Gripping tightly onto the straps of your bag, you nervously peer into the windows of the campus bookstore, where you spot Mr. Ackerman dusting the bookshelves as he often did— though his scowl deepened further than you've ever seen it— of course, you knew that you were the cause for such an expression. In other words, you were fucked... and not in the good way.

With a deep breath, you carefully slipped through the door, his cold stare immediately meeting your guilty eyes as soon as the welcome bell alerted your entrance. You witness his shoulders slump forward just ever so slightly— a sigh of disappointment escaping his pursed lips as he ceases his ministrations to walk over towards your direction.

"Miss L/n."

Fuck.

That tone always terrifies you.

Upon further inspection, he notices the tiniest bit of blood on the sleeve of your jacket. You inspected the piece after changing your clothes before leaving for work, but you must have glazed over it in your hurry to get your things and get out of there as quickly as possible. He's concerned, but he doesn't ask questions. It isn't his business what goes on in your personal life, and in all honesty, he doesn't really care much to know about it either.

Still, it prompts him to let your tardiness slide this time. Clearly there's something going on, but the fact that you still showed up— albeit an hour late— resonates with him.

"Get to work."

He says, gesturing to the stack of boxes that house shiny new textbooks in need of stocking.

You breathe a sigh of relief, happy that you still have your job. You'll need it more than ever now, especially since you'll be on your own from this point forward. Disheartened thoughts buzz through the innermost parts of your scattered brain, wondering what in the hell you were actually going to do about your current situation— kicked out of your apartment with no where else to go; homeless.

Would Jean really put you out on your ass like that? You wouldn't put it past him at this point, although truthfully, you couldn't even blame him for it if he did.

"Last time I checked, these shelves aren't capable of stocking themselves. Is there a reason why you're standing here staring off into space instead of working?" Mr. Ackerman's, deep, commanding voice beckons you back into reality as you meet his stoic, rather unimpressed gaze. "You're already on thin ice y/n, don't make me dismiss you."

"Right, I'm sorry."

Your lips purse as you begin to bend down and unload the box, but your mind just won't put this to rest.

"Um, Mr. Ackerman... Can I ask you something?"

He didn't give a verbal response, only a curious glance and a cock of his brow to let you know that he was listening.

You weren't even sure of what you were about to say, but it was too late now to stop it. You just wanted some advice from someone you admired— although Levi Ackerman seemed cold and dismissive, he would always help those in need, even if it bothered him to do so.

With a deep breath of redundantly suffocating air, you exhaled all of the shit you've been keeping inside to... probably the wrong person, but still, a neutral party that was here to listen.

"Okay, so— this is purely hypothetical by the way— say you had a friend who was having issues in their relationship, like reallllly bad ones and they impulsively cheated on their partner with their really hot neighbor who turns out to be a sweet person, but also kinda weird and maybe a little bit crazy? Like the two of them had almost instant chemistry but said friend still feels really bad about cheating on their partner and regrets hurting them but at the same time doesn't regret what happened because they really like how things are going with the neighbor BUT now their partner kicked them out and they don't know what to do or where they're gonna stay because they literally don't have anybody else to turn to."

That was a mouthful. Wayyy too much information, dumbass.

Mr. Ackerman blinks a few times, no doubt in shock of what he's just tried to process— which was more difficult than you would imagine, with how rapidly the projectile word vomit spewed from your lips. After a few more moments of silence, Levi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration as his head hangs within his fingertips. His silky, ebony tresses gently wisp around his handsome face with every disappointed shake of his head.

Frankly, he doesn't get paid enough for this shit.

"Do you need a place to stay, y/n?"

He asks, his tone heavy with exhaustion but despite this, he truly does just want to help you.

"I said it was hypo—"

"Yes or no? Please don't waste anymore of my time than you already have."

There was no point in trying to deny it, obviously he had known from the very minute you opened your mouth— not that your method of choice was even a sliver of an attempt to conceal your true identity.

"... yes. I do."

The weakness in your voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to your very own ears. You've never felt so embarrassed; so defeated. It was almost like an outer body experience, where the person who was spouting out some sob-story wasn't yourself— you've never asked anyone for anything, and the fact that you didn't even ask, just to be offered out of sheer pity... it stung.

Levi begins to dig into his left pocket, retrieving a ring of keys from his form-fitting, perfectly pressed black slacks. He pulls a shiny golden one out of the bunch and places it into the palm of your hand. You stare at it, confused for a moment until he parts his lips to speak.

"I have an extra space that I usually rent out. It's unoccupied at the moment, so you can stay there for a few days until you can find other arrangements." He explains briefly but to the point, while you listen wide-eyed and graciously at your professor's generosity.

"Oh, are you sure? I appreciate the offer but you don't have to—"

"Would you really decline help when it's so freely offered to you? Don't be dense, y/n."

He retorts, using his hands to forcefully curl your fingers around the jagged metal.

"Go ahead and get settled in. You're clearly in no state of mind to work efficiently today. Next week I expect you to do better— don't confuse my generosity for softness, I will let you go if this happens again."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Ackerman!"

You squeal, with half a mind to wrap your arms around the neck of your savior. You maintain your composure, of course— if the grimace on Levi's face was any consolation. "I won't let you down, I promise."

After thanking him a few more times, you grab you things and practically fly out the door, until he calls out to you one last time before you step foot onto the concrete.

"Y/n, please keep the space clean. I'm trusting you."

Glancing over your shoulder, you smile— it's hard not to when your faith in humanity has been restored for at least one more day. Everything else has gone to shit in your life as of lately, but it helps to know that maybe you don't have to do this alone.

Maybe you had support all along?

Maybe you didn't need Jean as much as you thought you did.

"I promise, it'll be even cleaner than you left it!"

You tease, offering one last wave of appreciation before heading out the door.

Levi shakes his head in disbelief, the faintest of smiles curling upon his lips.

"What the fuck happened to you?!"

Mikasa can hardly believe her eyes, witnessing Eren slumped on their living room couch looking like he'd just gotten ran over by a semi-truck. She rushes over to him, her pretty face stained with concern and confusion, because he certainly didn't look like this when she had last seen him. He cracks a smile and laugh— truthfully he found it funny that she's always been so protective over him.

"Looks worse than it is, don't worry." He reassures her by swinging her legs into his lap and carefully unlacing her boots. He removes them with ease and gives her calves a squeeze, before she swats his hand away with half a mind to scold him for always being so reckless.

"I can't leave you alone for for more than two seconds without you getting into some shit." Her brows furrow and she pouts her pretty glossed lips as she wonders about what exactly could have happened while she was at work.

"S'not a big deal, I said don't worry about it." He mumbles, sinking his head back into the couch cushion, resting a tattooed forearm over his heavy-lidded eyes.

"Eren— it's obviously a big fucking deal. You look like shit."

"Thanks! You look gorgeous too, princess."

He mocks her sarcastically, which only further annoys his best friend who is maybe a bit too concerned for her own good. After all, it wasn't the first time Eren's come back home looking a mess.

"Hey," she grabs his arm forcefully, pulling him to sit up in his elbows so she can get a proper look into his eyes, "I'm being serious, Eren. Tell me what happened."

"Got into a fight."

He finally gives her the bare minimum of an answer, but she wasn't going to let him off that easy.

"With?"

"Take a guess."

She frowns, knowing almost immediately just who exactly Eren was talking about. Running slender fingers through her hair, she huffs in frustration. Why does he continue to put himself into these situations? It just didn't make any sense to her anymore— as if it ever did make sense at all.

"Before you get mad—"

"I'm already mad."

"Okay, before you get even more angry... I wanted to run something by you first." He hesitates, because by Mikasa's demeanor he can already assume what she's going to say.

"Y/n needs a place to stay... uh, Jean kinda kicked her out—"

"Eren. We can't."

There's a pang of guilt that strikes her heart, remembering the words she said to you outside when she offered her help to you whenever you needed it. Though, this was before things had escalated this far; to the point of violence.

She can see how concerned Eren is for you— how his eyes glaze over as soon as she denies his request just as he had expected her too. She feels bad about it, she truly does... but she believes it's for the best.

"Look, I like y/n. I really do. She just has a lot of... baggage. There's things she needs to figure out before anything else happens between you two." She reaches her hand out to grab his, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand in consolation.

"Maybe it's best if you just give her some space for a little while?"

He doesn't want to do that. In fact, it's the very last thing he would ever want to do. Still, he does take Mika's words into heavy consideration. She's never steered him wrong, after all— but even if he did decide to give you space, he doubts his own willpower to actually go through with it. You're all he's able to think about these days.

That's exactly what scares Mikasa. She's scared for Eren's heart, his body, his mind...