too painfully artificial.
"You seem out of it, brat." Levi stares at him in that unnerving way of his, his lips drawn out into a flat line, "Is there something you have to tell me?"
It takes him a few moments to get the message , and there's so bloody much he wants to say- needs to say- but-
The black king on the chessboard. The faraway amber drowned leaves.
Too many lines to cross, he tells himself wearily, too much to lose. This is not love- this is-
"No." he says before walking away, "It's nothing."