Chapter Text
ONE
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Every day is exactly the same.
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The day began much the same way as the one before. And the one before that, and the one before that. Last night, however, Erwin had managed to fall asleep in his bed rather than on the sofa as he usually did, surrounded by paperwork and the castoff detritus of whatever takeout he’d ordered that night, television droning on mindlessly. The weekend typically only meant that he worked from home instead of at the office, and that he made even less of an effort to get a decent eight hours of sleep in an actual bed than usual. As today was Monday, he at least had the responsibility of being functional enough to get to work.
When the alarm began blaring at him that it was time to get up, Erwin had already been awake for half an hour. He reached out to snooze it for another ten minutes, electing to remain lying there to stare blankly at the ceiling for a little longer.
Cobwebs had begun to cluster at the corners of the room. By the looks of them, they’d been gathering for a while. Erwin groaned, covering his eyes and shifting to lay on his side, the flab of his belly slumping insolently to pool against the sheets. I ought to dust, he thought. He wouldn’t, he knew, and added it to the tally of obligations he was destined to fail to fulfill. He dragged them around with him like a lead weight, this litany of failings large and small, about which he could feel guilty. At this point, he might have considered hiring a cleaning service. But I don’t want anyone else in here. It hardly mattered, anyway.
The snoozed alarm cut across his thoughts again. “Fine,” he muttered, sitting up and setting his feet firmly against the floor. He tried not to think about the heaviness of his doughy belly as it drooped between his legs. He did his best to think as little as possible about his body, but in the mornings it made itself so insistently present it was impossible to ignore, its heavy physicality asserting itself whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not. Sometimes, he thought he might actually like his new shape, just a little bit. But it was difficult to allow this thought to surface in his mind in any meaningful way because he knew that he wasn’t supposed to. Disgusting, he thought now as he stood and his thighs brushed together, flabby breasts bouncing on the walk to the bathroom.
He undressed as quickly as possible while he waited for the shower to heat up, trying his best not to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Even so, the way his tits jiggled as he bent over to pull off his briefs, the slide of his dimpled knuckles against thighs that had recently begun to develop their own rolls, the way his belly folded into two heavy rolls pressing hotly against each other, reminded him of how far he’d fallen. It was never too far from his mind. His life was supposed to have turned out much better than this by now. It should have been much different.
The shower was swift, tense, and perfunctory. His hands scrubbed harshly over the doughy expanse of his body. He lathered the soap into his skin roughly, like a punishment, as though it were sandpaper he could use to scour away his excess flesh the way one might sand down a wooden board. The sensation of his hands passing over his body, the soft give of his own flesh, paradoxically felt rather sensual, which made him feel more ashamed, and to scrub harder.
When he emerged, his skin was flushed pink from the punitive vigor of his touch. He steeled himself before turning with dread to the mirror. He took a moment to take stock of himself, eyes roaming over his pillowy physique with unforgiving calculation. His flaxen hair was mussed from sleep, falling across his forehead in a way that he might have thought was charming if he were able to see anything good in himself. Instead, he noticed the beginnings of wrinkles forming on his forehead. The fine lines of burgeoning crow’s feet. Even his cheeks had grown puffy with fat, to say nothing of the heavy double chin that had overtaken his neck. The dark circles under his eyes attested to his chronic lack of restful sleep.
He lifted an arm and, frowning, shook it, watching the heavy drooping fat jiggle with the movement. You used to run 12Ks. He dropped his arm to his side again. Is that a roll forming there? His tits rested plump and heavy against the uppermost roll of his belly, like a woman’s. His stomach rounded out heavily in front of him, pushing against the counter. The heft of it was comforting even as it shamed him, its heaviness grounding him like a stifling security blanket that made him impossible for anyone to desire. How could you let this happen? His lower belly drooped like so much fluffy dough. It was pliable and wobbly in the mornings, empty as it was, unlike how firm and rounded it usually was when he was full to the brim, aching, before he lay down to sleep.
He grabbed the lower swell of his stomach and squeezed, knowing it would leave red marks. Why are you like this, Erwin? He dropped it heavily against the cold quartz of the counter, then stared balefully at his reflection. “Alright,” he sighed. “That’s enough.”
The rest of his routine went quickly and mechanically, and he was rushing to the car within twenty minutes. Before he got on the highway, he went through the drive-through at McDonald’s to pick up a coffee and several of those little hashbrown cakes they sold there. It wasn’t something he did every morning, but he did often enough that it was an unfortunate habit. The stop-and-go of rush hour traffic gave Erwin enough time to finish the hashbrowns.
He’d been at this firm for nearly five years. After his injury six years ago, his previous firm had offered him medical leave, which he’d taken, but he’d been unable to bring himself to return once he’d ‘recovered,’ such that it was. It was too embarrassing to have to pick up the pieces of his old life. He’d known that he would fail to measure up to what he had once been and that everyone else would know it, too. The thought had been unbearable. So, he had left, moving to a mid-sized firm elsewhere in the city. No one here had known him as anything besides a fat, introverted workaholic—pleasant enough, efficient, but largely uninterested in friends.
He nodded a greeting at the receptionist before ducking his head and beelining to his office. Later, he’d wander into the breakroom to see if anyone had brought in the Monday morning muffins—the morning glory ones were his favorite—and to make himself another cup of coffee. For now, he settled in at his desk and pulled out his laptop to begin his work. He would work until mid-morning, when he went to scavenge for coffee and muffins, and then return to his office and remain there until seven or eight in the evening.
On the days when Pieck was not at court, she would knock on his door around two in the afternoon and needle him into grabbing a late lunch with her at the nearby deli. If, however, she was not in the office, he would simply forget to eat. At some point during the evening, after it had gotten dark and the office was empty, the rumble of his stomach would jolt him from his trance, and he would reluctantly pack his things to leave. On the way home, he might stop in at another drive-through or restaurant to pick up takeout, ordering far more than he knew he really ought to, perhaps telling himself he could always put the leftovers in the refrigerator, and head back to his silent, empty house. As he changed into sweats and a t-shirt, sat down on the sofa, and turned on the television, dinner spread out in front of him on the coffee table, he would dig in. He wouldn’t stop when he felt full but would keep going until nothing was left, knowing full well that he would feel uncomfortable, and that in the morning he would regret it. And that he would do it again anyway, if not the next night, then the one after.
And so on, and so forth. Exactly as he’d been doing for years.
***
“God fuckin’ damn it...” Levi slammed the refrigerator door shut with more force than he’d intended. He winced, knowing that if Uri were home, he’d get an earful for it. Well, in Uri’s way. The crystal loving, MSW/yoga teacher didn’t yell, but his disappointment was often worse. Thankfully, he was still teaching his evening class at the community center. “KENNY!” Levi shouted, tearing out of the kitchen and into the living room where his uncle was sprawled out on the couch watching Jeopardy. “What the fuck?!”
Kenny barely glanced up as Levi stormed into the room. In fact, he reached out and took another swig of his beer. “What the fuck what?”
“You drank the last of the cranberry juice I had in the fridge, I know you fuckin’ did it so don’t fuckin’ bullshit me.” Levi didn’t buy much for himself. He’d been living with Kenny and Uri for a couple years now, saving up money after his funds had been decimated when he’d paid for top surgery. While he was glad for the place to stay, living with his uncles presented its own set of special challenges. “D’you even fuckin’ like cranberry juice?”
“S’just some fuckin’ cranberry juice, Shrimp, don’t see what the big deal is.” Kenny spread his arms out across the back of the couch and squinted up at Levi. “But yeah, I drank it.” He sucked on his teeth. “Little sour, ask me. Had to mix it with some sugar.”
Anger flared hot in Levi’s brain at this. He didn’t buy much for himself, but he splurged on the expensive, organic cranberry juice. It was 100% cranberries; it was supposed to be sour. That was the whole point. He mixed it with water or seltzer to stretch it out. “It ain’t supposed to be fuckin’ mors, Kenny, Christ.” It was eight dollars a bottle. Worth every penny, but still—expensive! “Just—just don’t touch shit in there that you know ain’t yours, I mean, fuck, try bein’ a little fuckin’ polite for once.”
Kenny snorted. “You ever hear yourself, kid?” He shook his head. “Now get out the way, this episode’s shapin’ up to be a good one.”
Levi took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. Be nice, he thought to himself. Be nice, be nice, be nice. “Fine,” he said out loud, stepping to the side as he’d been asked. Kenny and Uri weren’t charging him rent, after all. That was the entire purpose of this arrangement. He hadn’t wanted to have to be living with family at twenty-six, but he was lucky that he could. He spied Kenny’s pack of menthols lying on the table near the beer. “But I’m takin’ one of your nasty cigarettes for it.” He was out of his own smokes, and it was two days until payday.
He took the cigarette and stalked out to the balcony. The shutting of the door cut off the sounds of the television. He was left with the sounds of city life instead: the wail of sirens, the metallic din of cars driving past, the occasional shouting of neighbors and passersby down at street level. The air was wet and chill. It was one of those rainy days in early spring when simply breathing seemed to fill one’s lungs up with water. In contrast to summer, when the rain hit his skin it seeped into his bones, freezing him from the inside out. A radiating, insidious cold.
He lit the cigarette. Menthols were not his preferred smoke, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. The cool smoke filled his lungs as inhaled, a familiar crystallized feeling. He immediately felt calmer. The late afternoon sky was dark with clouds, so he knew it would probably be raining when he got off shift tonight. He exhaled on a sigh, watching the tendrils of smoke curl up from the lit cigarette. It was Sunday, so the hotel bar he worked at on the weekends would close earlier tonight. He’d be off by ten. Maybe with luck he’d be home by one in the morning. Sundays were slow, so the tips wouldn’t be as good. But it was a pretty chic place downtown that catered to executives, and they usually spent a lot, so the haul would still at least be decent.
If he could manage to fall asleep by 1:30, he’d be able to catch a whopping five hours of rest before he had to roll out of bed to make it to his weekday gig at the deli. It was also downtown but catered to the local highrise crowd for lunch. No tips, but that wasn’t why he’d taken the job. The hours were the same from week to week, and he was usually free by eight in the evening. When he’d started there, he had been toying with the idea of signing up for a class at one of the city colleges. He’d been working food service off and on since he’d been sixteen and had finally gotten sick of it. Both Isabel and Farlan had gone off to college—Isabel to a theater program at one of the city colleges so she could live at home and work her way through, Farlan to some fancy liberal arts school out of state. He was the smartest of the three of them and had managed to get a merit scholarship.
They had each graduated four years ago and gone on to pursue careers. This meant that it was just Levi—stupid little Levi—who had not yet managed to scrounge up some sort of life for himself. Twenty-six and back where I started, nothin’ to show for all my muckin’ around in the dirt.
“Why don’t you get your associate degree?” Isabel had asked him one night when they’d been at her apartment getting ready to go out to the neighborhood dyke bar she liked to frequent. “Think of what you might like to do and then take the classes to get your foot in the door.”
“Yeah, sure,” Levi had scoffed, “‘Cause I was so good at school the first time.” He’d been put in a remedial reading course as a child and had never really gotten over the feeling it had given him that he was just fundamentally, irreparably stupid and wrong.
But since she’d said it, he’d been unable to banish the thought from his mind. The longer the thought lingered, going from a vague, nebulous shape to something dense and solid, the more he wanted it. The problem was figuring out what path he wanted to take, and how to pay for it.
A problem for later, Levi thought to himself, watching the blue smoke curl up from the end of the cigarette. He took one final drag and then stubbed it out in the ashtray Kenny kept on the balcony. It would need to be emptied soon. Another thing he’d deal with later. With his shift starting in only another hour, he finished getting ready and ran out to catch the bus, the Jeopardy theme song following him into the hallway and onto the street.
The shift at the hotel bar was uneventful, for the most part. He chatted up an older businessman from out of town who had spent most of his shift nursing scotches and trying to flirt. The man had had a certain silver fox kind of charm that Levi found appealing. The hefty tip was a nice bonus.
He’d made it home around 1:30 in the morning and fallen face first into bed. Sleep came more easily than usual and he had managed to slip into dreams by 2:00AM. When his alarm went off at 6:00, Levi catapulted immediately into wakefulness. When he walked into the kitchen, Kenny and Uri were sitting at the table, each with his customary cup of morning tea.
“Good morning, Sweetheart,” Uri said. Kenny grunted at him and went back to his kasha. “Would you like to have a cup of tea and some breakfast before you go?”
Levi waved him off as he toed his shoes on at the door. “No time,” he muttered, but thanked Uri nonetheless. He sent Levi off with an apple anyway.
As he waited at the bus stop, he nibbled at his cuticles to distract himself from how badly he wanted a cigarette. He’d get to the deli, help Petra open, and would probably be home by 9PM, exhausted, just to do it all again tomorrow.
***
They’d been going to Scout’s Deli nearly every day for lunch over the past month while Pieck started research for a new case. Most days, Erwin ordered an apology salad, and she knew better than to ask. They went in the late afternoon, post-lunch rush, to avoid the lines.
In the years since his injury, Erwin had become something of a recluse. Crowds bothered him now in a way they hadn’t used to. He hated the feeling of being looked at and knew he was often looked at now if for no other reason than his size. Often, he felt his weight as an albatross around his neck that he had to perform penance for when he was in public.
Nothing any of his remaining friends said would make it better, and so, for the most part, they simply didn’t discuss it.
“That little cashier keeps looking at you.” Pieck said one day over her soup and sandwich combo.
Erwin glanced up, startled. He sat facing the windows as he usually did and had to fight the urge to wheel around to look at said cashier to confirm.
He had noticed the “little cashier” himself the first time they’d come in here. At that time, they hadn’t come in months. He’d known he was new because of how gobsmacked he’d been when the man had asked his order. He was beautiful. Had he been a regular employee before, Erwin would’ve known. His heart had nearly stopped when those steely gray eyes met his and inquired what he wanted.
It had been a long time since he’d felt that way when anyone looked at him.
As things stood, he scoffed. Whatever flutter his heart made was easily tamped down by reality. “I’m sure he is,” Erwin muttered. He stabbed at the bowl of chili he’d ordered today using the crust of hearty bread that came with it. “The audacity of a land whale to eat something as fattening as a meatball sub and a bowl of chili…”
He’d been expecting a chuckle—he should’ve known better than to hear this from Pieck, really—but resigned himself to the pep talk that was about to come when she tossed her own bread crust heavily onto the plate and sat back in her chair. The disgusted huff caused him to tense up in preparation for a lecture.
“No,” Pieck said, an undercurrent of annoyance in her tone. “I’m pretty sure he’s checking you out.”
Erwin actually laughed out loud. “Okay,” he muttered. “Sure.” He’d been craving something more substantial today, trying to eat enough during the day that he’d feel less compelled to stop in at the Chinese place on the way home and order dinner for four.
Of course the cashier was staring. He certainly wasn’t the only one. When weren’t people staring?
Pieck pursed her lips.
Here it comes.
“You know, I wish you’d stop talking about yourself like that.” She sighed, leaning forward and crossing her arms against the table. “And I don’t know what it’s like to deal with fatphobia, I know that and I’m not going to pretend I do, but…” Erwin tuned out as she went on about how he needed to be nicer to himself, and so on and so forth. She was right—she didn’t know. A year ago, his scale had given out and blared a red ERR at him. It maxed out at 400. He’d thrown it out and cried. He had no idea what he weighed now and was too scared to look. It was too late now anyway, wasn’t it? “...I’m good at these things though,” she finished, looking at him archly, “And he’s been checking you out.”
He frowned, drumming his fingers against the plastic tabletop while he glared a hole into it. After a few moments, he twisted around to look at the cashier.
A customer had come in during the time they’d been talking and he was busy now making up their order. He was pale. Thin, but muscular. His dark hair fell artfully over the visor he wore as part of his uniform. The delicate column of his neck was slender and reedy. He was a work of art, really.
Erwin had never seen a more beautiful person. Not one. Not even the wife whose loss still stung, like an old scar that ached unpleasantly every time it was about to rain.
No way a man like that was looking at him. Not like that. Not anymore.
“Look,” he finally said, speaking to the table instead of to Pieck. “Let’s just talk about something else.”
She raised her hands in defeat.
“Did you know that when the juvenile pistol shrimp snaps its claws, the acceleration is on par with a bullet shot from a gun?” He offered this little tidbit of knowledge as an olive branch. When in doubt, he often turned to random bits of marine trivia to break the ice. “The shockwaves produced by the snap are strong enough to kill a small fish.”
Although Pieck looked wholly unimpressed with Erwin’s unsubtle change of topic, she gave in and asked for more details.
The conversation then turned to other subjects, like Hange’s garden, and the progress of Moblit’s art pieces for his solo show, which home improvements Erwin was interested in tackling next.
The seed, however, had been planted. The next couple weeks proved there was no uprooting it now. He and Pieck continued to visit the deli for lunch often. After her observation, Erwin began paying closer attention to the way the cashier interacted with him. The man looked young—not a gray hair or a fine line in sight—but his permanent scowl gave him an intimidating air that made him seem older.
He can’t be more than twenty-three, Erwin thought. At most. The prospect sent fresh waves of anxiety coursing through him. Of course he wasn’t flirting with Erwin. Of course not.
Pieck, however, grew fond of pointing out that his scowl softened and sometimes even disappeared when he was taking Erwin’s order. At first, Erwin was adamant that this was not remotely the case, but eventually he started going up during slow periods and getting something to go at the end of their lunch breaks. A cup of tea, a cookie. They began having short, pleasant conversations during these explorational forays of his. And Erwin noticed that the man didn’t make a habit of small talk with others.
It still didn’t mean anything, which he firmly insisted to Pieck when she tried to claim otherwise.
When the cashier started anticipating his post-lunch tea and cookie order—a simple cup of Earl Grey and a double chocolate chunk cookie—Pieck laughed at him while he maintained that it was just good customer service.
After a time, he learned the cashier’s name was Levi. While it had said so right there on his nametag the entire time, Erwin hadn’t felt comfortable addressing him as such until Levi introduced himself directly and asked Erwin’s name in return. It felt like an unearned intimacy that he didn’t want to avail himself of without invitation.
Levi, Erwin had thought. He looks like a Levi.
When Pieck’s new case ramped up and she once again was spending less time at the office, Erwin continued their reinstated tradition of going to Scout’s Deli for lunch. He went later, around 4 in the afternoon when the place was nearly empty. Sometimes, he’d bring his laptop with him and work there for a couple of hours, setting himself up at a table in the corner where he wouldn’t be a bother.
Occasionally Levi would stop to chat with him while he wiped down tables as he often did in the downtime between the lunch and dinner rush. It became a familiar bright spot in Erwin’s afternoons. When he couldn’t stop in at the deli, he missed it.
***
The first time the handsome blond lawyer came in was the same day Petra figured out Levi was gay.
On the one hand, it was a blessing. She’d been crushing on him since his first week. It had taken him some time to put two and two together since the idea that anyone, and a girl no less, would have a crush on him was unthinkable. When Levi did finally make the connection between her stammering and red cheeks and his presence, he’d inwardly cursed. He had no idea how to let her down gently nor how to handle the flirting. His two social modes were aggressive or begrudgingly affectionate. Navigating anything in between was exceedingly difficult.
So, when Levi had looked up on the line that day only for his breath to be taken away by a pair of deep blue eyes and a slightly apologetic half-smile and Petra, apparently, had noticed, it was ultimately for the best.
On the other hand, how embarrassing that he was so entirely artless that his attraction to the lawyer should be obvious enough to squash what had up until that point been an extremely determined infatuation.
He cringed any time he remembered that day now. He fumbled the spoon he’d been using to scoop avocado for salads because he was so flabbergasted. It clattered to the floor, and he’d had to grab a new one. Then he stared open-mouthed for several moments before remembering that he had yet to ask the man what he wanted.
This was probably part of why he was perennially single.
On the bright side, however, he and Petra had become real friends. Go figure.
She was the one who initially encouraged him to try making conversation with the man. The first of them had gone predictably awkwardly:
“So, uh... you work around here?”
“Hm? Oh, uh... Yes, yes, I do contract law at...”
And so on.
Normally, Levi was violently allergic to small talk, though he was able to do it well enough to get a good tip at his weekend bartending gig. With Erwin, as he eventually learned was the man’s name, he found it nearly impossible to be smooth and calm. But it was also nearly impossible not to try chatting with him when the opportunity arose.
It was awful. And yet, he kept doing it.
“Your boyfriend’s here.”
Levi jumped and hit his head against the top of the display case where he was replenishing the day’s pastries.
“Fuck!”
From somewhere behind him, Petra laughed.
He stood up, rubbing the back of his head and shooting her a glare over his shoulder. When he turned back around, sure enough—Erwin was there, setting down his bag on one of the chairs at what had become his usual table. Levi’s heart did a little flip as the gorgeous blond lawyer waved at him and he feebly waved back. It had been a couple months now, but Levi still wasn’t used to the attention. He liked it, he thought, but he was awkward and didn’t know how to talk to people he genuinely found interesting and attractive.
It was late afternoon, and the deli was mostly empty. He turned back to Petra and tried to calm himself down.
“You aren’t going to go say hi?” she asked, leaning one hip against the back counter. “Personally, I want to know what new fish fact he has for us today.”
“Then why don’t you go ask him?” Levi grumbled. He grabbed a rag and busied himself with wiping down the counter. Things could never be too clean, after all.
“I’m sure he’d rather tell you than me.”
His face grew hot. He knew it was red and entirely obvious to her because of his stupidly pale skin. “Tch,” he scoffed. “Don’t you got work to do or some shit?” He glanced down the line and saw it was, in fact, a little messy, so he threw the rag at her. “Here, clean off the line, it’s embarrassin’. I’ll go wipe down tables.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”
With one final glare, he grabbed the spray bottle of disinfectant and went to tidy up the floor.
As he got to cleaning, Levi shot surreptitious glances in Erwin’s direction. Erwin’s bushy eyebrows were furrowed in thought, and he tapped his upper lip with his pointer finger while he glared at his laptop.
Good, Levi thought. He had come to understand that when he got that look on his face, there was no snapping him out of it without great effort. This meant that Levi could look his fill without worry of getting caught staring, so long as he was subtle about it. You’re such a little fuckin’ creep, he scolded himself.
Just then, Erwin reached up to run a pudgy hand through his hair, lost in thought. The rake of his fingers shook a few of the golden strands loose from the hold of his pomade, and they fell delicately across his forehead.
Fuckin’ A, this guy is so cute.
Levi paused momentarily, washrag left pressed forgotten against the plastic tabletop. He watched open-mouthed as Erwin went from tapping his lips to lightly biting the tip of his finger as he intently read whatever was on the computer screen.
In the waning light of the cool spring afternoon, he looked ethereally handsome. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his gray button-up and loosened the dark blue tie around his neck. The hair on his forearms was thick and glinted gold when it caught the light. He shifted in his seat, leaning back and throwing his arm over the back of the chair.
Round, Levi’s mind supplied helpfully. Big and round.
He had belted his olive-green chinos at his natural waist and so when he leaned back like that, ever so slightly to the left, the rolls at his side squeezed together, pinched by the belt. His belly was a mound in front of him pushing against his belt buckle.
Everything about him was round, sloping curves, and his eyes were so attentive and so kind and the way his little crow’s feet crinkled when he smiled—
“Fuckin’ shit!” The washrag slid off the table onto the floor with a wet plop and Levi nearly crashed chin first into the table. From somewhere in the vicinity of the cash register, he heard an undignified snort. He was glad the deli was practically empty right now so there were at least fewer people to bear witness to his shame.
“Levi!” Erwin, startled, was already halfway out of his seat, starting to walk to Levi’s table. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Levi waved him off, trying to will down the burning that had risen in his cheeks. He cleared his throat. Suddenly he felt remarkably stupid wearing his little visor. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m fine. Uh, clumsy.”
That was a lie.
Erwin smiled and Levi’s heart melted a little. He eased himself back down into his seat. “Are you very busy right now?” His hand hovered over the open laptop. His smile faltered a little as he waited for a reply.
Casting one long, theatrical glance around the nearly deserted shop, Levi shrugged. He looked to where Petra was leaning near the cash register, chatting with Oluo, one of the cooks, who had taken the downtime as an opportunity to bug her. She rolled her eyes at Levi and waved him on.
“I got some time,” Levi said, and sat down primly in the chair across from the person Petra had recently taken to calling “Levi’s Mans.” “So, uh…” He looked down at his hands clasped together against the table. “What are you workin’ on? Seems like you were pretty wrapped up in it.”
Erwin chuckled. He shut the laptop and rubbed at his eyes. At this close distance, Levi noticed that the first button of Erwin’s shirt had also been undone and the barest bit of chest hair peeked out from his open collar. When he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and looked back to Levi with a faint and tired smile, Levi made sure to keep his eyes on his face.
“Research,” Erwin said simply. “We’ve got a new client and I need to familiarize myself with the ins and outs of the industry if I’m going to be able to advise them. It gets tiring, but this is one aspect of the job I always enjoy. Getting to do a deep dive into new things I would otherwise have little chance of learning about in my day-to-day.” He went on this way for a while, telling Levi what he’d been learning about the solar energy industry over the past several weeks. His eyes grew bright with excitement as he spoke. Eventually, he stopped, looking sheepish. He blushed, shaking his head. “Sorry. It’s not, uh, terribly interesting.”
Levi’s smile had been growing throughout this entire monologue. There was something melancholic about Erwin much of the time. Over the months of their acquaintance, Levi had noticed that he often seemed uncomfortable in his skin and reluctant to speak candidly. When he grew excited and forgot himself, he would inevitably get embarrassed and attempt to dismiss himself or backtrack.
If only, Levi often found himself thinking, I had even a quarter of that self-control.
“No, no,” he rushed to say now. “It’s cool. That you’re so excited about your work.”
If anything, Erwin’s plump cheeks only grew redder at this. “I… Well. Thank you,” he mumbled, picking at his shirtsleeves. “But enough about me. Do you have any plans for the weekend?”
It was Levi’s turn to be reticent. “Oh,” he mumbled. “I got another weekend gig.” It wasn’t as though he had anything to be ashamed of, and yet he found himself embarrassed nonetheless. Erwin was so smart. Levi wasn’t good at intellectual things. He had no special talents. At the end of the day, he had only ever been a grunt that could work hard. It was probably all he’d ever be. “I bartend on weekends at the spot in the Mayfield.”
“Oh, the hotel?” Erwin perked up. “I used to love going to the bar there. Great view of the city.” He looked down, suddenly somewhere else in his mind. “Been years though.”
“It’s alright.” Levi shrugged. “Mostly old business guys and outta-towners askin’ me ‘bout coke hook-ups.”
Erwin let out a surprised laugh so loud that Levi jumped, startled. He immediately placed a hand over his mouth at Levi’s stare, evidently embarrassed at his outburst.
I wasn’t jokin’, Levi thought. But he chose to say nothing.
“Sounds about right,” Erwin finally muttered.
They smiled at each other. The silence stretched on. Levi cast about for something to say, but all he could think of to ask was why Erwin had inquired about his weekend plans in the first place, if he wanted to hang out, if he wanted his number, if he wanted to get dinner, or…
His breath caught in his throat as Erwin looked at him, licking his lips while his eyes roved across Levi’s face like he was thinking of saying something but wasn’t sure if he ought to cross that precipice.
Wishful thinking, probably.
“Oh,” Erwin finally said. His words came out in a rush. “I haven’t even ordered anything. How awful of me, I was so distracted I didn’t even think of it.” When he stood, Levi took it to mean their conversation was over.
He walked with Erwin to the register and rang up his customary tea and cookie.
As Erwin turned to go back to his table, giving Levi a perfect view of his wide hips and shapely, wobbly ass hugged so perfectly by his green slacks, he paused. Levi blinked himself out of his trance.
“You know,” Erwin said, “There is an octopus called the wunderpus photogenicus. Its stripes are unique to each individual creature, a lot like fingerprints are for human beings. Which I think is pretty fascinating.” He smirked. “In case you’d like to share with Petra.”
Levi flushed bright red. Had he been able to hear them this whole time? No way. It had to be a coincidence. Right? “Yeah, shit, fuckin’ A. That is pretty cool.” He cringed inwardly at how stupid he sounded.
Erwin returned to his table. When Petra returned from the backroom, having evidently finished fight-flirting with Oluo, she teased Levi for leaving the rag and disinfectant on the floor.
“Fuck!” He couldn’t face the prospect of having to talk to Erwin again. He was too worked up now. “Pet, I swear to God, I can’t go get it right now, I need a fuckin’ smoke.”
“Fine.” She sighed. “I’ll get it this time, but I’m not doing this every time loverboy comes around. Eventually, you’re just going to have to ask him out.”
Levi tried to scoff, but it came out as more of a squawk. He fled to the dumpster in the alleyway for a cigarette to calm his nerves, wondering if maybe, just maybe he and Erwin were, in fact, flirting with each other.
***
It was a Thursday after work, and Erwin was ruminating.
He hadn’t been especially loveable before the accident. Surely that had only become even truer since. He paused in his dishwashing, staring dazedly into the soap suds. The hot water gushed over his hands before it swirled into the drain. He counted off all the ways in which he was a poor friend and a poorer lover.
You work too much, Erwin told himself. You’re always home late. You work on holidays, you work on weekends, you cancel plans for work ‘emergencies.’ Nothing could ever wait until Monday. Or for the day after Marie’s birthday. Or a day that wasn’t the morning of her friend’s wedding. The one hobby that you used to have was more of an exercise disorder. Now you can’t even stop stuffing your face when you’re full.
He still didn’t have a hobby. Well, Erwin thought, attempting to reason with this vicious interior voice, I read a lot of books. He began again to run the sponge over the plate he’d been holding. I finished a very fascinating book about the evolution of cephalopods just last week. They all used to have shells, for instance, but octopuses had evolved to lose theirs. He’d filed that fact away for whenever he was called on to make small talk next.
You’re cold, the voice said. Erwin’s lips pressed into a thin line. He scrubbed at the plate harder. You’re self-absorbed. You don’t even register other people’s feelings. These accusations were harder to refute. He had spent many an hour excitedly babbling away about something he found interesting only to find later that he’d monopolized an entire conversation. He’d missed dinners and dates and coffees countless times because of how immersed he’d become in whatever he was doing that he’d lost track of time. And, although he knew he should, he struggled to connect to the feelings of disappointment or hurt that his friends or loved ones would express. You’re a fucking psychopath, Erwin.
He had a sudden vision of himself throwing the plate against the bed of the sink. It shattered. The shards of ceramic flew everywhere. The hot water splashed, soaking his shirt. The shrapnel of the plate hit his chest, his arms, his stupid, squishy stomach.
Erwin breathed out through his nose, nostrils flaring. He carefully placed the unshattered plate into the drying rack. His arms cut through the air like knives. He paused with his hands lightly braced against the edge of the counter, watching the water swirl like a vortex into the drain. The bits and pieces left over from that week’s takeout went round and round until they finally were caught in the mesh strainer he’d placed there ages ago. The smaller bits were sucked down into the dark.
Don’t you remember? You signed up to run a fucking marathon rather than talk to Marie when she left. And he’d snapped his fucking tendon. And then he kept running on it. Don’t you remember? She’d yelled at him and he hadn’t even said anything. It was right of her to have yelled at him. She wanted to work things out, she was hurt, and you just let her go. Don’t you remember? After the surgery he’d made halfhearted efforts at his PT, but nothing had really seemed to matter anymore. His wife was gone, his carefully planned life in shambles, and he’d really had no one to blame but himself. “I fail to see the point of deliberating,” you said. Maybe she would’ve stayed...
He slid his hands back into the soapy water, eyes unfocused, and picked up another dish to wash. Sometimes the repetitive actions of some simple but productive activity helped to quiet his own voice. Sometimes it didn’t. This time, somehow, the voice knew not to get stuck on the topic of Marie. Those memories burned like an infected wound tonight.
You’re a miserable bastard, that’s another thing. He squeezed his eyes shut. His fingers shook on the shallow bowl he held. Look at what you’re doing right now, talking to yourself like this. You should be nicer to yourself. This one was difficult to refute, too. Nobody wants to be around somebody so miserable.
The bowl slipped from his hand and clattered into the sink. Erwin yelped, startled at the sudden noise. He stared down at the bowl—whole and unbroken—while his heart steadied itself in his chest. Either it was quality ceramic, or his depressive brain simply had a flair for the dramatic.
He leaned down to rest his head against the counter, squeezing all his limbs into himself as best he could. His eyes crinkled shut, his lips pressed together so tightly that they turned white, the skin feeling cool where the circulation was now hampered. A high keening noise tried to force its way out of Erwin’s throat, but he managed to contain himself. After several minutes standing like this, he finally began to untense limb by limb. The water continued to rush into the sink.
Eventually, Erwin straightened up. He reached out and turned off the water. There were still more dishes to be washed, but they’d keep until he got to them next. Not like there’s anyone to impress. Sighing, he decided to place an order from one of the local fast-food places he frequented. Yeah, that’s right, the voice said. Now, he managed to shush it. This line of attack, he told it, had gotten old. He knew that he was out of shape and unattractive. What else was there to say about it?
You’ve said enough tonight, he told it firmly while he got himself a soda and changed into sweats and a t-shirt. They felt much nicer against his skin than the khakis and button-up he’d worn to work, even if the way they stretched to accommodate his doughy girth made him aware of just how big he’d really gotten. The way his belly bounced where it flopped over the low-slung waistband, peeking out below the hem of his shirt, or how the t-shirt clung to his curves, bunching up above his love handles as his hips swayed with each step. It was okay tonight; he didn’t have the energy to flagellate himself any more than he’d already done. He nestled into a corner of the couch, cocooning himself in an old blanket, and began to search for something relaxing to watch.
It wasn’t until he’d made it through half of his large order that he bothered to check his phone. When he did, he nearly choked on the fries he was eating.
Levi had texted.
His brows furrowed. They had exchanged numbers a few weeks ago, but they hadn’t actually texted yet. Erwin had been too nervous to message first for fear of being overbearing. He figured Levi had only given him his number out of politeness and never expected anything. And yet...
Levi had texted.
Unexpected as it was, it was nonetheless a nice surprise. Erwin hadn’t made it to the deli for lunch today, too caught up in work. By the time he’d surfaced from his trance, it was far too late to go in. He missed seeing Levi today. Even in the confines of his own home, alone, Erwin was embarrassed at how excited he was to receive a message from the little cashier. It was highly unlikely, he reminded himself, that Levi was interested in him. After all, Erwin was far too old for him anyway. He had been relieved, if nothing else, when he found out Levi bartended on the weekends, as it meant he was at least drinking age. If he were a better man, he would have kept his distance, let Levi spend time with someone his own age rather than wasting time with Erwin.
But, Erwin thought, he had never been a particularly good man.
He gulped down some soda to wash down the fries and quickly cleaned his hands off with a napkin. Suddenly, he felt an irresistible need to run his fingers through his hair, trying to make it look presentable. As if Levi could see him. He picked up the phone, looking at the message. It was just a video of an octopus using an old coconut as a house. Erwin’s heart beat faster. He watched it twice before sending it to Pieck.
>>Levi texted this. What is he doing?
He settled back onto the couch while he waited for a response, worrying at his lip. He watched the video a few more times. It was another twenty minutes before Pieck responded.
I think he is trying to start a conversation with you<<
Cute little guy<<
The octopus, I mean<<
Erwin snorted.
>>Well... What do I say?
>>Why is he trying to start a conversation with me?
Her reply came a little quicker this time.
I think it’s because he likes you<<
Maybe try starting with the video<<
I’m out with Hange right now so I can’t really talk<<
But I believe in you<<
Erwin took her advice and texted back. When his phone buzzed only five minutes later, his heart fluttered with dizzy excitement. They started messaging back and forth while the film Erwin had put on played in the background.
when i saw the video i thought of you<<
Erwin smiled, giddy with the attention like he was in high school again and girls were just starting to smile at him. He began tapping out a message, stopping and starting a few times before he finally pushed send.
>>What are you up to tonight, Levi?
just dickin around on the internet<<
cant ever get to sleep this early<<
There was a pause of several minutes. Erwin finished off the last of the fries and settled back into the couch. A couple argued about something on the TV. He felt heavy and sluggish after his meal, his belly tight and aching. His hand rubbed idly at the taut skin just below his belly button. The phone buzzed again.
wondered what you were up to<<
Really? Erwin reacted immediately, before flicking the thought aside. He looked around at the discarded wrappers, the round dome of his stuffed belly. Well, we don’t have to share everything, I guess. It was amazing, really, to be having this conversation at all.
>>Just having some dinner and watching TV before bed. Nothing interesting, unfortunately.
what was dinner<<
Erwin hesitated before answering, wondering if he ought to lie. He knew what Levi might say: Should someone like you really be eating like that? Or perhaps: Of course you are. Erwin began typing out one of his typical lies about kale salad and baked chicken. He stared at the message for a few moments, thumb hovering over the send icon. Nobody must ever actually believe me when I say these things, he thought. Even when it’s true.
Besides, Levi hadn’t given him any reason to feel uncomfortable so far. But… Well, he knew he ought to lose weight. It was obvious. Anyone could see it. He ought to at least act like he was trying.
His lips pressed tightly together. He decided to be honest, deleting the original message and texting instead that he’d ordered burgers and fries.
Not how many burgers and fries, of course.
He didn’t know exactly what he’d been expecting to hear back, but what he received was nothing like what his anxiety had prepared him for.
hell yeah. id kill a man for a good burger<<
He was surprised by the strength of the laugh that escaped him, and the warm feeling that bloomed in his belly. They continued to chat idly for the next few hours, until Erwin drifted to sleep right where he was curled up on the couch. When he woke up in the morning to his early alarm, it was to see one final message from Levi the night before.
night<<
Then, timestamped a few minutes later:
hope to see you tomorrow, you owe me and pet a new fish fact<<
A grin broke out across Erwin’s face. For the first time in a while, he was feeling excited about what the day might bring.
***
The past several days had been humid as fuck. The sky was swollen with rain but refusing to let go of it. Levi had known that eventually, given his rotten luck, he would get caught in a downpour going to or from work at least one day this week.
Apparently, the universe had decided it would be today. Friday. There was something poetic about it, he thought, but he wasn’t the kind of person to be able to figure out what. Just God taking a dump on him again. What else is new?
He stood hunched at the bus stop, windbreaker pulled over his head to keep the worst of the rain off. It was a failing effort. The windbreaker was a cheap old thing and its “waterproof coating” had been more wish than fact even when it was new. He tried to keep his teeth from chattering while he counted down the time until the bus arrived.
It’s only ten minutes, he told himself. That’s not so bad. He wouldn’t get hypothermia in just ten minutes’ worth of late spring rain. No way.
He fished his phone out of his pocket to check the schedule again, maneuvering his arm above his head to stretch the windbreaker as best he could into a makeshift umbrella. If his phone started to malfunction because it got fucked up by the rain, he was done for.
It was as he was doing this, locked in this ridiculous position, that a few things happened at once.
The bus schedule refreshed in the app. Where it had displayed a ten-minute ETA ten minutes earlier, it was now showing thirty minutes.
“Fuck!” Levi groaned, leaning back in his frustration and getting a face full of rain. He quickly righted himself, spluttering and swearing all the while.
From somewhere to his left, someone said his name. He whipped around in the direction of the noise, attempting to shove his phone back into the front pocket of his jeans and simultaneously to shrug the windbreaker back down over his head. Surely, it looked ridiculous. A stray trickle of the cool rain tickled its way down his spine.
“Levi?” Erwin said again.
Levi blinked the rain out of his eyes and shook his head to cast off some of the water that had collected in his bangs. Just my fuckin’ luck, he thought, runnin’ into prince fuckin’ charming when I look like a drowned rat. As soon as he had finished this thought, however, another rushed just as readily into his mind: Holy fuck.
It was almost as though he were seeing Erwin again for the first time. His heart crawled up into his mouth and stayed there while he took in the sight.
Erwin was dressed in a light pair of khakis today, belted as usual at his natural waist, and a light blue button-up. He was without a tie today—either it had been casual Friday at the office or he’d removed it and stuffed it in his messenger bag for the ride home—and the first button of his shirt was undone, as it often was by the end of the day. His bushy eyebrows were furrowed in worry and his painfully blue eyes were burrowing into Levi with concern. One hand held an umbrella while the other rested on the top of the leather bag against his hip.
Erwin was a big man. He was tall, and he was heavy. His belly rounded out in front of him to such an extent that Levi was fairly certain he could use it as a shelf when he sat down if he really wanted to. For whatever reason, he belted his slacks above his hips, which had the effect of bisecting this belly; it pushed at the sleek metal buckle from both above and below. Truthfully, this look only served to highlight the curves and rolls of his body, putting the jiggle and sway of his heavy belly on display when he walked and showcasing how his rounded, dimpled thighs brushed thickly against each other with each step. His dress shirts usually only hinted at the shape of his plush, heavy breasts.
The rain, Levi thought, unable to scold himself for being so lecherous, was perhaps actually on his side today after all.
The umbrella hadn’t managed to keep Erwin entirely dry, and this was part of what had robbed Levi of his words. His shirt was soaked, nearly transparent in this state. It clung to every fold and curve, pasting itself to the valley between the shapely breasts that Levi had been fantasizing about for the past couple of months, revealing that they were even more perfect than he could’ve imagined. The shirt was even wet enough to dip into the shadow of his belly button. Levi had known he was furry—the eyebrows alone were a dead giveaway—but the lightness of the shirt and the way the rain had darkened Erwin’s blond hair revealed a blanketing of hair, from his perfect, round tits, to the flabby globe of his stomach, trailing, undoubtedly, down further still.
Levi licked his lips and closed his mouth.
“Uh,” he said. “Yeah. Me. Levi.”
“Are you waiting for the bus?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah.”
“You must be freezing.” Erwin shuffled closer, moving to hold the umbrella over both their heads. A welcoming heat radiated from his side. “Here, I can at least share my umbrella.”
“Thanks,” Levi mumbled, looking down at the ground and scuffing his shoes against the sidewalk. “You’re here late.”
“I usually am.” Erwin paused. “I missed you yesterday.” He hurried to correct himself. “I mean, I got tied up with work, and by the time I noticed, it was too late to grab lunch.”
Levi glanced at him sidelong. Erwin was looking at the ground while he spoke, rather than at Levi. He seemed to want to say more. Levi waited.
“I was glad when you texted me yesterday,” he finally breathed.
“Yeah?” Levi glanced up abruptly, his heart flipping over in his chest. All of a sudden, he felt giddy. “Well,” he muttered. “I got used to seein’ you.” Erwin’s cheeks flushed red and he looked away. Levi’s heart beat faster. There was no need to mention how erotic he’d found Erwin’s dinner plans yesterday, nor how he’d entertained himself with that information. “Nice to run into you tonight, too.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Erwin turned to look down at him again, a small smile on his face. “How far is the bus? I’m happy to keep you company while you wait.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Levi muttered, heart sinking. “It’s still 30 minutes out. Too much time.”
“Oh.” Erwin frowned at him. He looked down the street, considering for several moments, then back to Levi. “I hate to leave you stuck out here in the rain. My car is parked in the garage nearby, I could... give you a lift. If you’d like, of course. I can understand that you might not want to get in a vehicle with a stranger. Or, for that matter, provide them with your home address…” He seemed to grow less certain as he went on.
“That’d be great, actually.”
Erwin startled, then broke into a beaming smile. “Wonderful,” he said, excitement and surprise in his voice. “Well, it’s right this way. Just one block over...”
They made their way to the parking garage in mostly anticipatory silence. The swell of Erwin’s rolling hips while they walked packed closely together under the umbrella demanded most of Levi’s attention. He was finding it quite difficult not to vibrate out of his own skin.
Finally, they came to a dark blue sedan. Not old, but not new either. Nondescript and functional.
Erwin began apologizing profusely while he unlocked the doors and laid his bag across the backseat. It hadn’t been cleaned in a while, he’d been meaning to but hadn’t gotten around to it, please forgive the mess, and so on, and so forth. He dug around in the backseat for a few moments before reemerging, red-faced with the effort of cramming himself into the narrow space, with a roll of paper towels and a wadded-up sweater.
“If you’d like to dry off a little,” he said by way of explanation as he handed Levi, who had been standing there dumbfounded throughout the entire display, the roll of paper towels. “I’m just going to throw on this sweater really quickly.” His smile was nervous, almost apologetic. As though Levi had gotten an eyeful of something he hadn’t wanted to see.
“Y’know,” Levi began while he started to towel himself off, “If you’re not busy tonight, uh, there’s a good diner by my place. I could get us dinner.” He hurried to clarify when Erwin’s head popped up over the roof of the car. His hair was mussed from where he’d pulled the sweater over his head. “I mean, y’know, as a thank-you, for givin’ me a ride. If you want. I don’t know, probably you got plans.”
Erwin blinked at him before breaking out into another of his blinding smiles. “Not at all,” he said, though there was an undercurrent of trepidation somewhere in his tone that Levi couldn’t quite place. “I’d love to get dinner. I mean, it would be nice. Thank you.”
“Yeah?” Levi said. “Fuckin’ A.”
His heart started fluttering in his ribcage like a little bird and, try as he might to calm it, Erwin’s soft smiles simply kept setting it off again.
