Unedited

* * *

I lounge around in my room like any other person with nothing better to do with life. The aroma of a new book is what i inhale while I held a hardcover copy of a new novel in my hands. As i predicted, my mother bought me a new set of books for me to read while i relaxed. I've already read The Scarlet Letter, but my mom can't possibly keep track of the books i've read, sometimes i even forget if i've read a book.

It's actually quite nice not having to do anything. I can be lazy all I want, and I know my mom won't harass me to do anything; or have any professors to do work for. I'd say i'm pretty lucky compared to most SU students. Some students aren't getting Thanksgiving off because of work, some can't relax because of an exam the day after Thanksgiving.

I feel bad for Farlan's girlfriend. Poor Isabel is working two different jobs. I wonder if I helped her with the money. I hope I never have to find myself working all through my university experience. Thank you scholarship.

When I first came home yesterday I was very active. I took Buddy for a walk around town, went down to the old library to say hello to the librarian, rearranged the books in my room (all five hundred and thirty books, this includes the new ones). I organized them by author, then by title, unlike my last pattern which was just by the order of completion.

The only thing that really surprised me since I've been here was being able to actually sleep.

I didn't think i would be able to sleep once i got home, but surprisingly i was able to last night. I slept for a full eight hours, i can stay up for days with that kind of sleep. Now that i think of it, i probably won't be able to sleep again for a while, or maybe i'm cured from insomnia.

I snort. "I wish," i say out loud to no one. "I really need to get some pills soon."

Great, I'm talking to myself.

I flop to my stomach and drape over my bed in boredom. I already know what's going to happen, yet I want to keep reading. It's actually a bigger struggle than most people think. It's as if I want to be surprised all over again. As if I want to relive those emotions that thrilled my the first time I read a book, but I can't. I can't relive the same thrills because it's not easy to just forget them. When I begin a book, I become anxious. I want to hurry up and get to the thrilling chapters, but that won't be any fair if I just skip. Some people just don't understand.

"Levi!" My mother calls from downstairs. This is the first time she has called me today, so I immediately reply.

"Yes?" I holler back, and my voice cracks from the sudden use. Ah, that takes me back to those treacherous teenage years of good ol' puberty. I hated those years, more than I hate pickles.

I didn't hear her respond, but I continue to wait. When thirty seconds passed, and no reply was said, I groan loudly.

"Yes, mom?" I yell even louder than before.

Still no answer.

I groan a final time, slamming my head into the soft pillow. This agitates me. Why call for me if she isn't going to respond?

I slump out of bed, dragging my feet behind me. I take large, sloppy steps towards the stairs that still, to this day, haunt me.

"We meet again, stairs," I speak to no one. I face palm with a shake of my head, realizing that I was once again talking to myself.

Maybe I'm just used to someone listening, that someone being Eren. No matter what i said aloud, he would always have something to say. I guess I've just grown used to having him around so often. I'm not saying that I'm attached, why would I admit to something like that?

We aren't even friends. All we are is two roommates who happen to have moms, who are best friends, that live directly next to each other. Nothing of that sort screams the word friendship. Well, besides our mothers, but that's about it.

"Yes?" I say for the third time as I huffed into the kitchen.

My mother's body was halfway inserted into the stove, as if the witch from Hansel and Gretel had stuffed her inside. I lean to see what she was up to, then it made more sense. She was just cleaning the oven, no witch involved.

"Mom, what did you need?"

"Oh, I need your help with dinner. Remember, Carla and her family are coming over tonight," she reminds me, even though I didn't want to be reminded of Eren's invite as well as the rest of the Yeagers.

"Sure, what do you want me to do?"

"Take out the ingredients that are on that list over there," she says as she waves a finger in the wrong direction. She points to the cabinets, when really meant the counter, but I didn't blame her. Her head was stuck in the oven, the fumes were probably getting to her head.

I swipe the list from the counter and proceed to follow it while opening the small, worn out fridge that we've had since I was born. We work in silence, letting the fumes of chemicals overcome the fairly large kitchen.

I'd say about three years ago was the last time I was asked to clean the stove, and let me say that the outcome wasn't pleasant. I had passed out from overusing the cleaning supplies, the chemicals had been inhaled to the point where I was nauseated. My mom said that from now on she'd be the one to clean the stove, and I would stay far away from the cleaning supplies.

"So, Levi, tell me about Eren. You said you were tutoring him," my mom says to break the silence between us.

"Eren? I'm just helping him with studying. He gets off track easily," I explain briefly with a shrug.

"Oh really? His mom says that he wanted to become a surgeon like you. Are you taking the same classes together?"

"Eren doesn't want to be a surgeon, he said he wanted to be a pianist," I say, not really knowing why he would want to do something he wasn't good at.

"A pianist?" My mother's voice strains disbelief.

"Yeah, I've never seen him play so I don't think he has a good chance of becoming one," I say nonchalantly.

"He's a great piano player, don't you remember going to his recitals? You were the loudest one, always cheering him on."

I have no memory of this, none at all. He's never played piano, but the family owns one. I always thought it was Calra's piano since i hear it often, and because I always hear her mention something about piano playing. The sound is too beautiful to be played by Eren, mainly because he doesn't seem like a person who would.

"I don't remember that," I tell her while taking out another heap of vegetables.

"You'll have to hear him play again, maybe we can ask him to play at dinner tonight," my mother suggests. She begins to cough, and decides that it would be best if she rested before finishing.

"You okay?" I ask, taking out the last of the ingredients.

"I'm fine," she says with a cough. "That's actually weird," she says as she refocuses the conversation to Eren, "what you said about Eren wanting to become a pianist. Carla always told me that Eren had dreamed of becoming a surgeon. She says he won't stop talking about it." She means against the counter, her arms crossing over her abdomen.

I close the fridge and raise my brow in an unbelieving matter before placing my hands upon my hips. "Mom, Eren wants to be a pianist, he told me this and he said that Carla-" I hesitate to finish my sentence, my mind tangled in thought.

Now that I think of it, Eren said it was his mother's idea, not his. He said his mother pressured him to go to Sina, and so did his father. Eren's dream wasn't to become a surgeon at all, and I see it now. I see how he hates studying, and how he dreads going to class each day. I can see his hatred towards learning about medicine, because he never really asked for that path. He was forced to attend Sina, but why? Why didn't he just say no and follow his own dreams? What is holding him back?

"What about Carla?" My mother asks, snapping me out of my daze.

I shake my head, my questions lost among the dozen others of Eren's life.

"Levi, what about Carla?" She says again, this time harsher than before.

"Nothing, it doesn't matter."

* * *

"Levi, make sure you change that shirt of yours before they come over," my mom says.

I look down at my not-so-white shirt to notice the many stains from helping mom in the kitchen. Who knew turkey making was so messy messy? I should've worn a different shirt.

"I'll just hop in the shower before they come," I tell her as I begin to jog out of the kitchen. It won't take me so long to get ready, Farlan doesn't know what he's talking about. He thinks that I take too long, that's nonsense. It's not like I have to impress anyone.

"They'll be here in an hour!" my mother informs me before I disappear from the kitchen area.

I quickly jog up the stairs, taking two steps at a time with a slight fear of falling on my face. On my way to the bathroom I don't hesitate to undress to save time. Once completely bare and the hot water running, I hop in and do what I have to do like any normal human being.

Shampoo. Hair. Conditioner. Soap. Body. Rinse. Think about the nonsense of life for fifteen minutes.

By the time I finish I only had thirty minutes. I argue with myself that I had spent too much time, but hot water is the best gift to mankind. That, and the magic of the shower head. Who wouldn't spend time just standing in the water?

My hair's a mess, but my outfit is what I believe to be rather nice. Casual khakis with a long-sleeved, white button-up top. I slip on a sweater vest to complete the look. I feel as if it were a little too formal, but it's Thanksgiving so what's the point not to wear something like this?

"Levi!" My mother calls from downstairs.

I quickly slip on a pair of converse, before jogging downstairs. Maybe I was dressed too much for the occasion because she snorts at my appearance.

"You look like a Ken doll," she snickers.

"Thanks, mom. That make me feel great," I say sarcastically.

"Anyways, I need you to keep an ear out for the door. I'm going upstairs to change, okay?"

I shrug and she dashes off to her room upstairs. I walk around the kitchen, my hair drying in an unnatural way. It was messy, as opposed to my usual undercut and parted style. It looked like a wavy mess upon my head when it was supposed to be straight and combed. I don't bother to fix it, it didn't really matter much since no one would care if I fixed it anyways.

Before my mother returned the bell had rung, the sound echoing through the house. I can hear my mother yell for me to let them in, and a part of me didn't want to. Yet, install dragged myself to the door with a groan.

You're doing this for the turkey, remember that Levi.

Just the thought of a juicy, thick turkey makes my mouth water. I was so tempted to just eat it right then and there, but I knew I would never hear the end of it if I did.

"Levi!" Carla cheers excitedly before embracing me in a bone-crushing hug.

"H-hello," I croak.

She let's me go and gives my cheek I light squeeze, leaving a red mark in my pale skin. I give her a crooked smile before running my cheek. She acts like a grandma that hasn't seen their grandkid in a while, jeez.

"Levi, how have you been?" says Grisha, Eren's father.

"Hello, Dr. Yeager. I've been great," I lie.

He chuckles and says to call him Grisha, since we were practically family. I try not to cringe at the thought of being related to them, then again it would be nice to have Grisha as a father.

The last to enter was Eren. His head was low, his shoulders slumped. His face was hidden behind messy hair and his arms were covered by king long sleeves, something he hardly wore. I frown, something didn't feel right.

"Hey, Eren," I greet.

He like up at me, a light bruise on his left cheek, his left eye swollen with a small cut.

I can feel my heart fall to my feet. I never thought that seeing Eren hurt would have this effect on me. It's as if his pain had the same effect on me, but emotionally, as if I really cared. I don't. At least, I don't think I do.

"Hey..." he says with a forced grin. I can tell it pains him from the way his eye twitches.

"What happened to you?" I ask once he enters. I shut the door behind him, his body just standing there. He glances at his family who is already seated at table.

"I fell," he lies.

"Oh. You have to be more careful," I tell him, not believing his words.

My mother comes running down in a new set of clothes. She wears a long skirt in a dark shade if blue and a white top tucked inside. A belt hugged her waist, her hair in a bun. She managed to wear her old earrings and necklace along with my grandmother's wrist watch that matched the skirt. She looked like a doll, I praise my mother's natural beauty. It sometimes makes me wonder if I was mistaken as her child.

"Oh my, Eren! What happened?" She says with much concern.

"Oh, he was running down the stairs in a rush and hit his head on the railing," Carla says as she walks over to formally greet her best friend.

Eren just looks down before having a seat at the table. Grisha gives him a stern look before going to greet my mother as well.

The adults hug and greet each other, making small talk of nothing important as if they hadn't seen each other in ages.

I ignore them and take a seat across from Eren, my hands folding upon the neatly set table. He looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed, but not in anger, in more of a pained expression. His eyes appear darker, as if the life had been sucked out of them. They no longer shined a bright teal, they fade into a deep green color that still look stunning.

"Eren, are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," he lies again. I don't know of these lies, nor will I ever question them.

* * *

"Levi, it's your turn to say grace," my mom tells me as we both sit down. We had just served everyone their plates.

"Really? It's been four years already?" I question sarcastically.

I hated saying grace, I never know what to say. It's a tradition we've done for years. One person would get a chance every year to say grace, then the person next to them would say something that they are thankful for that a person at the table had done for them. The person they say then says something about another, and so on.

It's a rather confusing process, but each year it gets harder because we have to choose something they had done that year. The thanks can be simple like mowing the lawn, or walking the dog, but it was still difficult to choose one that didn't make you seem like an ungrateful person.

"I don't know what to say," I say out loud. I look down at my lap, slightly embarrassed.

"Just thank God for the food then," my mother suggests.

"Alright," I say, taking hold of her hand as well as Grisha's who sits beside me.

"Dear God," I begin with a slight cringe, everyone bows their heads, "thank you for this meal. Amen."

"Amen," everyone says in unicent.

We release our hands and Carla proceeds to begin the round of thanks.

"Kuchel, thank you for being an amazing friend for another year," she says with a twinkle in her eye.

I want to gag.

My mother smiles, thanking her as well before thanking Grisha for helping her clean out the attic this spring. Grisha's thanks Eren for finally cleaning his room, which was said in a jokingly matter. Everyone laughs before turning their attention Eren.

Now all eyes are on him. Why did I have to get Eren? I don't know what words will come out if his mouth, and I'm afraid of what he'll say.

He looks at me, his eyes less broken than before. They almost light up, as if he had been waiting for this moment. I brace myself for something stupid to be said.

"Levi," he says slowly, "I know we don't always get along, but I want to thank you for showing kindness these past few weeks. Thank you for being a friend."

A part of my wants to gag, but I don't. What is this feeling? I feel... content. As if his words were what wanted to hear, even though I expected something far from it. Our eyes are latched to each other, not once separating, even though everyone around us was already digging into their meals.

Why can't he look away? Doesn't he know it's rude to stare. Then again, why am I staring right back?

"So Eren," my mother says, breaking our daze. "Levi says he doesn't remember how you play piano, and he would like you to play sometime. I remember you playing so well."

Eren's heart looks as if it were about to jump out if his chest, his eyes wide. He doesn't answer, instead he looks at his own mother who seems to be calm, when deep down an anger boils.

"Eren no longer plays piano," she says in a low mumble that was hard to understand at first. She looks up and smiles, her head tilting. "The piano is broken, I have to call in an expert," she says as she changes her persona.

"Oh, well that's too bad..." my mother says softly.

We continue to eat like a normal Thanksgiving dinner, only this year is different. Eren isn't scarfing down my mother's turkey, like every other year. Instead, he slumps into his seat, only picking at the mashed potatoes.

* * *

I lay wide awake upon my bed just staring at the ceiling. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, not after last night's glorious rest. I sigh and sink deeper into my mattress.

The Yeagers left after nine. Mom and I stayed up an extra hour to clean up before heading off to bed. While she slept soundly in the other room, I lie awake here in my own.

It's only midnight, so I still have a chance of catching some shut-eye. I roll over to my stomach and reach for the lamp's switch. Once on, I stroll over to my bookshelf to take a final scan. To get drowsy, I usually scan down a row of books and give a short summary if each book, this way I can improve my memory as well as make my mind sleepy. It sometimes works, and it's definitely worth a shot since I have all five hundred and thirty books at my reach.

I manage to reach The Awakening by Kate Chopin before being interrupted by an object hitting my window. I send a glower in the window's direction before huffing over to open it. The cook breeze hits me once I slide open the glass. I glare down at a familiar teal-eyed boy.

"Hey Levi, let me in!" He yells in a whisper.

I look further out to see a ladder already placed against the house. I look over at Buddy's dog house and frown to see he has a piece of leftover turkey. Some best friend to be letting anyone walk in their backyard.

I sigh and wave Eren and 'okay' to come up.

When he climbs in he is breathing as if he had just run a marathon. I couldn't help but snort, teasing him playfully.

"Oh shut up, Levi. I'd like to see you climb that thing," he complains.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get your panties in a twist. How did you know I'd even be awake?"

"You have insomnia, don't you?" he questions while raising a brow.

"That doesn't prove anything."

"Anyways, I wouldn't come all the way here and waste a good piece of turkey for nothing. I have to show you something," he says in a now serious tone.

I shift around on my bed, feeling somewhat uncomfortable when he begins to unbutton his shirt.

"Woah, Eren. I'm bisexual and all, but please don't strip for me."

"Jeez, let me finish. I'm not doing this to please you, I'm doing this to show you the truth."

Truth?

He manages to take off his long-sleeved shirt to reveal a series of purple blotches down the sides of his arms, chest, and back. I gag, the turkey wanting to make another appearance.

"E- Eren..." I say slowly.

"I didn't fall..." He confesses, ignoring my nauseated state. I swallow down my saliva, raising a brow in confusion.

Eren sits beside me, only making me feel uneasy. He signs, refusing to glance at me now. He stares down at his hands, fiddling with his thumbs.

"I told my mom I wanted to become a pianist, like you suggested," he tells me before biting his bottom lip. I lean forward, wanting to see his face.

"She got mad and took the hammer from the utility box and began smashing my piano."

"Ere-" I can't finish his name, I don't dare to. I bite the inside of my cheek, my heart in pain. Even if it was Eren, I still ache to hear this, and with him bruised, I only knew that the story wasn't over.

"She began to throw the broken wood at me. I couldn't dodge them fast enough."

This didn't seem real, that sounded nothing like Carla. Carla would never do something like that, not the Carla I knew. Then again, here Eren sits with bruises down his lightly toned body, a swollen scar on his face.

"Eren, I- I don't know what to say..." I say. I slide off my bed and walk around him to close the window, the breeze making the room chilly.

"Don't say anything. Just think about it." Eren's voice cracks, tears daring to pour from his broken eyes.

They no longer shine happily, or narrow at me with his cocky grin. Eren is no longer the person I remember him to be. He's no longer the same guy that teased me for wearing a turtleneck, or the same guy that made me feel short and defenseless. He's changed.

I can't just stand here. I can't just let him cry this way, then again I don't know what to do. Eren is asking for my help, he pleads it without directly saying it, just like when were were younger.

Without hesitation, I take him into my arms. His head against my chest, my arms lightly around his bruised body. I look down at a sobbing Eren and proceed to hum a tune from a long forgotten memory. Eren weeps, sniffling into my chest like a child. Then, as if my magic, he hums along with me. His eyes are bloodshot red, tears still streaming, but his voice sings.

We hum a tune that had been locked away for years, a tune I used to sing when Eren was upset. That was long ago, too long to even remember fully. The Eren from my memories had yet to return to me, but in this moment I can feel him.

I can recall the memories now. The memories that I believed were forgotten.

* * *

Author's Note:

This chapter is definitely longer than my others, I hope it was decent. I was iffy while writing it, not knowing if I was moving too quickly. Anyways, you can leave your thoughts in the comments if you like ^.^ you can vote too if you want to, you don't have to :3

Oh, and please ignore any typos. I type my chapters on my phone ^~^ I'm sorry.

Until next time~

4,209 words