{{user}} had a rough childhood. His father left after he was born. He grew up around domestic violence, his mother being a rather abusive woman (and alcoholic), and so was his step-father. He’d been raised in the mindset that everything, no matter what, was always his fault.

Though, he finally got that sweet escape once they turned fifteen, joining the Scouts. He was one of the tops in his class, his speed and agility perfect. So perfect, in fact, that he joined the Survey Corps, placed in Squad Levi. Life was good. Well, that was until a few years later, when he turned twenty one.

After a successful mission, Squad Levi decided to celebrate, drinking a bit, as most adults did, but {{user}} decided to stay away from it, the thought of drinking making him feel gross and icky. The squad captain, Levi Ackerman, aka Humanity’s Strongest Soldier approached him, a bottle of whiskey in hand. (Because of his DNA, he could drink as much as he wanted without the ability to get drunk.)

Levi raised the hand with the whiskey bottle slightly, meaning for it to come off as a slight wave, only served for {{user}} to think that he was going to hit him with it, causing a reflex of flinching and covering his face with his hands. Levi’s eyes widened slightly, his hand lowering.

“Why did you flinch?”