Chapter Text
Erwin almost drops his phone from his right hand when he hears it for the first time.
His eyes glance up towards his bedroom ceiling from where he lays in double-sized bed. He’s comfy underneath his puffy duvet, sitting up against his wooden bed frame with two firm pillows protecting his tense back–one for his lower back, one for is upper back. His glasses slide down his nose as he slowly lays his phone in his lap.
“Oh..!”
Erwin’s brows rise on their own towards the white, unpainted ceiling in the corner. He sits still as stone and slows his breathing, like he’s listening in on something he knows he shouldn’t.
“Mhm..! Oh, yes!”
He’s not a virgin, or an idiot. But the fact he immediately knows that he is listening to sex, out of nowhere, feels… violating. But he isn’t sure if he is violating them, or they are violating him.
He notices his phone go dark due to sleep mode in his peripheral vision. He slides his glasses up his nose.
“Gods,” Erwin mutters under his breath, with some combination of surprise and judgment.
It’s quiet for a moment, and Erwin notices the other barely noticeable sounds around him. The police siren in the far distance, a sound he’s actually gotten pretty used to by now in the past several months. He hears some muffled conversation coming from one of his neighbors across the alley window. The radiator in the corner chugs with a soft metal noise, emanating an untouchable beacon of warmth battling against the cold front seeping in from the thin curtains that were lamely attempting to shield against it. Erwin then hears an abrupt noise from the neighbors’ building again, the shout of a father who is too exhausted to deal with his hyper children at this time in the evening, yelling desperately for his kid to sit down. Erwin thinks he’ll never get used to hearing that kind of noise in his apartment building while living in the city.
Erwin is almost ready to roll his eyes and pick his phone back up to whatever dumb TikTok was paused on his screen. Then, the ceiling speaks again.
“Oh! Fuck! Yes, yes…”
Erwin feels entranced, disgusted, and mortified all at the same time. There is more muffling and moaning, but nothing Erwin can distinctly make out. And Erwin realizes then…
It’s a guy moaning.
“Mhmm… Fucckkkk…”
The moaning turns into whining. Erwin feels his heart thudding quickly against his chest. His fingers seem to have gone numb, and he feels slightly paralyzed. Should he be listening to this? It feels awfully personal and intimate. But how can he not listen to loud noise like that at this time in the evening?
What if he’s not hearing it correctly? Is he just that perverted to immediately think about sex? What if he’s listening in on someone’s domestic violence situation in the bedroom above his own?
Shit, do I need to report something like that to someone? He wonders nervously for a moment.
“Oh, yes, fuck! Fuck me, yes, please! So good… s-mhm…”
Erwin’s breath hitches and sighs at the same time, if that’s possible. His heart is practically exploding. Erwin realizes at that moment, that he’s never… heard people have sex before. Sexually distinct moaning (as if it’s different from any other kind of moaning) is something that has only ever touched his ears from the headphones connected to his phone as he degenerately opens PornHub in his incognito browser as he lays in the evening hours, hiding from the world in his bed or on his couch… or from his own sexual experiences and encounters. Ones from a long time ago. Away from the city.
Basically, Erwin has not heard a lot of… sexual moaning lately. This is ridiculous, he mentally rolls his eyes at himself. He hasn’t cared for sex in general lately. It doesn’t interest him at the moment. He doesn’t even remember the last time he’s gotten off. He’s too stressed to afford a libido at this point in his life, and he’s mostly been fine with that.
So it’s quite shocking for Erwin to hear sexual moaning and whines in person–from someone else that is not him or his direct partner in the same room (Erwin could laugh at himself, thinking about himself with a “partner”). It feels raunchy. It feels invasive. Dirty.
“Yes, yes… I’m close! Ha! Oh, Ohhh…”
The whining picks up in volume and pitch. A guy’s moaning. Not a girl.
“Fuck, shit, fuck!”
Erwin’s cheeks are pink and flaming at the vulgarity of it. He notices the dark and dusty corner of his brain begin to wake up, intrigued and titillated by the prickling sensitivity in his senses, drawn towards the light by his primal curiosity for human secret. Part of it craves more, but Erwin ignores it.
“Ohhhhh, yes! Aahhhh…”
Erwin notices the cresting rhythm of the ceiling’s moans, and before it can register in his brain, a particularly loud whine pierces through to his bedroom.
“Mhm, fuck, oh! Oh, ahhhh! Oh…”
At the peak, Erwin feels his heart rate surfing with the waves. He feels as if he is listening in on his upstairs neighbor witnessing heaven. Deep puffs of air heave in and out of Erwin’s tense nostrils, falling in rhythm with the whines above. Moans roll from the angel’s mouth, coming crashing down from a climax, no doubt.
After a few moments, it becomes quiet again. Erwin swears he hears another faint, breathy fuck come from the ceiling.
What the fuck. Erwin thinks.
Erwin holds his breath for a few more moments, to make sure the coast is clear. The ceiling is silent again, looking back at Erwin as if nothing ever happened, judging him in return. His ears perk up to another siren in the distance, closer this time. Erwin checks on his rapid heart rate, and the morbidly curious corner of his brain wonders what having a heart attack feels like before Erwin pushes it to the side again.
Erwin’s blood feels hot and cold at the same time.
He gets up out of bed at that moment, deciding that now is the time for him to get ready for bed, and to stop doomscrolling on his phone before bed for once. His legs move him towards the bathroom, but he can’t really feel them anyway. He discusses back and forth with himself in his brain.
I only heard one voice. It was a guy’s. There was no girl moaning–or, another guy moaning. Just one voice. The upstairs neighbor.
Erwin brushes his teeth absentmindedly, faintly registering the pressure and vibrations of his electric toothbrush. He tries to recall if he has ever met or seen his upstairs neighbor in passing yet, or if he remembers his name on his mailbox in the mailroom, two cubbies to the right of Erwin’s.
If my apartment is 1S, his must be 2S.
Erwin spits foamy toothpaste in the sink, and his ears cannot help but notice how loud the rushing water from the faucet sounds.
Erwin’s brain ruminates on these thoughts over and over again as he refills his water bottle in the dark kitchen, faintly lit by the fluorescent outdoor alleyway light behind the kitchen window’s blinds.
Moaning. Guy. Upstairs neighbor. Moaning. Guy. Upstairs neighbor.
Was he listening to his upstairs neighbor masturbate? Like…having a really good masturbation session? Or maybe there was another person in the room, his upstairs neighbor’s partner, and they just weren’t loud enough for Erwin to hear. That must be it.
What the fuck. Erwin thinks for what must be the hundredth time since the ceiling first spoke to him.
As Erwin settles back into bed underneath his cool and puffy duvet, he feels a cold knot of disgust in his chest. Disgust towards his upstairs neighbor, because why the fuck are you moaning that loud, especially if you’re just masturbating? But also disgust towards himself. Maybe he should have left his bedroom, went to the bathroom or kitchen or something if he didn’t want to hear it.
But also, it’s his own damn bedroom! One that he pays a stupid amount of his monthly income for, given how much of a shoe box it is. Almost every surface of the place came with a fresh thick coat of the Landlord Special, even the doorknobs. But hey, it’s cheaper than living downtown. And it’s actually not too shabby overall. Erwin loves the courtyard of his brick apartment building, and how much effort the caretaker puts into planting the most beautiful, colorful assortment of flowers in the spring and summertime. He remembers seeing rabbits and squirrels frolicking in the garden when it was warmer.
Whenever Hange comes to visit him, they always make a comment about how his apartment has a nice old natural wood smell to it, most likely due to the flooring. Erwin can’t quite smell it because he lives there all the time, but appreciates and feels that it is appropriate for his home to naturally have an old earthy scent to it. So Erwin’s apartment does have some perks and charm to it, despite living in an increasingly abandoned and unsafe neighborhood that takes forever to commute from.
Erwin sighs. He wishes he could just turn his brain off or unplug it or something. As he settles underneath the covers and sets his early morning alarms on his phone, something jumps up onto Erwin’s bed to his left and promptly meows in the dark room.
“I know,” Erwin scoffs towards his cat, “So vile.”
He clicks his phone off, connects it to his charger, and places it on his nightstand. He lays down, and stares into the darkness towards the ceiling. It’s silent.
Normandy, as per usual, recognizes when it’s bedtime, and makes his way over towards Erwin’s side. Erwin gives him a moment to knead at the duvet, pretend to dig a hole for no reason, and then plop himself down right next to Erwin’s ribs. He places a hand on his long and fluffy white fur, trying to focus on the soft texture and relaxing into it. As Normandy begins to purr quietly, Erwin sighs again.
He doesn’t hear any sirens in the distance now. No muffled conversations from his neighbors, no verbal abuse. No moaning.
Erwin just shakes his head, some combination of disbelief and disappointment. Is this normal for city living? Do I, like, talk to my landlord about this? Do I just have to get used to it, like everything else?
He briefly wonders what Hange will have to say about this when he tells them about it. They will probably say something ridiculous, and Erwin will laugh about it, and then he can forget that it ever happened.
But what if it does happen again? It’s his upstairs neighbor after all. It’s not like they’ll just move out.
Erwin wills himself to stop thinking, redirecting his dazed attention to the texture of Normandy’s fluff and his sweet slumbering purring. He can think more tomorrow. He’s exhausted of it at the moment.
-
The door of apartment 1S clicks twice–one for the deadbolt, and one for the regular lock–before swinging open. The thick layer of white paint on the door is beginning to chip already in some areas, revealing a beautiful but poorly maintained wooden base underneath.
“Bye, Normandy. Be good,” Erwin looks at his cat one more time as he steps out the door. Normandy does not respond and simply looks at him with his boba eyes from where he lays comfy on the couch, prepared for his daily naptime routine after Erwin leaves.
Erwin closes the door behind him, and locks both locks with two individual keys on his keychain–the silver one for the deadbolt, and the gold one for the regular lock. He shoves his keys in his coat pocket, picks up his briefcase, and heads down the short flight of stairs. He checks his watch on his left wrist and feels that he’s about two minutes behind where he would like to be right now during his morning commute routine. Not bad, but could be better. Especially during the winter, when Erwin has quickly learned that he cannot rely on the train being on time as often.
As Erwin passes through the mailroom corridor, he quickly glances at his mailbox to check if he can see anything in the little gap underneath “1S, E. Smith”. Nothing, as usual.
As Erwin looks at the row of mailboxes, his mind drifts back to his thoughts last night. His upstairs neighbor. The guy. The moaning, and the whines.
Erwin’s eyes betray him, and he glances a little to the right. Two cubbies down.
“2S, L. Ackerman”. There’s also nothing in his mailbox.
L. Ackerman. Erwin definitely has not run into this neighbor yet. Erwin was raised with well enough manners to introduce himself to his neighbors when he passed by them in the hallways, especially after moving in recently. Some of his neighbors are nice and shared their name back with Erwin, welcoming him to the city. Interestingly, Erwin’s neighbors came from all walks of live. Other single adults going to school or working full-time jobs, families with young children, and retired elderly couples. Only a few of his neighbors that he has met so far have been short with him, particularly the elderly couple who lives right next to him in 1N that have not only lived in the same neighborhood but the same building–same apartment–for almost their entire life. Erwin accidentally received the husband’s disability check in the mail one month, and when he returned it to him personally, the old-timer never said thank you but dropped some crazy lore about his life that Erwin was more than fascinated to listen to. He then closed the door on Erwin’s face, and Erwin heard him muttering to himself as he walked away.
Erwin has met many of his neighbors so far, but not all of them, and definitely not L. Ackerman from 2S who lives in the apartment directly above him and moans loud enough for the entire building to hear when he masturbates.
If my apartment is a one bedroom, his apartment must be a one bedroom too.
Erwin pauses in the mailroom for much longer than he usually does. He doesn’t recall ever seeing packages for L. Ackerman in the mailroom either.
If I ever run into this guy, Erwin thinks as he opens the main door of his apartment building and walks out into the biting winter cold and dim early morning, I’m going to know what his moans sound like before I even learn his name.