Chapter Text
Homeless – Finding Warmth in Your Arms
Part 1
Hange leaned her elbows on Levi’s kitchen table, cupping her mug between her hands and blowing across the steaming surface. Her brown eyes flicked up at him from behind the smudged lenses of her oversized glasses.
„Do you have sugar?” she asked, pushing the glasses up her hooked nose.
Levi clicked his tongue, irritation flashing in his grey eyes as he shoved the sugar box across the table.
„Saccharin-addicted maniac,” he muttered, watching with visible pain as she scooped four heaping spoonfuls into the small porcelain cup of Mariage Frères Marco Polo black tea—one of his more expensive imports.
A nerve twitched in Levi’s temple. The subtle, balanced aroma of the tea—floral, dark, with that rare note of red fruits—was being obliterated into nothing but sticky syrup. He should’ve kicked her ass for crimes against tea alone.
„Why’re you looking so grumpy, my favorite grump?” Hange teased, grinning like she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
Levi scowled. „You fuck up the tea, shithead.” His blunt tone rolled off her like water off glass; she’d known him too long to take offense at his barbs.
„Also, you’re gonna be bouncing off the walls for the rest of the day like a sugar-high toddler. This stuff’s a drug. You should cut down.”, he gruffed.
Hange huffed dramatically and took a sip, eyes fluttering shut as she declared, „Mmm. Perfect. Sweet.” Then, without warning, her gaze slid past him toward the closed door at the end of the living room. The spare room. Her eyes flicked back to Levi, a little too knowingly.
„You could use something sweet yourself,” she said, sly.
Levi exhaled sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring. He knew exactly what she meant. The room behind that door was almost empty now. It used to be Mike’s—first an office, then a temporary crash pad after their breakup, until the sniffing asshole finally moved out. Sniffing, literally. Mike had stuck his nose too far into other people. Other people’s asses, to be exact. Not only his nose, but his cock too.
Levi had wanted to kick him out the moment he found out, but cohabitation complicated things. It had been messy. Now the space was bare, but Levi refused to move. He liked the apartment: good neighborhood, decent rent, and everything kept pristine thanks to a live-in janitor and the hired cleaning service. Clean mattered. He wasn’t about to give that up.
„It’s been almost a year, Levi,” Hange pressed, leaning back with her mug. „You weren’t even with him for that long. Turn the room into something nice. A library—you love books. Or a tea pantry. God knows you hoard enough leaves.”
„Fuck off,” Levi sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Hange rolled her eyes, wild strands of chocolate-brown hair catching the kitchen light. „You’re lonely. And getting grumpier by the minute. Get over him already.”
„I’m over him,” Levi snapped. And he was. He didn’t look back, didn’t whine over a bastard who cheated. Feelings? Gone. But Hange’s point wasn’t about Mike. It was about the void he hadn’t filled since.
„Then go out,” she pushed. „Go on a date. Or at least hook up. You need to get laid, my friend.”
Levi lifted his own mug and took a slow sip. Not sweet. Not ruined. Just the clean, natural sharpness of the leaves. Perfect.
„I’ve got a hand.”
Hange snorted into her tea, though her expression was more exasperated than amused. „Yeah, I’m sure you’ve got a dildo too, but it’s not the same.”
No filter. No restraint. That was their friendship. Brutal honesty. Levi wouldn’t have tolerated it from anyone else. Still, the topic dug at him, irritating.
He narrowed his eyes at her over the rim of his cup. „Why the hell do you care?”
„Because,” Hange said, leaning forward, elbows planted firmly on the table again, „I don’t want to watch you shrivel up like some cranky old hermit before you even hit forty.” She jabbed a finger at him for emphasis. „You’ve been living in this tight little box for months now. Work. Tea. Cleaning. Repeat. That’s it.”
Levi shrugged. „Sounds efficient to me.”
„It sounds dead,” she countered, grinning but with a sharpness behind it. „You need something that isn’t sterile. Someone. Something that shakes you up a little.”
Levi clicked his tongue, looking away. „The last time I let someone ‘shake me up,’ it was Mike. And we both know how that went.”
„Yeah, well,” Hange said with a careless wave of her hand, „he was the wrong flavor of disaster. Doesn’t mean you should swear off men entirely.”
Levi stayed quiet, eyes fixed on the steam curling from his tea. He hated how her words stuck, how they slipped into the cracks he worked so hard to keep sealed.
Hange’s grin softened into something gentler. „Look, I’m not saying go fall in love tomorrow. Just… open the door a crack. Let someone unexpected in. You’d be surprised what fresh air can do.”
Levi scoffed, but it came out weaker than he wanted. „Fresh air usually smells like garbage in this city.”
„Not always,” Hange said, smirking over the rim of her cup. „Sometimes it catches you off guard. Reminds you you’re alive.”
Levi rolled his eyes, muttering into his tea. „You talk too much.”
Hange set her cup down with a soft clink and tilted her head at him. „You know what you could start with? Talking to people. Normal, harmless interaction. Maybe even—” her grin widened, mischievous now, „flirt with a cute boy.”
Levi snorted, nearly choking on his tea. „Cute boys aren’t interested in me, Four-Eyes. The only ones that look twice are middle-aged assholes with beer guts and too much cologne. And even that’s rare.”
Hange gasped theatrically, clutching at her chest. „Tragic. My best friend, criminally overlooked by the masses. You’re a good-looking guy — it’s your scowl that scares people off.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. „All the more reason you need practice. Go try flirting.”
„I don’t know how to flirt,” Levi growled back, scowling at her like she’d suggested he start juggling knives. „What if I bark instead?”
That earned a bark of laughter from Hange so loud the neighbors probably heard it through the apartment walls. She slapped the table, grinning ear to ear. „Oh my god, Levi. Then find someone who’s into that.”
Levi’s glare could’ve curdled milk, but Hange only smiled wider, eyes glittering with mischief.
For a second, he wondered if maybe she was right. Then he shoved the thought away as quickly as it came, muttering, „You’re fucking insufferable.”
„Yep,” she said cheerfully. „And one day you’ll thank me for it.”
X
Levi was on his way to work, the big city rush in full swing, everyone hustling to make a living—just like himself. The sidewalks were clogged with men in cheap suits and women in heels too high for the pace, all jostling for space. A constant hum of engines, honking horns, and the occasional siren cut through the thick morning air.
Levi liked walking. Thank fuck his apartment was close enough; he’d rather shave a few minutes off his sleep schedule than waste an hour crammed into a suffocating subway car or stuck in traffic. The roads were murder this time of day—cars backed up as far as the eye could see, drivers leaning on their horns like it would somehow make things move faster. And with summer break over, swarms of students spilled across the city streets, blocking the buses and jamming up the underground trains with their oversized backpacks and louder-than-necessary voices.
Damn brats.
Levi’s expression was grim—though, to be fair, it rarely wasn’t. At this point in his life, the permanent scowl carved into his features might as well have been his natural resting face. People gave him a wide berth, not that he minded.
He didn’t budge when a kid—some punk barely out of high school—shouldered into him, too busy fooling around with his buddy to look where he was going.
„Hey—” the guy snapped, ready to mouth off.
„Open your eyes, shithead,” Levi growled back, low and sharp. His glare cut the kid down instantly. That was enough. No shouting match, no pushing and shoving. Just one look and the brat shut his trap.
Yeah, Levi was short. Didn’t matter. He was still the kind of guy you didn’t pick a fight with. That was good enough.
His pace didn’t falter—steady, measured steps carrying him forward. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes of this every morning. He turned a corner, the flow of bodies thinning just enough for him to catch his breath. A little bookstore sat there, tucked between a coffee shop and some dingy convenience store, its windows lined with crooked displays of paperbacks.
Levi slowed, gaze wandering across the covers for half a second. Habit.
That’s when he saw him.
The first thought that flashed through Levi’s mind was: Beautiful.
A pair of green eyes—real green, bright and sharp like shards of glass—locked on him from the sidewalk. For a split second, Levi forgot himself. They were too vivid, too alive, out of place in the dull wash of morning greys.
The second thought came fast on the first: Ew. Dirty.
The owner of those eyes was sitting on the ground, back against the side wall of the bookstore. Ripped jeans, frayed at the knees. A baggy hoodie, faded to some unidentifiable color, sleeves worn thin. A backpack rested in his lap, covered in pins and patches, like a makeshift shield he clutched close to his chest. His hair was a mess, sticking up in odd angles like it hadn’t seen a brush in weeks. His sneakers were more hole than fabric.
A street rat. Homeless.
Levi’s lip curled slightly, nose wrinkling. Thank god he wasn’t close enough to smell him. Not that Levi looked down on people—he knew what it meant to claw your way up from nothing, knew what it was like to grow up rough—but for fuck’s sake, there were ways to keep yourself clean.
Seeing a homeless kid in a city like this was nothing new. They were everywhere—curled up in subway stations, sprawled out on benches, camped near alleyways. Some begged for spare change, others for food. Most were invisible, passed by without a second glance.
But this one wasn’t invisible.
Not with eyes like that.
Maybe Levi had stared too long, or maybe he’d let something slip in his expression—some flicker that could be mistaken for interest, even kindness. Whatever it was, the boy noticed.
The hobo-boy licked his lips in a nervous twitch, then pushed himself up from the dirty ground, slinging his battered backpack over one shoulder like it was worth something. As he straightened, Levi’s eyes narrowed. Long legs, lean frame, the kind of height that made Levi feel like he needed to tilt his chin up just to glare properly. The guy towered over him—not that it took much.
When the boy stepped closer, Levi’s instinct screamed at him to recoil, to dig into his pocket for the travel-sized bottle of sanitizer he always carried. Germs. Filth. The whole stench of city sidewalks clinging to that hoodie. But he didn’t move. Something stopped him.
It was the small, tentative smile that tugged at the stranger’s lips. Subtle, hopeful. And those eyes—the kind of eyes that shouldn’t belong to someone slouched against a bookstore wall, green so startling they knocked something loose in Levi’s chest. His stomach flipped, and he hated that he didn’t even know why.
In another life, Levi thought, this boy could’ve been a model. All sharp bones, effortless charisma, beautiful in the way of people who didn’t have to try. But here and now? He was just another street rat, with a jawline shadowed by neglected stubble and hair that hadn’t seen shampoo in too many days. The glamour was drowned in dirt.
„Uh… hey, man.” The kid’s voice broke into Levi’s thoughts. Uneasy, hesitant, but forcing its way out. „Sorry, but… uh, maybe you have a Euro to spare?”
He batted his lashes as he asked, long and dark. It wasn’t put on—just the way his lashes were, framing those ridiculous eyes, making them all the more striking.
Levi huffed. Of course. Money. What else.
„I don’t cherish drug addicts,” he growled, the words edged with steel.
Most people would’ve turned and walked away after that, cowed by his tone alone. Rude—that was Levi. Brutal honesty, no sugarcoat, no patience.
But the boy flushed, eyes widening, fingers curling tight into the strap of his backpack. The insult had landed. He looked… caught off guard.
„I… I’m not a drug addict,” he stammered, voice cracking but trying to hold steady. He bit his bottom lip, sucked it in nervously. And for a second Levi’s mind went blank, caught on that lip—pink, plump, glistening as his tongue flicked over it.
„Then what do you need the money for?” Levi snapped, forcing his thoughts back into line.
„Uh… just some stuff.” The boy clammed up fast, voice clipped. Defensive. Like it wasn’t Levi’s business—which, fair, it wasn’t.
„Uh-huh.” Levi tilted his head back to meet his gaze. Up close, the kid was worse. Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes. Dust smeared on one cheek—at least, Levi hoped it was dust. His nose curled again.
„Look, I’m not asking you to cherish me.” The words tumbled out of the boy’s mouth in a rush, like he thought Levi might walk away any second. „I’m just saying maybe… maybe I can do something in return?”
Levi’s brows knit. Why the hell was he still standing here? Why was he even entertaining this conversation?
„Do I look like I need to take some boy whore home?” The words came out sharper than he meant. Cruel. The second they left his mouth, Levi knew it. Too blunt, even for him.
The boy’s face went crimson, ears burning red. He looked suddenly younger, like he’d been knocked back years by the insult.
„I… I’m not a whore,” he said, voice thin but steady.
Levi clicked his tongue. „Not? Maybe consider it.” His own words sounded bitter in his ears, harsher than he intended. But he couldn’t stop himself.
The boy gasped like a fish on land, eyes wide in disbelief. Couldn’t wrap his mind around Levi actually saying that.
Levi sighed, dragging a hand back through his black hair, smoothing it over the undercut.
„Shit,” he muttered. „Look—I don’t judge that. Sex for money’s one of the oldest businesses in the world. Brings food to the table, doesn’t it?” The explanation stumbled out clumsy, not making anything better. His throat felt tight at the memory—his mother, his childhood, the things people had to do just to scrape by.
„You’re actually telling me to sell myself so I don’t starve?” the kid shot back, incredulous, angry. That spark of attitude lit in his tone—fuck you, I’m too good for that.
Levi’s eyes flicked over him again, more aware now. The sneakers—Nike Air Jordans, though beaten to hell, still cost a small fortune new. The jeans—ripped, sure, but Levi recognized the cut and stitching. Diesel. Pricey. The hoodie, faded but still legible, bore the faint logo of Supreme. Not thrift store trash. Not originally.
Levi raised an eyebrow. This kid wasn’t born on the streets. He’d come from something else.
„Well…” Levi shrugged, leaving it hanging. Not his business. Not his call.
The boy shifted, restless, chewing his lip again, eyes flickering between anger and shame. „I’m not some damn twink,” he shot suddenly, too loud, like he needed to get it out. His face twisted through emotions—hurt, disbelief, frustration—before finally collapsing into something heavier.
Resignation.
He blew out a sharp breath, and Levi braced for a waft of sour stench. Instead, the faintest trace of mint touched his senses. Gum. Maybe a lozenge.
„Fuck, man,” the boy muttered, shoulders sagging. „I’m just hungry. That’s all. I’m not begging for your cash. Just asking, okay?”
Levi stayed silent, grey eyes locked on him. That sadness had slipped into the boy’s voice, dimming the brightness of those green eyes. It was unbearable, somehow.
„…Yeah, okay,” the boy said finally, his voice breaking off. „Sorry for your time.” He turned, steps already pulling him away.
„Wait.” The word slipped from Levi’s mouth before he even thought about it. The boy paused, glanced back over his shoulder.
„What’s your name?” Levi asked, awkward, unsure why he’d even said it.
The kid blinked, surprised. His thick brows rose before he turned back fully. „Eren,” he said, after a beat of hesitation. Nothing more.
Eren. A pretty name, Levi thought, whether real or not.
Levi sighed. „Look, Eren. If I give you money, I don’t know if you’ll waste it on booze or worse.”
Eren opened his mouth, but Levi cut him off. „But if you’re hungry, come to L.A. Bake later. It’s… a café. With a bakery. Coffee, tea, sandwiches. Whatever.” His words trailed off, his offer sounding more awkward the longer it hung in the air.
Eren’s eyes widened, suspicion flaring. „You mean that?”
„I mean it.” Levi’s tone was flat, certain.
„You know I can’t pay…”
„Obviously,” Levi muttered. Then smirked, without thinking: „At least not with money.”
Eren flushed, lips snapping shut, misinterpreting instantly. Levi cursed himself internally. He hadn’t meant it like that—just a joke about washing dishes, not another jab about prostitution. But he let it hang, rolled his eyes at himself. Explaining wouldn’t help.
„Okay, boy. I need to go. Work’s calling.” He turned, finally resuming his path. „It’s your choice if you show up or not.”
But his eyes lingered one last time on Eren’s beaten-down figure. Something in his gut twisted with the thought of those green eyes fading away into the crowd. Somehow, he knew if he walked off and left Eren there hungry, those eyes would follow him. Into his thoughts. Into his dreams.
X
The café was alive with noise and motion, the kind of chaos Levi had grown used to. The hiss of the espresso machine, the clatter of plates, the dull roar of conversations overlapping one another. Fresh bread still carried that faint warm, yeasty smell from the ovens in the back, while sweet traces of sugar and butter from Sasha’s latest pie drifted into the front. His little empire. A well-oiled machine, even with the morning rush filling every chair and pressing bodies against the counter.
He slid a latte macchiato across the counter, set a muffin neatly beside it, and gave the waiting customer his usual flat nod. Efficient, minimal. Always clean.
Movement near the door tugged at his attention. He barely glanced at people coming in anymore—just more suits, more students, more regulars desperate for caffeine before work. But this one… was different.
The man stepping in lingered at the side, as if the air itself was too heavy to push through. He looked both restless and hesitant, his body leaning forward as if pulled in, yet half-turned toward the exit like he was ready to flee. Levi’s eyes followed the restless flick of his gaze—big, teal-green eyes that swept over the room hungrily, taking everything in.
Eren.
Levi’s hand stilled on the towel he’d been wiping clean, though his face betrayed nothing. Still, he couldn’t stop the subtle jolt in his chest. He pressed it down, quick and firm. Pity, he told himself. Nothing more.
Because the kid looked lost. Not just here—in general. The kind of lost you couldn’t scrub off. People noticed too, of course they did. Levi caught the quick glance of a couple office women as they sidestepped him, the way their eyes lingered on his stained hoodie, his ripped jeans, the dirty backpack. One wrinkled her nose, and Levi’s jaw clenched before he could stop it.
Eren shifted his weight, nervous hands tugging a strand of long brown hair behind his ear. The gesture might’ve been casual if the hair hadn’t hung limp and oily, glinting under the café’s bright lights in a way that only made him look more unkempt. He dug his fingers into the strap of his backpack after, clutching it close like it was all he had left. Maybe it was.
Levi dragged in a slow breath, using the towel in his hands like an anchor. At least the brat had shown up. That was something. A step.
And yet, Levi’s gaze kept pulling back to him. Standing there on the threshold—awkward, out of place, but with that flicker of stubbornness in his eyes. Like he wanted to belong here, even if the world refused to let him.
Levi took a deep breath. The boy had shown up, so at least it wouldn't be Levi’s fault if he starved today.
Eren shifted just inside the door, clutching the strap of his backpack like it might anchor him. His gaze darted over the crowded counter, the filled tables, the display case of golden-brown bread rolls and glossy fruit tarts. His tongue flicked over his lips, almost unconsciously, before he quickly looked down at his worn sneakers.
Levi tossed the towel aside and straightened, irritation prickling under his skin at his own reaction. He wasn’t supposed to notice things like that. He wasn’t supposed to notice the way Eren’s shoulders were hunched, defensive, or how he looked both ready to bolt and desperate to stay.
Jean was already sliding toward the front with his wolfish grin, ready to pounce on new prey. „Hey! What are—”
„Jean,” Levi snapped, sharp enough to make the boy stop mid-sentence. „Back to your table.”
Jean blinked, baffled, but obeyed with a shrug, muttering under his breath about Levi scaring off business.
Levi ignored him and jerked his chin toward the counter. „Oi. You gonna stand there gawking or you gonna sit your ass down?”
Eren startled, his wide eyes snapping up to meet Levi’s. For a second, he looked like a kicked stray, caught between suspicion and hope. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he moved toward the counter.
The line of customers shifted, a couple of girls whispering as they eyed him. Levi caught it—the way their noses wrinkled, the sidelong glances. He hated it. Not that Eren noticed; he was too busy chewing his lip raw. Or maybe he just ignored it, even if it hurt.
When he finally reached the counter, Eren leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. „Um… you meant it, right? About… food?”
Levi arched a brow, grabbed a clean plate, and reached for the day’s sandwiches before Eren could even finish the question. „Didn’t invite you here for the décor, brat.” He set the plate down firmly, sliding it toward him. „Eat.”
Eren blinked at the food like he didn’t trust it. Then, slowly, carefully, he sat at the nearest empty table, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.
Levi busied himself with the next order, but his eyes kept straying back. Watching Eren finally take that first bite—like he’d forgotten what real bread even tasted like.
And damn it all, Levi felt something in his chest twist.
Levi’s eyes lingered. He didn’t mean them to, but they did. He caught every small twitch of expression as Eren ate—the way his face looked torn between joy and grief, like each bite was both relief and humiliation. He tried to pace himself, Levi could see that. Chewing slowly, forcing pauses, as though he didn’t want to look like a starving animal. But his hunger betrayed him, fork moving faster, his throat working to swallow too quickly.
Levi wondered what the hell the brat had been living off these last days. Cheap chips? Stale bread fished out of bins? Maybe nothing at all. The thought made his chest tighten. Eren was young—too young to already wear that gaunt edge of survival. Under the grime and neglect clinging to him, Levi could see the shape of something else. A strong jaw. High cheekbones. Even—damn it—a kind of softness in those big green eyes when they weren’t dulled by exhaustion. Cute. He could be… cute.
Levi’s lip curled at himself. Idiot. What the hell was he thinking, letting his brain go there?
„Since when do we feed the homeless?” a voice drawled beside him. Jean, of course. Levi turned his head just enough to glare. The brat leaned on the counter, arms crossed, wearing a smirk that was more smug than curious. „There’s a soup kitchen two streets down, isn’t there?”
„Shut up,” Levi barked, voice low but sharp. Jean winced at the tone, shoulders stiffening.
„And don’t sound so damn pleased with yourself,” Levi added, eyes narrowing. „He’s hungry, so he eats. That’s all.”
Jean’s smirk faltered, though irritation flickered there too. „Fine. Your café, boss. Just saying…” His amber eyes slid over the room, scanning the other tables. „Some of the guests don’t look happy. Couple women already left. He looks like he hasn’t showered in weeks, and it… well, it shows.”
Levi’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want to follow Jean’s gesture, but he did, and the sight made his gut twist. Customers sneaking glances, lips pursed, bodies angled away as though Eren was contaminating the air itself. A sour spot. Something to sweep out with a broom like vermin.
Deep down, it made Levi’s blood simmer. People were so damn quick to judge. If Eren walked in here scrubbed clean, hair tied back neatly, wearing pressed clothes and a hint of cologne—none of them would blink. They might even look twice, because the kid would turn heads if given half a chance. But like this? They only saw dirt.
And was Levi any better? He thought back to that morning—his own recoil at the stink, at the greasy hair, at the thought of germs. He’d kept his distance, even as he’d forced himself to speak. His fingers curled tight in the towel. He didn’t want to be that kind of man. He wanted to be better than that.
„Just saying…,” Jean muttered again, his tone edged with challenge now. „If you want me to kick him out—”
„I don’t.” Levi cut him off—firm, cold. His stare was a blade. „Just imagine yourself in his place. Show some damn humanity. He is a person, not scum.”
That shut Jean up. He pressed his jaw together, eyes drifting toward the homeless guy who, with a few bad turns, could’ve just as easily been him. His amber eyes softened—regret, maybe, for how he’d acted. Or pity. Whatever it was, he nodded.
„Now go flirt with the granny at table three. Bet she’ll tell you all about her pussy,” Levi said, dismissing him rough.
Jean blinked, then grimaced, shoulders jerking in a half-laugh, half-gag. „I’m not into old ladies and their cats,” he shot back, his voice colored with the suspicion that Levi hadn’t meant pets at all.
Levi didn’t dignify it with an answer. His eyes had already pulled back to Eren.
The brat sat hunched over, cradling his empty coffee mug like maybe warmth still lingered in the porcelain. He picked carefully at the crumbs on the plate, not quite licking his fingers, but close. Then his gaze flicked toward the glass case of pies and cakes—rows of glossy strawberry slices, dark chocolate drizzles, and golden crusts.
The look in his eyes twisted something in Levi’s gut. Hope, quickly smothered by resignation. A wanting he wasn’t willing to voice.
Eren dropped his gaze fast, back into his lap, shoulders tight with pride that wouldn’t let him ask.
Levi sighed through his nose. Tossed the towel onto the counter with more force than necessary. Then he straightened, stepped out from behind, and crossed the room toward Eren.
Levi caught the disgusted curl of an older customer’s lip, the way the man’s eyes lingered on Eren like he was trash someone had forgotten to sweep away. Something in Levi tightened—hot, sharp—and before he knew it, he was moving. He slid into the chair opposite Eren, fixing the man with a flat, cutting stare that said fuck off. The customer looked down at his drink, muttering, and didn’t glance their way again.
Levi slid another plate with pie toward Eren, pushing it with more force than necessary. Eren’s eyes widened at the sight, his stomach answering with a loud growl.
Eren’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. His brows pulled together, confusion flickering in his expression. „Uh… you sure you want to sit with me?”
Levi leaned back, arms crossing, tone dry. „Yeah. Why not? It’s my café. I’ll sit where I damn well please. Or do you mind?”
For a heartbeat, Eren just blinked at him. Then a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, hesitant but real. „’Course not.” His eyes flicked up—open, steady, unexpectedly bold. „It’s been a while since I had handsome company.”
The words slipped out like they belonged to a different version of him—someone lighter, more carefree. Levi could almost see it, a glimpse of the man hidden under the grime and exhaustion: quick-witted, playful, probably infuriating in all the ways Levi usually avoided.
Eren seemed to realize a second too late what he’d said. Color spread across his cheeks, and he ducked his head, fingers worrying at the fork, suddenly all nerves again.
Levi stared, unmoving, his face a blank mask. Inside, though, his chest gave an uncomfortable pull. Handsome? No one ever said shit like that to him. Not seriously. Not looking him dead in the eye like Eren had, before shame clamped down on him.
Levi wasn’t good at this sort of thing—he didn’t know if that had been flirting, a slip of the tongue, or just gratitude dressed up as a joke. But his gaze stayed on Eren, on the stubborn line of his jaw, on the way his lashes lowered to hide those eyes.
Dirty or not, neglected or not—there was something magnetic about him. Something that made Levi’s throat feel tight and his thoughts turn reckless.
He reached for his coffee, letting the silence stretch between them, and told himself it was nothing. Just words.
But he didn’t look away.
Levi took a sip of his coffee, buying himself a second before opening his mouth. Subtle wasn’t in his nature, and when he felt off-balance, he went sharper, straighter to the point.
„So. How old are you?”
Eren looked up mid-bite, caught off guard. He blinked, then set his fork down with a faint clink. „Twenty.”
Levi nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as he studied him. Young—but not a kid. The rough stubble shadowing his jaw helped, even if it was uneven and wild, probably two, three weeks without a razor. It made him look older, worn. A man, not a teenager.
Levi’s gaze lingered on that unkempt jaw longer than he meant it to. He cleared his throat. „Where do you sleep?”
That earned him a flash of defensiveness. Eren’s shoulders tensed, eyes flicking away. „I… find places.”
It wasn’t an answer. Which meant benches, alleys, maybe under the bridge by the river. Levi’s jaw tightened.
He pressed anyway. „How long’s it been?”
A beat. Eren fiddled with his fork, then muttered, „Couple months.” His tone was clipped, like he expected judgment, like he was bracing for it.
Levi didn’t offer any. He just sat back, arms folded, eyes steady on him.
The silence stretched. Eren squirmed for a second, then gave a small huff, shaking his head as though he couldn’t believe he was still sitting there, talking about this stuff to a stranger. Except—he didn’t get up. He didn’t run.
Instead, he picked up his fork again, speared a chunk of apple tart, and shoved it into his mouth with exaggerated focus.
Levi caught it then—the twitch at the corner of Eren’s lips. The faintest smile breaking through the weight of everything else.
He chewed quickly, swallowed, then licked a tear of warm apple filling from his lip, sheepish and boyish all at once.
Something about that small, unguarded gesture pressed at Levi’s chest again, the same way it had when he watched Eren’s first bite of bread.
Too young. Too messy. Too complicated.
And still—Levi didn’t look away.
Eren chewed, swallowed, then looked up at Levi, his green eyes flickering with something teasing. His voice came out rough, almost husky from disuse. „This cake… is really good,” he said, then, almost instinctively, ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of his fork, a little playful lick that made Levi’s pants tighten.
For a heartbeat, Levi almost blurted something completely inappropriate like “No need to give the damn fork a fucking blowjob!”—but he clenched his jaw, forced it down. Instead, his voice stayed even, gruff as always. „I’m glad you enjoy it.”
Eren’s grin widened, flashing teeth that were surprisingly white and straight under the dim café lights. Not at all what Levi had expected. His lips twitched in a way that made Levi’s throat dry.
Levi blinked, caught off guard by how… charming the boy could be when he let himself.
„Uh… is there something on my mouth?” Eren asked, voice hesitant now, clearly aware of Levi’s stare. His fingers fiddled with the fork again, but his eyes didn’t look away. They held Levi’s gaze, curious, a little daring.
Levi felt heat rise in his face and forced himself to look down at his coffee, throat tightening. „No… nothing,” he said, keeping his tone clipped. But his fingers curled lightly around the mug, knuckles white.
Eren’s grin softened into something warmer, more playful than coy, and Levi had to fight to keep from leaning across the table, from wanting to reach out and brush the stray crumb from his lips himself.
Instead, he just exhaled through his nose, keeping the mask of gruff indifference intact.
But inside… Levi’s brain was a mess of ‚what the hell am I doing, and why the fuck does he make me feel like this.‘
Eren leaned back in his chair slightly, bright eyes glinting with newfound mischief. Maybe he wanted to change the serious conversation, avoid more personal questions. „So… what do I have to do for you now that I got that amazing pie?” His voice was low, a little too slurry.
Levi blinked, nearly choking on his coffee. He opened his mouth to snap something sharp, but closed it again, realizing that Eren was clearly referencing this morning—that awful, misplaced joke about selling himself for food—and he didn’t flinch. Not anymore.
„You serious?” Levi’s voice was clipped, gruff, but he kept his eyes on Eren, trying to sound unimpressed. He hated that some lonely, underfucked part of him immediately replayed Eren’s tongue on the fork just moments ago, and how much he had liked it.
Eren shrugged, biting at the corner of his lip. „Maybe,” he said, a smirk barely showing, but it was there. „Or maybe I just have to be charming enough, hm?”
Levi felt heat creep up his neck. His chest tightened at the effortless, teasing confidence in Eren’s gaze. „Hmph,” he muttered, shifting in the chair. „You’re ridiculous.”
Eren grinned wider, showing those straight, surprisingly white teeth again, eyes sparkling. „I know.” He tilted his head, playful, relaxed. „But it works, doesn’t it?”
Levi’s jaw tightened. „Just… eat your damn pie,” he muttered.
Eren laughed softly, a little breathy, and went back to his slice, leaning in to take another bite. But the sparkle in his eyes never left Levi’s, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward again, as though he knew exactly the effect he had.
Levi couldn’t help but notice how much stronger that effect would be if Eren were clean, freshly put together. The neglect dulled his looks—oily hair, dirt under his fingernails, cramped and worn clothes—but even like this, those teal eyes locked with Levi’s silver-grey and did something to him.
Fuck. Was he really so damn lonely and needy that he was getting turned on by some poor guy, covered in dirt and living on the streets? He was a bad person, right? The worst. Just entertaining the thought for a second—telling Eren he could use that tongue on Levi instead of licking the cluttery fork to earn another slice of pie—made his chest tighten in a way that was equal parts shameful and undeniable.
And damn it all, Levi realized—he didn’t hate it. Not even a little.
Eren finished his pie, picking the last crumb from the plate and licking it from his fingers. Levi’s insides twisted in a mix of unwanted arousal and disgust. The way Eren’s tongue swept over his index finger, then his thumb, tracing along nails that weren’t neatly trimmed but jagged, torn—Levi shivered. Not in the good way. God, those hands needed soap, a half-hour scrub, a fresh manicure, a goddamn reset.
But then there was the other side—the side Levi didn’t want to admit to. The way Eren’s lips stretched into a small smile, how that pink tongue darted out, how his skin caught the light, warm caramel against the sharp lines of exhaustion, paired with those eyes—green that shimmered like ocean glass. Levi felt it low in his belly, an excited twitch he hated himself for.
He crossed his legs, pressing his knees together under the table, willing away the reaction. He was too controlled to let it show, but inside, everything was chaos. Filthy, hungry, neglected—yet Eren still managed to pull him in. He shouldn’t. Everything in Levi’s head screamed at him to run the other way, go scrub himself raw in the shower, drown out the thoughts. But his body told a different story.
Maybe Hange was right. Maybe he was so fucking starved for touch, for connection, that even this—the smallest, filthiest hint of flirtation from a boy who didn’t know when to stop—had him on edge. The first „cute boy” to cross his path after Hange’s stupid prodding, and his defenses were already cracking.
But it wasn’t just that, Levi realized, studying Eren as he sucked the last trace of sweetness from his thumb, looking like he hadn’t had something good in months and wasn’t ashamed to savor it. There was something more, something buried under the grime and weariness. A glimpse of the man beneath the neglect.
Eren leaned back in his chair, wiping the last trace of crumbs from his fingers. His voice came soft, unguarded for once. „That was… honestly the best pie I’ve ever eaten in my life.”
Levi’s first instinct was to scoff. Probably because you haven’t had pie in so damn long, he thought. But what came out instead was a gruff, „Thanks. I’ll let my baker know.”
Eren’s mouth curved into a small, genuine smile, his eyes catching the light again. „Really, thank you… uh—” He faltered, cheeks coloring. „I don’t even know your name.”
Levi hesitated for a beat, then gave it anyway. „Levi.” He told himself it was just politeness, nothing more. Definitely not because he wanted to hear Eren say it, to hear his name in that low, husky voice.
„Levi,” Eren repeated, soft and careful, like he was trying the name on his tongue. His lips curled into something sheepish but warm. „Thank you, Levi.”
The sound of it hit harder than Levi wanted to admit. A new shiver slid down his spine, sharp and undeniable—not pity, not shame. Attraction.
Fuck.
Eren relaxed for a moment, like he truly belonged, like he’d forgotten for a few fleeting seconds how out of place he looked in this tidy, polished café. Then the spell broke. His eyes flickered around the room again, catching the stares—some disgusted, some whispering behind their hands, others pretending they hadn’t been watching at all. One man wrinkled his nose openly.
And just like that, the brightness in Eren’s gaze dimmed. The teal dulled, weighed down by shame and the cold reality of his situation.
He swallowed hard, shoulders hitching as he reached down for his old, battered backpack. „I… should get going now,” he muttered, hasty, already half-risen from the chair. But then he hesitated, glanced at Levi again. His voice softened, uncertain. „Or… do you have something I can do for you? As a thank you?”
The words hung between them, fragile and brave all at once. Eren’s chin lifted just slightly, as though daring Levi to turn him down, but the hesitation in his voice gave him away. He wasn’t just trying to be polite—he was terrified of taking pity, of leaving without giving something back.
Levi’s neck flushed hot. His mind betrayed him, flashing back to the image of Eren’s tongue on the fork, imagining it elsewhere, and fuck, what that mouth could do. The shame hit just as fast—the filth, the bitter reminder of how underfucked he was to even think about it. He shoved it down, iron-tight. He would never let the kid—no, the man—humiliate himself like that just for a slice of pie and coffee. Not on his watch.
Levi drew in a slow breath, steadying himself. „No,” he said, voice clipped but firm. „It’s okay. You’re not starving anymore. That’s what matters.” His gaze flicked toward the gawking customers, sharp and cutting. „And ignore those fuckers. I invited you. If you want to sit and warm up a little longer, you can.”
He pushed himself up from the chair then, the legs scraping faintly against the floor. He needed to move, to work, to pull himself back before his thoughts went places they had no business going.
Eren didn’t sit back down. His hand lingered on the strap of his backpack, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. „Thanks, but… I’m good now.” His lips pressed together, then parted again, hesitant. „But… can I use the restroom before I go?”
Levi gave a small nod, pointing with his chin. „Sure. It’s over there.”
Eren offered the faintest curve of a smile—grateful, sheepish—before heading off in that direction, the straps of his old bag hanging loose off one shoulder.
Levi watched him go, jaw tight, chest unsettled. He told himself he’d go back behind the counter, get back to the grind, let it end there.
But some part of him already knew it wouldn’t.
_
Levi went back to brewing tea, the familiar motions grounding him. Measure, steep, pour. The steam curled up, carrying with it the sharp scent of bergamot and jasmine. He set a tray of pastries on the counter for a waiting customer, hands steady even though his chest wasn’t.
Krista brushed by with a smile, balancing a plate in each hand. Her big blue eyes were soft, unguarded as always. „That was nice of you, Levi,” she said gently, her tone making it clear she was talking about Eren.
„Tch.” Levi made the dismissive sound low in his throat, shaking his head. „I’m not nice.”
He wasn’t. If she knew what kind of filthy thoughts had been circling in his head—if she knew how close he’d come to imagining that boy’s tongue on him instead of a fork—she’d take her words back fast.
But Krista just smiled that small, knowing smile of hers, eyes crinkling at the corners. „Keep telling yourself that, boss.”
Levi’s jaw ticked. „Go back to work,” he muttered, more gruff than usual, and turned away before she could read anything else in his face.
_
Eren slipped out from the restroom, quiet on his feet, and stopped in front of Levi, who was wiping down the front of the coffee machine. „Hey, Levi.” His voice was soft, like he didn’t want too much attention on himself.
Levi turned, eyes catching on the water droplets still clinging to Eren’s beard and jaw. His face looked slightly cleaner—he’d clearly done a quick wash-up. Levi’s gaze flicked to his hands before he could stop himself. Rosy now, not brown and grimy. Eren had obviously taken the chance to scrub them as best he could.
He’d even shoved his oily hair back behind one ear. Levi wondered how much restraint it had cost him not to bend over the porcelain sink, drench his whole head under the lukewarm tap until the sweat and street dust were gone, until his hair was clean and soft again. But Eren hadn’t. He’d done only the bare minimum.
Levi didn’t comment, just lifted an eyebrow at him.
„Thanks again,” Eren said, locking eyes with him in a bold way, though his posture betrayed tension—broad shoulders hunched slightly, as though he wanted to make his tall, imposing frame smaller.
Levi nodded once. „No problem. Swing by again, yeah. Get a sandwich and a hot tea to stay warm. Days are getting colder soon.”
He didn’t know why the words came out. Generosity wasn’t his thing. Charity wasn’t his thing. And yet the thought of never seeing Eren again, or worse—finding him frozen and starved on that damn bookstore corner—twisted his gut. Or seeing him forced to sell himself to some bastard just for a crust of bread. No. Levi might be a filthy old pervert for entertaining the thoughts he did, but he wasn’t about to let others touch the boy if he could help it.
Eren’s eyes went round with surprise, then narrowed slightly in disbelief. „You… You’re saying I can come back? For food?”
„That’s what I just said. Or are you deaf, brat?” Levi gruffed.
But instead of blushing or bristling at the insult, Eren’s mouth curved into a slow, warm smile. „Thank you.”
„Tch. Don’t thank me.” Levi growled under his breath. Eren shouldn’t thank him—because part of inviting him back was selfish as hell. Not innocent. Not pure.
„Okay,” Eren murmured. He turned, about to leave, then glanced back over his shoulder. „Maybe one day you’ll let me thank you properly.”
There was a playful twitch at the corner of his mouth—and maybe Levi’s imagination was running wild—but the line sounded suggestive. Too suggestive.
Levi shook his head, jaw tight. Surely Eren hadn’t meant it that way.
„We’ll see,” Levi muttered. „Take care, boy.”
„You too,” Eren said with a soft smile, and then he was gone, slipping out of the café into the grey of the street.
X
Eren left the café feeling full, warm in a way he hadn’t in… weeks? Months, maybe. Out on the street, it was usually just him, the clothes on his back, and the few belongings stuffed into his backpack. Nothing more.
But he couldn’t blame anyone else for how he’d ended up here. And if he had to, he’d make the same life choices again. Still—he had to find a way out. The streets weren’t fun. Being hungry, being dirty, being invisible until someone sneered at him—it wasn’t fun. The looks people gave him… like he was worth nothing.
At first, those stares had just made him angry. Bitter. It hurt, too—embarrassing in a way he couldn’t shake. Because it was so far from what he used to know. Once, people looked at him differently: flirty glances, lingering stares, little sparks of admiration. He’d been used to that. But now? Gone. Completely gone. People were so shallow, so quick to judge, to reduce him to nothing but filth taking up space and air. Eren had learned that lesson fast.
But Levi had been nice—rude, yes. Blunt, absolutely. But he’d given him food, even offered to let him come back for more. That was more than most people did. So much more than the pitying looks some strangers threw his way before pressing a coin or two into his hand, as if they were performing the most selfless thing in the world. Enough for a bottle of water, maybe a slice of cheap bread that tasted like cupboard. And they always walked away straighter, lighter, congratulating themselves for their good deed—while Eren stayed the same. Hungry. Dirty. Invisible again the moment their eyes turned elsewhere.
He knew what he looked like. Knew the smell that clung to him, the way sweat and grime built up in the folds of his clothes and hair. His reflection—when he caught it in the darkened glass of a shop window—was always a punch to the gut. Oily hair plastered to his forehead, beard patchy and unkempt, shadows bruising the skin beneath his eyes. He hated it. God, he hated it. But what choice did he have?
There weren’t any showers out here. Not unless he snuck into a public restroom at dawn, splashing cold water onto his face before someone kicked him out. Soap was a luxury. Clean clothes, impossible. Every day he carried the shame with him, feeling it in every wrinkled nose and sidelong glance.
He had tried to work. Really tried. Knocking on doors, asking in shops, construction sites, cafés… No one wanted him. No one even let him finish his sentence once their eyes caught the dirt under his nails, the holes in his shoes. Employers looked through him like he was already a problem they didn’t need.
No work meant no money. No money meant no home. No home meant no way out. That was the cycle, the cage he lived in. And every day it felt smaller, tighter, harder to breathe inside of.
But Levi’s voice, gravel-rough and uninterested, still echoed in his head. „Swing by again, yeah. Get a sandwich, a hot tea.” He’d said it like it was nothing. Like feeding Eren again wouldn’t cost him a second thought. Like Eren wasn’t a burden. Like Eren wasn’t trash.
And Levi had looked at him, really looked—past the dirt, past the grime. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t disgust. His eyes had followed Eren’s mouth, his hands, his face. There’d been want there, even if Levi tried to bury it beneath a scowl.
The thought made Eren’s stomach twist—not just with hunger this time, but with something else. Something sharper.
For the first time in a long while, Eren felt a flicker of something he hadn’t let himself feel in weeks.
Hope. Fragile. Dangerous. But real.
X
Eren was gone.
Levi tried to bring his mind back to the ordinary—tea brewing, pastries in the oven, the hum of conversation filling the café. He had offered enough, hadn’t he? A slice of pie, hot coffee, the option to come back. That should’ve been it. Enough. He wasn’t some charity worker, wasn’t about to make a habit of feeding every stray that wandered in off the street.
But his thoughts kept drifting back anyway. The flash of teal eyes, too bright even behind all that exhaustion. The way Eren had licked his fingers—filthy hands and all—and still managed to stir something in Levi’s chest that shouldn’t have been stirred. He scowled, scrubbing harder at the counter as if that could wipe away the memory.
Fuck, Hange was right. He was too wound up, too damn starved for something—touch, closeness, maybe just someone to look at him the way Eren had for a fleeting second across the table. He clenched his jaw. That wasn’t Eren’s problem. Wasn’t his business to drag the kid into Levi’s loneliness.
Still, when the bell over the café door chimed with the next customer, Levi’s head snapped up too fast, expecting to see messy brown hair and that old backpack again.
It wasn’t.
He muttered a curse under his breath and forced his hands back to work.
_
As the day went on, Levi lost himself in the rhythm of work. His café was buzzing—orders flowing in, the scent of fresh pastries mixing with the rich bitterness of roasted beans, the clatter of cups and the low hum of chatter filling the space. Business was steady, better than he’d ever dared hope back when he’d opened the place years ago.
By mid-afternoon, though, the mood outside had shifted. Dark clouds rolled over the city, swallowing up what little sunlight had been left. Levi slipped out the door to start stacking chairs and pulling in the tables he’d set up along the sidewalk. Autumn was creeping in, quiet but relentless. The air wasn’t warm anymore; the mornings had grown sharp, breath visible in little puffs, and now the sun dipped away faster each evening.
A cold wind swept through the street, carrying with it the first fat raindrops. They splattered against Levi’s forearms as he dragged the last table in, the wet metal legs slick in his grip. He frowned at the sky, the storm making everything feel heavier, gloomier. The kind of weather that got into your bones if you let it.
As he latched the café door shut behind him, he caught himself thinking about Eren again. Wondering if the kid had found shelter somewhere before the rain picked up—if he had a dry corner to curl into, or if that old backpack doubled as a pillow against some alley wall. Levi’s chest tightened, an irritation he tried to smother as quickly as it came.
„Not your damn problem,” he muttered under his breath, shaking water from his hair before heading back behind the counter.
X
„What’s with the long face?” Levi asked Krista, only half-interested, as they closed up the café together in the evening. The warm glow from inside spilled onto the wet pavement, contrasting with the grey drizzle outside.
Krista swiped her long blond hair back, tying it up into a neat ponytail as she always did for work. Her blue eyes flickered toward the darkened street, reflecting the raindrops streaking down the windows. There was a faint shadow of sadness in them. „It’s just… I was thinking about the guy who came in earlier,” she said softly, her tone filled with concern. „You didn’t say much, but he’s homeless, right?”
Levi gave a short nod, trying to keep his expression neutral.
„There are more like him,” she continued, her voice almost a whisper as though afraid the rain might overhear. „And he looked young. Where do you know him from?”
Levi shrugged, keeping the story as plain as possible. „Found him outside a bookstore this morning. He asked me for cash, and I told him he could come here for food instead.” His tone was matter-of-fact, intentionally stripped of any warmth. He didn’t want Krista praising him for being nice—or worse, seeing him as soft.
Krista’s gaze lingered on the rainy street outside. „Now he’s somewhere out there again… in the rain,” she murmured, the words heavy in Levi’s chest.
„Did you talk to him?” she asked after a pause, curious but hesitant.
Levi shook his head. „Not much.”
„He didn’t say anything?”
„Just his name—Eren. And that he’s twenty.” Levi shared the few details he had, keeping his voice flat.
Krista’s face softened further, her expression quieting. „Same age as me… and Jean’s only a year older. I can’t imagine myself—or anyone—being in the same place as him.”
Levi studied her for a long moment as he set clean mugs back on the shelves. Krista was so soft, so genuinely good-hearted. Too kind for her own good, and it made him tense.
„Not much we can do,” he said bluntly. „You can’t help everyone. People make their own choices. It’s up to them if they regret it later or not.”
Krista shook her head slightly, gentle but firm. „It’s not always that easy.”
Levi bit down on his tongue. She was right. It never was.
They finished the last of the closing tasks in silence—the hum of the espresso machine quiet, the smell of warm bread replaced by cleaning products. Levi grabbed the umbrella from the backroom. „Need this?” he asked, holding it out.
Krista’s lips curved into a small smile. „Then it’s you who’d get wet.”
„I’d survive,” Levi said dismissively. „Take it.”
She smiled brighter, shaking her head. „Thanks, Levi, but my girlfriend, Ymir, is picking me up. She’s probably waiting outside in the car.”
„Okay,” Levi said, tucking the umbrella under his arm. A walk home in the rain didn’t sound pleasant, and he didn’t mind avoiding it.
„Until tomorrow, boss,” Krista called with a playful wink as she left. Levi simply nodded, turning the key in the lock and listening to the rain pattering against the café windows.
X