the gentle kindness of candles
Eren’s using a double-boiler, like he’s preparing fondue rather than magical candles.
aka I started writing this for Valentine’s Day and never finished but decided to post it anyway eeeey
ereri. by the wick of a candle verse. [ ao3 ] 1.7k
“So what do witches do for Valentine’s Day?”
It’s not the question that Levi means to ask.
He doesn’t mean to ask any question, or say anything at all, and yet… There it is.
Eren is making candles. The practice is surprisingly traditional, involving far less magic than Levi would have anticipated. “Magic doesn’t work that way,” Eren had explained to him, the first time he had seen Eren do something like craft his soaps by hand. “I can’t just create things from nothing. The magic needs something to… Hold on to. Like a conduit.”
Like most of the times Eren explains how magic works to him, Levi nods in understanding despite not really understanding any of it.
He’s melting wax in what is, sadly, not any kind of cauldron. He’s using a double-boiler, like he’s preparing fondue rather than magical candles. The only thing fairly magic about the entire thing is where his hand hovers over the pot, palm angled and fingers splayed, the only possible thing that is causing the wax to waver between its natural sallow yellow color and a pastel lavender.
Eren doesn’t even look up, his eyes never leaving his work, but his lips crack in a smile.
“What?”
Levi had been thinking about Valentine’s Day. It’s a week away, but he’s been thinking about it since the beginning of January, when storefronts went from jolly to romantic, all reds and pinks and hearts and frills. It’s been an impending sense of doom since Levi had seen his first bouquet of faux roses, a swirling feeling of panic that has been consistent in the pit of his stomach.
He doesn’t… Do Valentine’s Day. He’s never had to. Any relationship he’s had in the past has been a flash in the pan or, if it did last longer, never stretched past Christmas. The fact that Eren stayed through Christmas, through December, and through Levi’s seasonal depression and aloofness, is new. Someone had kissed him when the clock had struck midnight, tucked onto Eren’s overstuffed couch, glitter hovering in the air around them, and Levi still can’t quite believe it five weeks later.
So what he had been thinking of was what the fuck regular people do during Valentine’s Day.
What had come out of his mouth was, well… That.
“You know,” Eren continues as Levi remains silent, his fingers drawing flush together as his eyebrows pinch in concentration. They spring apart quickly, and there’s a pushback on Eren’s palm, the wax settling in its final purple state. “I go around, pricking people with needles dipped in love potion, or I drag dream catchers through the air between couples to capture the essence of their love.”
The silence that follows is so complete and so still that Eren’s sudden laugh shatters it.
“Kidding, I’m kidding.” He looks over at Levi then, green eyes round and bouncing between mirth and concern. “Fuck, you’d think after all this time, you wouldn’t take me so seriously.” He picks up a small bottle that reminds Levi of the containers they keep olive oil in at Italian restaurants. Whatever’s inside eases down the straw in drops, and Levi is hit with the overwhelming smell of lavender. “We’ve been together for, like, three or four months now.”
Levi blinks rapidly—has it really been three or four months? They’d started dating in… What? October, November? Huh. Seems like it. He’s consciously aware that three or four months is a decent chunk of time, and yet… It seems like the time he’s been with Eren has been a lot longer.
Wryly, Levi wonders if it’s some sort of magic.
“I celebrate Valentine’s Day the way most people do,” Eren adds. “Although if we’re discussing plans, I’d like to make you dinner.”
“You would?” Levi asks, watching as Eren pours some other liquid into his hands. It smells minty, and he rubs it between his skin before letting it drip slowly off his palm and into the pot. It’s not like Eren hasn’t cooked for him before. He’d cooked for Levi all the time, before the whole I’m a witch conversation. A little less, after that, but Levi likes to think he’s slightly more comfortable with the idea now than he had been back in the beginning of December.
“Yeah.” Eren’s moved on to handling the wicks, and Levi watches as he runs his fingers over the string, can see the subtle shimmer that instills itself in the fiber before fading. “At your apartment.”
It shouldn’t be a surprising request. Eren has been to Levi’s apartment. Eren has slept over at Levi’s apartment. He’s made pancakes in Levi’s kitchen.
Except that was also, mostly, before.
Since Eren had, for lack of a better term, come out of the magical closet, Levi predominantly goes to Eren’s apartment. Enjoys the buzz in the atmosphere that he is now fairly certain is actual magic. Still hates the candles, and the clutter, but likes the way Eren will catch Levi staring a little too intently at one of his artifacts and explain what it does. But mostly, he likes how Eren is in his own apartment. How he uses magic freely before Levi’s eyes, an ease to his movements that speaks of contentment and comfort.
“At my apartment,” Levi finally echoes, unsure of how he feels about the request.
Eren has finished securing the wicks in his candle molds, has a hand pressed to the metal of his double boiler in a way that winds Levi’s shoulders up tight, makes him want to jump into action and snipe what the fuck are you doing, you dumbass?! But as much as his mortal common sense is prickling, he knows that the pot is completely cool beneath Eren’s touch.
“Is… That okay?” Eren bites his lip, finally unsure, and Levi swallows. It’s what Eren wants. It’s what he’s asking for. If Levi doesn’t give him this for Valentine’s Day, what will he give him?
“Yeah.” Levi begins running through what needs to be rearranged, cleaned, purchased before next Tuesday. He swallows. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
*
Eren shows up to his apartment on Valentine’s Day at 7:15pm on the dot with two reusable totes—one full of groceries, one full of candles.
“You brought candles,” Levi says tersely as Eren starts unloading his things on the large island in Levi’s kitchen. There is something a little jarring, seeing the little glass jars and tin canisters that he recognizes from Eren’s apartment sitting in the sterile environment of his own. Eren, in a loose maroon sweater and jeans, scuffing socked feet against the white tile floor, a wash of warm colors in what is only ever cool tones.
It might be an adjustment, but… It’s not as wrong and clashing as Levi had anticipated.
“Of course.” Eren smiles, pulling out long, thin candles the color of ivory, each one sat in a handleless teacup. “Even though you hate them.”
Levi considers opening his mouth to contradict, even though it’s true. Even though Eren knows it’s true, because Levi has never been quiet about his distaste for them. So he gives a shrug and says nothing.
“What are they for?” Levi asks, as Eren sets the candles up in locations that seem simultaneously random and purposeful. After he finds a place for each one, he drags his palm over the top of the wick, sparking the candle to life and reminding Levi of the first time he’d ever been witness to real, actual magic.
Eren looks at him, smile curling teasingly.
“Ambience.” His chuckle pokes fun at Levi, and Levi lets it wash over him without rebuttal. “Not everything I do involves magic, you know.”
Half the candles are still unlit, but Eren reaches inside his non-food tote and pulls out yet another candle. This one is purple, and Levi knows that it’s one of the candles he had watched Eren make from scratch.
“This one does, though.” He walks close, pressing the candle into Levi’s hands. The bottom is wrapped in cheesecloth, but Levi’s fingers still find themselves brushing against the smooth surface of the wax. “I know you hate candles. But this one is special. It won’t drip,” Eren promises. When he’s sure that Levi isn’t about to drop it, his hand moves to cup Levi’s cheek, fingertips a dragging brush up his jaw before cradling his face properly. “It’s for sleep,” Eren tells him, voice soft. His hand continues its journey, the pads of his fingers seeking out the short hairs of Levi’s undercut before carding through the strands. “It’ll work better than the sachets of lavender I’ve been giving you.”
Levi swallows, distracted by the soothing cadence of Eren’s voice paired with the gentle caress of his fingers, and nods.
Eren nods too, his smile soft and sunshine warm, the tip of his nose slightly cold when he tips forward and leaves a soft, affectionate kiss on Levi’s hairline.
He drags his hand through Levi’s hair one final time, and then slips easily out of Levi’s space, finding his hand.
“Come on. Time to cook.”
“Oh?” Levi’s heart is aching sweetly in his too tight chest, and he let’s Eren lead him behind the kitchen island like he’s being drawn across clouds rather than marble. “Am I helping?”
Eren just smiles, giving Levi’s hand a squeeze before releasing it to start separating out the ingredients he brought with him. Levi finds that fingers twitch, yearning for the contact to be reestablished, and laughs slightly at himself.
“What?” Eren hums, setting a cutting board and a bag of fingerling potatoes in front of Levi. He’s beginning to think Eren brought his entire kitchen with him in that bag—which is fair. Levi very rarely cooks, and has very little in his apartment for the actual preparation of meals.
“Nothing. Cutting or peeling?” Levi asks, neatly rolling up the cuffs of his shirt, and Eren hands him a knife.
“Cut, please.”
As Levi rinses the potatoes, and his hands, he finds himself watching Eren as he heats a pan on the stove for the salmon he intends to seer, unable to keep the smile from his face. As if he can somehow sense Levi’s joy, Eren looks over at him and returns it.
It’s not as constant of a reminder now as it was in the beginning, but sometimes Levi still finds that he has to tell himself that this, all of this, isn’t some kind of magic. It’s… Just Eren.
Just Eren.