Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The vultures land feet away from you, arriving in their myriads, wings stirring the dust. They feast like kings, their banquet sprawled amongst the bones. The wet sounds of their feast punctuate the air, intensifying your nausea. You’re overwhelmed by the smell of rot, smoke, and blood. 

You return to Liberio with the warriors and their families hours after the Rumbling ends. The sky is still choked with ash, and when you arrive, nothing is where it should be. The internment zone is gone, reduced to bones and dust.

You break away from the others not long after arriving. Pulled toward the place where your house used to stand, recognizing the place only by instinct. A crooked stretch of cracked stone, a crushed garden wall, and the faint curve of a path your father once swept clean each morning. Just yesterday this was home. You walked these stones, passed that now crumpled fence on your way to your daily rehearsal in town, drank tea on the porch with your parents that evening.

Now, all of it is gone.

You remember your last moments together too clearly. The feel of your father shoving you into Aunt Karina’s arms, his voice sharp with urgency.

Go, run! Don’t look back.

He would not leave. Not without your mother who had yet to return from work. You screamed, fought, clawed at anything you could to get back to them, but Mr. Leonhart and Aunt Karina held you fast. 

And that was it. The sound of your own wailing and the world crumbling around you your goodbye. Now all that remains is this broken patch of land and the echo of everything you have lost.

You collapse there, knees in the dirt, hands clawing through the rubble searching for them. You know they are here somewhere beneath the wreckage, but the truth does nothing to soothe you. After several minutes of this you’re hit with the reality of the situation. There is no time to mourn. 

The fight for survival has already begun.

By the time you return to the others, the air has cooled and the sun is dipping in the sky. Everyone is busy searching for food, for clean water, for anything that can serve as a roof. The atmosphere is thick with fear and tension. You do what you can to help gather what little remains. You carry wood and sort blankets pulled from the rubble. You nod when spoken to, though you barely hear the words. Your hands work. Your feet follow.

At some point, your body forgets how to move. Your hands dangle uselessly at your sides, no longer reaching for what must be done. The world around you peels away, layer by layer, until all that’s left is dust and sky. You drop to your knees, eyes on the ground.

Time forgets you, it feels like you’ve slipped into a space that exists outside of it. Even your breath feels borrowed. Your eyes tilt upward to meet the sky and it dilates above you. You drift into the infinite expanse, blue melts into gold, then bruises into plum and rose.

Chaos hums like a low bell in your chest. You are no longer made of flesh, but of vapor and memory. If you blink slowly enough you can see your mother, feel her fingers tracing the lines of your hair like she used to do when you couldn’t sleep. And if you tilt your head just so, the wind becomes your father’s voice calling you in from the garden. The scent of earth, jasmine, and the tea you shared together rise like ghosts from the soil.

You are not here. You are in a place between heaven and earth, in the soft tissue of a dream that forgets to end. You see a garden blooming in the ruins. A child floating in the sky. Your ears are ringing and you hear someone crying nearby. Is it you?

The vultures become stars. Their wings beat like the turning of pages. Their talons click clack, click clack.

You think you might be dead.

Then light bends, the air pulses once. Out of the sun’s mouth comes a figure stitched together, covered in bandages and bruises. A phantom made of light walking toward you like something you’ve summoned. You think he might be a dream, a trick of the light wandering through space and time. He reaches for you and his hand grips your arm, solid, anchoring, warm. And just like that, you fall back into your body, all at once.

The sky is only the sky. The vultures are only birds. The phantom is only a man.

But still, for a moment longer, you believe he is there to take you home. You think he might be an angel, or a ghost, or a god there to escort you home to your mother and father.

Then he releases you like a dead weight and you hit the earth beside a crackling fire. The spell breaks, sharp, sudden, and cruel. For one unbearable moment, you are entirely present. Your body is yours again, and so is your grief. It crashes into you like a wave made of knives. As he lets go, you look up and catch his unbandaged eye. For a moment it shines like quicksilver in the firelight. The sight tethers you to earth, but then he turns and walks away. The moment passes and your mind slips loose once more, vanishing inward.

You remain by the fire, motionless, time stretching and folding around you until it loses all shape. The flames flicker, then fade, and still you do not move. A realization blooms slowly in the hollow of your chest. If the Eldian soldiers had stopped the Rumbling a few minutes sooner, your parents might still be alive. But it isn’t that thought that guts you, it’s the other one. If they’d waited just a little longer, you might have died with them. You would have gone home, together. Instead, you were spared, left breathing in a world where they are not. And it’s unbearable.

You stay there, locked in that thought like a glass coffin, watching the fire die, watching your memories spool and curl like smoke. The world recedes. You rise into the clouds, wind rushing past you, vultures circle nearby. The light of the moon kisses your face and you think, just for a moment, that you’ve left your body behind. Below, distant and distorted, you glimpse the figure of the man who lifted you speaking with Reiner.

The sun rises, sets. Rises again. You don’t count the days. You can’t. You feel Aunt Karina press something warm into your hands. Reiner places a blanket over your shoulders. People speak to you, but their voices are distant, muffled, like they’re talking through glass. Then they disappear into the tents again. You stay seated in the dirt, carving symbols into the earth with your finger, again and again. Your nails are packed with soil. You trace circles. Spirals. Runes that mean nothing. You don’t know why you do it, only that it keeps your hands busy while the rest of you slips further away.

You don’t know how much time has passed since the man brought you to sit by the fire. People have come and gone, but you’re barely conscious. At some point you register Falco crouching beside you. His hand touches your arm, gently grounding you. There’s another figure nearby. Another man with kind eyes watching you with quiet concern.

Falco says your name softly. “Let’s go.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Words feel foreign. Your gaze stays fixed ahead. It’s only now, with Falco beside you, that you notice the tents are gone. How long has it been? Minutes, hours, days? You catch a glimpse of a few others hovering nearby. There’s a tall blonde man and a shorter one with a bandaged eye and crutches. An earlier memory comes to you, it’s him. The ghost. The angel.

Falco shifts beside you. Then the blonde man comes forward, reaching for your arm. 

“Onyankopon, can you grab her other arm?” You hear the blonde man say. The man with kind eyes comes forward. You don’t resist, but you don’t help either. Your legs are stiff, unresponsive.

“Falco,” you whisper, unsure if your voice carries. The boy looks at you, his face drawn and too old for his age.

“We found a place to stay,” he says. But the words are mist. You can’t hold onto them.

“Falco… I can’t,” you mumble. “I can’t do this. Leave me.” You begin to cry. “Just leave me here. Please.”

“We aren’t leaving you,” Onyankopon says. His voice is firm, without room for argument.

“Please, you’re worrying us. Please, let’s go,” Falco whispers.

They’ve been walking you. You didn’t even notice. And now you’re standing in front of him—the man. He doesn’t move or speak, but his silver eye glances over you. You’re not sure what you see in his face. Sympathy? Pity? Disgust? Something else entirely?

Before you can make sense of what’s happening, you’re in the back of an automobile, the engine humming low as it winds through scorched hills toward the surviving town of Didgori. Nestled further inland, Didgori had been spared from the direct path of the Rumbling, its distance from the coastline sheltering it from the worst of the devastation. What remains there is intact, quiet, and eerily untouched.

It’s Pieck and Armin who arrange your new living arrangements. The people of Didgori welcome you all with kindness and generosity. They offer a large house for you all to stay in as a gesture of gratitude to the warriors and soldiers who brought the Rumbling to an end. The warriors settle in with their families upon arrival, the soldiers from Paradis split off in pairs, and the man you now know as Onyankopon stays close to a quiet blonde woman you hadn’t noticed before. Which means you're alone, with a room to yourself and nothing but quiet.

You’re not sure whether to be grateful or afraid. 

Slowly days pass, and you gradually emerge from your shell shocked state. You find yourself moving again, one breath at a time, as the numbness that held you hostage begins to loosen its grip. The world is still grey and heavy, but you begin to notice things again. The smell of soil after rain. The color of the sky as the sun sets. The hum of quiet conversations that no longer sound like noise.

The Eldian soldiers surprise you. You weren't sure what to expect after everything that had passed between your nations, but they are kind and gentle. They greet you softly each morning and check in with you at the end of the day. No one forces anything from you, but slowly, you begin to remember their names. Jean. Connie. Armin. There is weight in learning who they are. It presses against the bitterness you carried into this broken place, softening its edges.

You learn that the man you once mistook for a ghost is not a ghost at all, but a soldier. Captain Levi Ackerman of the Survey Corps. Humanity’s strongest, Onyankopon tells you one evening when the captain is out of earshot.

You can't help it, you're fascinated by the former military captain. He’s blunt to the point of being abrasive, with a sharp eye for order and an almost obsessive preference for cleanliness. His tone is clipped, his patience thin. Even so, you begin to notice how the others look to him. There is no hesitation in the way they defer to his judgment. Jean quiets down whenever Levi enters the room, and Connie jokes that he could make a titan back down with just a glare. Armin always straightens when Levi talks, like he cannot afford to miss a single word. Gabi and Falco trail after him like loyal puppies, eager for any scrap of attention. He pretends not to care, but sometimes you catch him fixing Gabi’s collar or handing Falco a second helping of stew. The small gestures make you smile.

Levi rarely speaks to you, but you find yourself watching him more than you mean to. Maybe it’s the way he moves or the easy grace in his posture. Maybe it's how his face is sharp, tired, and unexpectedly beautiful, even marked by injury. You would never say it aloud, but there’s something magnetic about him. His presence is oddly reassuring and settles you, even when you don’t understand it. You do not get too close, but you begin to understand why the others rely on him. Simply knowing he is near makes your present circumstances less unbearable.

Nearly every day, your group returns to the ruins of Liberio to sift through the rubble and begin the slow work of rebuilding. On the days you remain in Didgori you help tend the gardens and store what little food remains, preparing for the winter ahead.  

You go through the motions. Clearing trash, digging shallow trenches for a future garden, sifting through debris for anything that can be salvaged.

It’s on one of those days, while picking through the collapsed remains of the old school where you used to rehearse, that something catches your eye.

Beneath a layer of ash and broken brick, you spot a crumpled stack of sheet music. Most of it is ripped, waterlogged, and smudged beyond recognition, but a few pages have somehow survived. You brush the dirt away, not expecting much, until you catch sight of something familiar. It’s a piano concerto marked with your handwriting. There are fingering notations scrawled neatly beneath the staff and notes from your teachers. Gently, you gather the surviving pages and hold them to your chest.

A memory surfaces, warm and sudden. Reiner, Pieck, Marcel, Porco and Annie leaning against the wall outside the school, their posture lazy with exhaustion, uniforms still dusty from the field. You had lingered in the doorway, clutching your sheet music, and Reiner had called out something about his family joining yours for dinner later that evening. 

That life is buried now. Marcel and Porco too. The ache tightens in your throat, but you press it down and return to your digging. To your surprise, you uncover more sheet music as the day wears on. Most of it is ruined, but some pages remain legible.

You lay out the sheet music on the floor of your room later that night, trying to place things in order as best as possible. As pointless as it seems, you’re grateful for the distraction.

Truthfully, the numbness hasn’t fully left. The daily tasks keep you busy, but your mind wanders freely at night.

And its not just grief that haunts you—

Guilt clings to you for how you collapsed inward those first few days. The temptation to disappear again lingers just beneath the surface. It’s a quiet battle to leave your room each morning, but Pieck and Annie knock on your door without fail. You’re grateful for them, even if you never say it aloud. Each morning, you’re glad to be in motion, if only to avoid becoming a burden.

But you aren’t alone in this. You catch it in the others too. The slumped shoulders and bloodshot eyes around you all constant reminders that you are not the only one grieving.

Two months pass before you finally allow yourself to drift into the current of conversation.

You're at dinner picking at your food when you hear Aunt Karina’s voice gently guiding the discussion towards you. You glance up, realizing the others are watching you now. Their eyes are expectant, but you hesitate, unsure of what you missed.

Karina nudges you with her words again. “Tell them about your career.”

Oh...please, not that, you think.

There are no words to measure how unprepared you are for this moment. The grief lodged in your chest is too complex, too deep, a wound as raw as the loss of your parents. You feel the weight of their attention tightening around your lungs. You cast your gaze around the table until it lands on Captain Levi.

At some point in the last few weeks, the stitches in his face were removed and the bandages disappeared. Now a few scars remain, faint lines cutting across his otherwise delicate features. Unexpectedly, you find yourself thinking they suit him.

He’s watching you with his usual empty expression, and you notice for the first time that he’s completely blind in one eye. The silver dulled over like fog on glass. Suddenly, you remember the night he pulled you from the wreckage, leaving you beside the fire like someone returning a soul to its body. The memory jolts through you. You look away quickly, pulse jumping, finding Karina’s eyes instead.

“Melody has always had such a gift for music,” Karina says gently, unaware of where your mind has traveled.

You open your mouth, but the words stall in your throat. “Oh, I–”

Before you can gather your thoughts, Reiner comes to your rescue. “Melody was a state artist. She and her parents were granted special status as honorary Marleyans because of her musical talent. She was part of the artist cohort created by the government to display Marley’s forward thinking. A few Eldians with exceptional talent were invited and granted special privileges.”

Thank you, Reiner. 

“How interesting. What is it you would do?” Armin leans in, his curiosity piqued.

“Um, I play, played, the piano,” you say, clearing your throat, hesitant.

You notice some confusion on Armin’s face.

“I had lessons as a child. I was born on an island off the coast of mainland Hizuru, they have…had amazing piano teachers there.” 

You pause and silence fills the room. You look around to find blank and confused faces staring back at you. Then, your eyes meet Reiner’s. He looks thoughtful, but you can’t place what’s going on in his mind.

Suddenly, it hits you. “Were there pianos on Paradis?” 

Connie opens his mouth to respond, but the captain beats him to it, his tongue clicking. “It’s a musical instrument, is that right?”

You nod, feeling the heat of their stares on you.

Levi scowls. “Bit too busy staying alive to deal with frivolities like music.”

His words rub you the wrong way. Frivolity? Yes, you would agree that playing the piano would hardly be a priority in a place like Paradis, but surely there were artists on the island. 

Armin speaks up, his tone gentler than the captain’s. “I don’t believe there were any pianos on Paradis. Maybe in the castle…but, I’ve seen pictures of pianos in my books.”

“I guess you’re all soldiers, so you wouldn’t have spent much time around the artists on your island anyway,” you respond quietly.

“No, I guess not.” Armin nods. 

You smile faintly. “Hmm. Places like Paradis… after everything your civilization has gone through, I imagine they’d need art the most. I bet there are some incredible artists there.”

You catch the sound of the captain scoffing under his breath. Something in you tenses. It’s the first time his sharpness is aimed directly at you, and it stings. You suddenly feel depleted and are about to excuse yourself when Onyankopon speaks up.

“How did you end up in Marley?” 

You suppress a sigh, weariness tugging at the edges of your mind. But Onyankopon has only ever shown you kindness, so you nod, willing yourself to continue. 

“My father was a professor of philosophy,” you explain. “He was offered a position at the university in Odiha. It was a difficult decision, but my mother was in poor health. She could receive better medical treatment in Marley than in Hizuru.” 

“Your father was a university professor?” Armin asks incredulously. 

“Are you not Eldian?” Jean asks suspiciously. 

“I am,” your voice falters.

The captain’s eyes narrow. “Sounds like you were living pretty comfortably for someone from an oppressed race.”

You stare down at your hands for a few minutes, then you look back up to meet his eye. For a moment all you can see is the man who lifted you out of the rubble and left you by the fire. Your throat tightens, and you press your hands together in your lap to keep them from trembling. You don’t trust your voice. Pieck catches your eye and gives you a gentle nod of encouragement. Across the table, Aunt Karina offers the same. You search for Reiner’s eyes, but he’s staring down at his plate, jaw tight, a crease etched deep between his brows. Annie is also avoiding your eye, her expression unreadable.

“Only my father was Eldian by blood,” you explain, choosing to ignore Levi. “He and his family hid their heritage for generations. Not out of shame, but to survive. Moving to Marley put us at risk. A few years after we arrived, the government began conducting blood tests to root out hidden Eldians. When they discovered us we were sent to the internment zone in Liberio.”

You pause. You're not sure where the strength to keep talking comes from, but the room looks at you expectantly, so you continue. 

“When we arrived in Liberio my family was approached by a member of the Marleyan government. I was barely eight years old but had been participating in music festival and competitions for a few years. They told my parents that I could audition for the state artist program. If I was accepted I would serve Marley through my music. That way, I could atone for the ‘devil’ in my blood, as they put it.”

You swallow.

“It wasn’t really a choice. The alternative was to be turned into a pure Titan and sent to Paradis. They called it punishment for my father’s deception and for my mother fraternizing with an Eldian...for bringing me into the world.”

“They don’t offer that opportunity to just any Eldian with piano lessons,” Aunt Karina interjects gently. “She’s exceptional.”

You hum in response, your throat tight. Yes, your talent had granted many benefits to you and your parents, but in the end, you were nothing more than a token for Marley. They paraded you as proof of their dominance over the Eldian devils. You were a symbol of their supposed benevolence, but it was all a facade. Your gifts were only allowed on their terms, a fragile privilege that could be taken away at any moment. If you failed to meet their expectations they would strip you of everything. 

Onyankopon interrupts your thoughts with a small smile, “Karina speaks highly of your talent, and I’m inclined to agree.”

Aunt Karina's eyes brighten. “Have you heard her play then?”

You blink, startled.

Onyankopon gives you a soft smile. “You came to my country serval years ago. You were part of the peace celebration Marley put on after they defeated our military.”

Memories of the peace celebrations you were forced to perform at come flooding back. Marley had always insisted on using you as a pawn in their public displays, and you had played your part as the shiny, polished picture of pure excellence.

“Ah,” you say softly, avoiding his eyes. “Yes, they loved to bring me out for those. I always felt disgusting afterward.”

He chuckles, but there’s bite in it. “What, you didn’t enjoy being a pawn in Marley’s games?”

His sarcasm hits you hard. You notice Aunt Karina stiffening out of the corner of your eye.

Before you can respond Connie interrupts with a question, “So, like... they just paraded you around for people? Even though you were a kid?”

You nod. “Especially because I was a kid. It made the image more effective. Look how well the empire treats its young prodigies. Look how generous they are to the Eldians who behave.” You turn to Onyankopon, heavy with despair. “I was powerless against Marley. If we're really having this discussion, then it's only fair that I point out that it’s not my fault my ancestors were tyrants.” 

You see Aunt Karina cringing and Yelena looking at you curiously. Pieck is nodding in support.

Jean leans forward. “You’re the first Eldian from Marley we’ve heard say that.”

“My parents taught me to think critically. To resist hate. I was raised learning about our history, not just propaganda.”

Armin hums thoughtfully, and you can feel the captain’s steady gaze on your face, unwavering and unreadable.

You decide to continue, your voice steadier now. “You’re right, Onyankopon. The artist cohort existed to control the narrative, to be pawns. By elevating a few Eldians, Marley created division. We were tokens. Privileged on the surface, but never free.”

You look down at your hands, letting the weight of your words settle.

“And it wasn’t just me. It was the Warriors too.”

You look up, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “The Brauns. The Grices. The Leonharts. My family. We were given enough to keep us loyal, enough to keep us quiet. But we were never allowed to forget that it could all be taken away. All we were to them were weapons to be controlled, to be feared, to be admired when it suited them. Never human, though.”

Silence stretches across the table, taut and uneasy. Then you meet Levi’s gaze, your chin lifting slightly. “My life wasn’t filled with frivolity,” you say, steady now. “They were going to kill my parents and I.”

Levi’s jaw tightens and you think you catch a flicker of regret cross his face.

Beside him, Pieck speaks quietly. “It was never fair. None of it.”

You turn sadly to her, surprised by the heaviness in her voice.

Annie shifts in her seat. She had been silent until now, eyes downcast, but her voice cuts through the quiet. “They trained us to hate ourselves, to fight for our own destruction.” She looks up at no one in particular. Then, her eyes land on Levi, brief and wary. “For what it’s worth,” she whispers, looking away, “I’m sorry.”

The room grows still. Armin glances at Annie, then gently places his hand over hers. You are not sure what Annie is apologizing for, but you can guess by the way Levi's expression sharpens that it's something heavy. His eyes fix on her, cold and unreadable. Then his gaze shifts to Armin, who meets it with a quiet, pleading look. Something unspoken passes between them. After a moment, Levi gives a subtle nod.

You watch the exchange with growing curiosity, unsure of what it means. Around the table, the expressions on Reiner’s face and the others from the Scouts are heavy with grief. There is something in their silence that feels older than the Rumbling, a weight they have carried for years. You lower your gaze and pick at your food, your thoughts starting to spiral, until Connie’s voice breaks through the quiet and pulls you back.

“Wait, hold on. So are you actually related to Reiner?” he asks, his brow furrowed in confusion.

You can’t help but smile.

“No, but my family was grouped with the warrior families because of our status as honorary Marleyans. The Brauns were very kind to us. They helped my family adjust when we first arrived in Liberio, and even though I'm much older, the warrior candidates were kind enough to befriend me.”

“Were there more people like you?” Armin asks. 

“Yes, one other, but I haven’t heard from her since the Rumbling.”

“There’s word of Ellery in Hizuru,” Reiner says thoughtfully.

“She survived? When did you hear...?”

“Letters from Hizuru arrived just this morning. Haven’t had a chance to tell you.”

You hum in response.

Silence falls over the table. 

“It would be a gift to hear you play again someday,” Onyankopon says eventually. “Under different circumstances than the first time.”

You offer a faint smile, though something in your chest tightens. “If any pianos survived the Rumbling...sure, I would love to play for you all.”

You pause, then glance at him again. “I found some sheet music in the rubble a while ago...when we were clearing out the remains of the old school where I used to practice. Most of it was ash or soaked through, but a handful of pieces were still legible.”

Onyankopon gives you an encouraging nod.   

You look down at your hands.

“The piano was there too. Or had been...”

Another silence falls over the table. 

“I hope I get to hear you play someday,” Armin says warmly. “Even just once. I don't know what a piano sounds like.”

Beside him, Pieck smiles gently. “She used to let me sit in the corner while she practiced. I’d show up after a long day of training, covered in dust and tired out of my mind, and she’d just wave me in without a word.”

You laugh softly at that, "Those were good times." 

“That’s why we call her ‘Melody,’” Reiner interjects with a small smile.

“You mean that’s not your real name?” Armin asks curiously.

“No,” you respond, sharing your full name with the table. “But you can call me ‘Melody.’”

After that, the conversation drifts. You stop trying to follow it, letting the voices around you fade into a soft blur. Your limbs feel heavy, your thoughts scattered and frayed. That was the most you’ve spoken in months, and it has left you feeling completely spent.

Your begins to mind spin, restless and uncertain. Would you really want to play for them? Could you? You’ve always loved playing, but now that love feels buried under layers of grief, memory, and duty. The thought of touching a piano again brings both longing and dread. You think of all the instruments likely destroyed in the Rumbling. Their loss stings more than you expect. The silence they leave behind feels too final. And yet, some part of you wonders if that silence might be a kind of release. No more concerts. No more expectations. 

You swallow hard, the pressure in your chest building as your throat tightens. You do not want to cry, not here. Not in front of everyone.

You push your chair back, rising a little too fast. "Excuse me," you murmur.

You barrel down the hall, barely aware of your feet moving beneath you. The moment you’re out of the kitchen’s view, you break into a run.  Something is building in your chest. You pay no mind to the sound of the door slamming heavily as you break into the open air.

However, you aren’t met with what you’re looking for.

The evening air carries the scent of smoke and decay, as it has for months now. Though the intensity is not as bad in Didgori as it is in Liberio, the decay clings to you. It wafts in on the wind weaving itself into the fabric of the trees, buildings…you. It’s inescapable. A part of you feels like the air will never be fresh again, at least not for a long while.

Bile rises in your throat. You take a few steps, and before you know it, you’re emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground. You’re still bent over, gasping for breath, when you sense someone behind you. You look up. 

It’s Levi. Great.

A flash of irritation flares in your chest at the sight of him, the memory of his dismissive words at dinner still fresh in your mind. But the anger fades almost as quickly as it comes, replaced by a sudden wave of shame. You must look foolish to him. Fragile. Overindulgent. Maybe you are. The thought gnaws at you. You’ve always allowed your emotions to overpower your senses. It's been an ongoing battle for control for as long as you can remember.

You think of how he found you collapsed and catatonic that first week. No wonder he looked at you that way when you spoke of your past. Frivolous. That was the word he used, but it may as well have been weak. Spoiled. Pathetic.

Why did he follow you out here? You glance back at him, annoyed, ashamed, and a little desperate for the answer.

You take in his lazy posture as he leans against the wall of the house, favoring one leg. He crosses his arms as he regards you coldly. 

You’re hit with another wave of annoyance because of course, of course, he has to look like something carved out of a forgotten epic. Standing there with that dark, tousled hair and those sharp, silver eyes that pierce through you like a sword.

You, on the other hand, are doubled over, sick and sweating, wishing for anything to preserve a shred of your dignity.

You stand, hunched over while he watches in silence. His gaze makes you feel small, exposed, like a bug beneath a magnifying glass. The stench of decay and ruin intensifies around you.

You feel like you might be sick again.

"Are you just going to stand there?" you snap, irritation still threading through the nausea curling in your gut.

He sighs, “Karina asked me to check on you.”

You huff and push yourself upright, eyes squeezing shut against another dizzy wave. There’s a pressure in your chest that feels like it could split you open, but you force it down. You won’t cry. Not in front of him.

“That’s the most you’ve said to anyone since I got here,” he says, finally, arms unfolding as he nods vaguely toward the house.

You shoot him a wary glance, fruitlessly attempting to bite back your words. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

He doesn’t answer. Just tilts his head slightly, as if waiting for you to explain.

“I shut down while the rest of you were figuring out how to survive. I didn’t help. I didn’t do anything. I was just another burden.”

You pause before turning to meet his eyes. “And now you find me out here, throwing up what little food we have left. Add that to you thinking I’m a useless musician…” you laugh, bitter and sharp. “Why are you even bothering? Just leave me.”

He exhales slowly, the sound close to a groan. “You’re being dramatic.”

Your chin lifts in defiance. Still, he says nothing more, content to let your silence press back at him.

At last, you ask, quieter now, “Did you really have to call what I do frivolous?”

He doesn’t look away. He just watches you, like he’s trying to read something behind your words. Then he scoffs. “That’s what you’re upset about?”

You shrug, a little defeated. No, but you can’t deny that hearing it from humanity’s strongest soldier stings. Your eyes settle on him. You study his face, the angles, the way his presence seems to carry its own gravity. It unsettles you. Irritates you. But it draws you in too, in spite of yourself. You realize, with something like amusement, that you’re slightly taller than him. The thought is so absurd it makes you laugh under your breath. He looks at you then, eyebrows pulling slightly, clearly puzzled by your shift in demeanor. But you’ve already pulled away, retreating into yourself. 

You turn toward the horizon, toward Liberio. The ruins are hidden by the dark and distance, but you feel them. Your gaze lifts, searching and, ah yes, there it is—the full moon. It’s suspended and glowing, untouched by the chaos on earth.

What a contrast, you think. Death and ruin at your feet, and yet, the moon remains. An enduring reminder that beauty and life have continued, despite it all. You wonder how many civilizations the moon has seen fall, how many peoples it has watched rebuild from the ashes. 

You think of your mother, of the nights you’d sit together, staring up at the moon. Your father would make tea for the two of you. Once the chores were done he’d join you, settling in beside you. What you wouldn’t give for one more cup of your father’s tea. The memory hits you sharply, your heart feels like it’s been stabbed. 

"Do you notice the smell?" you gasp, your voice weak. 

"What, of your puke?" he replies flatly. You want to be angry with him again, but don’t have it in you. 

"No, genius," you snap, gesturing around. "I came out here hoping for some fresh air, but everything just…reminds me…that we’re all probably going to die soon of starvation or disease. That so many people are dead. It fucking smells." You emphasize the last word, trying to make him understand. 

He nods slowly, his face unreadable. His eyes flicker toward the ground for a moment, but he says nothing. The silence stretches between you. 

You both stand there for a few more moments, but it feels like hours. Eventually, he kicks himself off the wall and heads for the door. 

He has better things to do than stand out here with me, you think. You watch his back as he walks away. He’s lost people too, people he loved. People he couldn’t save. You grit your teeth. What right do I have to fall apart like this? 

He reaches the door, and for a moment you’re sure he’s going to disappear inside without another word, leaving you to spiral.

But then he pauses. “You’ve gotta pull yourself together,” he surprises you by saying, his voice low but firm. “You’re not the only one who’s lost everything. Don’t waste your time wallowing.”

For the second time that night it feels like you’ve been stabbed through the heart. 

Before he opens the door you whisper, “I can’t. I can’t accept it…”

I wasn’t ready to lose them. I wasn’t ready to lose everything. I don’t understand. Why was one individual allowed to have so much power? Why must we be punished for the sin of being born?

The words are raw, dying on your tongue before you can spill them. You don’t want to say them. It feels selfish to admit how much it hurts, how much you’ve been holding in. Because on the outside you know it seems like you haven’t been holding back at all. 

Suddenly, you’re crying and the flood of emotion is overwhelming. You can’t help it. You want to pull it all back, but it's too late now. 

“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I never thought I’d have to endure pain like this. I wanted to stay there…I wanted to die with them. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be…”

You feel your breath quicken, your chest heaving with the weight of your grief. You feel like you’re suffocating. You want him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t. You feel like you’re losing yourself all over again.

Then, you hear him move, and before you know it his hands are gripping your arms firmly, pulling you out of the spiral of your thoughts, snapping you back to the present. 

“Look at me.”

You obey instinctively. His good eye catches the light like moonlight on broken glass, you can’t look away.

“It’s cruel and unfair, but you don’t have a choice. Neither of us do. The only way is forward.”

You stare at him with wide eyes, the words lingering in the air between you. He’s not offering comfort, not soothing your pain. But it’s what you needed to hear, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. There’s no choice. We just keep moving.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, all that’s left is silence, the weight of everything still pressing down on you. Then, without another word, he releases you and disappears inside.

You stand there for a moment, staring at the door, as if waiting for him to come back, to say something else. But he’s gone, and there’s nothing left to do but accept the truth he’s offered.

By the time you gather yourself and step back inside, the captain is nowhere to be found and the house is quiet. Dinner has ended, most of the others have gone to bed, and the halls are dim. You’re surprised to find Reiner waiting for you in the hall. He holds out two envelopes and you take them, surprised. One is from Ellery. The other bears Lady Kiyomi’s seal.

“These arrived this morning. Sorry, I didn’t tell you right away.” He says. 

“Thanks,” you say, and he nods before turning away.

You carry the letters to your room and sit with them for a while, the weight of them settling in your hands. You run your fingers over Ellery’s handwriting, then set them both down on the bedside table. You feel relieved to know your friend survived, one less burden of grief. You go to the washroom, rinse your face, brush your teeth, tie your hair back. When you return, the letters are still there, waiting. But something has shifted, the flicker of excitement now gone. You stare at them a moment longer before turning away.

Not tonight. You’ll read them in the morning.

Chapter Text

​​

Dear Melody,

It has been many years since we last met face to face. I hope this letter reaches you and finds you as well as circumstances permit. 

I was heartbroken to hear about the loss of your mother and father. In the years we kept in touch, your mother sent me letters that I’ve held onto, along with a few photographs of her as a young girl. I would be honored to share them with you when the time feels right. I want you to know that a memorial will soon be held to honor those lost in the Rumbling, and your parents’ names will be included among them. Though I know words cannot ease the pain, I hope you will find some comfort in knowing they will be remembered with love and dignity.

It grieves me deeply to also tell you that the island where you were born was among the many places lost. Nothing remains of its land or its people. It is with a heavy heart that I invite you to attend the memorial. You will not be alone in your mourning.

Ellery has chosen to remain in Hizuru to help with the rebuilding efforts. She speaks of you often and with great affection. One small comfort I can offer is that we have a piano here on the mainland. If you choose to come, you would be more than welcome to continue your work. There is great need and great hunger for music and healing, especially after the loss of so many coastal communities. I believe your presence would bring light to many who need it. 

If you decide to come, please write back. And please know, you are welcome to stay and that you will always have a place here in Hizuru. I would very much like to see you again. Now more than ever, we must hold fast to one another, and move forward with love and hope.

With warmth and sympathy,

Kiyomi Azumabito

Your hands tremble as you scan the words. The paper begins to crumple between your fingers, its soft edges folding as you grip tighter and tighter. You stare at the page and the words begin to blur, not from tears, but a suffocating stillness closing in around you. Your chest feels hollow, as though something vital has been scooped out, and breathing becomes difficult. Each inhale is shallow, caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat. 

You close your eyes, but that only makes it worse. Your father’s smile flickers behind your eyelids. The sway of your mother’s hair. The tangled green of your uncle’s garden. The salty breeze curling through the trees at dusk. All of it slips through your grasp, fading too quickly, as if it were never real.

You clutch the letter tighter before allowing it to slip from your hands and settle in your lap. You stare down at it for a long time. 

The invitation to return to Hizuru rests there heavily. You are grateful to have the choice. Grateful that someone thought to offer you a way forward. But the idea of beginning again somewhere else feels impossible at the moment. This crowded house and your own quiet room, once only a hiding place, has taken the shape of a home in your mind. 

And yet, something softens in you at the thought of a piano. Not the polished stage or the crushing expectation, but the instrument itself. The promise of what it could mean now. You picture yourself seated before one again, not as a performer, but as someone reaching out to heal and comfort. You have never known music in that way. The thought of reclaiming it, of letting it become something quiet and honest, stirs something deep inside you. It's a longing you didn't know you had. To make music for the sake of giving something good back to the world. That alone makes Kiyomi's offer worth considering.

You draw in a slow breath and reach for the second envelope. Ellery’s handwriting tugs at something familiar in your chest. You unfold the letter carefully, already feeling the warmth in her words before beginning to read. She writes of Hizuru, of the panic and heartbreak that swept through the mainland as the Rumbling reached their shores. Of watching helplessly as the world changed in a matter of days. She shares that she has chosen to stay in Hizuru, unable and unwilling to leave when there is so much to rebuild. Travel is difficult now and the borders are uncertain, but she wants you to come to Hizuru if you can.

You read her letter twice, imagining her on the other side of the world, alive. It's a small light in a world that has gone dark. You press the pages to your chest, close your eyes, and count your breaths.

You remind yourself to take it one day at a time. Right now, the only thing you need to do is keep moving, even if it’s slowly. You don’t have to make the big decisions yet.

That can wait.

Suddenly, a soft knock breaks the silence. Pieck’s voice follows, cheery and kind through the wood, calling you to join the others for the day’s work. You call back to her, sliding the letters beneath your pillow before heading out.

“Liberio today?” you ask, closing the door to your room, catching up to her as she heads for the stairs.

“Mhm,” she murmurs. “I think we’re almost done with the trash pick up.”

Together, you walk toward the car where Annie, Gabi, and Falco are already seated. The captain and the rest have gone ahead.

You glance at the horizon with its wide and pale sky. Another night over, and another day forward. 

You keep moving.

A flush of embarrassment creeps up your neck the moment you spot the captain. You can’t shake the sting of your earlier outburst. He doesn’t mention it, thankfully, but you notice how he stays close as you and the others work through the rubble. Neither of you says much, but his presence lingers. You wonder if Aunt Karina asked him to keep an eye on you, or if he's keeping an eye on you in case you meltdown again. You don’t know which thought feels worse.

The hours drag on under the weight of the sun and the heat sticks to your skin, but it’s not as oppressive as the letters tucked under your pillow. They gnaw at the edges of your thoughts, louder than the ache in your arms. You’re too deep in your head to notice the dip in the ground until your foot catches. You stumble slightly, just enough to lose balance, cursing under your breath. Levi limps up beside you, leaning on his crutches. Without asking, he reaches for the bag in your hands. Your eyes snap to him, irritation flaring. You pull the bag back sharply.

It seems like he's always catching you at your lowest.

“I’ve got it,” you snap. Then, as if to reclaim some sense of control, you add, “You’re already slow.”

Regret sinks in the moment the words leave your mouth, but Levi barely reacts.

He rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, and says, “Idiot. You’ll slow us down more if you dump your shit everywhere.”

“I’m fine, Levi. I’ve got it.”

His gaze hardens, but he doesn’t argue. He just reaches for the bag again.

“Will you fuck off?” The words burst out, sharp and unfair. But you're drowning in grief, pressure...everything. And for some reason, he’s the only one close enough to hit.

Levi pauses, his expression unreadable. Then he says your name, calm but firm. “Just hand it over. Wouldn’t want you to fall and break those precious fingers of yours.”

There’s the faintest hint of a smirk. Barely there, but unmistakable.

You freeze, caught off guard. Was that... a joke? Is he teasing you?

No. Not Levi.

You don’t give him the satisfaction. “Fuck off and mind your business,” you snap, then turn and storm off before he can say anything else.

You avoid him for the rest of the day.

The next morning you’re feeling guilty. You haven’t seen Levi since your outburst. After getting home you skipped dinner, went straight to the shower, and shut yourself away in bed. Honestly, you're not even sure your reputation with him is salvageable at this point.

Thankfully, Reiner suggested the group take a break from clearing rubble to spend a day tending to the gardens in Didgori. It's a welcome change of pace. With any luck, you'll make it through the day without another run-in with the captain.

Once again, the sun is brutal, beating down without mercy. Sweat pools at your temples and clings to the back of your neck. You’d kill for some cold water or even a flimsy fan. Instead, you resign yourself to the inevitable sunburn blooming across your skin, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. The men, of course, seem unfazed. Most have already peeled off their shirts.

You scowl, muttering, “Men."

Your own shirt is soaked through, plastered to your back. But taking it off would spark a full-blown scandal, so you suffer in silence.

Your traitorous eyes wander and land on Levi, and you're staring before you can catch yourself. His shirt is neatly folded over the fence beside his crutches, a contrast to the others’ shirts that have been carelessly abandoned in the grass. His chest and shoulders are streaked with dust and sweat, muscles taut with effort, brow furrowed in focus. In the harsh light, his hair looks unexpectedly soft, almost glossy, like it doesn't belong to someone who’s survived the end of the world. You force yourself to look away and lock eyes with Pieck. She raises a brow, and the two of you share a knowing look, then a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Gabi asks from your side.

“Nothing,” you say quickly. 

“Top secret.” Pieck winks at her. 

You risk another look at Levi. He’s leaning against the garden fence now, chest rising and falling with exertion. Even injured, he refuses to completely rest. You are not entirely sure what the state of his injuries are, though you have seen him moving around the house without the crutches, but work like this must put a strain on his bad leg. The sight makes you feel even worse for the way you snapped at him yesterday. 

“Do you guys need anything? I’m going to run to the house to get some water,” you tell Gabi and Pieck. They shake their heads and you take off towards the house.

Levi is still by the fence when you return. You slow a few paces away, uncertain if approaching him is a good idea. But he notices you anyway and looks up. For a moment, you forget why you’re there. Your eyes catch on his chest, slick with sweat, and damp hair clinging to his brow. You feel suddenly, stupidly flustered.

“I, uh…” you start, stumbling over your words. “Brought you some water.”

You hold it out. He frowns but takes it, eyes on your face rather than the cup.

“Thanks.”

You nod, offering a stiff half-smile, then lower yourself to sit beside him. The silence that hits is immediate and awkward.

After a few minutes, he asks, dryly, “Can I help you?”

You let out a nervous laugh. “No, no. I just…wanted to say sorry. For being rude. Yesterday. I know you were just trying to help.”

“Oh.”

You nod again, biting your lower lip. “How’s your leg?”

“It’s been better.”

“Right. Um…your eye?”

He exhales impatiently through his nose. “It’s fine.”

“Okay. That’s good…good. Okay, see you!” you blurt, getting to your feet faster than necessary.

You practically flee back to Gabi and Pieck, cheeks burning. Armin and Annie give you confused looks as you pass, causing your cheeks to burn further. You sneak a look back toward Levi. He’s still watching you, head slightly tilted. Mortified, you let out a quiet groan and Pieck pats your shoulder, clearly amused.

Gabi squints between you, Levi, and Pieck. “What just happened? Did the captain say something mean to you?”

“No, Gabi. It’s nothing. Absolutely nothing,” you say quickly.

Pieck smirks. “Mhhm.”

The next few hours pass in a blur of heat, dirt, and too many stolen glances at Levi. It's hard to focus, and for two very good reasons.

First, he’s still shirtless. You curse yourself for ogling, but honestly, how is anyone supposed to concentrate like this? Apparently, men do not stop being attractive after the apocalypse.

Second, you’re still squirming over the water exchange from earlier. You’re cursing your own awkwardness, feeling worse about your situation with Levi than you did before. Every time you make eye contact, it feels like your soul is about to eject from your body. The count hits three...no, four, in under an hour. You're not sure if the lightheadedness you’re feeling is from the heat or embarrassment.

By the time you finish tilling the garden beds and planting the last row of potatoes, your mood has soured completely. You’re snappish, irritable, and quick to bite at anyone who comes too close. Poor Armin ends up on the receiving end when he stops by to gather the garden tools. You apologize immediately, stumbling over your words in an attempt to smooth things over. The last thing you want is tension between you and more of your housemates. You tell him you’re just hungry, that you didn’t mean it. And it’s true, your stomach feels like it’s folding in on itself.

You trudge back toward the house, drifting to walk near Pieck, Armin, and Onyankopon. You notice Gabi and Falco running off to go badger Levi.

The scent of something warm and brothy greets you when you step inside, wrapping around you like a blanket. From the kitchen, the quiet sounds of dinnertime hits your ears. The parents are finishing up the meal, their light chatter drifting through the house.

A memory rushes in catching you off guard, and for a moment you’re not here at all. You’re back home, years ago, on one of those rare, golden evenings when your family would gather with the others. When you all could pretend, just for a few hours, that the world outside didn’t exist. That everything was safe, that you all were safe.

You close your eyes and it all comes rushing back.

You’re hunched over your notebook, sheet music spread in front of you, lips pressed into a determined line. Baby Gabi and Falco toddling around on unsteady legs as Colt tries to keep them from chewing on the corner of the rug. Across the room, Pieck lounges on the couch while Reiner, Marcel, and Porco toss a crumpled paper ball back and forth, laughing and shouting over each other.

"Come on," Porco calls out, trying to get your attention. "Just one game. You can memorize scales or whatever it is you’re doing later."

You shake your head without looking up. "I have a theory exam tomorrow."

"Even more reason to loosen up," Reiner says, ducking as the paper ball sails past his head.

Marcel grins at you and adds, "Ten minutes. Then we’ll leave you alone."

In the background, your mothers are laughing in the kitchen. You can hear your fathers talking as they set the table, the sound of silverware meeting ceramic in a familiar clash.

Past and present collide. 

You open your eyes and you are no longer in your home in Liberio. The warmth of that memory fades, replaced by the present hum of voices and clatter in the kitchen.

You decide to slip out back with a bucket of water to wash your hands and face. The idea of squeezing into the bathroom or kitchen with everyone else makes your skin crawl. You've had enough heat and noise for one day.

Kneeling by the bucket you scrub until most of the dirt is gone, getting lost in the motion. You work the grime from beneath your nails and rinse your arms until the sunburn stings with every pass. You splash water on your face and into your hair, letting it soak the edges of your scalp. The cold water is grounding, giving you a moment to gather yourself before heading back to the chaos inside.

By the time you return, the others are already crowding around the dining table, bowls in hand and conversation buzzing.

Except for one person.

Levi stands alone in the kitchen quietly ladling stew into a bowl. His back is turned at first, and you watch him move. There’s something so graceful about the way he carries himself, every motion quiet and controlled, yet impossibly fluid. His shoulders shift beneath the fabric of his shirt, muscles moving with a kind of restrained power. You can still picture his bare chest from earlier that afternoon, streaked with sweat and sunlit dust. The image rises uninvited, vivid and distracting. You don’t mean to stare, but you do.

Then he turns, and his eyes catch yours.

Heat rushes to your cheeks before you can stop it. You feel yourself blush, painfully aware of the way you had been staring.

Levi holds your gaze and steps forward, silent. Without a word, he offers you the bowl.

You bite your lip, suddenly shy. You weren’t expecting this.

“You should eat,” he says, turning back to grab his own bowl and nodding toward the table.

Did he wait for you? No. Why would he wait for you? You can’t help but stare, curiosity stirring in your chest. It’s a small gesture, but it feels like more than that. You find yourself admiring him for it, especially after the awkward encounters you've shared these past few days. You follow him out of the kitchen, and the two of you sit in silence while the others talk around you. The room hums with low voices and the soft clink of spoons against bowls, but between you and Levi, the quiet holds.

You keep your eyes on your food, stealing glances when you think he isn’t looking. And at some point, you realize that because of Levi, you haven’t thought about the letters all day.

“Armin, what was Annie apologizing for at dinner the other night?” You ask a few days later as the two of you work side by side in the heat.

He frowns at your question. You’re both sweating, digging through debris and stacking bricks that might one day become the walls of a school or a home. He doesn’t answer right away.

“Sorry,” you add after a moment. “You don’t have to share if it’s too much.”

He exhales slowly. “It’s complicated. But then again, what isn’t these days?”

You let out a quiet breath of agreement.

“It has to do with Eren,” he says, softer now.

Your brows pull together at the name. Eren Yeager. The shadow that has hung over everything these past few months.

“You were close, weren’t you? You and Eren.”

He nods. “He was my best friend.”

You glance away, trying to steady the flicker of anger in your chest. The idea of blaming one person for the Rumbling feels both right and wrong. Living alongside the soldiers who once stood by Eren has made it harder to see things in black and white. Your father used to say there was no justice in war. You think of the long nights at the kitchen table, arguing that very point. You always had a feeling that the conflict between the Eldians and Marley would take something from you. You just never imagined it would be everything.

Armin is staring off into the distance when he says, “It was a long time ago, but Annie killed Captain Levi’s entire squad. They were protecting Eren. She was trying to take him back to Marley.”

Your hand pauses mid-motion. You knew Annie was a warrior, and you knew warriors had to kill. But Levi’s entire squad?

"That's what she was apologizing for?" you ask incredulously.

He nods solemnly.

“I don’t know much about Annie’s time on Paradis,” you admit. “Reiner didn’t say much when he came back, but we noticed that he’d...changed.”

Armin finally meets your eyes. “Annie, Bertholdt, Reiner... they killed a lot of our friends. Some directly. Others through the choices they made. If they hadn’t broken the wall, Eren’s mother wouldn’t have been eaten right in front of him.”

You nod, the weight of it all settling deeper in your chest. “I said at dinner that my father taught me history. And I knew...we all knew...what Marley was doing to Paradis. It broke my heart. What the people on the island endured in the name of justice, in the name of correcting the past... it never seemed fair. Why should something that happened so long ago lead to consequences like this? To people like me and you being born into a war we didn’t choose? There were times when I wanted to burn it all down. I guess... I understand. A little.”

Armin watches you quietly, eyes searching your face.

You shift, gathering your courage. “How are you?”

He blinks. “Me?”

You nod. “Yeah. With all this. With Eren.”

He lets out a long, tired sigh. “It’s been hard.”

You hum in agreement, the silence between you stretching for a moment.

“It wasn’t just Eren,” he says finally. “We lost Commander Hange that day too. And Mikasa... she was the one who... well. After it ended, she left. I haven’t seen her since. I know she went back to Paradis, but...”

He trails off, his gaze drifting to some distant point. You watch the sadness flicker through him, brief but sharp. You're aware that Armin, Levi, Jean, and Connie aren't the only soldiers who helped stop the Rumbling, but you aren’t sure what happened to the others. Guilt twists in your gut over how much you've been unaware of.

“Do you really not blame him?” he asks quietly.

You take a deep breath before answering. “I don’t know. No. Yes. But mostly, I just miss my family and things that don’t exist anymore. And I can’t make sense of all this pain by blaming one person, right? It doesn’t work like that. The answers go further back than Eren. When I ask myself why he would do something like that all I can do is look at Marley. And when I ask why Marley did what they did, I’m left with a question that feels older than any of us. Why are humans so drawn to violence? Why do we keep choosing it? Why can’t we choose differently? Who even started all of this?”

Armin nods, slow and solemn, his eyes downcast.

“There are no winners in war,” you whisper. “I’ve known that since the day we were sent to Liberio. I always had this feeling that my story wouldn’t end well. Like I was walking a tightrope. At night, I used to wake up afraid they’d come for us, that they’d kill me or my parents. Especially because of my father. Since he was a philosophy professor they watched us constantly, waiting for any sign of dissent. I think deep down, I was always expecting to lose someone. One way or another.”

Armin is quiet, letting your words settle. Your eyes lose focus as your thoughts drift, hands resting on a brick in your lap.

Finally, he glances at you again. “It seems like even though we were worlds apart, our lives weren’t so different. After the walls fell, we always felt like we were being hunted. Like at any moment, titans would come crashing through and it would all be over.”

You nod, quietly.

Then he asks, “What did the captain say to you the other night?”

“When?”

“After dinner, when you told us about yourself. You seemed...upset.”

You click your tongue and glance away. “He told me I need to get a grip.”

Armin sighs. “Yeah. That sounds like him. Still... I’m sorry.”

“He’s not wrong,” you admit. “I was falling apart.”

“Even so. The captain’s methods of comfort can be... harsh. He carries grief differently. But I understand you. When my parents died, I didn’t speak for months. It’s hard. And you’ve lost more than just your parents.”

You blink quickly, trying to keep the tears from falling. “Thank you, Armin. That means more than you know.”

He nods.

“When did your parents die?” you ask softly.

“I was ten,” he says. “They tried to go over the wall. The military police shot them.”

Your hand rises to your mouth. “Armin…”

“I lived with my grandfather after that,” he continues. “Until Wall Maria fell. Then they sent him out with the first group to try and reclaim it. But it wasn’t a real mission. It was just a way to thin the population. We didn’t have enough food.”

You swallow hard. “Because of... Marley.”

He nods once, quietly.

“It feels like we’ve been hurting each other forever,” you murmur.

“Yeah.”

“How do we move forward?”

“I don’t know,” he says.

You both sit there, staring off into the distance, lost in thought. Suddenly, a familiar voice breaks the stillness.

“Oi, brats.”

You both turn. Levi stands a few feet behind you, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. You wonder how long he’s been standing there. How much he heard.

“Captain?” Armin says.

“Enough gossiping. Let’s go. We’re calling it a day.”

You glance up, surprised by the angle of the sun. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.

That night at dinner Levi takes the seat beside you again. This time his presence doesn’t feel heavy or uncomfortable, but grounding. Just like it did the first time you met. He doesn’t brush your arm. Doesn’t lean in or speak more than necessary, but there’s a pull, quiet and steady, in the way he sits beside you without asking anything from you. Your heart beats a little quicker at the thought.

You push your food around the bowl, not really tasting it. Trying to shift the current of your thoughts, you circle back to your conversation with Armin earlier. You had asked about Annie, but it was Eren’s name that hung over everything. That name, that legacy, stitched into the fabric of every loss you now carried.

Armin's words still ring in your ears. Do you truly not hold Eren responsible?

You do and you don’t. How could you explain the contradiction? That you miss your family with everything in you and still believe Eren was not the only one to blame. That war made monsters of everyone. That no one came out clean.

Levi shifts beside you breaking the current of your thoughts. He stands and reaches for your bowl without a word. 

“Oh,” you say, startled. “You don’t have to—”

He raises a brow. “What, planning to lick it clean?”

His voice is low, dry, and familiar. It sends a shiver down your spine. 

You don’t have the strength to volley back, but a small smile pulls at your lips anyway. “No. Just...thanks.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s no edge to it. You watch him walk toward the kitchen. The ache in your chest tightens, you do not follow. You push back your chair and leave quietly, slipping out before he returns.

Back in your room, the silence feels heavier than usual. And when the tears come, they come fast.

Your conversation with Armin has torn something open. Your grief feels raw again, as if no time has passed at all. What were you even saying, how could you not blame Eren? Of course you do. But how could you say that to his best friend?

You know it's complicated. You know it's layered. But none of that matters right now. All you feel is the ache. You miss your parents. You miss your home. Even if it was only half a life. Even if it was always lived on a fault line. You want to go back.

So you cry, quietly and hopelessly, until sleep finally takes you.

The next day brings the sun, work, and thankfully, distraction. You lose yourself in labor, sweat, and the rhythm of stacking brick and clearing debris. By evening, your body aches and your thoughts have quieted. You eat dinner without really tasting it, then slip outside in search of air. You find Armin standing just beyond the door with a cup of tea, staring out at the horizon. When you join him, he offers a small smile, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. The sky is streaked with gold and violet, its beauty is humbling.

Wanting something lighter than yesterday’s conversation, you nudge him playfully with your elbow.

“So...you and Annie?”

Armin sputters mid-sip, and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m just teasing,” you grin. “You two seem close, is all.”

He lets out a breath, half a laugh, then sighs. “I don’t know. I’ve always had a soft spot for her.”

You nod, your smile turning wistful. “That must be nice. To have someone like that.”

“Hmm. It is, but it’s complicated. You know… with everything I shared with you yesterday.”

You nod again. 

“You were in Squad Levi, right?” you ask. “Was that after Annie, you know…”

“Mhm,” Armin says, his gaze distant. “I used to wonder why we were chosen. At the time, Squad Levi’s mission was to protect the Attack Titan and Queen Historia. It didn’t really make sense...choosing a bunch of teenagers fresh out of cadet training. But later, the captain told me it was intentional. He picked us because we were close friends. He thought that bond would make us fight harder to protect each other. And Eren.”

You blink. “Wow. Never thought Levi would be so… soft like that.”

Armin chuckles. “He’d hate hearing it put that way, but yeah. He lost a lot when his first squad died. I think he just didn’t want to go through that again. We weren’t just soldiers to him. Not really.”

You glance over, thoughtful. “You, Connie, and Jean really trust him.”

He nods. “Yeah, I guess that’s what happens when you’re a band of orphans who grow up under someone.”

“You’re all orphans?”

He shrugs. “Not exactly. Mikasa, Eren, and I are. Jean’s mom is still around, and both of Sasha’s parents are alive. But Connie’s parents… they were turned into titans by Zeke. His mom’s the only one who lived long enough to be turned back. They’re trying to bring her and Sasha’s family here soon. News came in from Queen Historia. There’s unrest with the Jaegerists. It’s…not looking great.”

Your stomach tightens. “You’re kidding.”

He shakes his head grimly.

“What kind of unrest?”

Armin’s voice lowers. “The Jaegerists were pro-Rumbling. They attacked us when we tried to leave Paradis. If not for them, maybe we could’ve stopped it sooner.”

He pauses, then adds, more quietly, “Historia says we’re not welcome there anymore because we killed Eren. Connie’s mom and Sasha’s family are hiding out with Historia. She's worried the Yaegerists will target them.”

You feel his words sink in. Cold and heavy. The tang of bitterness creeps across your tongue.

"That's horrible," you say.

“It is, but I need to try going back soon. It’s important we keep the peace. It’s the only path forward. We can’t keep looking over our shoulders.”

You glance at him. “Will you all go back?”

Armin gives you a thoughtful look. “Jean and Connie, definitely. The captain... I’m not so sure.”

“Oh? Why not?”

He hesitates, then shrugs. “Just a feeling.”

You squint at him.

“Why, interested?”

“What? No...why would you say that?” you sputter.

Armin studies you, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Oh, no reason. Besides, he’s not going to go anywhere with Gabi and Falco being so attached to him.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “Oh, fuck off.”

He bursts out laughing, and you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

Over the next few days, you and Armin grow more comfortable around each other. His spirit is gentle and grounding, and you grow closer with ease. You talk as you dig, stack, and haul. Sometimes you fall into a comfortable silence, content just to share the same space. You find yourself seeking him out more often. In the morning before breakfast, after dinner to watch the sunset. Sometimes you're joined by Annie, Connie, or Jean.

Eventually, when the sun is low one evening and the air has cooled just enough to breathe freely, you tell him about the letters from Hizuru. 

“Are you going to go?” he asks gently.

You stare down at your hands. “I don’t know. Everything here feels so haunted, but I can’t imagine Hizuru feeling better. And I don’t want to leave you all.”

Armin nods, his expression thoughtful. “That’s how I feel about going back to Paradis.”

You offer a tired smile. “I guess we’ll both have to make the decision eventually.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The last light of the day glows softly along the horizon. 

“I think when it’s time,” he says quietly, “you’ll know. Maybe not in your head. But in your heart.”

You nod, unsure if you believe him. Unsure if you will be able to follow through when the moment finally arrives. 

That night, sleep does not come easily. Your thoughts keep circling and eventually you give up on rest entirely. You tiptoe downstairs long after the others have gone to bed, intent on slipping outside for a breath of fresh air. The house is quiet, save for the groan of old floorboards under your feet and the hum of crickets through the windows. You want to see the stars. The moon is not quite full, but bright enough to cast silver shadows across the yard.

You are almost to the door when you freeze, startled. There's a shape on the couch. You tip-toe quietly over, freezing when you recognize the form.

Levi.

He is half-sitting, half-slumped against the armrest, arms crossed, head tilted forward in a way that cannot be comfortable.

You squint at him in the low light. Would it be weird to just walk away? Should you say something? What would you say? You two don’t talk much outside of dinner. The man has somehow made himself your silent guardian at that time, always sitting by your side. It makes you feel strange in a way you can’t quite name, but now you just feel awkward. You've been standing here too long and definitely need to say something. Finally, you gather the courage.

“Are you…alive?”

A moments passes before he opens his eyes and gives you a withering stare in reply.

You purse your lips, regretting everything that has led you to this moment.

You glance at the door, then back at him. “I was going to go outside. It’s clear tonight.”

He does not respond.

You hover for a moment, then murmur, “Sorry… I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Feeling absolutely mortified, and honestly like you've taken your friendship back a few steps, you turn and slip out onto the porch and sit on the top step, pulling your knees to your chest. The air is cool and clean, the scent of earth and old wood grounding you. The stars are bright tonight, sharp against the velvet sky, and you tilt your head back to take them in. For a few minutes, you just breathe.

The door creaks behind you.

You glance over your shoulder, surprised to see Levi stepping out. He settles onto the porch next to you without a word.

For a second your heart rate increases, but he doesn't say anything, or even look at you. So you let it go and go back to staring up at the stars. The silence that settles isn’t uncomfortable, which you think is miraculous. 

After a while, you break the silence. “It feels like the world should have stopped spinning.”

He hums in response, then looks to you. You notice he’s positioned himself with his good eye on your side.

The two of you sit like that, staring at each other for a long time. You’re a little in awe at your lack of self consciousness, but then again, this man has seen you throw up, sob, and trip and fall on your face. There’s not much left that could truly embarrass you in front of him. You study his eyes, noting once again how much they resemble silver starlight. Curious, you glance up at the sky to compare, a faint smile tugging at your lips. You are still looking upward when you realize he's still looking at you. After another quiet minute, he finally turns his gaze away.

You both remain there, not speaking, not touching. Just breathing the same night air, beneath the same indifferent sky.

The next morning you pack yourself into a rickety old truck, the kind that groans at every turn and feels one pothole away from falling apart. Onyankopon drives with steady hands, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Levi sits in the passenger seat, a folded map resting in his lap, scanning the landscape. You’re wedged in the back with a canteen of water pressed to your lips, trying not to voice your regret for volunteering.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. You needed a reason to leave Didgori, even just for a few hours. Everyone else had already taken turns going on supply runs, so it was yours by default. Still, you hadn’t expected Levi to join. He hasn’t spoken to you since you both climbed into the truck and honestly, you're not sure if you expected him to.

Neither of you has mentioned the night before. It lingers between you now, unspoken. You had shared a moment under the stars, closer than either of you had meant to be, yet not close enough to name. 

You shift against the stiff bench, knees pressed to the seat in front of you, and take another sip of your water. Outside the window the scenery slips past in a blur of trees and dry grass. You think about the day ahead of you.

The farmers you're going to see have been recklessly generous, sending what they can to Didgori even when it means tightening their own belts. That kind of selflessness unsettles you. People don’t give without expecting something in return. That’s how the world worked. Or at least, that’s how you used to believe it worked. It was easier to assume everyone was selfish. Your father used to say that belief was just a matter of perspective. You would roll your eyes every time he said it, brushing it off as one of his abstract truths. But lately, you've been coming around to his perspective.

You keep thinking about what Armin said last week. About moving forward without more blood. About choosing peace, even if it feels impossible. He spoke like he really believed it could happen. Like it was just a matter of choosing to see the world differently. Is it really that simple? Just a shift in perspective? Your father would have said yes without hesitation. 

Up front, Levi folds the map in one smooth motion, wedging it between the seat and the console. He glances over his shoulder, his eyes meeting yours for a second. In the daylight, they look different. Less like the silver starlight you saw last night and more like the gray and blue hues of morning fog before the sun has risen. The intensity is still there, but it feels more distant now. You hold his stare longer than you mean to, until it becomes uncomfortable, then look away.

As your eyes drop, you catch Onyankopon watching you in the rearview mirror. His curious gaze flickers back and forth between you and Levi. 

After what feels like forever, the truck finally slows to a stop at the edge of the village. Onyankopon climbs out first, stretching his arms high above his head with a quiet groan. Levi follows a moment later and the two of them make their way toward a small group of farmers gathered near one of the storage buildings, boots crunching over dry gravel.

You stay seated for a moment, watching them walk away. Then you pull the supply list from your pocket and step down onto the dirt road. The village looks almost exactly as you remember it. A handful of stalls line the edge of the market square, run by farmers and local craftsmen. Though calm, the town is full of movement. People drift between stalls with unhurried steps, voices cheerful as they trade goods. There is no urgency here, only the bustle of habit and need.

You move through the market with your list in mind, starting at a stall with handmade soaps and household staples. You pick up a few rough-cut bars, a sack of flour, and a packet of salt. The woman behind the table watches you with thinly veiled interest, but she says nothing. You nod, pay, and move on.

At a notary’s table wedged between two vegetable vendors, you spot a stack of coarse paper. It's not on the list, but you pause anyway. An idea blooms suddenly and you reach for a small bundle, the texture of the paper rough beneath your fingers. You quickly pay for it and add it to your basket before you can overthink it.

You are just about to turn back to the truck when the tea stall catches your eye. You scan the shelves, fingers reaching for a bag of dried black tea. The reserves at the house have been running low. You’ve noticed it more during dinner lately. How often a certain someone reaches for the kettle. You're pretty sure Levi drinks more tea than water at this point. A picture of him sitting beside you flashes through your mind. His delicate fingers curled around the rim of a teacup instead of the handle. What a strange man. Even the way he drinks his tea is particular. So unmistakably him.

You lift the bag, then pause when you notice a small brown parcel tucked into the corner of the shelf.

Coffee.

You stare at it, unmoving. Real coffee beans sealed tightly in a thin brown bag. It looks out of place amongst the rows of herbal teas and dried fruit blends. Your hand moves cautiously, as if touching it might make it disappear. A faint bitter, nutty scent rises as you lift the bag and check the price.

It's expensive. Far too much for a supply run, but you decide to keep it. You add it to your growing armful of black tea and herbal blends before carrying the bundle to the shopkeeper. He begins counting your notes while you stand still. The scent of the coffee lingers in your nose, reminding you of the past…Early mornings before running off for rehearsal, your mother stirring a pinch of sugar in to cut the bitterness.

The shopkeeper, an older man with sun worn skin and a creased brow, pauses halfway through counting. He looks up at you, narrowing his eyes a little.

“Aren’t you that piano girl?”

Your heart stutters at the question. “Oh?” you say, keeping your voice even.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “You’re that Eldian pianist.”

Your fingers tense around the coffee. There it is, you think, waiting for his tone to shift. For the scorn to show in his face. For him to ask why you’re still walking around. Why an Eldian like you is still allowed to buy tea and soap and paper.

But it doesn’t come.

“My wife and I saw you perform last year,” he says instead. “In the capital. That theater on the river.”

You glance up, surprised. “Oh,” you say again, but softer this time.

You’re still waiting for the rest of it. The drop. The insult.

He watches you for a moment. Then his eyes soften.

“Take it,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

He gestures to the bag of coffee in your hand. “Keep it. No charge.”

You frown. “Why?”

He shrugs, then takes a breath, working through his answer. “The music you played that night...it stayed with me. I kept thinking about it after everything that happened. Honestly, while you were playing, I forgot you were Eldian.”

You stay quiet, heart thudding in your chest. He continues.

“I know how that sounds, but it’s the truth. I sat there in that theater hearing something that felt too beautiful to come from someone I had been taught to fear. I remember thinking...someone who can play like that must feel deeply. Must love deeply. That’s not something a monster or devil can do.”

His voice lowers, rough now. “It made me question everything I thought I knew. If you were human enough to play like that, then you had to be human in every other way. Which meant all of you were. That was a dangerous thought. A traitorous one, back then.”

He looks down at the counter, eyes unfocused. “But it never left me. Especially after the Rumbling. When the survivors from the coast came here, the fear turned ugly. People started talking. I could feel myself slipping into it again, but then I’d remember the way your music made me feel. It made it harder to hate.”

“Thank you.” He finally meets your eyes again.

You look down at the bag in your hands. It feels heavier than it did before.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Really.”

He nods again, warmth filling his face. “Take care,” he says. “And...keep playing.”

You leave the stall with your arms full, but it's not the coffee that lightens your steps. It's the feeling that your music meant something in spite of everything Marley used it for. By the time you return to the truck your arms ache and your basket is nearly overflowing, but your mood is lighter than it has been in weeks. 

“You’re looking chipper,” Onyankopon says in greeting.

“They were selling coffee,” you reply, holding up the bag of beans. “I couldn’t believe it. I bought some tea too. Levi, you won't have to ration your daily intake anymore.” 

Levi clicks his tongue but doesn’t look displeased. You smile at him, bright and warm.

“Honestly, I’ve been going through caffeine withdrawals. Our black tea supply just hasn’t been cutting it,” you say.

Onyankopon barks out a laugh. “I haven’t wanted to say anything, but I’ve definitely been going through it too. That coffee wasn’t there last time we came into town.”

You nod. “There’s not enough to get fully addicted again, but it’ll be a nice treat. I even grabbed some sugar to go with it.”

You hear Levi scoff at that.

“What?” you laugh. “Don’t tell me you take it black.”

He eyes you for a second. “I don't drink coffee, but sugar just ruins the flavor.”

You and Onyankopon look at each other before bursting into laughter.

“Seriously?” you grin. “The sugar complements it. Ever had coffee icecream?”

Levi shifts, a little awkward. “No…the brats tried icecream when we came to Marley for the first time. Ages ago.”

Onyankopon chuckles. “I remember that. Sasha and Hange ran off to try and feed the car.”

A pained look crosses Levi’s face but it’s gone in an instant, “Mhm, those idiots.” 

You nudge him gently. “Hmm. Maybe if you tried coffee you wouldn’t be so short-tempered.”

“You’re saying that because it has more caffeine than tea?”

“Mhm.”

He narrows his eyes. “Didn’t you two idiots just say you were going through withdrawals because of that shit?”

Your smile only grows. “Sure, but you could still try it.”

“No thanks.”

“Aw, come on…”

He just rolls his eyes at you before snatching the bag from your hands to carry it himself. 

“Hey, Levi!” you snap, but there’s no bite in your tone. 

He just walks over to the truck without another word. You groan in mock annoyance, shifting the rest of the supplies in your arms. Beside you, Onyankopon chuckles under his breath.

The ride home is quiet at first. Dust rises behind the truck, catching in the early afternoon light. You lean your head against the window, eyes on the fields blurring past.

“How did it go with the farmers?” you ask eventually, voice soft.

“Fine. Still some hostility, but no worse than usual,” Onyankopon says.

You nod slowly, letting his words settle.

The truth is, you have been so caught up in your own grief and questions that you haven’t really considered what it means to live in this new world. A world without Titans, but still full of fear. The shift is hard to name. The hostility aimed at your people never felt right, but it became familiar. Predictable. Now, with the armbands gone and the systems that once enforced them dismantled, everything feels looser. Undefined.

It's harder to tell who is who. Unless someone recognizes one of the warriors, or you, like the shopkeeper did earlier, there is no easy way to identify you as Eldian. More and more, people assume you are Hizuran. The shape of your eyes. The way your hair falls. A neat, easy box strangers eagerly place you in.

You exhale. “One of the shopkeepers brought that up, actually. The prejudice. He ended up giving me the coffee for free, but for a second, I thought he was going to spit on me.”

Levi’s turns back to you. “He knew you were Eldian?”

You nod, chewing the inside of your cheek. “He recognized me. He and his wife saw one of my performances in the capital. He said it made him see past our differences. Which is...funny, I guess. I wonder what Marley would think of that.”

Levi clicks his tongue. Onyankopon hums thoughtfully.

“It's true. Anti-Eldian sentiment has been high. I think you’ve all been sheltered from the worst of it because of your role in ending the Rumbling.” He nods toward Levi. “That’s why I’ve volunteered for all of these supply runs, but honestly, I’m not sure I do much better. My face tends to stir its own set of assumptions.”

You glance at him, the weight of his words not lost on you as you recall the intense anti-immigrant rhetoric that was just as prevalent as Eldian hate in Marleyan society.

“Do you think it’ll ever get better?” you ask. “Really better?”

Onyankopon keeps his eyes on the road, thinking. “I don’t know, but what's the alternative? We have to hope.”

You think of Armin again, his voice still echoing in your mind. Maybe peace is possible, but it's not a straight line. It is a thousand small, uncertain steps. Like a man in a market stall choosing to remember your music instead of your bloodline. A single act of kindness chipping away at something old and bitter.

Small steps. But steps all the same.

Chapter Text

The rainy season has arrived, steady and unrelenting, but no one minds. The downpour offers the perfect excuse to stay tucked indoors.

It’s late afternoon and the house is warm with amber lamp light, noise, and the scent of sugar and butter. Everyone is crowded between the living room, dining table, and kitchen, drawn to each other’s company. Pieck, Gabi, and Falco are scrounging around for cookie dough ingredients while you and the others play a card game and chat softly. 

“Wait, we don’t have chocolate chips.” Falco shouts. 

“What? I asked Connie and Jean to get some on the last supply run,” Gabi whines. 

Connie and Jean whip their heads toward each other.

“I thought you were going to grab them,” Connie says to Jean. 

“You idiot. You were the one going to the marketplace.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

“Captaaain,” Gabi groans dramatically. “Make Jean and Connie drive to get chocolate chips. You’re the only one they listen to.”

“Hey!” Jean snaps.

“Well?” Levi says seriously to the boys, putting down his cards. You watch as he looks up with a glint of amusement in his eyes. 

“Captain, seriously?” Connie whines. 

Levi shrugs in Gabi’s direction. She groans louder, and Falco smacks her arm with an exasperated sigh.

“How are we going to make chocolate chip cookies without them?” 

“Gabi, quit whining,” Reiner scolds from your side. 

“They’ll taste fine without them, Gabi,” Pieck says, voice soothing.

“How about adding cinnamon?” Armin offers from across the table.

“Oh, yum,” you say. “My mom and I used to make those. They’re amazing with coffee.”

Levi scoffs.

“What?”

“You and your coffee.”

“Me and my coffee? How about you and your tea?”

Connie and Jean both laugh before Levi shoots them a withering look, shutting them up immediately.

A few minutes later Pieck finishes folding the cinnamon into the dough, and Connie is suddenly at the counter with a spoon yelling for a taste test. 

“Disgusting,” you hear Levi mutter.

“Don’t worry, Captain, I won’t double dip!” Connie calls. 

“Reiner! Try this,” he adds, waving Reiner over.

Gabi and Falco join them, passing spoons and laughing while Pieck leans over the counter.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get this dough in the oven before it disappears.”

You glance out the window, watching as the rain falls steadily, blurring the glass. The light inside the kitchen glows golden across everyone’s faces and the cluttered counters. You smile softly, savoring the happiness and peace surrounding you. 

“Oi. Wash your hands,” Levi snaps as Gabi walks over to sit next to him. 

She freezes, locking eyes with you. You both burst out laughing. She knocks over Levi’s empty tea mug as she sits down, but he catches it with lightning reflexes.

“Nice one, Captain! You still got it!” Connie cheers. 

“Moron.” Levi rolls his eyes, which you laugh at. 

A few minutes later Pieck pulls the steaming cookies from the oven. “Alright, you animals. Let them cool for at least two minutes.”

Falco’s already reaching for one before Gabi runs over and smacks his hand away.

“Back off. I stirred.”

“I measured!”

“You two are exhausting,” Reiner mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You rise from your chair and cross to the counter with the others. Someone presses a warm cookie into your hand. You take a bite and the sweet, soft, cinnamon laced dough melts on your tongue. 

“Good?” Pieck asks, her grin smug and a little flour dusting her cheek.

“Delicious,” you say honestly.

The next morning brings the same quality of stolen peace. There’s no cleaning to be done, no gardening, no supply runs. The house feels safe and still smells faintly of the cinnamon cookies you all crowded in the kitchen to make yesterday. It’s all deliciously untouched by the outside world.

You like to sleep in on slow mornings like this, so you drift into the kitchen around noon, still half-asleep, hair a mess, and oversized sweater is slipping off one shoulder. You didn’t even bother with shoes.

You would have stayed in bed, but you really want some coffee. The contents of the bag have dwindled these last few weeks, thanks to you, Pieck, and Onyankopon. Honestly, you thought it would be gone in a day or two, but the Paradis soldiers and parents all politely declined your offer to share. 

You expect to find the kitchen empty, but instead you’re greeted by the shape of Levi leaning against the counter. His arms are crossed with one leg casually hooked over the other. He looks strangely relaxed in his casual gray long sleeve and black pants. In the filtered late morning light, he looks, well…

You stop yourself from giving name to your thoughts.

You watch him for a moment, actually wondering if he’s asleep. Then he looks up and meets your eyes.

For a moment, neither of you moves.

Then he reaches beside him, picks up a steaming mug, and holds it out to you. You blink, reaching for it slowly. You glance down, then back up at him.

“Is this...coffee?” You ask, groggy and stunned.

“What do you think?”

You study him, looking down and up sleepily. 

“You know how to make coffee?” you ask dumbly. 

“Pieck showed me how.”

Your mouth opens before your brain catches up. “You were spending time with Pieck?”

It slips out wrong. You sound way more incredulous and possessive than you meant to. Definitely more curious than you should be, and you aren’t sure why his statement surprises you so much.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Drink your coffee. You’re stupid without your caffeine.”

And with that, he’s gone. You’re left alone in the doorway, holding the mug with both hands, blinking after him.

You glance down at the cup. Then back at the empty space where he stood. Slowly, you make your way to the dining table and sit. The chair creaks under you, loud in the quiet. You take a sip.

It’s sweet.

He added sugar.

Your stomach flips. You sit straighter in your seat.

He added sugar.

You’ve never directly told him how you take it. Or have you? Suddenly you’re jarred fully awake by the fact that he knew when to expect you in the kitchen. Were you that predictable? Or was he just paying close attention to you? He noticed and remembered. Of course he did. Levi notices and remembers everything. You grip the mug tighter. It’s still warm, still comforting, but the way it makes you feel is not comforting at all.

He brought you coffee.

That shouldn’t mean anything. He’s brought Armin tea before. You’ve seen him refill Onyankopon’s cup at dinner. Maybe to Levi this means nothing. You shift in your seat, suddenly aware of how your sweater is slipping off your shoulder. You tug it up. Run your fingers through your hair. You didn’t even brush it. You didn’t think anyone would be in the kitchen, much less him. And now all you can think about is the way his eyes looked when they met yours. Tired as usual, but soft.

You take another sip of coffee and close your eyes, willing the heat to reach somewhere deeper.

Maybe this is all in your head. Maybe it is just coffee.

But then again...your father used to bring your mother tea every morning. No words. Just the gesture and the same silence Levi left behind. You groan softly and drop your head into your hand. Don’t start comparing this to your parents. Why does your head always jump so far when you think of Levi?  Besides, you know how that story ends. You know the risk of letting someone in. 

You exhale slowly and lift your head, but your heart keeps ticking faster, like it knows something you’re not ready to admit.

What the hell is happening to you?

The mug is still warm in your hands when you head back up to your room and close the door behind you. 

You pause at your desk, brushing your fingers across the stack of paper you bought on impulse. Digging through your things, you pull out the old scores you found in the ruins some time ago. Then you sit and begin to study one of the pieces. You're so thankful you found this one. It’s difficult and brutal both technically and emotionally, but you love it. You feel a tug of yearning at the sight of it. If you go to Hizuru you could play it again. 

You grab a blank sheet of paper and write the title at the top: Chaconne in D minor. You draw staff lines across the page, turning it into makeshift sheet music, and begin copying the legible notes, filling in the missing ones from memory.

The idea came to you the moment you saw the paper in the market. It started with this piece, but now your mind is full of fragments. You can feel them all rising to the surface like ghosts. Whole worlds of sound, gone. You don’t know what survived the Rumbling, so you need to take down as much as you remember.

Another pang of loss runs through you. So much art was destroyed. Not just music, but paintings, sculptures, libraries, theaters…all turned to ash.

So many voices, so much history. Lost. Your anger at Eren resurfaces, strong and bitter. This loss, this silence, you can place squarely at his feet.

You keep writing. 

It’s tedious work, but your hand moves faster than your thoughts now. As long as there is something left in your memory, something left in your hands, you can try to bring it back. 

Several hours later, you return to the kitchen with your empty coffee mug. You think briefly about pouring another cup but decide against it. Better to make the batch last, tea will have to do. 

You round the corner and pause. Levi and Pieck are sitting at the dining table, talking in low voices. Their postures are relaxed, familiar. She’s smiling. He’s leaning back, arms folded, eyes half-lidded in the way they get when he’s listening.

That twinge from earlier returns. It sits in the pit of your stomach, sharp and uncomfortable. I'm being ridiculous, you think but start to backtrack anyway, thinking you’ll just come back later. But Pieck looks up and spots you.

“Come sit,” she says, her tone warm and easy.

You meet her eyes, then glance at Levi. He doesn’t speak, but he watches you. After a second, you nod and walk over, sliding into the seat beside her.

“What are you two up to?” You ask, aiming for casual.

“Oh, you know. Reminiscing over battle scars,” Pieck says with a grin. You catch the faintest smirk at the corner of Levi’s mouth.

Right. They have that shared history. One you’ll never fully understand. You hum and rest your chin on your hand, trying not to show your discomfort. Your eyes drift toward Pieck again.

“Where were you?” she asks.

Before you can answer, Levi’s gaze drops to the empty mug in your hand, then to the faint ink staining your fingers.

“Copying sheet music,” you say. “It would be a shame if it was all lost.”

“You were writing from memory?” Pieck’s brows lift.

“Not all, but a good amount,” you murmur. “I’m wiped.”

“That’s a good idea, though,” Pieck says. “I’m guessing a lot of manuscripts were destroyed.”

“Mhm.”

“Shouldn’t you wash your hands? You’ll get ink everywhere.” Levi grumbles seemingly on impulse. 

“Hello to you too,” you say flatly.

He crosses his arms, eyebrows raised.

You groan then say, “I did. They’re stained.”

Irritation prickles at your chest. You doubt the first thing he said to Pieck today was a comment about the state of her hands.

You sigh quietly. Levi clicks his tongue again and you roll your eyes. You look at Pieck who is watching you both with an amused expression. 

“Well,” you say, pushing back from the table. “I was just coming down for some tea. Catch up with you two later.”

You stand without waiting for a response and cross to the stove. You don’t look back, but your mind betrays you and you wonder if Levi is watching. 

It's been a month since you first opened the letters from Kiyomi and Ellery. Now, finally, you stop putting off a response.

You write to Ellery first, telling her about your new manuscript project. You ask if she has any surviving scores and welcome any advice on the matter, even if it’s just to tell you your efforts are futile.

Then you write to Kiyomi. You thank her for the invitation to the memorial, but let her know you will not be attending. It’s too much. The thought of standing among the ashes and names carved into stone makes your chest cave in. You promise to consider visiting eventually, when you're ready.

Though the idea of seeing Ellery and playing your instrument again is alluring, you're simply not ready to go to Hizuru.

However, staying in Marley is not simple either…even as time passes and the shock dulls. Every corner in Liberio carries a memory, a fresh wave of grief. Everyday it feels like you’re wandering through a haunted house  

Still, leaving now would mean walking away from something else. Something slowly stitching itself together in your heart.

You have grown closer to your new community. Armin, of course, but also Jean, Connie, and Onyankopon. They share their losses and tell you about the grief that had been accumulating years before the Rumbling.

Jean tells you about Marco, the friend that inspired him to join the Survey Corp. They all tell you about their former commander, Hange, one of Levi’s closest friends. Connie talks about Sasha, the girl Gabi shot during the raid on Liberio. Thankfully, Sasha survived, and was recovering in Paradis when the Rumbling began. They hold out hope that she and her family might join them here in Marley someday.

They talk about Mikasa, Eren and Armin’s childhood friend and, to your surprise, Levi’s cousin. You see the tension in Jean’s brow when he describes her, and there’s something tender and sad in the way he speaks about her. You decide not to press.

Pieck and Reiner often join the conversation. Sometimes the discussion circles back to the Jaegerists and the conflict still unfolding on Paradis. Other times, it drifts toward what it was like to grow up in a world shadowed by Titans. Reiner speaks openly of his guilt. Jean and Connie respond with memories of comrades devoured before their eyes. Some of these talks end in silence, others in arguments. Armin says this is part of the process, a necessary step toward healing.

Out of everyone, it’s Levi’s presence that brings you the most comfort.

At first, you felt judged by him. But over time, you’ve learned how to read the shifts in his expression, the meaning behind his silences. He doesn’t speak often, but when he does, you’re quick to listen. Every time your eyes meet, something stirs in your chest. A flutter that catches you off guard.

You get frustrated with your own thoughts, cursing your stupid hormones. Still, you can admit it’s a welcome distraction from the bleakness around you.

You try not to show it, but you feel giddy when you end up beside him while doing chores. You savor the quiet comfort of his presence at dinner. And sometimes, when you wake in the middle of the night and slip outside to clear your mind, you find him already on the couch.

You tell yourself it would be rude to ignore him. That’s all. So you ask him to join you under the stars.

He always does, never saying much and sometimes, nothing at all. But he always follows, and that’s enough to make your heart race.

Life continues around you, whether you are ready or not.

Annie’s father has been building an unmarked grave site for those lost in Liberio. The memorial will be unveiled at the end of the week, and everyone plans to attend. You wish you could offer something. If there were a piano, you could play. But there’s not, so you feel useless. Anxious.

Honestly, it feels like a miracle that you've managed to keep the worst of the hysteria at bay since those first weeks after the Rumbling. You’ve definitely grown stronger, but this threatens to undo all your progress. 

When the day arrives, Mr. Leonhart leads everyone to the hillside. It is covered in crosses and carved angels, row upon row climbing toward the sky.

The sight is brutal.

It feels wrong that there are no names. The faces of the dead are gone, and now there is only wood and stone to speak for them. You search the rows for something to anchor you. For some unmarked space you could pretend belongs to your mother, to your father, but there is nothing you feel you can claim. No spot private enough to kneel beside. No place safe enough to say goodbye.

You walk the path quietly with the others, unable to cry or speak, your feet moving while your mind shuts down. You are dimly aware of Levi hovering near you, just a few steps behind, but you cannot bring yourself to acknowledge him.

Your mother used to joke that you were the emotional one in your family. Your father would smile and say it made you brilliant. That your feelings lived in your fingers. That was what made you such a passionate musician and how you could sit at the piano and say more than words ever could. You believed him. You always have.

But now you wish you could feel nothing. You wish you could quiet your heart and move with the world instead of falling behind. At times like this, you feel distant from everyone else, like grief has stranded you in place. For once, you envy the soldiers around you. They know how to steady themselves, how to shoulder their pain without letting it spill over.

You wonder what your parents would say about the state of the world now. The sound of their voices escapes you, but you remember the way they looked as they would talk at the dinner table. How they laughed with their whole bodies. The way they looked at each other when they thought no one was watching. You cling to those memories, desperate to keep them. But the sounds and scents are slipping away. The smell of your mother’s hair. The rasp in your father’s voice.

You feel like a traitor. If you could write these memories down the way you do music, you would. You would give anything.

But the world swallowed them. And you. It took more than their lives. It took their faces, their voices, their story. And somehow, it took your right to grieve them properly.

You’re back to square one. 

That night, you return to your room without saying a word.

The next day, you do not leave it.

You do not come out the day after, either.

When Pieck comes to find you, you tell her you’re not feeling well. She gives you a sad, knowing look and tells you to rest.

You spend the days staring at the ceiling, your body heavy and slow. You try to remember your mother’s voice, your father’s hands. You search for the exact shade of their eyes, the little details you swore you’d never lose. But they’re slipping. And once they’re gone, once you forget, it feels like you’ll lose them all over again.

You think of how your father used to kiss your forehead in the mornings. How your mother would never finish the tea your father would bring her. How they danced in the kitchen when they thought you weren't watching. You wonder what they would think of you now, hollowed out and silent, wasting away in a borrowed room.

On the third day, you manage to step outside your room, but you don’t go far. You stay behind to help with cooking and cleaning, hands busy while your mind floats elsewhere. 

Later that night you’re in the kitchen alone, lost in a haze, when a harsh voice cuts through the silence.

“Oi, brat. Let’s go outside.”

It’s Levi.

You blink down at your hands. You’ve been wiping the same corner of the counter for who knows how long, your body moving on autopilot. You look up at him warily, your voice dry.

“What?”

“Outside.”

You hesitate, glancing between him and the door. “Seriously, Levi, what do you want?”

He ignores you, opening the door and stepping out, leaving it ajar behind him.

You roll your eyes with a sigh before reluctantly washing your hands and following.

Outside, you find him leaning against the wall, arms crossed, gaze distant. You step beside him and match his posture.

The full moon hangs above you, casting everything in a pale silver light. The sight tugs at something inside you. The last time you stood out here under a moon like this, you were a mess of grief and guilt. It seems like not much has changed, in the grand scheme of things.

Without meaning to, your breath hitches and tears begin to fall.

You hadn’t planned to cry. But the stillness, the night air, the way the moonlight settles over the trees brings you back. Back to your parents’ garden. Back to those late nights when you would sit outside as a child, your parents on either side of you, watching the stars and wondering if someone might be out there watching back.

“Oi. Stop that,” Levi says quietly.

You glance at him, annoyed. But his eyes hold none of their usual sharpness. Instead, they’ve softened with concern.

The moment you notice, you snap your gaze away.

You scowl. “I didn’t ask to come out here. You bothered me, so the least you can do is let me cry. Brat.”

He clicks his tongue in that familiar way, but there’s something faintly amused behind it.

“What did you want, anyway?” you ask, voice rough.

“Do you remember what we talked about last time we were standing out here?”

Yes, you think bitterly. That was months ago, and here I am. 

You open your mouth to snap back, but the words dissolve before they reach the air. There’s no fire left in you tonight. You look back up at the moon. The tears keep falling. 

Levi shifts beside you, then turns and walks back toward the house without a word.

Well. That didn’t last long.

You stay where you are, watching the sky. The breeze is cool against your face, brushing through your hair. You wonder, absently, what he even called you out here for.

Then you hear the door creak open again.

Levi steps back outside. This time, he’s holding something in his hand.

You glance over as he walks toward you, unreadable as always. He stops in front of you and holds it out.

A handkerchief.

Your brows lift. “Is that yours?”

“Yes, idiot,” he replies flatly.

You recoil slightly. “I don’t want your used tissue.”

“Tch. Why the fuck would I give it to you used?”

He tosses it at you and it lands in your hands, soft and warm.

You hold it for a second, caught off guard. Then sniff and say quietly, “Okay. Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

The next few minutes pass in silence. You dab at your face with his handkerchief, the occasional sniffle betraying the tears that still come and go. He stands closer than before and though your arms do not touch, you can feel his proximity. Near enough to catch the faint scent of his soap in the breeze.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. His gaze is low, focused on the ground, arms crossed over his chest. You cannot quite place it, but something in the air has changed.

Finally, you break the silence. “Have you ever imagined what might live up there, on the moon?"

He blinks. “Huh?”

“Do you think anyone lives on the moon...” you repeat it, a little louder.

Levi gives you a strange look. “No.”

You look back up, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “I used to wonder about it all the time,” you say quietly. “If there were others out there, just like us, looking back.”

A lump forms in your throat again, but you swallow it.

Levi shifts beside you, his posture unreadable. Then he lets out a slow breath. “You’re wasting your time thinking about that.”

You nod, feeling a little hurt.

“Well, it’s nice to have something other than all of this,” you wave your hands around, “to think about.”

Levi nods once, and the quiet settles again.

You stand in silence for a while, still feeling a little hurt at his comment. Then the words slip out before you can stop them.

“I used to sit outside with my mother. We would watch the moon together. She was sick, so we didn’t talk much. We'd just sit there quietly, sometimes for hours. I always wondered if someone out there was looking back at us. I don’t know what I believed then, and I don’t know what I believe now, but it’s nice to imagine a world that knows nothing about titans.”

You sigh, trying to shake the heaviness from your chest. You glance at Levi again, but his face is turned away. You wonder if he’s even listening. Part of you regrets saying anything at all. You wonder again why he brought you here. 

After a long pause his voice comes, quieter than usual. “I grew up underground on Paradis. I was twenty when I first came to the surface. I remember what it was like to see the moon for the first time.”

You turn to him fully, surprised.

“There’s nothing like it,” he continues. “Now it just reminds me of the people I left the Underground with.”

This is the first time you’ve heard him speak about his past directly. Most of what you know has come from the others, Armin, namely. Levi never talks about himself.

You give a small nod, encouraging him to continue.

“I remember...my friend, Isabel. The look on her face the first time she saw the stars.”

He stops.

You wait.

“What happened to her?” you whisper.

He looks up, then back at the sky. “Titans. The first time we left the walls she and another guy we grew up with...Furlan, they were attacked by Titans. I wasn’t there. I should have been. I left them.”

He trails off, the words hang in the air. 

Then he exhales, grounding himself again. “It’s not just the moon. The stars. The sky. All of it reminds me of things I try not to think about.”

You look back up at the moon, his words pressing softly against your ribs.

“You mean you hadn’t been above ground before you were twenty?” you ask after a while, voice quiet and careful.

Levi turns his head toward you, meeting your eyes, then nods.

You say nothing at first. Choosing to sit with the weight of that. Trying to imagine what it must have been like. Seeing the sky for the first time after a lifetime in darkness. Your mind reels, trying to grasp the enormity of it.

After a few minutes, Levi shifts, pushing himself off the wall.

“Better?” he asks.

It takes you a second to realize what he means.

He had brought you out here. Not to lecture you, but to check on you. To make you feel better. To help.

You blink, your throat tightening again.

“Mhm,” you say softly. “Thank you, Levi.”

Levi gives you a small nod. His face returns to its usual blank expression, though something gentler lingers in his eyes. He motions toward the door, and you follow him back inside.

After that night you and Levi begin spending more time together.

There is less immediate work to be done now. Afternoons are slower, quieter, and you are all given more time to yourselves. You and Levi fall into a new rhythm. You start making tea together, of all things. He sits and reads while you work on your manuscripts or letters to Ellery. 

Occasionally, you bring back a bag of coffee from the same merchant, and to your quiet delight, Levi brews it for you without being asked. You never comment further than a simple thank you, but the small gesture continues to remind you of your parents. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Often, Onyankopon joins the two of you. He asks you about your music, what pieces you still remember, what scores you managed to salvage from the conservatory. You admit that you miss playing. That there is a piano in Hizuru. He listens closely, always thoughtful. You enjoy talking to him, and Levi seems to as well. They often share fond memories of their friend Hange, their wild and brilliant friend who seemed to live for chaos and discovery. It’s the closest you’ve seen Levi come to smiling. 

Sometimes Armin appears, slipping into a chair with his notes and questions, pulling you both into careful conversations about the state of the world and the growing tensions with the Yaegerists. You’re encouraged by his determination to be an ambassador for peace. 

But most of the time it’s just you and Levi. No talking, just the steady presence of one another in the quiet.

You're not sure what to call the way he looks at you, or why your heart lifts slightly whenever he does. There's a softness there, rare and fleeting. You're unsure how to put into words, but you feel it. You wonder if he does too.

Still, a shadow remains on your heart.

Since the memorial something within you has begun to move in a different direction. You're not as rooted here as you once were, and to your surprise, you've been thinking more and more about leaving Marley.

Ellery has started an artist collective in Hizuru. She has invited you to help with the many projects she is planning and has encouraged you to continue your manuscript work there, where a surviving piano still waits. The music classes she has been teaching have already made a difference in the community, especially for the children. In every letter, she urges you to come. Even if only for a short while. 

As time passes, there is less and less for you to do in Marley. Armin and the others are making plans to return to Paradis. Pieck and Reiner have decided to go with them, then move back to Liberio. You, on the other hand, cannot imagine going back to Liberio.

But something keeps you from leaving for Hizuru. At first, it’s just a passing thought. It slips into your mind during long silences, when the house feels too still or your mind wanders while you write. But over time, it settles deeper and grows heavier every time you look at Levi.

You catch yourself thinking about him more than you should. About the way he knows when to give you space and when to stay. About the way his eyes soften when no one else is watching. You feel it in the quiet moments—the brush of his hand against yours, the way your laughter pulls something unexpected from him, the way he lingers beside you when he doesn’t have to.

Each time it happens, your chest tightens a little more. Because you’re starting to understand what this could become, and it terrifies you. Especially because you don’t truly know what he feels. And even if there is something between you, even if it’s real, what good is love or longing in a world still unraveling? Better to stay where it’s safe. Better not to risk it. You’re not sure you could survive another loss.

So you keep those questions to yourself. You smile when he brews your coffee. You lean into his presence, but you don’t let yourself imagine a future with him. You don’t let yourself hope.

It would be easier to leave before it becomes something more. You tell yourself that a change of scenery is what you need. That seeing Hizuru might help you clear your head. That reconnecting with music will help you rebuild.

But deep down, you know.

You are also avoiding what might grow between you and Levi. You need to cut the cord before it tightens, need to leave before your heart forgets what it's like to live without him.

Your conflicted feelings only deepen one afternoon when it starts raining.

It’s cold outside, but you manage to convince Levi to go with you to pick up more paper from the growing market in Didgori. You were on a roll, copying down an especially long piece of music when you ran out. You could have asked Pieck or Armin, or anyone else really, but you wanted to spend time with Levi. And he only made you ask twice before muttering a terse, “Fine.”

It wasn’t raining when you left. You didn’t expect the trip to take long, but the clouds roll in quickly. By the time you and Levi step out of the small storefront the sky has opened up. Rain pours down in heavy sheets.

Levi snatches the bundle of paper from your hands and tucks it under his jacket to keep it dry.

“Ready?” he asks.

You nod, and the two of you start making your way through the wet streets, heads ducked, boots splashing. The house is only a few blocks away, but the downpour intensifies as you near it. You let out a small shriek and grab Levi’s hand without thinking, tugging him behind you as you dash the last few steps through the rain.

You stumble into the house, breathless, laughing. You are completely soaked with your hair dripping into your eyes. Levi’s lips twitch, the barest hint of a smile before it fades. For a moment, the hallway feels too small, the air between you feels electric.

That’s when you realize you are still holding his hand. Your fingers are wet and cold, curled loosely around his. You let go, heat rushing to your cheeks.

He says nothing. Just shifts, barely meeting your eyes, and hands you the paper.

"Go get changed," he says, his voice soft. "I’ll make you some coffee."

You nod, heart beating fast. You force a smile and slip away, waving at Gabi and Falco in the living room as you pass.

When you come back downstairs, you find that Levi has also changed. He’s in the kitchen, moving efficiently as he prepares two mugs. You bring some of the paper with you and settle at the table, picking up where you left off. Levi sets a mug in front of you without a word. You thank him softly, eyes still on the page. He sits across from you and opens a book.

Time folds into something gentle. The only sounds are the rustle of paper, the soft turn of pages, the quiet clink of ceramic, and the steady scratch of your pencil. The rain taps faintly at the window, but inside, everything feels still.

Eventually, you sigh and push your mug away, rubbing your eyes. “I need a break.”

Levi glances up. “Then take one.”

You nod and stretch your arms above your head. The living room is empty now—Gabi and Falco must have gone upstairs. You walk to the couch and sink into the cushions, tucking your feet beneath you. Your head falls back, your body relaxing into the silence.

Levi joins you a moment later, opening his book again.

The glow from the nearby lamp makes the room feel warm and soft. Your eyes drift closed. At some point, you shift slightly, angling toward Levi, your head resting against the back of the couch near his shoulder.

Time slips away.

When you stir, you realize your head has slumped gently against him. Not fully on his shoulder, but close enough to feel his breathing. You start to move, but then his hand brushes your shoulder. A pause. Not quite holding you there, not quite letting you go.

“You’re fine,” he murmurs.

So you stay.

You must fall asleep again, because the next time you wake voices echo from the kitchen. The sound of footsteps on the stairs. Someone laughs—Connie or Jean, probably. The smell of food drifts through the air. Dinner is starting.

You blink your eyes open and find yourself still leaning against Levi. Your cheek rests lightly on his arm. He hasn’t moved much, but his body is angled slightly toward you now, as if shielding you from the noise.

He glances down when he feels you stir.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice low enough not to carry.

You pull back, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Sorry,” you mutter. “You should’ve woken me.”

He shrugs, gaze flicking toward the door. “You looked like you needed it.”

The voices grow louder. Chairs scrape. A cabinet slams. Dishes clatter. 

You sit up straighter and smooth your hair. “Is it dinner time already?”

“Almost. They’re setting up.”

You glance at him. “And you just sat here the whole time?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He closes his book, tucks it under his arm, and stands. Then he offers you a hand.

“Let’s go,” he says, nodding toward the kitchen.

You take his hand and let him pull you to your feet. The moment passes quickly, but the warmth in your chest lingers. The kitchen is already buzzing by the time you enter. Gabi and Falco pass bowls down the table. Jean is complaining about someone oversalting the stir-fry again. You slip into your usual seat and Levi takes the one beside you. Then you start to feel it—the not so subtle glances from your friends. Pieck’s grin turns knowing. Onyankopon watches you both with a flicker of curiosity. Armin, Jean, and Connie look over at Levi with raised brows, like they’ve just witnessed something they weren’t supposed to see.

You focus on your plate, trying to stay grounded in the rhythm of dinner. Passing dishes. Eating slowly. But you know what they saw. Or what they think they saw.

You had fallen asleep beside him, and what’s more is he let you. You’re sure they're getting the wrong idea. It’s not like that. Or maybe it is.

But Levi doesn’t seem interested. Not like that. He’s kind, yes. Protective, but reserved in a way that keeps you guessing. That’s just the way he is. And even if he was, what then? You’re going to leave, it's been decided. Hizuru has offered you a place. A future. A clean break. You steal a glance at him as he eats quietly beside you. He steadies you, he has from the start. Maybe that’s what scares you the most.

This is a lot more complicated than you had originally thought. 

Chapter Text

You decide to leave before the year’s end, writing to Ellery and Kiyomi to expect you within the next month.

Now you sit at the dining table, elbows resting on wood worn smooth by time, staring at nothing and rehearsing how to break the news to your friends. The kitchen is dim, lit only by the weak overhead bulb flickering against the ceiling. There’s a pit in your stomach, small but growing steadily. A part of you hopes if you sit still long enough, the dread will pass.

A voice cuts through the quiet.

“You’re really gonna leave the dishes like that?”

You flinch, eyes going to the pile in the sink. You meant to finish them earlier, but you were too tired, too caught in your own head. You told yourself you’d rest for five minutes, but it must’ve been longer than that.

“Well, no,” you snap back.

Levi stands there, hands in his pockets, gaze locked on you. His expression stays neutral, but his eyes narrow slightly. It feels like he can see not just the mess in the sink but the mess in you. You shake the thought off. He’s just annoyed, that’s all.

“Fine,” you mutter, pushing yourself up from the chair. You move to the sink and start washing, keeping your eyes on the soap bubbles. Your hands slip into the water, scrubbing mechanically, trying not to think.

Levi steps closer without a word. He grabs a towel and holds out his hand for a clean plate.

“Go away, Levi,” you say, voice tight.

He clicks his tongue, the familiar sound of irritation. "Don't be a brat."

A sigh slips from you, shoulders dropping. Fighting him isn’t worth it, so you pass him a plate. The two of you fall into silence, letting the small sounds of clinking porcelain fill the air. Something swells between you, a myriad of unspoken things.

Your thoughts loop and tumble. You shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t bring this up. But the words are already pressing against your lips, and they spill out before you can stop them.

“Levi?”

He looks up from the plate, eyes an unsurpassable wall of grey.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

He scrunches his face, like you’ve asked something ridiculous.

“I mean…” you swallow, forcing the rest out. “Why do you help me? Why do you keep me company?”

His jaw tightens, skirting the edge of annoyance.

“Are you stupid?”

You wince. “Levi.”

He exhales slowly, “Am I bothering you?”

“No. No, it’s not that. I just—I just…”

“Then don’t be dense.”

“Seriously, Levi. I want to know.”

Your throat clamps shut, you don’t want to say the rest. Don’t want to admit how much this matters. His hands keep moving, drying the plate, but his attention settles over you, careful and heavy.

“Okay,” he says. His voice softens, just a little. “Have you asked Armin or Onyankopon this? Or Connie? Jean?”

“No,” you say too fast, too defensive. “I just thought. I don’t know.” Regret curls in your stomach.

“We’re friends, right?”

You hesitate, teeth catching on the inside of your cheek. Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe you’re just friends and you’re the one turning it into something else. You’ve been wrong before. You don’t want to be wrong again. 

You like the way Levi grounds you. You like the way being around him quiets the worst parts of your mind. But that isn’t enough, is it? You know you’re starting to want more. And desire has a way of growing teeth, chewing through logic and gnawing through good sense, until all you can feel is the ache beneath your ribs. You need to hear him say something, anything to help you understand where you stand.The next words come again before you can stop them. 

“Levi?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m leaving.” 

Come with me, you add in your head.

The air sharpens between you. He pauses, fingers tightening around the plate. “Leaving?”

You nod, throat dry. “I’m going to Hizuru. Lady Kiyomi has a place for me there, and my friend Ellery…she has work for me teaching music. There’s a piano. I’m going to help.”

For a moment he says nothing. He just stands there with the towel in hand and an unreadable face. Then something shifts behind that wall of grey, something so small you almost miss it.

“There’s plenty for you to do here.” His voice is calm, but quieter than usual.

You look down at the sink, suds clinging to your fingers. “It doesn’t feel that way,” you whisper. “Besides, I can’t keep staying here. Everywhere I go I’m reminded of life before, it’s too painful.”

He hums, a small sound cutting straight through you.

“When do you leave?”

“In a few weeks.”

You look up, and for just a second catch something raw and fleeting in his eyes. Sadness? Regret? You can’t tell. It flashes by so quickly you almost convince yourself you imagined it. You turn back to the dishes in the sink and he continues to dry the plate in his hand slowly, methodically. When the last dish is done, he folds the towel, sets it on the counter, and gives you one final glance before walking out of the room.

You stay behind, hands cooling in the water. The ache of not knowing what would have happened if you asked him to come with you settles into your bones. 

You feel like a fool. 

Your friends take the news well. Almost too well. No one tries to talk you out of it, and somehow that makes it harder. Their faces tell you they’ve seen this coming for a while, maybe even before you admitted it to yourself.

Armin is the most excited for you, and he listens with bright eyes while you tell him about the music classes you'll be teaching. You animatedly give him all the details about the piano there, the workshops, and Ellery. It's easier to stay focused on the logistics instead of emotions twisting underneath, and at least it sounds like you're moving forward.

“That’s amazing,” he says, his voice warm. “You’re going to do incredible things there.”

He hesitates for a second, but his expression doesn’t change.

“And… I hope you’ll come back someday. Or maybe bring your work to Paradis. I need to hear you play, and I've never had the opportunity to experience much music or art.”

"Mhm, if you can get a piano here I'll definitely come back."

He nudges you playfully.

"I'm joking. Honestly, I don't even know how long I'll be gone for. I may be back in a few weeks if it's really terrible," you say with a lighthearted laugh. 

"Be serious." Armin laughs with you.

Your throat tightens despite the laughter. Armin is already picturing a world where you come back, not to wreckage but to something new. A version of home you haven’t been capable of imagining. That’s what you’ve grown to love about your friend. He doesn’t stop at survival, he pictures the world past it, the one people are too afraid to imagine in case it never arrives. Sometimes you wish you could see that far ahead too, but right now all you can manage is the next step.

“Promise to write?” he asks.

His voice is light, but there’s something else beneath it. He wants proof that you won’t disappear.

You nod, managing a reassuring smile. “Of course. Letters, postcards, whatever I can send.”

“I’ll write back,” he says. “Maybe not with anything important. Just things about the weather. What the ocean looks like that day.”

You both let out another laugh. You’re going to miss him. 

Your final days in Marley slip by in a blur.

Levi never brings up the conversation in the kitchen. He doesn’t ask you to stay either, but he’s gentler than usual, a little more protective. You notice it in the small things. The way he lingers in doorways at the end of conversations. The way he finds reasons to help you pack, folding your clothes with the same precision he does everything with. Part of you wishes you had more time to figure it out. To name whatever it is between you before you walk away from it.

But you’re still leaving. No one is forcing you, this is your decision.

You don’t know the full shape of Levi's history, only that it is threaded with loss, maybe even more than yours. And if he does feel something for you, would it even be worth it to him to act on it? Maybe wanting isn’t enough when you’ve already survived this much.

So you let him help you pack the last bag and enjoy your last few nights under the stars. The rest stays unspoken.

Pieck, Onyankopon, Gabi, and Falco insist on throwing you a goodbye party the night before your departure. You try to protest, but Pieck waves you off with both hands.

“Too late. It’s already been decided,” she says, grinning. “Besides, we need an excuse to throw a party around here.”

Gabi and Falco somehow rope Levi into helping them decorate. You catch him in the kitchen holding the stepstool steady while Falco strings paper lanterns along the cabinets. Gabi hands him a strip of ribbon and tells him it would look better on the far wall. The steel in his eyes is still there, but it’s softened by something like amusement.

Near the table, Jean and Connie bicker loudly, half shouting over what kind of cake to make.

“We have to make chocolate. It’s classic,” Connie insists.

“Vanilla is classic, dumbass,” Jean fires back.

Reiner sighs into his drink. “You’re both idiots.”

You step into the kitchen, laughing. “You guys are making such a fuss.”

“Will you tell them what to make already?” Reiner mutters. “Driving me crazy.”

Jean and Connie eye you expectantly. The seriousness on their faces makes you laugh again.

“Chocolate with vanilla frosting?” you offer.

Jean groans, but no one argues after that.

There’s food and laughter and your insides feel blissfully warm. Karina brings out extra plates and Gabi plants a paper crown on your head.

“It’s not my birthday,” you laugh, pushing her away. 

“So?” she says with a giggle.

At some point, Pieck slides her hand onto your shoulder with a squeeze. “You’ll be missed. Write, okay?”

“Definitely,” you say, wrapping an arm around her and leaning your head on her shoulder.

That night you say most of your goodbyes. It’s easier this way. There’s no need to wake the whole house when you leave before sunrise, only Onyankopon and Levi will come with you to the docks in Liberio.

By the time you reach the waterfront, the cold wind is already tearing through your coat. That’s when it sinks in that you’re really leaving.

You wrap your arms around Onyankopon and hold on for a long time. “Suddenly, I don’t want to go anymore.” Your voice cracks around the words, but you laugh anyway, the sound thin and bittersweet. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I guess through everything, you all became like family. So why am I choosing to leave my family this time?”

“Don’t be silly.” He pulls back and squeezes your arms before letting go. “We’re just a boat ride away.”

You nod, but the ache in your chest doesn’t soften.

Turning, you catch Levi hauling your bags from the car. His eyes meet yours for just a second before he looks away, walking toward the ship without a word. You follow, your feet heavy on the dock. Onyankopon stays behind.

Levi moves ahead of you, shoulders squared against the wind. His dark hair ruffles in the cold air, and for a moment, you let yourself admire him. You will your eyes to memorize the shape of his form, the steadiness of his hands as he passes your bags to the sailors.

Then he turns back, eyes locking onto yours. One gleams with the sharp clarity of silver stars and the other is hazy like the fog settling around you.

You can’t help it. Your eyes blur with tears.

“You should still have that handkerchief I gave you,” he says gruffly, noting your tears.

“What?”

“Check your bag.”

You look down at the bag slung over your shoulder, fumbling through the side pocket. Your jaw tightens when you find it. You’d meant to give it back, but he must’ve packed it for you. Before you can stop yourself, you reach for his hand. His eyes widen and his posture stiffens like he’s caught between pulling away and staying exactly where he is. The shift in him is immediate, and it sends your pulse racing.

“Write to me,” you say, breathless, the words tumbling out before you can think them through. Your gaze moves to his lips, just for a second. The distance between you feels impossibly small.

You don’t know what you’re doing.

His grip tightens, just for a moment. You lean in, and his pupils widen. The shift is small, almost imperceptible, but it gives him away. His eyes hold something you can’t quite name. It might be surprise, or longing, or maybe even fear. Still, he doesn’t let go.

Levi nods. It’s a small, simple movement, but it feels like the whole world slows down for it.

“Take care of yourself,” he whispers.

The words are simple, yet they send a shiver down your spine. Then, with a soft exhale, you smile and walk away.

Without another look back you board the ship that will take you far away from the place you once called home. 

The days after your departure blur together, leaving Levi with a familiar kind of emptiness. It isn’t the same as when Erwin died, but it’s close enough. That same hollow ache settles in. There's no one to look after, no one to sit beside when the day winds down. Of course, you’re not dead. Not this time. But you’re still gone, and there’s no telling when or if you’ll come back. Maybe in a few months. Maybe in years.

Levi leans back in his chair, eyes slipping shut for a moment. He should have seen this coming. He should have caught the signs the first time he let you in. Had he really forgotten how this works? The people he allows close never stay.

Erwin. Hange. His squad. Kenny. Isabel. Furlan. His mother.

One after another.

The kids, the ones he took under his wing after the fall of the Walls, were different. He didn’t confide in them, he protected them and guided them. Stayed a few steps removed and tried to keep them breathing for as long as possible.

And still, he lost one.

So what was it all for? Why was he the one left standing, left to scrape together a life in this hollowed out world? He had no grand vision for the future, no curiosity to spend on novelty or new beginnings. It was all wasted on him.

Those questions creep in more often now. Usually late at night, when the house is still and the ache in his leg won’t let him sleep. Sometimes it slips in when he catches himself listening for footsteps that never come.

One afternoon, Armin catches him in the kitchen. Levi is wiping down the counter when he hears the shuffle of feet behind him. Armin lingers near the doorway, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes avoiding Levi’s.

“Do you…miss her?”

Levi’s hand stills.

“Who?” His voice comes out sharper than he intends, but he can’t help it. It’s reflex.

Armin clears his throat and says your name. His voice is soft, almost embarrassed. He tugs at the cuff of his sleeve, but his curiosity keeps him there.

Levi narrows his gaze just enough to make Armin flinch.

“What are you getting at?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” Armin lifts his hands, a nervous laugh slipping out. “It’s just, you two spent a lot of time together. I wondered if maybe you…you know.”

His words trail off beneath Levi’s stare. He goes back to wiping the counter as if the question never happened.

But later, when the house is quiet again, he thinks about it. And he thinks about you.

Maybe in another life he would be granted the privilege to dream.

One where his hands were never used as weapons.

Would he, then, choose the arms of another? To brush someone’s hair away from their face and lull them to sleep?

He never asked for love to make a home in him. Never wanted to carry hearts he couldn’t keep. But life kept pressing them into his hands anyway, and his hands, traitorous things, never learned how to close.

Levi knows better by now. He knows exactly what happens to the souls he tries to carry. No matter how carefully he holds them, they are inevitably ripped away.

And standing here now, with you gone, it feels like the same cycle starting all over again.

Chapter Text

December 854

Dear Levi, 

The past month in Hizuru has been a whirlwind. I miss you all (and my room in Didgori) terribly. I'm currently staying with Ellery since the available homes are split between the residents on the mainland and the refugees from the surrounding islands. It's honestly not so bad. Our place is just a short walk to Lady Kiyomi’s home where we hold our music classes.  

As promised, there's a beautiful baby grand piano in Kiyomi's living room. I convinced Ellery to help me set up Kiyomi's camera so I could send you a photo. Honestly, playing the piano after so many months was strange, but I’ve come to realize something, playing the piano is as necessary to me as breathing. That probably sounds silly and frivolous to you. Regardless, now that I’ve come back to the instrument of my own will I’ve realized how much I love it.  

Our music classes are going well. Since we don’t have instruments for everyone we’ve resorted to singing. Ellery and I have started a small choir for the children who lost their homes on the islands. I play the piano for them and they sing. Sometimes we go over some basic music theory, but mostly it’s just for fun. When the children get tired of singing we work on crafts or take them down to the beach, which isn’t a far walk. We’ve been finding ways to make paint since art materials are scarce. It feels strange to say, but it’s been fun.  

At the end of the day Ellery and I practice together. Sometimes our neighbors will come in and listen or even try their hand at our instruments. I’ve made a new friend as well, her name is Yumi. She was a school teacher before the Rumbling and now holds her own classes for the community at the local school. The three of us often get together after teaching or working in the fields.  

On another note, I ventured out to my old family home last week. Everything on the island has been flattened just as Kiyomi warned. It was difficult, but I didn’t shut down the way I did when you first met me. There are folks rebuilding there, just like we were trying to do in Marley. I took a moment to mark the spot where my family’s house once stood. It helped me find some closure. 

How are things in Marley?  

Please give everyone my love, 

Melody 

January 855

Melody,

Good to know you made it and you’re settling in. 

That doesn’t sound silly to me. Breathing is important.

Marley’s the same. I’ve been helping Onyankopon with his trade route plans. I don’t know much about that stuff, but he says it helps to talk things out.

Armin and the others left for Paradis a few days ago.

I’m glad you found some closure. 

Take care.

Levi

March 855 

Dear Levi, 

Life has continued to blossom around me. I’m loving my work with the children. There’s no pressure, something I’m profoundly unaccustomed to. I wish I had thought to do this in Didgori.  

There’s one little girl in particular, Amity, who I’ve grown fond of. She lost her father in the Rumbling as he was on one of the affected islands when it happened. At first, she was a whirlwind of disruption. Just constantly fidgeting and struggling to settle down, but then Yumi handed her a paintbrush and got her to starting making art. Now, she follows us everywhere, often with her hands covered in paint (I can picture your face...stop scowling). I see so much of myself in her. She’s taken a liking to the piano and she's very good. It’s comforting to think that the legacy of playing will continue through her.  

I'm preparing her and the other children for a small performance in a few months. The community is so excited and Lady Kiyomi is preparing her home to host the event. It’s been a light in these darker times, something to look forward to.  

I’m continuing my efforts to document as much music as I can. So many records have already been lost, and it would be a tragedy to let any more slip away. Most evenings, I spend my time playing and transcribing what I can from memory. Ellery sent out letters to artists around the world and now people are coming from all over, eager to share what they’ve preserved. Not just music manuscripts, but paintings, books, and every medium of art you can imagine. There are a few printing presses here so Yumi is working on making copies of all kinds of books to distribute around Hizuru and the world. I’ll include some for you with my next letter.   

I’m feeling satisfied. This is why I’m here. 

How have things been on your side? I’ve been wondering, why weren’t you on the ship to Paradis?

I've heard from Armin and Onyankopon. Armin says peace is slowly progressing on Paradis and Queen Historia has managed to contain the Yaegerists. Onyankopon told me they’ve found you a wheelchair. I hope it’s helping. Do you use it much?

Write when you can. I hope you’re taking care of yourself.

Melody

April 855

Melody,

Good to hear you’re keeping busy. So there’s a little Melody running around Hizuru now?

The wheelchair works fine. Gabi and Falco won’t stop pushing me around, so I don’t use it much. But it’s there when I need it.

I had my reasons for staying behind.

Levi

June 855 

Dear Levi, 

As much as I appreciate your uncanny ability to communicate in a way that makes a brick wall seem conversational, I do have a few follow up questions. 

Firstly, I’m thrilled to hear that the wheelchair works “fine.” Truly, that paints such a vivid picture of how it fits into your daily life. But thank you for sharing that about Gabi and Falco, I can picture it now. I'm sure you so enjoy that.  

And of course, I must express my deep gratitude for the explanation of your “reasons” for staying behind. The mystery remains as who has time for details? 

You didn’t ask, but the choir is doing well, and I’ve also been working on some solo piano music. There are so many artists here now that my time has been freed up from transcribing for more playing.

The visiting musicians, Ellery, and I are planning a concert of our own. It will take place a week after the childrens’ recital. I’m a little anxious about it, but it should be beautiful. 

As promised, I’ve included some literature for you. Both fiction and nonfiction. I’ve sent the same books to Armin and Onyankopon so you all will have something to talk about other than me (Yes, it’s a joke. Stop rolling your eyes). 

Onynankopon shared that you both have moved back to Liberio and are sharing an apartment, how is that?   

I look forward to hearing from you again soon, though I’m sure you’ll manage to make it as cryptic as possible. 

Until next time,

Melody 

July 855

Melody,

When it comes to being brief, you should know you're the one who tends to ramble. I’m sure you’re aware, I don’t have that problem. On the topic, this all was your idea in the first place.

Thank you for the books. 

Go on, tell me how the performances went. I know you want to.

Levi

August 855 

My Dearest Levi, 

Since it’s so obviously just me wanting correspondence, feel free to stop responding whenever you’d like. I’ll manage just fine, obviously. It’s not like I’m actually hoping to hear about how you’re doing or anything.

But if you insist, I’ll tell you about the performances.

I was so proud of the children. The choir sounded beautiful (better than I expected, honestly). One of my favorite moments was when they sang Auld Lang Syne. It’s usually meant for the new year, but it felt right...like a tribute to the old world and stepping into whatever’s next. Do you know it?

Little Amity played a solo piece on the piano. Her hands were shaking at first but she kept going, and by the end, her face lit up like she couldn’t believe she’d done it. I wish you could have been there.

The other concert also went better than expected. Our small ensemble felt just right for the space, and we played a program of piano, violin, and cello music. Back in Marley, I rarely had the chance to play with other musicians. I never realized how much I was missing until now. It was was the first time I’ve performed for myself, not for Marley or anyone else. I’m looking forward to doing it again.

By the way, it’s nearly been one year since we last spoke in person, and over a year since the Rumbling. Pieck shared that a memorial is being built at the scene of the final battle, how do you feel about that? Jean also mentioned that your cousin Mikasa visited Marley with your comrade Sasha. How was that? Are you close? Please humor me, as I am missing you all. 

Gabi tells me you've been helping Armin set up an orphanage and a formal peace consulate in Marley. I also learned (through Armin) about the orphanage you helped Queen Historia establish on Paradis. It seems to be thriving, against all odds. Who would have thought that you would show such care for children? 

Life is moving forward, no matter our personal feelings on the matter. Write back if you feel like it. Or don’t. Whatever. 

Melody 

September 855

Bratty woman. 

I don’t want to stop.

As I mentioned before, we didn't have much time for music of any kind on Paradis. 

I'm not surprised that the concerts went well, thank you for sharing.

The visit was fine. Mikasa is lost without Eren, but Sasha and Niccolo are keeping a close eye on her. 

I’ve had some experience with orphanages. Can’t say I’ve been a stranger to the need.

“Your dearest” Levi

January 856 

Dear Levi, 

Well, what a relief. I’m so glad you’re willing to continue our correspondence. 

Rather than waste more time, I took the liberty of asking Armin about your orphanage comment. He gave me some clarity. I hope you won’t be too upset with me for prying.

I suppose I can’t force you to be open with me. Though I wonder...Do you honestly think I’ll forget your burdens if you try to bury them? I think I understand, though. As humanity’s strongest soldier you were blessed with strength, then cursed to lose everything. Because of that, it seems like you insist on being a solitary creature. However, something in me refuses to let that happen. I guess it’s just returning the favor. 

Oh, and happy belated birthday. Oyankopon mentioned it in his last letter, though something tells me you'd prefer I didn't know. I’m assuming you’ve already noticed the tea. Consider it a birthday gift for the last two years. 

Always, 

Melody 

February, 856

Impossible woman. I didn’t ask for your sympathy or pity, nor do I need it. You’re wrong about something, I don’t bury my burdens. I just don’t drag them around for everyone to see. I’ve survived this long as it stands, and I intend to keep it that way. It will be easier for the both of us if you stop trying to carry my burdens for me. 

I don’t celebrate birthdays, but thank you for the tea.

Levi

March 856

Dear Levi,

In the two years I’ve known you, I’ve never once thought of you as someone who seeks or needs pity. That’s not what this is about. I ask simply because I care. And it’s only fair, given how you’ve been there for me through this nightmare.

I still think about the night you told me about your childhood in the Underground. I can’t explain how much that meant to me. But sometimes it feels like you treat talking about your past as a weakness...or maybe letting someone see the weight you carry feels like humiliation?

I’m the opposite. If no one witnesses my pain I feel like it isn’t real. Or worse, that if I don’t keep showing people the wound they’ll assume it’s already healed. Even now, when the world is supposedly moving forward I still feel stuck, sometimes. Just internally frozen, while everyone else rebuilds their lives.

Most nights, I still have trouble sleeping. I miss my parents...and I miss when you and I would sit outside the house in Marley. Somehow just being near you calmed my mind. Maybe that sounds silly, or maybe that’s just my own way of saying I miss you.

Still, I’m grateful for where I am now. For the work I get to do here, the people I’ve met, and for the children who follow me around with paint-stained hands.

Always,

Melody

April 856

Melody,

Like I told you that night after the Rumbling, there's isn't another option. Moving on is all we have, sitting around thinking about the pain doesn’t fix anything. It won’t bring them back. What we can do is keep living, we can honor the lives they gave and lost by pushing forward. To be honest, sometimes I wonder if things would have turned out differently if I had done more to guide Yaeger. Maybe I should have killed him when I had the chance.

Please try to get some sleep. 

Levi

June 856

Dear Levi, 

I admire how you push forward. I envy you a little for that.  

Despite your attempts to cross it out, I could read what you wrote. That you say you wonder if you should have done more, or even killed Eren Yaeger when you had the chance. I think we all have a version of that thought. A moment we replay in our minds at night, wondering if we acted differently would things have ended differently. The truth is none of us can predict the future. That kind of foresight just doesn’t exist, not even for people like you. 

I still hear your voice from that night outside our house in Didgori. You said we don’t have a choice, but I’m not sure I agree. I think we do have a choice, but the choices are cruel, and unfair, and heavy. Still, we make them. You made yours, and perhaps continuing on is the bravest one. I’ll try to follow in your footsteps. 

Always, 

Melody 

July 856

Melody,

Only a fool would envy me, and you're no fool. 

The universe must be playing a joke on me, for you to echo the same words my Commander told me years ago. Living without regret isn't easy. I guess I needed the reminder. 

Thank you.

Levi

August 856

Dearest Levi, 

You’re welcome. 

And here I was worried I wasn’t getting through to you. 

Tell me more about Marley. Please humor me with details, it will help me feel closer to you all.  

As Always, 

Your Melody 

November 856

Melody,

Marley would be unrecognizable to you now. All the rubble is gone and the trees are growing back. There’s a recreation center in the heart of Liberio. Falco and Gabi are both taller.

I've moved closer to the center of town where the peace consulate is. Armin is back and forth between here and Paradis so Pieck, Onyankopon, and I hold things together in his absence. 

Sasha and Niccolo are getting married next month. I'll be heading to Paradis for the wedding. 

The final battle memorial is finally finished. It's taken over a year, but the artists Pieck hired had a specific vision. Armin hired a photographer to take some photos at the unveiling, I've included one for you. Is that detail enough? 

The kids arranged a private spot for us in the hills above the battlefield. Nothing fancy, just a marker and a place to sit and pay our respects when we need to.

How are things in Hizuru?

Levi

January 857

Dear Levi,

Thank you for the photo. Promise you'll take me there when I come back to Marley?

How was the wedding? I'm so happy for Sasha and your squad. What was it like back on Paradis?

Did Onyankopon move with you? Tell me more.

Things here are the same as I mentioned before. We’ve finally moved all the art preservation work into its own building. Ellery and I threw a party to celebrate the archive coming together. Please come and see it someday soon. 

Ellery and I are visiting Onyankopon’s family in March. She’ll be playing the violin alongside the community choir. There’s no piano, so I won’t be playing, but honestly, I’m excited to just sit in the audience for once. Both Onyankopon and Armin will be there. Do you think you’ll come with them? I would love to see you. No pressure (That’s a lie, of course).

Also, I haven’t forgotten. Happy belated birthday. I’ve included some more tea for you. Onyankopon mentioned you enjoyed the batch I sent for your last birthday. 

Love,

Melody

February 857

I promise, Melody. 

It was good to see Sasha and Niccolo married. Especially after her injury. There was a point when we weren’t sure she’d survive. Their happiness was a reminder of what all the sacrifice was for. It was worth the cost, I think. 

Onyankopon is in the apartment upstairs, and Connie and Jean are in the same building down the hall. We see each other often enough. 

About your trip, Gabi and Falco insist I stay back. Some school ceremony Gabi claims I “absolutely can’t miss.” You know Gabi, I’m not going to argue.

Onyankopon has a big mouth, but thank you for the gift.

Levi

March 857 

Dear Levi, 

I’m writing to you from Onyankopon’s home in Ghana. He and Armin are sitting across from me now, recounting story after story from the past years you’ve spent together. I wish you were here, but best not to upset your superior officer (Gabi). But between me and you, it’s endearing how fond you are of Gabi and Falco. You really are a softie.

Hearing the musicians here has been wonderful. Ellery played a gorgeous violin sonata that left half the room in tears. It’s been good to get out of Hizuru for a while. 

Always, 

Melody 

P.S. O.’s family owns a camera. Enjoy this picture of the three of us together. Again, I wish you were here. 

April 857

Melody,

Onyankopon and Armin shared about their time with you in Ghana. I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. 

I despise that you think Gabi is anyone’s superior officer. She’s enough of a brat without the rest of you encouraging her.

Call me a softie again and I’ll stop writing.

Are you sleeping any better these days? 

Levi

June 857 

Dear Levi,   

Your annoyance with Gabi is amusing. You do know you’re her role model, right? She talks about you in all her letters. So really, you have yourself to thank for all that attitude.

My sleep is the same. I’m trying to take a page out of your book. Keep it pushing.  

I celebrated my birthday last month. Ellery, Yumi, and the children surprised me with a cake and a loud chorus of happy birthday. It was bittersweet. Birthdays in Liberio were never much of a celebration. My mother would bake a small cake every year, and that was it. My Marleyan teachers always made the day worse, somehow. Like they knew it mattered and wanted to ruin it. After the Rumbling, I stopped acknowledging it altogether. But Ellery had other plans this year. 

Yumi set up Kiyomi’s camera and insisted I take a portrait. I didn’t feel like keeping it, so here. Do with it what you will.  

The day reminded me that sometimes the people who love us know what we need better than we do. I would’ve spent the day alone in a dark room if it were up to me, but I was deeply grateful for the gesture. 

Tell me more about your life and Marley.  

Love, 

Melody 

P.S. You are a softie.

July 857

Melody,

Idiot. Don’t try to be like me.

Happy belated birthday. I’m relieved you didn’t spend it brooding, you of all people deserve to feel special. I've included some of the coffee beans you used to drink. Not sure what kind of coffee you have in Hizuru. 

Your hair got longer, otherwise you look the same.

Falco found a stray dog last month. Jean and Connie decided to keep it since Mrs. Grice didn’t want Falco bringing it home. I was, of course, the only one who could manage to get it cleaned up properly. 

Levi

P.S. Relentless woman.

August 857

Dearest Levi, 

Maybe I am relentless, but judging by your last letter you really have gone soft. Thank you for the coffee.

It’s funny you say not to be like you because I’m always trying to be more like you. You moved something in me, whether you meant to or not. Don’t roll your eyes, but I admire your strength and devotion to the people around you. 

I absolutely cannot imagine you cleaning a dog. Please, please, please send a photo. Does it have a name?

Another year since the Rumbling has passed and the scars on the land are finally beginning to fade. The island where my family lived looks almost like it did in my childhood memories. The new residents have tended to my family’s memorial with care. There’s a small garden around it with the most beautiful flowers. I would send you a photo, but getting a camera out there is easier said than done. 

Armin’s been working tirelessly to get a piano to Liberio it seems. It looks like I’ll be heading to Marley in the fall. 

See you soon. 

Always, 

Your Melody 

September 857

Dear Melody,

I won’t be in Marley when you arrive this October. I’m heading to Paradis on the next ship.  Political unrest is on the rise again. Queen Historia and Armin asked me to come and after everything they’ve sacrificed I couldn’t say no. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.

I wish the timing were different. Address your letters to Queen Historia and they’ll get to me. 

Take care, I'm sure you’ll tell me all about your visit. 

Levi

P.S. Gabi and Falco have plenty of pictures with the dog who they all call “Scout.” That will have to do.

November 857

Dearest Levi, 

I’m shocked. If only you could see my face. That is the first time you’ve ever addressed me as ‘Dear Melody’ in the three years we’ve been writing. It’s true. I went back and checked. This is setting quite a precedent. Now I’ll expect this level of affection moving forward.

I missed your presence, but I was amazed by the progress in Marley. Pieck took me by the orphanage you helped establish in Liberio. You neglected to mention you arranged for the children to take music and art classes at the recreation center. Could it be that I have influence? Yelena introduced me to another pianist who’ll be teaching there. She’ll make a fine addition to your team.  

The concert went beautifully. Do you remember that tea seller? The one who slipped me some coffee all those years ago? He came with his wife. It was wonderful to see him again. We talked for a while and cried over how far the world has come in a few short years. You would have been appalled.  

Playing with the new Marleyan orchestra was incredible. We closed the program with the second movement of my favorite piano concerto. I gifted Onyankopon a recording of it for his birthday. Have you heard it? Maybe Onyankopon can set up his record player so you can give it a listen.

Now tell me about Paradis. Or do I need to write Queen Historia myself for a proper report? 

Love,

Melody 

P.S. That is a very cute dog. Gabi and Falco look all grown up.

December 857

Fine, Dear Melody, 

You’ve kept all the letters?

I suppose you’re right.

Historia is doing her best, but the unrest here in Paradis is worse than we thought. A large part of the population is still furious the Rumbling was stopped. Taking away the Titans didn’t erase violence, greed, or the idiots who want power and control. 

Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m doing here. But the politicians still flinch when I walk into a room, so I guess that counts for something.

I’ll be back in Marley by the end of the month.

I could ask Onyankopon, but I’d rather hear you play it. 

Take care,

Levi

January 858  

Dearest Levi, 

Yes, I’ve kept all your letters. Did you expect anything less? Should I be reading between the lines of your question? Did you not keep mine? 

Your cryptic “you’re right” would throw off any novice penpal, but I’ve become an expert at deciphering your letters. Still, I’ve started copying down my own letters just to keep track of what I’ve told you. 

So…does this mean I have influence now? Coming from a man who once called music frivolous, I never expected you to be the one setting up music and art classes. You must be fond of me.

Armin has also shared about the events on Paradis. It’s an unfortunate truth that greed and corruption are etched into the bones of this world. But so are love and hope, we have to believe those things run deeper. 

It looks like I’ll be returning to Marley this spring for another concert. Armin has asked me to stay longer to help with the music classes so I’ll be there for a month. Please be there, it’s been far too long since I’ve seen your face. I’ll play the piano concerto for you.  

Love,

Melody 

P.S. Happy Birthday

February 858

Dear Melody,

You're insufferable. Why would I not keep them? And you copy your letters? Who does that? 

I'll see you soon. 

Levi

March 858

Dear Levi, 

I’m going to take that response as confirmation that you kept them. Call me insufferable all you like, but we both know better.

Can you believe it’s been nearly four years since we last saw each other? Will you recognize me, I wonder? It's been so long. I’ve changed, I think. Or maybe I’ve just grown into myself. Have you grown at all? (I know you’ve grown in many ways so I’ll let you guess which one I’m teasing about). 

I suppose you will get this shortly before I depart for Marley. I’ll look forward to your response in person.  

Love Always,  

Your Melody 

Chapter Text

Marley 858

Levi finds himself making the journey to the hills overlooking the final battlefield the day after your final letter reaches him. 

The sky is overcast, clouds like a veil of thin gauze stretching for miles. Behind them the sun burns brightly, bleaching the sky into a pale silver. Wind cuts across the slope, tugging at Levi’s hair and jacket as he emerges from the cab at the bottom of the trail.

He begins his ascent as the car disappears down the road. It’s a long walk in his condition, longer than he’d like to admit, but the cane helps. Though relying on something just to walk still feels foreign, like wearing shoes on the wrong feet.

He moves at a steady pace, but it wears on him. Eventually he stops to catch his breath, eyes narrowing as he observes the trail ahead.

There wouldn’t have been anywhere to use ODM gear here anyway.

Still, the hollow ache in his chest returns. It’s been a few years, but the time he spent in the sky already feels like another life.

In theory, he’s freer now than he’s ever been. There’s no endless war, no orders or duty left to fulfill. And yet, something is missing. 

When the wind quiets, he glances up and sees two white birds circling overhead. Spiraling higher and higher, effortlessly.

What he wouldn’t give to join them. He spent years underground, then years flung into the sky by wire and blade. Now he’s grounded again. 

At least this time, he can see the sky.

Levi continues his journey. The trail curves upward, steep in places, but he makes it despite his stiff knee. Not far from the top Levi veers off the path to a hidden clearing. Below him the memorial stretches across the hillside.

Dozens of steel blades stand upright in the earth, planted like sentinels. Each sword towers as tall as a titan, cold metal gleaming faintly beneath the overcast sky. No names are carved into them, or plaques placed to explain their meaning. They speak for themselves. Simple, brutal symbols of war and sacrifice. The grass where they’re planted is a shock of emerald against brutal metal and a scarred field.

Further down, at ground level, the land expands, vast and barren. In the center of the field lies a smooth stone, gleaming in the light. Levi can’t see it from where he stands, but he knows what the inscription says.

The Battlefield of Heaven and Earth.

It’s only his second time back since that day.

A family arrives at the memorial as Levi looks out. The parents walk at a measured pace, heads bent toward each other in conversation. Two small children race ahead of them, weaving through the rows of steel with the kind of playful ease only children seem to have.

Levi’s eyes track their movement. He follows the little boy as he darts behind one of the markers, crouching low to hide from his sister. She pauses, then lets out a laugh when she spots him. Their parents look on, leaning toward each other, content to let the moment unfold.

After a while, he turns toward the flat stone half-hidden in the grass beside him.

This is what he came for.

The grave sits just beyond the path, tucked into the hillside where most wouldn’t notice it. There’s nothing to mark it but the names carved clean into weathered stone facing the valley below.

Hange Zoë

Erwin Smith

Porco Galliard

Colt Grice

Bertholt Hoover

Marcel Galliard

The Unknown Soldier

Levi lowers himself onto the nearby bench with care. The bench had, of course, been a non-negotiable addition to the area. There was no way he was going to sit on the ground and get filthy.

He eyes the names, stopping at the final inscription. It was Jean’s idea. A dedication to all the comrades they lost. There were too many names to fit on any single stone.

His fingers mindlessly come up to close around the scout insignia hanging around his neck. Levi frowns thoughtfully. Maybe wearing it is sentiment disguised as duty, but no one questions a soldier for wearing a medal of honor, even after retirement.

Turning upward, Levi focuses on the birds still spiraling above him. He watches as they glide, entranced by their movements, before squeezing his eyes shut. He sighs deeply, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

Many things triggered his solitary trip out here today. 

Two weeks prior

Levi’s mood has been fouler than usual.

He’s exhausted. Bone deep, soul deep exhaustion.The constant ache in his leg has only been adding to the deterioration of his already shit sleep schedule. He had pulled back from everything recently, only leaving his apartment to meet his obligations at the embassy and the orphanage. He isn’t avoiding anyone out of spite, he’s just tired. 

Still, he knows he’ll get an earful once he finally decides to show his face again.

He’s trying to read, trying to get his mind off things, when a knock sounds at the door. He ignores it, but the visitor is persistent.

After several minutes, he gets up and opens the door, irritation sharpening his expression. Onyankopon stands on the other side.

“Thought I’d drop by,” he says. His tone is light, but there’s an edge in his eyes.

Levi studies him warily, skipping the pleasantries.

“What do you want?”

“Haven’t seen you in weeks,” Onyankopon says. “Actually, it’s been a month. Nobody has. I brought some food from that place you like down the street.” He holds up a giant paper bag. 

Levi eyes it, then looks at him. He briefly considers slamming the door. He really isn’t in the mood to let Onyankopon chip away at him.

Before he can move, Onyankopon reaches out and stops the door with one hand.

“Listen. I know you do this. You’ve refused to talk about it before. But it’s time, Captain. You can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m really not in the mood for this.”

“Really? I’ve come all this way.”

“You live upstairs.” 

“Come on, Captain.”

Levi sighs, looking away from his friend. His eyes flicker briefly to the open letter on his desk. Words you had written suddenly echo in his mind.

“Sometimes the people who love us know what we need better than we do.”

He clicks his tongue. “Fine.”

Levi steps aside.

In the kitchen, he makes tea to keep his hands busy while Onyankopon settles in at the small dining table. When the cups are ready, Levi joins him and they sit in silence for a little while.

Onyankopon’s gaze drifts around the room, landing on the wall above Levi’s writing desk. The room is clean and sparse. The only signs of life and human habitation that exist are a few scattered letters on the desk and a handful of pictures tacked on the wall…

Gabi and Falco with the dog.

Jean, Connie, Mikasa, Sasha, and Armin at the beach.

Historia with some children from the Underground.

And finally, one of Onyankopon, Armin, and you, smiling together in Onyankopon’s family kitchen.

Onyankopon chuckles when he sees it. Nodding towards the picture, he says, “I forgot she sent that to you.”

Levi looks over and Onyankopon catches the way his eyes soften momentarily, before hardening again.

The silence lingers, broken only by the tick of a wall clock and the faint clink of ceramic as they lift and set down their cups.

“You know you worry the kids when you do this,” Onyankopon says, finally.

Levi scoffs. “Those brats’ll be fine.”

Onyankopon studies the wall behind him for a moment, then cuts his gaze back.

“So…what is it, Captain?”

Levi stares into his tea, watching the steam curl and fade. “What do you mean, ‘what is it’?”

“I mean, what’s weighing you down this time.”

Levi’s grip tightens slightly around the rim of the cup. Heat presses into his fingertips, his gaze dipping to the gap in his other hand—between his thumb and ring finger.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Levi exhales through his nose, sharp and controlled. “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to complain so you can congratulate yourself on getting me to talk?”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Levi’s jaw tightens.

No one speaks for a while.

Finally, Onyankopon breaks the silence. Fixing his gaze towards the photos on the wall he says, “You know the Lago River? Further inland?”

Levi lifts a brow. “What does a river have to do with this?”

“It floods every year. Doesn’t matter how much they build up the banks or stack the sandbags. The water always gets through.”

“Your point?” 

“Grief and change are similar.

Levi’s expression hardens, glaring into his tea, like an escape might be at the bottom of the cup.

“You can hold it back for a while,” Onyankopon continues, “but it doesn’t stay behind the walls forever. It gets in. Around you, through you, until you have no choice but to acknowledge it.”

Levi doesn’t answer. 

“The flood already came, Captain. You’re standing in it.”

“I didn’t ask for a sermon.”

“I know you didn’t.”

Levi shifts, knee stiff beneath the table. His throat tightens.

“I’ve already acknowledged it,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Onyankopon nods, “Well, we all have bad days.” 

Levi closes his eyes briefly. His hand curls, tendons twitching.

“I’m tired.”

Onyankopon nods again, pondering his next words. Then, quietly, “Has it been worse lately? The pain?”

Levi doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. The room stays still, save for the tick of the clock.

“You don’t have to be the same man, Captain,” Onyankopon says.

Levi looks sharply at Onyankopon. Then he clicks his tongue and looks away.

“We’re all worried about you,” Onyankopon continues. “But the rest don’t want to overstep. Armin, Connie, and Jean still think of you as their leader.”

Levi sets his cup down. His hands are steady, but for a second his eyes betray him.

“Idiots.”

Onyankopon breathes out a small laugh, relieved to see some part of Levi surfacing.

“I know you’re busy. You’re doing your part to help the world move forward, but what are you doing to move yourself forward?”

Levi clicks his tongue again. “I moved forward the day I killed Zeke. The day Mikasa killed Eren. The day the titans were wiped out. What more is there?”

Onyankopon just shakes his head. 

Levi’s tone sharpens. “What’s the point of this? What does it matter to you?”

“Because you’re my friend,” Onyankopon says. “And I care.”

Levi balks at that, eyes narrowing. “Did she put you up to this?”

Onyankopon says your name, a question.

Levi just stares him down, one eye sharpened like a silver dagger.

Onyankopon laughs, full-hearted. “No, she didn’t, but I’m not surprised she’d say the same thing I’m saying now.”

Levi’s gaze narrows further.

“You don’t have to be suspicious, Captain,” Onyankopon says. “All I’m trying to say is, you don’t have to keep being the man you were. You’ve been freed from that burden.”

Levi’s voice drops to a whisper, barely audible.

“It doesn’t feel like freedom.”

Onyankopon nods. “There’s nothing wrong or weak about missing who you used to be. And losing your edge, those Ackerman instincts, the way you used to move, that doesn’t make you any less.”

He pauses. “What made you strong was never just that. It’s who you are underneath it all.”

Levi stares at him hard, but after a long moment, he gives a short, curt nod.

Onyankopon clears his throat, shifting the tone.

“Did Melody tell you she’s coming to visit?”

Levi’s heart twists further, his mouth pressing into a thin line. He hums in response.

“She was pretty disappointed you weren’t here last time.”

“Hm. Well, you know I hate to disappoint.”

Onyankopon scoffs. “I hate to overstep but–”

“Then don’t.”

Onyankopon shakes his head, unfazed. “I think the first step in embracing your new life, and your freedom, would be to spend time with her when she’s here.”

Levi starts a response but Onyankopon holds up a hand, interrupting him. 

“Deny it all you want, Captain, but I know you miss her. If you lose your chance at this, it won’t be because life stole it from you. It’ll be because you threw this opportunity away.”

Levi’s gaze drifts to the photo of you and Onyankopon again. 

He exhales sharply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Onyankopon doesn’t flinch, he’s determined to get through to him. “Levi.” He says sternly. 

Levi stares him down coldly, not willing to relent. 

“So, what now, then, Captain? You just keep on living like this? Isolated and alone?”

Onyankopon waits for an answer but none comes. Both men sit in silence until Levi gives in. He looks up at the ceiling, but when he speaks there’s no edge in his tone. Just weariness. “She deserves more.”

Onyankopon looks taken aback. “More?”

“Better. Someone who’s whole.”

“Did you not hear what I said earlier?”

“I did.”

A pause, then, “Has it ever occurred to you that you are whole to her? That this version of you is the one she wants because it’s all she’s known?”

“It doesn’t matter. Because I want more for her. She’ll move on.”

Onyankopon chuckles, bringing his fingers up to massage his forehead, “You’re allowed to be happy.”

Levi scoffs, “Not likely.”

“Don’t lose this chance. You really think that four years wasn’t enough for her to find someone else?” 

Levi sighs louder. “It doesn’t matter. Why are you so sure there’s something there anyway? Did she say something to you?” The last bit comes out sounding more curious than intended. 

“Do you trust me?” Onyankopon tries instead. 

“Huh?”

“Do you trust me? We’ve been in battle together and known each other for years. Do you trust me?”

Levi sighs. “Yes, you idiot.”

“Then trust me when I say that you deserve a chance at happiness. Take it. Spend time with her, before she moves on. Something tells me she won’t wait another four years.”

Levi surveys him quietly.

“Joy isn’t something that just happens, Captain, it’s a practice too.” Onyankopon says as one final attempt. 

Levi sighs, leaning forward. 

“I’ll think about it,” he says, tone clipped but final.

Oyankopon nods, satisfied for now. “Good. Now let’s eat. Oh, and you really should visit Gabi, she’s furious with you for ignoring her for this long.”

Levi has been sitting on the bench for hours. 

The wind blows more furiously around him now. Overhead the sky has shifted from a pale silver to ash grey. The air smells faintly of rain, but the storm clouds keep their distance, hovering like specters at the horizon.

The silence around him isn’t empty. It hums with memories, fragments of voices, and conversations that loop through his mind over and over, until they land where they always do. 

You.

Always you.

The woman who left for the far side of the sea.

Sometimes, when he’s writing to you, he swears he feels Hange there beside him, nagging at his conscience. Telling him not to drop the letters. Not to disappear.

He sighs, looking up to the sky. 

Your letters these past years kept him going, more than he’s ready to admit. It took him a while to face it, but eventually he couldn’t deny the small smile that showed up every time your handwriting appeared on an envelope.

Still, it isn’t simple. Lately the tone in your writing has become… familiar. Too familiar, maybe. It reminds him of those final months with you in Didgori. How he shared some of his past, how he would linger when your hands would touch, how he’d make you coffee as an excuse to be around you. His first instinct is to shut it down. To write back and tell you to stop sending off letters with ‘Your Melody.’ He even sat down a few times, pen in hand, ready to say it. But he never went through with it. 

Because the truth is, he likes thinking of you that way. As his Melody. 

It’s been years since you first stirred up these complicated emotions, but he still doesn’t have words for what is happening inside of him. Before you, the question of who he was drawn to never seemed worth asking. There was never any desire in any clear direction. He didn’t like anyone, really. He thought maybe he didn’t feel things the way other people did. Not that he had much time to think about that kind of shit anyway. 

Erwin was the last person who mattered this much. And whatever that was, it wasn’t like this. At least, that’s what Levi thought. But then, he would never know for sure, because Erwin died. And that was that. 

Whatever this is, it doesn’t fit neatly into words. All Levi knows is that he feels his chest tighten when he reads your handwriting. That he often finds himself trying to picture your expression as you wrote a certain line, wondering if you meant it the way he read it. And more often than not, he wonders when he will see you again. 

Still, he told Onyankopon what he believes is the truth. That you deserve more than this mess of a man he’s become…that he’s always been. You deserve someone who isn’t still fumbling around in the dark. Someone who knows how to hold something as precious as another’s heart.

But Onyankopon had made some points too. 

Levi looks up at the sky. The storm clouds haven’t moved, they’re still waiting.

Could he allow himself this? Could he be selfish, just this once? 

More importantly, could he forgive himself for all the things he couldn’t change? Everyone he failed to save, the state of the world, on and on the list goes…

Levi’s gaze drops to the field below. The giant swords gleam faintly in the dying light, their hilts casting long, thin shadows that stretch like scars across the earth. His knee throbs. The ache in his back has long since gone from sharp to dull, folding into the constant rhythm of his body’s limits. He should leave, but his thoughts keep turning.

Even if he found a way to let go of the recent past, what comes next is just as tangled. How could he be with someone when he hasn’t made peace with the little boy who watched his mother sell herself just to keep them both alive? With the child who learned too early what it meant to fight off men who saw him as something to be used.

Still… 

Levi slips a small book from his jacket pocket, one you sent him. A strange little story about a prince, a fox, and a rose. At first Levi was confused by your choice to send him a children’s story. Honestly, he’s still confused, but the story has grown on him. Levi flips through it now, prompting a photo to slip from between the pages into his hands. He holds it carefully, fingers pinching the edge.

Your face stares back at him, soft and unguarded. You’re not looking directly at the camera, instead your gaze is aimed at whoever was behind the lens. There’s mischief in your eyes and your mouth is curved in a half smile, like you’re about to laugh or say something clever. He remembers that look. A blend of exasperation, humor, and affection.

It’s only a photo. 

But it isn’t. 

Sometimes he wonders if it was a mistake to keep the photo. It would’ve been smarter to throw it away and pretend he never received it at all. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. But his hands never make it past the first step of that thought. They just hold the paper longer, fingertips grazing the edges like the photo might tear if he presses too hard.

Could he make good on his promise to Onyankokpon and try? Try for what exactly? 

“Just spend time with her.”

Could he choose you?

The words come uninvited…move on.

He hates them. They taste like betrayal.

But maybe it isn’t about leaving the past behind. Not about forgetting everyone he has lost, but allowing his heart to grow bigger. To make room for more. And hasn’t he already done that in some way? You already have a place in his heart. 

His hand curls around the cane beside him. The sky has dimmed, but the path down is still visible.

He has never been good at being selfish. So what path would he regret the least?

There are no certainties either way. Whatever happens, he will go on, as he always does. He will continue carrying a life stitched together by flaws.

When he gets home later that night, Levi sits at his desk, pulls out a fresh sheet of paper, and makes a decision. 

Hizuru 858

These past few years of letter writing should have made things easier, created distance, helped you forget. If anything, they’d done the opposite. Every word exchanged between you had only deepened the longing, solidified the truth you’d been too afraid to name out loud.

You were in deep. And there was no clean way out of it.

Maybe the worst part was that it was your idea to begin with.

Long-distance correspondence. Thoughtful. Innocent. Safe.

It was none of those things.

“Are you sure you’re not in love with the idea of him at this point?” Yumi had asked once as the two of you walked the dusty road to the post office with your latest letter in hand.

“No fucking idea,” you muttered, not looking up. And it was true.

Now, you sigh again, louder this time. The ship for Marley leaves tomorrow. You’re going to see him, after four long years.

Will he still look the same?

Will things feel the same? 

You turn your head toward the window, catching the final light of the fading sunset. There’s not much time left in this chapter of your life. You want to savor it.

You freshen up quickly and head down to the pond. 

When you arrive, a flock of swans glide across the water in graceful pairs, the slow rhythm of their movement strangely comforting. You sit on the grass, arms curled around your knees, and watch in silence.

They stay near each other even when they change direction.

Another breath escapes you, heavier this time.

Too much anticipation.

Too many questions.

What if it’s nothing?

What if he’s not even there when you arrive?

You press your palms flat against the ground, steadying yourself.

You’d know soon.

One way or the other.

For better or worse.

The Present: Marley

Armin wasn’t blind. He saw what was unfolding between his friend and the ever guarded Captain Levi. He’s noticed since those months when you all lived together in Didgori. The way your eyes had searched for each other in crowded rooms, the way silences grew heavy when one of you walked away. Levi would never speak it aloud, of course, but Armin had known him long enough to read between the lines.

That was why he’d asked Levi to keep you company during your visit. Not that he figured he’d need to force you two together. You both had been inseparable at one point, but he was taking no chances. With this trip Armin wanted to make sure you didn’t drift too far from the one person who seemed to bring you back to yourself.

Now, as the car slows near the dock and the sea comes into view, Armin feels excitement flutter in his chest. His giddyness is laughable. For a long time life didn’t leave room for small, ordinary hopes like this, but things are different now. There are weddings to attend, meals to share, life to live. Sasha and Niccolo proved as much.

As they step onto the dock Armin observes the captain’s tense posture. The way his eyes are narrowed onto the sea, his hands in his pockets. His jaw clenches slightly as the large ship from Hizuru pulls in. 

Armin smiles to himself. He wouldn’t mind seeing another love story bloom, and he had a feeling this one had been quietly blooming for a long, long time. 

Chapter Text

You arrive in Marley on a windy afternoon in April. The breeze carries the familiar scent of salt, dirt, and something else. That elusive, intangible thing that marks a place as familiar. The wind pulls at you as you emerge from the ship’s cabin. A sudden gust billows your clothes and sends strands of hair into your eyes. Reaching up, you tuck them behind your ear to clear your vision. You pause at the top of the ramp, boots planted on sun-worn wood, surveying the dock stretched out before you, alive with sound and movement.

Seagulls wheel overhead with beaks open wide. Their shrill cries like high-pitched strings tuning out of sync. Car horns blare on the street, long and low. Around you, seamen shout to one another as they hurl luggage onto the dock, the heavy thud of canvas and wood landing with percussive booms. It’s a mess of noise, like an orchestra warming up without a conductor. 

Your eyes search the dock for a familiar face and are drawn to the figure in the middle of it all.

Levi.

It’s Levi. 

He hasn’t seen you yet. He stands near the edge of the dock with his back to the sea, profile unmistakable. The wind lifts strands of his black hair, and the collar of his jacket flutters gently against his neck. His posture is steady, hands tucked in his pockets, like the chaos of the world couldn’t possibly shake him.

Then he turns.

His gaze lifts, scans the ramp and finds your face. The noise around you disappears, everything falls away. 

Your breath catches. Your heart stirs, and your smile widens, open and irrepressible. 

He’s here, and so are you.

Finally.

A voice calls your name and breaks the moment. You walk eagerly down the dock as Onyankopon strides over to meet you. With a laugh he lifts you into a hug that squeezes the air from your lungs.

“Missed you,” he says, grinning.

“You too,” you manage with a wheeze as he sets you down.

Armin hugs you quickly with a bright smile and Pieck kisses your cheek and squeezes your shoulders.

Then they all step aside, and Levi is in front of you.

Your body moves before you can stop it, like something in you has been waiting years to be pulled toward this moment.

Levi’s eyes haven’t left you for a second.

He is every bit as beautiful as you remember. An unforgettable presence you’ve carried in your mind for years.

You smile shyly, suddenly at a loss for words. For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. He just looks at you with a steady and unreadable gaze.

Then, before you can get your bearings, he shifts his weight and holds out an envelope.

You reach for it, and your fingers brush his. The contact is brief but electric, a jolt that skips up your arm and lodges somewhere behind your ribs. For a moment, you’re thrown back in time. You remember the brush of his fingers in a quiet hallway, the way his eyes always found yours across a crowded kitchen.

“You’re funny,” you say with a soft laugh, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s really good to see you.”

He nods, eyes still locked on yours. “You too,” he says, quietly.

The others begin walking toward the car, Onyankopon is already grabbing your luggage from the pile being unloaded from the ship. You stay rooted beside Levi, eyes glued to the envelope in your hand.

You nudge him lightly with your shoulder. “So…should I expect sweet words or insults in this one?”

He snorts, the sound low in his throat, and something flickers in his eyes. You look at him with a curious smile, waiting for an answer.

Then, before you can react, he reaches out and snatches the letter from your grip.

“Hey!” you cry, half-laughing. “Give that back!”

“Nope,” he mutters, slipping it smoothly inside his jacket pocket.

“Levi, you can’t just take it back,” you whine, reaching for his jacket.

“I just did.” He turns from you, dodging your grasp with infuriating ease.

You scowl at him, but there’s no real heat in it. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re annoying.”

He doesn’t wait for your rebuttal. Without a word, he reaches over and slides the strap of your bag off your shoulder, slinging it over his own with ease. His hand brushes your arm in the process, causing your breath to catch again.

Then he turns and starts toward the car.

You chase after him, matching his pace. You lean in, close enough now that your voice is just for him. His scent drifts toward you, faint and familiar. He smells clean and like something more subtle that you can’t name.

“I’ll get it back,” you whisper.

He doesn’t look at you.

But you see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Good luck.”

Onyankopon drives the group to a restaurant tucked away a few blocks from the harbor. The sun is low by the time you pile into the car, casting a golden sheen across the windows.

Levi slides into the seat next to you without a word, shoulder brushing yours in the tight space. You glance at him, and the light catches his face just right. It bathes his skin in a warm glow, softening the hard lines of his jaw and cheekbones. Strands of his black hair reflect the light like threads of bronze, and for a moment his eyes reflect it too, shades of storm-grey turned amber. Up close, you also notice the shadows under his eyes and the lines etched deep from furrowing his brows incessantly. He looks tired and you wonder, briefly, if he’s been sleeping at all. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Pieck nudging your arm on the other side. Her voice is teasing, though you don’t quite catch her words. Armin turns in his seat to laugh at Pieck with a bright expression. Levi dryly replies to whatever Pieck said, crossing his arms, tone sharp and familiar. The sound of it makes something loosen in your chest.

You smile to yourself, eyes drifting between them all.

Dinner goes by too quickly. The table fills with laughter, clinking glasses, and stories that tumble over one another easily. Some are about the past, some about nothing at all. Mundane details no one ever thought to write in their letters, yet now feel like small treasures.

You catch Levi’s eye more than once. Sometimes it’s accidental, sometimes it isn’t. Each time it happens, it feels like you’re being struck by lightning. A jolt followed by warmth that spreads through your chest and settles low in your stomach.

He doesn’t say much, but you see the way his fingers drum quietly on the table when the room gets too loud. You notice the way his gaze softens on occasion. The way it lingers, just slightly longer, when it lands on you. 

At one point, someone makes a joke that sends half the table into fits of laughter. Levi’s mouth tugs at the corners, just barely. You can tell he’s trying not to smile. But then his eyes meet yours again, and he lets it happen. The smallest smile, there and gone. 

You’re still smiling, long after the laughter fades and the plates are cleared.

Eventually, Onyankopon drops you off at the inn you’ll be spending the next few weeks at. The night air is cooler now, brushing against your skin as you step out of the car and the weight of your travels begins to settle into your limbs.

Later, you lie awake in bed, the room dimly lit by the glow of a streetlamp beyond the window. The quiet hum of the city filters in through the glass.

Your thoughts drift to the envelope Levi took back. To the brush of his fingers. To the way he looked at you.

These thoughts settle over you like a blanket, lulling you to sleep.

Soft. Warm. Familiar.

You wake early the next morning, already wired with anticipation. Your concert is at the end of the week, and today is packed from start to finish.

First, there’s a morning choir rehearsal at the recreation center. Gabi and Falco had begged you to sit in, proudly announcing in a recent letter that they’d joined the local choir after hearing so much about your music. You couldn’t say no, not when they signed the letter with a crooked treble clef and a postscript that explained how much they loved music. After that, you’ll need to head to the performance hall for a rehearsal with the orchestra. 

You stretch and sit up, honestly not really thinking about any of that yet. You’re wondering if Levi will already be downstairs by the time you finish getting ready. You choose a dress that’s pretty but comfortable and paint your face with a bit of light makeup. Small luxuries you didn’t have access to in the early months after the Rumbling and still don’t take for granted. Before heading down, you pause in front of the mirror, letting yourself enjoy the moment.

To your delight, Levi is already in the lobby.

He’s seated by the window, a cup of tea in front of him, steam curling delicately in the morning sun. His gaze is fixed on something outside, though you can’t tell if he’s truly looking at it or just lost in thought.

You pause at the foot of the stairs, letting your eyes linger.

His face is exactly as you remember. Stoic, sharp, distant in a way that has always been more protective than cold. His hair is still styled in an undercut, still neatly black, still very him. The black suit he’s wearing is casual but neat. It looks like you’re not the only one enjoying the finer things now that society is finding its footing again.

You walk over quietly, meeting his eyes when he finally glances up.

“Morning,” you say softly, sliding into the chair across from him.

His gaze lingers on you for a breath before he speaks. “Coffee?”

“In a minute.”

He clicks his tongue but stands anyway, heading to the bar to order you a cup.

You smile at that. It’s not so different from the times back in Didgori when he would bring you fresh coffee or tea while you worked on your manuscripts. 

He comes back with a steaming mug and a plate topped with a pastry, eggs, and an orange. He places it in front of you unceremoniously. 

“Eat.”

“Still bossy I see,” you say as thanks. 

“Still a brat I see.”

You smirk and move to stand up. 

“Where are you going?” He asks. 

“I need sugar,” you say. “For my coffee.”

“I already added sugar,” he says, reaching forward and grabbing the orange off your plate. 

“You don’t forget anything, do you?” 

He huffs softly, eyes dropping to the orange in his hands. Without a word, he starts peeling it, neat and methodical. You watch him over the rim of your mug as the peel comes off in clean strips. When he’s done, he breaks the orange into even slices and places them back onto your plate, arranging each piece with care.

You glance up at him, flustered by his actions. He’s never been one for sweet words, but this is better.

“Do you want any?” you ask. 

He shakes his head and folds his hands in front of him, eyes resting steadily on you as you take a few bites of your meal.

“Levi…”

“What.”

“Can you please not watch me eat?” Your cheeks warm, heat crawling up your neck.

He rolls his eyes and leans forward, resting his chin in his palm. His gaze doesn’t waver.

“Levi,” you choke out an exasperated laugh.

You catch the smallest curve of his lips, the ghost of a smirk.

“You look the same,” he murmurs.

His gaze is so intense you could melt. 

Before you can say anything back, Gabi and Falco burst into the room, all bright smiles and boundless energy. Their voices rise in overlapping excitement the moment they spot you.

“You’re here!” Gabi shouts, rushing forward. Falco’s not far behind, grinning ear to ear.

Their joy is so radiant, so unfiltered, it fills the quiet space like sunlight through an open window. You can’t help but smile, rising to greet them with open arms.

They hug you tightly, arms wrapped around your waist and shoulders, chattering over one another with updates, stories, and questions all at once. You laugh through it, smoothing Gabi’s hair as she clutches your hand, you notice Levi patting Falco on the head as the young boy turns to greet him.

After a few more minutes of eager chatter, you gather your things and head out together. Gabi and Falco lead the way, bouncing with enthusiasm as they talk over each other, filling you in on school, choir practice, and the latest drama among their friends.

Once you arrive, the kids lead you over to meet their conductor and accompanist, both greet you with a warm smile and a firm handshake. You chat for a few minutes, and the conductor lets you know that the entire choir will be attending your concert. “They’ve been looking forward to it for weeks,” he adds, a hint of pride in his voice.

You thank him, a little touched, before making your way to a seat at the back of the rehearsal room. Levi settles beside you, quiet as ever. As you sit, you catch the faintest narrowing of his eyes in the conductor’s direction.

“Friendly guy,” he mutters, pulling a small pocket book from his coat and flipping it open without looking at you.

You raise an eyebrow in his direction and bite back a laugh.

His posture softens as he leans back slightly, eyes fixed on the page, content to read while the music begins to fill the room.

When the rehearsal ends, you and Levi leave Gabi and Falco behind and head toward the performance hall.  Neither of you says much on the way, allowing the silence to stretch comfortably between you.

Outside the hall, you come to a stop.

“Alright. This is where you leave me,” you say, keeping your tone light.

He glances over, brows drawing together slightly. “Huh?”

You hesitate, gaze dropping to the ground. “I want the first time you hear me play to be at the concert.”

There’s a pause. You feel the words hang in the air, a little more vulnerable than you meant them to be.

“Why?”

You give a small shrug, cheeks warming. “It’s just a rehearsal,” you mumble. “It won’t sound like much yet.”

“And?”

“I mean, with all the talk about my music, the last thing I want is for you to sit through a bunch of mistakes and messy run-throughs. It’s all technical stuff today. Honestly, it might take forever.”

Levi frowns. He doesn’t understand why you’d care if he hears mistakes, he wouldn’t even notice. He’s not trained to hear that sort of thing. All he knows is that he has waited years to see you again, and now you're sending him away.

He clicks his tongue. “Come on, idiot. You’re going to be late.” He places a hand on your back, steering you toward the doors.

You dig your heels in and turn to face him, ignoring the warmth of his hand on your lower back. “No. I’m serious. Go wait for me at a café or something. This could take hours. Look, there’s one right over there.”

You point across the street to a little place tucked between storefronts.

Levi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He says your name, his tone edged with mild annoyance. 

“I don’t want to go to a café.”

“Levi.” You pinch his arm, teasing. “You’re being childish. I’ll come get you when I’m done. Please?”

“I’m not the one being childish.”

You give him your best pleading look, eyes wide and earnest.

He holds your gaze for a long second, then exhales sharply through his nose.

“Fine,” he mutters. 

“Mhm. See ya.” You grin and playfully wag your fingers at him as you slip through the doors, disappearing inside before he can protest again.

Three hours later you emerge from the performance hall feeling frazzled. Your brain is dead, and coffee sounds like the only thing that might bring you back to life.

The orchestra rehearsal went well, but it was your first time playing with them since your last visit, and the conductor had plenty of spots he wanted to drill with everyone in the same room. Then there was the picky light technician who made you sit still under the stage lights for thirty straight minutes while he adjusted them.

By the time you step into the café, your nerves are frayed and your body is aching from sitting on the piano bench for hours. The door jingles as you enter and your eyes scan the cozy room, but you don’t see a familiar head of black hair anywhere. Your heart sinks a little, assuming that Levi went home. 

“Oi. Why are you just standing there.”

You whip around. Levi’s sitting at a table behind you, one you somehow managed to miss.

“Levi! You’re still here.” You drop into the empty chair across from him, already feeling lighter.

He looks at you, eyes sharp as ever, tea cup hanging between his fingers. “You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.” You let out a groan, resting your forehead in your hands. “I’d be more offended, but honestly, I’m too tired.”

“Wait here,” he says, already standing.

You look up as he heads to the counter. For the second time today, you find yourself watching Levi Ackerman get up to fetch you a cup of coffee. You lower your gaze and try not to smile, completely failing, of course.

When he comes back, he sets a cup of sweetened black coffee in front of you.

“Why are you smiling like an idiot?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing.” You say, averting your eyes.

He clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes at you. 

You take a sip and warmth spreads through your chest. Something inside you starts to settle.

Levi watches you in silence, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his cup. His eyes stay on your face, brow slightly furrowed, like he’s trying to commit the moment to memory. He pretends not to notice the way your shoulders ease, the way your smile returns slowly with each sip. Pretends it doesn’t matter that he’s the reason for it. 

Before he can talk himself out of it, he clears his throat.

“Are you hungry?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Huh? Mm. A little.”

“We can go somewhere,” he says, then adds, almost reluctantly, “Or I can make you something.”

You freeze, his offer catching you off guard.

“Oh, I don’t want to impose,” you say quickly, voice soft.

He gives you a flat look. “You wouldn’t be.”

You hum, buying yourself a moment. Your eyes drop to your coffee cup and you swirl it gently, pretending to think. The truth is, you already want to say yes. But your pulse is suddenly too loud in your ears.

He seems unsure too. You can feel it in the way he leans back slightly, eyes shifting away for the first time.

You glance up at him then nod, just barely. “Okay. Yours, then.”

Something eases in Levi's shoulders at your response.

You sit there for a few minutes more before standing up to leave. Levi goes ahead of you to wave down a cab. You’d noticed the cane earlier, but now, as he walks out, the sight of it tugs at you differently. A wave of guilt washes over you for dragging him all over town today.

Outside, Levi opens the car door for you without a word, and you climb in. The ride passes in comfortable silence, the hum of the engine soft beneath the current of your thoughts. The car slows to a stop, and when you step out, the cool air brushes against your skin. The wind carries the scent of damp earth and a hint of woodsmoke from a nearby chimney. Behind you, Levi pays the driver, then walks ahead, leading you toward his front door. The building is charming, made of worn brick and framed by overgrown greenery. A white trellis arches over the path, its frame almost hidden beneath thick vines. You catch the faint, sweet scent of jasmine as you pass beneath it.

Looking to the side, you catch sight of a group of teenagers kicking a ball around, their voices echoing faintly in the evening air. The scene reminds you of your old neighborhood in the internment zone, where noise and movement spilled out onto the streets in the same familiar way.

Levi unlocks his front door calmly. The latch clicks open, and he pushes the door in with one hand before stepping aside. He invites you in with a tilt of his head.

You step inside and take in the space. It’s spartan, but not cold. The scent of tea and old paper lingers faintly in the air, mingling with something woodsy, like cedar or ash. Shelves line one wall, filled with books worn at the spines. A low table sits near a simple couch and armchair. The fireplace is swept clean, a few unburnt logs stacked neatly inside. By the window, a wooden dining table catches the last of the light.

Your nerves stir, all too aware that this isn’t neutral ground. This is where he lives. Where he keeps his life behind a locked door.

Behind you, the door closes with a soft, final sound. You feel it in your spine. His presence is close. Closer than it was a second ago.

You turn to face him, and he gestures toward a spot where you can hang your coat and bag. You do so, then take another slow step further inside.

He moves past you, sets his cane down by the coat hook, and shrugs off his jacket. You glance over your shoulder, watching the way he moves.

Your eyes drift back to the room. After a moment, you wander further in, drawn to the desk in the corner. The surface is bare except for a single pen laid neatly to the side. You smile to yourself, imagining him sitting there responding to your letters.

Above the desk, a small cluster of photos is tacked to the wall. Your eyes scan them slowly.

Gabi and Falco grinning beside a scruffy dog. Jean and Connie mid-laugh with Mikasa and Armin draped over a smiling brunette, all barefoot in the sand. In another, a small blonde woman sits cross-legged on the ground, surrounded by children who must be from the Underground.

And then the last one.

Onyankopon, Armin, and you, arms slung around each other, smiling wide.

You linger there for a moment, struck by how it feels to see your own face in Levi’s space. You’re still focused on the photos when you realize he’s standing nearby, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, shoulders tight.

“You can sit,” he says, nodding toward the couch.

You turn around and nod, sinking into the cushions with a quiet sigh. Levi disappears into the kitchen, the soft clink of dishes and the hush of running water filling the space he leaves behind.

After a few minutes you get up to pull a notebook and a folded score from your bag, setting them on your lap as you begin reviewing the notes you scribbled during rehearsal. Your eyes trace the margins where you’ve marked trouble spots, dynamics, phrasing. You know you need a clear plan for tomorrow’s practice.

For a moment, your thoughts wander. You wonder if Levi will show you where the new piano is at the community center tomorrow before he disappears into the rest of his day. He made time for you today. That much you don’t take for granted, but tomorrow, you’ll mostly be on your own.

You shift slightly on the couch, resting your head in your hand, elbow braced against the armrest. The paper softens in your lap, your grip loosening. You meant to keep reading, to keep planning. But your thoughts drift, unfocused now, moving somewhere quieter. The room is still and the weight of the day settles over you like a heavy blanket. You don’t even notice your eyes closing.

Sleep takes you before you can stop it.

You’re awoken a few minutes later by the sound of Levi setting the small table a few feet away. 

“Tired?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder and gesturing for you to join him.

You sit up slowly, rubbing at your eyes. “Rehearsal was rough,” you mumble, voice still thick with sleep.

He pauses for a moment, like he’s debating whether or not to speak. Then, almost offhandedly, he says, “I’ve never been to a concert.”

You smile as you make your way to the table. “Have you had the chance to hear a full orchestra yet?”

Levi nods. “Onyankopon plays records sometimes.” He shrugs, but there’s a hint of curiosity in his voice.

You start eating. The meal is simple, warm, and very good. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were. In Hizuru, you would often forget to eat. Always running from one thing to the next, surviving on coffee and whatever you could scarf down between rehearsals and meetings. 

You glance at him across the table, and for a brief moment, you think you wouldn’t mind getting used to this.

“And?” you prompt after a few bites.

Levi shrugs.

You raise an eyebrow. “Tough critic.”

“I guess I don’t really know how to judge it.”

You tilt your head, thoughtful. “Then I’ll just have to set your standard. There’s nothing like hearing a live orchestra.”

He looks at you. When your eyes meet, his linger. They’re a stormy kind of silver, shadowed by the low light, catching the faintest reflection from the window. 

You drum your fingers on your arm before leaning forward, chin in hand. “So, you never answered the question in my letter. About the music and art classes at the rec center.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “What was the question?”

You tip your head, feigning innocence. “Did I influence you at all?”

Levi clicks his tongue. “What if I say no?”

“I’d call you a liar.”

He leans forward, forearms resting on the table, eyes still locked on yours. “Hm. We wouldn’t want that now, would we.”

You lean in further, mirroring his posture. “So?”

He watches you, all that storm-gray fixed entirely on you. “What do you think?”

You shrug again, but the corner of your mouth is curving.

He rolls his eyes and stands, reaching for your plate. “Brat.”

You groan playfully at his avoidance and follow his lead, collecting the rest of the dishes.

“I’ve got it,” Levi says, reaching to take them from you.

You shake your head. “Let me help.”

He gives you a look.

“You cooked,” you add, leveling him with a mild stare. “At least let me do the dishes.”

There’s a pause.

“I’m guessing you still don’t do them properly,” he mutters.

You blink, then smirk. “That’s a bold accusation.”

He arches an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I would do a bad job once or twice back then,” you admit. “But only because I knew if I half-assed it, you’d get irritated and take over.”

“Tch. Manipulative woman.”

“Mhm,” you tease, brushing past him to grab a towel. “Let me at least dry.”

With a quiet sigh and a shake of his head, he turns toward the sink. You fall into place beside him. The clink of ceramic and the hush of running water fill the small kitchen. When the last dish is done and the cloth is draped to dry, Levi sets the kettle on and makes you tea. A few minutes later, he brings over two mugs and places them on the low table before settling into the couch beside you.

You pull your notebook from your bag, flipping through pages until you land on your notes for next week’s workshop. Scribbled thoughts, fragments of ideas, and bullet points cover the paper in uneven rows. You scan through them, adjusting a few things in your mind.

Levi leans back, one arm resting along the back of the couch. He glances over, catching the open notebook in your lap.

“Work?”

You nod. “I’m giving a lecture on how to teach performance literature to the teachers at the center next week. Didn’t Armin mention it to you?” 

Levi shrugs. 

After a few more minutes of scribbling you look over at him. He’s focused on a book, a different one from before.

“You kept the picture,” you murmur.

“What?” he asks, eyes snapping sharply to you. 

You point to the space above his desk. 

He looks to where you’re pointing and visibly relaxes. 

Weird, you think, but let it go. 

“Who’s the woman with the kids?” you ask. You recognize most everyone else but she is unfamiliar to you. 

He looks up from his book again, “Historia, with some kids from the Underground.” 

You nod, looking over at the picture again.

“I still think it’s amazing how you helped her set up an orphanage for those kids,” you say thoughtfully.

He sighs, “Anything’s better than growing up how I did.”

You hum an acknowledgement, sensing the shift in him, the way a guarded look slips quietly over his face.

“And that’s Sasha with the others?” you ask, pointing to the photo of his squad. They’re standing on a beach, all grins and sunburnt cheeks.

He nods. 

“That’s a really pretty beach,” you comment. 

“That place means a lot to them. A lot happened there.” 

He trails off, but you stay with him. You wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t go on, you gently press for more.

“What was it like, growing up behind the walls?”

Levi puts his book down, looking over at you. “It’s all we knew. How do you describe the sun to someone who’s never seen it? The moon? That’s just how I lived for a long time.”

You give a small nod, quietly processing.

After a few moments, you set your pencil aside. “And now?” you ask gently.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares ahead, somewhere beyond the room.

“And now, at least those brats can enjoy the sea,” he finally says.

“And what about you, Levi?”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“Are you enjoying life beyond the walls?”

He studies you like he’s trying to decide whether you really want the answer. Then he looks away, jaw tightening. The silence that follows is filled with uncertainty.

You wait, gaze soft, giving him space.

Eventually, he looks back at you, expression unreadable. “What’s the ocean like in Hizuru?”

You smile at the change of subject, but you let it go for another time. 

“Warm,” you say, “and so blue. There are trees and flowers everywhere so the air always smells sweet. And the fruit is delicious. There’s so many different kinds, stuff I’ve never had in Marley.”

He’s watching you now, fully. Like he doesn’t want to miss a word.

“You have to come visit,” you say. “I’ll show you everything, and you can meet my friends. They’ve heard way too much about you,” you laugh.

Levi crosses his arms, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “Is that what you want?”

“What?” You grin. “For you to visit me?”

He nods, serious.

“Yes,” you say, without hesitation.

He nods again, slower this time. “Okay.”

You go back to writing and Levi returns to his book. A few quiet moments pass.

Then a thought hits you. You toss your notebook aside and lean suddenly into his space.

He startles, pulling back slightly. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Alright, Ackerman. Hand it over.”

He narrows his eyes. “Hand what over?”

“The letter,” you say, holding out your hand expectantly.

He clicks his tongue and pushes your hand aside. “No.”

“But it’s mine,” you argue, drawing out the last word.

He doesn’t answer, just gives you a look.

You glare at him, but your smile gives you away. “Give me the damn letter.”

He leans back against the couch, arms crossing lazily over his chest. “Make me.”

You stare at him, suddenly flustered, trying not to smile. “You’re the worst.”

He dips his head at you in a silent challenge.

You narrow your eyes, scanning the room. “You hid it, didn’t you?”

Levi shrugs innocently. “You’re not getting it.”

You huff and sink back into the couch, arms crossed in exaggerated defeat. “You’re lucky I’m tired.”

“Sure.”

A quiet settles between you again, but it’s different now. The room feels smaller, charged. You glance sideways and catch him watching you again, this time without looking away.

Eventually, you reach for your notebook, the scratch of your pencil filling the silence. Levi turns another page beside you.

After a few minutes, you glance over. “So what is it you don’t want me reading?”

He doesn’t look up. “Nothing.”

You shift toward him again, teasing. “Come on. Is it some dark secret? A poem?”

He looks at you, unimpressed. “You think I write poetry?”

“Right, right. Of course not.” You bring your finger up to tap your lips, pretending to think. His eyes track the motion. “Oh, I know. It’s a list of your cleaning techniques.”

“You could benefit from that,” he says flatly.

You grin. “Just give me a hint.”

He clicks his tongue. “Nope.”

“Coward.”

He finally looks at you fully, head tilting just slightly. “You know, I kind of like watching you beg.”

Your breath catches. Heat creeps into your cheeks, but you cover it with a groan.

“You’re insufferable.”

He smirks. “So I’ve been told.”

You shake your head, trying to fight the smile spreading across your face.

“You’re going to regret this when I start tearing your apartment apart next time.”

“I already regret letting you in,” he mutters, but his voice is warm.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and sink back into your seat, pencil back in hand. He can keep his secrets—for now.

Levi walks you home later that night, the streets quiet under a sky washed in deep blue and scattered stars. You try to tell him you can take a cab or walk yourself but he insists. 

“It’s just a few blocks away.” He says flatly.

The air is cool, brushing against your skin in waves, carrying the scent of damp stone and chimney smoke.

You walk side by side, your steps unhurried.

You’re lost in thought when your foot catches on a loose cobblestone. You stumble with a soft gasp and Levi’s hand is on your arm instantly. He doesn’t startle, just moves with you, catching you before you can fully lose your balance.

He holds onto you, sliding his hand from your arm to rest lightly on your back. Anchoring you to himself.

“Still so clumsy I see,” he murmurs, voice low and close. 

You blush, slightly embarrassed. 

“Can’t trust you not to trip again.”

You glance over at him, lips twitching. “Says the man with a cane.”

He huffs a soft breath, barely a laugh, but you catch the corner of his mouth tugging upward. His hand doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

In that instant, the world around you fades. The cobblestones, the lamplight, the scent of chimney smoke in the air all dissolve into something distant and blurred. The only thing that exists now is the silence between your heartbeats and the soft, steady pressure of Levi’s hand on your back.

The air around you hums softly. Just enough to feel it in your skin, in the base of your throat, in the flutter low in your belly. It’s like the whole street has shifted around you and the man at your side.

And if you didn’t know it before, you do now. 

You feel exposed by the undeniable certainty in your bones. Like a light from a distant lighthouse, steady and ancient in its knowing, cutting through the dark. It has been there, blinking through the storms you convinced yourself you had to weather alone. 

Now, finally, you see what’s in front of you clearly. Not just with your eyes, but with every part of you that has been aching to come home.  Like something inside you has turned to face the truth it’s circled for years.

He is here, with his hand protectively guiding you through the dark. 

This scene has played out before. In firelight, in ruin. In a moment you thought you might never come back to yourself. It’s played out again and again, across time and distance. It’s never really stopped. Not in four years. Not for a second.

This is what you ran from. Time and oceans separated you, for four years you made excuses dressed up as practicality. But it was always this. Him. The way he looks at you without asking for anything. The way his presence makes your pulse falter and your guard crack. The way, without saying a word, he makes you feel seen.

And you’re terrified. Because you’re still unsure if he feels the same.

You keep walking, slowly, closer. The hush of your footfalls, the faint brush of your coat against his, these are the only sounds left.

The inn comes into view when you round the next corner. Its golden light spilling from the front windows casting long shadows across the stone path. Your pace slows.

You don’t want to arrive, don’t want the walk to end.

When you reach the steps, Levi drops his hand from your back and takes a step away. The absence of his touch is immediate, cold.

You turn to face him, finding his expression surprisingly soft in the dim light.

And again, the world narrows to the space between you. You wonder what it would be like to lean in, just a little. To feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek, to close the distance and finally learn the shape of his mouth against yours.

Your lips part, involuntarily. Not from speech, but from the sheer weight of the thought.

You think about the brush of his mouth against yours, gentle at first, then slower, deeper. You imagine the way his other hand might rise to your jaw, a gentle thumb brushing your cheekbone.

You imagine the shape of his fingers tracing your ribs, skimming your waist, settling at your hip. You wonder if he’d hold you carefully or pull you closer without a word, as if there had never been a question. 

And you would let him. God, you would let him.

Your body already knows the shape of this pull. It’s your mind and heart that are still catching up.

Levi doesn’t move, but his gaze drops, just for a second, to your mouth. You see it. You feel it. Then his jaw tightens and he looks away. 

The distance between you holds. His hand stays at his side, and your fantasies dissolve in the rush of night and the sound of your own heart beating too loud in your ears. You blink, pulse thrumming, and look away before he can see too much.

“Thanks,” you say, softly clearing your throat. “For tonight.”

He nods. His eyes catch the lamplight just right, and you see something flicker there.

“You should rest,” he says.

You smile softly and nod. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

He nods and turns to go. You watch wistfully as he walks away and disappears into the night, the hum of his presence clinging to your skin.

A daze settles over Levi as he makes his way back to his apartment. He can still feel the heat of your back beneath his hand, the way your body leaned into him after your near fall. The night air is cool against his skin, but his palm burns from the memory.

He hadn’t let go after that, unable to deny the desire to hold you. How, just as before, he finds himself making any and every excuse to touch you. 

He feels like a madman. That’s what he is. A man unraveling thread by thread.

How desperately Levi wishes to surrender to this humiliation. To the selfish ache clawing at the edges of his restraint. All just to feel your touch for longer than a second. To lean in and breathe the sweet, soft, floral scent that lingers in your hair. 

He still thinks of you as he unlocks his front door, the metal key clicking too loudly in the quiet. He shrugs off his jacket, movements automatic, but his mind is far from here. He imagines what it would be like to turn and find you beside him, brushing past to hang your coat next to his. To have the shape of your presence stitched into the fabric of his everyday life.

How wonderful it would be to always make you dinner. To have your voice calling out from the other room. To watch you lean against the counter with a cup of tea while he plates the food, always pretending not to notice how carefully he watches you.

To wash the dishes while you dry, your hand brushing his every now and then. To always see you settle into the couch with your notebook, forehead furrowed in thought. He’d cross the room just to smooth your brow with the back of his fingers, to give you even a moment of ease.

As he moves through his apartment, Levi keeps imagining your things among his. Your shoes lined up next to his. A scarf draped over the back of a chair. A book left open on the table. The echo of your presence in the quiet.

He looks at his untouched bed and imagines laying down beside you. Not with urgency or even with desire, just the quiet, impossible wish to rest with you. To pull you close until the shape of your body fits against his like a secret only he knows. He imagines your breath, soft and even, brushing the hollow of his throat. The steady rhythm of your chest rising against his.

He pictures the way your fingers might curl against the fabric of his shirt in sleep. The way your hair might fan across the pillow, catching faint traces of moonlight. He wonders what it would feel like to press his face into the curve of your neck and finally let go. To surrender his weight, his silence, his grief, into the warmth of your skin and the quiet of your dreams.

The thought tightens around his ribs like a vice.

So he turns away and walks out of the room without looking back, shutting off the light as if that will be enough to forget for the evening.

Chapter Text

You decide to run a bath when you get up to your room, hoping the warmth might soothe the restlessness inside you. The faucet hisses to life and the room quickly fills with steam that appears in soft tendrils kissing the mirror and ghosting along your skin. You sit on the edge of the tub, fingers curled around the ceramic, grounding yourself. The tile is cool against your thighs, a contrast to the heat that waits in the water. You dip your toes in first. Then your calves. 

Once submerged, you lean back, the water lapping at your collarbones. The scent of the rose oil you’ve poured into the water is intoxicating, filling your overcrowded mind. Your body loosens in increments and you breathe in deeply, the ache in your back from sitting on the piano disappearing gradually. You begin to massage your hair, stewing on your conversation with Levi. The spot where he pressed his hand against your back still lingers with heat. Just the memory of it makes your skin prickle. 

Your cheeks grow warm, but you don’t stop the memory from deepening. You let it bloom in your mind, recklessly. 

You gulp at the memory of his voice as he teased you in his apartment.

“I like watching you beg.”

God. The fucking audacity.

Your jaw tightens and you rub your palms against your thighs hoping to scrub the memory away, but it’s seared into you. Into the heat that crawls up your chest. Into the way your stomach knots with frustration and want.

That bastard. He must have known what he was doing, teasing you like that. 

You shift beneath the water, sending gentle ripples across the surface, knees drawing in slightly.

You’re already aching.

You breathe out through your nose. One hand skims over your chest, across your stomach, until your fingers hover just below the surface. 

You hesitate for just a moment.

Then you let your hand dip lower and close your eyes.

Your fingers find the heat at your center.

And you imagine it’s him.

The pads of his fingers grazing your stomach. The back of his knuckles brushing the curve of your waist. His hands, though scarred and incomplete, are still strong and capable. His elegant fingers, perfect for—

You cut yourself off there. Hungrily thinking of his eyes instead. Pale grey, clear gaze, sharp as glass. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. You wonder if he ever lets himself want this too. If he’s ever been tempted to reach.

Your pace quickens. Your breath does too. 

You shake with the desire for real touching, feel the hollow in your heart where his name echoes as you fragment. 

You think of the way he sometimes stands just a little too close. The way his body hums with restraint, like he’s always holding something back. Oh how you’d love to watch his restraint unravel. 

You imagine his voice against your ear, rough and low, telling you to keep going. Telling you you’re beautiful like this. Telling you not to stop.

That thought pushes you over the edge.

You shudder, head tilted back against the curve of the tub, lips parted in a silent cry. The world narrows to the sensation. The burst of stars behind your eyes, the rush of heat, the pounding of your heart. The imagined weight of him beside you, within you, around you.

You rest your cheek against the curve of your shoulder, water sloshing quietly around your ribs. 

The scent of roses clings to your hair, to the air…to the space between what’s real and what you long for.

You wake early the next morning with heavy eyelids and limbs tangled beneath the sheets. For a moment, you forget where you are. The ceiling above you is pale and unfamiliar, a shaft of morning light filters through the curtain. 

Then the memory returns.

You groan softly before kicking around, burying your face in your pillow, and letting out a scream. 

You pull yourself out of bed a few minutes later, forcing yourself to get ready for the day. Your mind runs through the morning ahead, refreshing yourself on your to-do list. 

You’re scheduled to teach a few one-on-one piano lessons, then you’re set to spend the afternoon working through your solo repertoire. Dinner with Pieck and Gabi follows, which feels like the perfect antidote to your recent, inconvenient fixation. You’re in desperate need of some girl talk. 

You make your way down the stairs, content to put Levi out of your mind for now. 

Then you see him.

Levi sits at the same table in the lobby, shoulders slightly hunched as he reads something in his hand. There are two mugs sitting in front of him. 

You stop short.

Your face flushes, warmth flooding from your ears to your chest. For a split second you wonder if he’ll be able to tell, if he’ll see it written all over you. The way your eyes had closed last night, his name a prayer on your lips. The way your body had trembled, picturing his hands.

You swallow hard and take a step forward.

Levi looks up at you. 

“Levi!” you blurt, approaching him. “What are you doing here?”

He gestures for you to sit across from him, “Thought we could walk downtown together.”

You’re speechless for a second, remembering that last night you had asked him if you would see him today. 

“Don’t you have to go to the embassy today?” You recall him mentioning a meeting with military officials coming in from Paradis.   

He nods, “It’s across the street from where you’re going.”

“Oh, right!” You aren’t sure why you blanked on that. 

“But isn’t it closer to where you live?” You wince, heat creeping even further up your neck. Smooth, you think. 

His gaze lingers on you and you see something falter in his eye. 

“Really trying to get rid of me, huh.” 

You stumble over your words, “No! No! I just don’t want it to be any trouble.”

He says your name, “It’s not.” 

You smile nervously at him, “Okay. Thanks for the coffee. I’m going to make you tea next, okay?”

“Not likely with how late you sleep in.”

You laugh nervously and sit down, trying to mask the heat in your cheeks as you reach for your mug. Your eyes are drawn down to where his hands sit folded on the table in front of you. 

He keeps them neat, just like everything else. There’s not a speck of dirt under his perfect finger nails. You trace the line of his knuckles with your gaze, the faint scars, the veins winding down the backs of his hands, pronounced beneath skin shaped by years of labor. 

You gulp down some coffee, hoping to hide the undeniable heat still present on your face. When you set your coffee cup down you look at him, unable to stop yourself from studying his expression. 

He’s always been perceptive. Always noticing when someone’s lying. When someone’s hiding.

And you’ve never been good at hiding from him.

You’re worried he can see the dirty thoughts you had written all over your face. 

“Oi. You’re staring.”

You’re hoping the ground will swallow you whole at this point, but of course, the universe doesn’t oblige.

“Hush,” you laugh, averting your eyes. 

After a few more agonizing minutes the two of you get up and make your way downtown. The cool spring air soothes your burning face as the two of you step onto the street. 

When you thank him for walking with you as the two of you approach the recreation center, he only gives you a side glance and mutters, “Told you. It’s on the way.”

You’re about to respond, maybe tease him a little, when the doors to the center swing open and the choir conductor you met at Gabi and Falco’s rehearsal steps out.

He spots you instantly. “Hey!” he calls, brightly. “I thought that was you. You heading in already?”

You smile and wave, “Just about.”

He nods and holds the door open for you, but his eyes catch on Levi a moment later. There’s a flicker of recognition before he adds, “Hi! I saw you at the rehearsal yesterday too.”

Levi doesn’t respond.

“I’m Michael,” the conductor says, holding out a hand to him with an easy smile.

Levi stares at his hand, eyes narrowing. Not quite hostile, but certainly not warm either.

After a moment you clear your throat and raise a brow. You reach out to teasingly pinch his arm, “Miss manners here is Levi.” 

He cuts his gaze toward you. You meet it, unblinking.

You’re being rude, your eyes say.

He reads your look and silently responds with his own. 

Tch. He’s too enthusiastic.

You tilt your head and give him a look that says, really? 

Levi sighs through his nose and finally, grudgingly, reaches out to shake Michael’s hand. “Levi,” he says shortly.

Michael doesn’t seem fazed. “Nice to meet you. Levi…Ackerman, right? You’re kind of a big deal around here.”

Levi squints at him suspiciously and Michael laughs holding up his hands, “Gabi and Falco have mentioned you.” 

Levi gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

“Well, we all know you’re responsible for getting the music and art classes started here.” Michael continues. “I wouldn’t have a job if it weren’t for you!”

Levi eyes him, then nodding to you, says, “You have her to thank.”

Your smile widens at the admission, eyes swiveling to tease him. 

I knew it, they say. 

You watch as his glint back at you with amusement. 

You respond with a polite laugh and a promise to follow Michael back inside in just a minute. Once he disappears you turn back to Levi.

“So I guess you did know what I was talking about, hmm?”

“Tch. Relentless.” 

“Mhm, I don’t know how late I’ll be staying here tonight, but will you walk with me again tomorrow?”

“Of course.” 

Levi keeps his word. He’s at the inn the next morning, and the morning after that, and the one after that too.

Each day you make your way down the stairs, eyes searching automatically for that familiar silhouette. Shoulders squared, arms crossed, he’s always by the window with two cups sitting on the table in front of him. You never ask if one of them is for you, but when you sit, he always nudges one your way.

The week passes in a blur. You’re so busy teaching, rehearsing, and reworking your scores until your fingers ache that you find yourself clinging to those quiet mornings. Beautiful and ephemeral moments when you don’t have to be anything but a person existing beside him.

You reserved seats for all your friends in the performance hall, front row and center. Levi sits there now, surrounded by both strangers and familiar faces. He’s chosen a seat slightly to the right of the center, at your suggestion. 

He fidgets with the cuffs of his jacket, a charcoal suit he rarely wears, pressed sharper than usual. The rest of the crowd mirrors his formality, each person taking the opportunity to step into evening wear.

Out of the corner of his eye he notices a tall man with dark hair boisterously talking to Gabi and Falco by the door. It’s the choir conductor, charming as ever. Something about the man grates at Levi. Too comfortable and familiar with the kids—with you. He can’t explain why it bothers him so much, only that it does.

Levi averts his eyes and studies the single instrument on the stage. This one is much larger than the one in the recreation center. What could possibly be sitting in that large box? It has to be a couple meters long at least? The size of a small tita—

He cuts himself off at that thought. Enough of that. There’s no need for titans to taint this evening. Levi concludes that pianos are strange, oversized boxes, and makes a mental note to ask you what the hell is inside one.

Pieck interrupts his musings by coming up to greet him with the kids, who are holding hands. 

No one saw that coming, Levi muses to himself, but he feels significantly lighter at the sight. Two young souls who not only found each other, but managed to stay alive long enough to see their connection blossom and bloom. He watches Gabi and Falco as they turn to find their seats. Falco whispers something to Gabi and she laughs. Their figures fully giving into joy. 

His heart pangs at the memory of another blonde man and bright eyed young woman. Sometimes when he’s with Gabi and Falco he swears he’s looking at Isabel and Furlan. 

What would Isabel think of those two? Of you? Her curious mind was always speeding and jumping around too fast for anyone to keep up. She’d probably love this, a music concert.  

Isabel, Furlan, Erwin, Hange, Gabi…you. All wildly passionate and oddly specific in their interests. Brilliant and unruly. He’s somehow always ended up surrounded by individuals like these.

What would Hange think of you? Of pianos and other strange, beautiful things they never got the chance to experience before the world ended?

He can see it clearly. Hange would stride up to the stage, lift the piano lid with wide-eyed curiosity, and inspect every inch of it. Then they’d march back to him, eager to report their findings in great detail. He’d pretend to be annoyed, maybe roll his eyes, but he would listen. Of course he would. And knowing them, they’d probably try to play something too, plunking out a few notes without the slightest hint of shame.

Levi scoffs internally. When did he become so sentimental? 

The lights dim, pulling Levi out of his thoughts. A hush spreads across the room as a center director steps onto the stage. She offers a brief welcome and begins to introduce you.

Levi’s pulse shifts, anticipating your entrance. He thinks of you this morning, chewing your lip, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You had brushed off breakfast, nerves winning out despite his best efforts to coax you into eating. It didn’t make sense to him. You had been performing since childhood, and everyone present was eager for your success. Not a single one of these people were hoping to see you fail.

He scans the room, subtly taking in the size of the crowd. Maybe it isn’t so strange to be nervous, getting up and displaying any sort of talent in front of this many people would rattle anyone’s nerves. 

He remembers a time when he was called on to demonstrate his own skills in front of a crowd. He didn’t care about impressing anyone, but humiliating the ones who talked big and put him down? That he enjoyed. Watching their faces fall when they realized just how out of their depth they were compared to him. He really was an arrogant bastard.

The director finishes speaking and the lights go out, the anticipation in the room heightening as a single spotlight lands on the piano. 

Another moment passes before you step out from the wings and into the glow.

Levi forgets to breathe.

He’s never seen such a sight. 

You stride toward the center, a vision in a black floor length gown that glints like ink under the stage lights.  

The audience falls away. The walls dissolve. Levi doesn’t blink, unable to look away from the ethereal creature before him. 

You bow and take your seat at the piano. Levi watches your face and shoulders as you take a deep breath, centering yourself. Every part of you seems to draw inward, focused and calm, as if you’ve stepped into a private space no one else can enter.

Then you begin. The first notes rise into the air, clear and resonant, causing Levi to sit up straighter.

He swears the world changes shape around you.

Levi has never experienced anything like it. Music. The sound fills the space slowly, steadily, seeping into the corners, into his lungs, his bones. He doesn’t know how to brace against it. There is no enemy here, no threat, and yet a guard coils protectively around his heart. He tries to resist, to stay sharp and unaffected, but its influence slips past his defenses.

You sit there at your instrument, commanding what seems like an entire world with your fingertips. 

The delicate twirling of sound weaves its way around him, wrapping softly and surely around the guard in his chest. Each note feels like a confession, intimate and unspoken, yet somehow meant for everyone. Levi has always noticed your heart on your sleeve, how naturally you let emotion move through you. Maybe that’s what first drew him in during those early days. His own heart a weary, clenched thing, but yours was already fluent in feeling. Perhaps, without realizing it, some part of him hoped that if he stayed close enough you might show him how.

What feels like too soon you stop and step off stage for an intermission. The room erupts into chatter and applause, but Levi sits there speechless. 

His friends hover around him, but he pays them no mind. Eventually, Onyankopon leans over toward him, “This is my favorite part.”

Levi looks at him inquisitively. 

“She’s playing with the orchestra next.” He explains pointing to the group of musicians emerging onstage with chairs. 

Levi nods. 

Onyankopon nudges him again, “Watching her play is like watching you use ODM gear.”

“Tch. This is way better than that bullshit.”

Onyankopon smiles fully at his response. 

Levi’s attention shifts back to the stage. His eyes settle on the musicians holding various sizes of fiddles, or at least that’s what they look like to him. There were plenty of fiddle players on Paradis, but he doesn’t remember seeing so many different shapes and sizes.

The low, scattered sounds of the orchestra tuning reaches his ears, dissonant and unfamiliar. How strange, he thinks. He narrows his eyes, trying to make sense of it. Maybe it’s not so different from preparing ODM gear. Checking tension, making adjustments, fine tuning every detail before leaping into action.

Someone walks up to play a key on the piano and the tuning fades into something more focused. Musicians settle into their seats. Levi watches as the strange chaos transforms into order.

Then you return.

You step onto the stage again and shake hands with the conductor and one of the instrumentalists. Your smile is bright and easy in a way that makes something ease in his chest.

A small smile sneaks onto Levi’s face as he watches you. 

He watches as you take your seat, your eyes fixed on the conductor ahead. There is tension in your posture now, a kind of stillness filled with energy waiting to be released. He recognizes the way your shoulders hold and your spine lengthens. It reminds him of the scouts before a mission, focused and bracing for something they could not yet see.

The conductor turns to you, and you share a small nod. Then his arm moves, and you strike the keys.

The orchestra follows just moments later, and Levi is hit with a wall of sound so exquisite, he can hardly comprehend it. 

Your hands move over the keys with such precision and power, he’s struck not just by your skill, but by the way you vanish into the sound. Several minutes later the orchestra fades into silence, leaving only the echo, the decay of the final notes. 

Levi watches, aware as things pause. You, however, have shown no sign of being finished, not giving any signal to the audience that it’s time to applaud. The players around you take deep breaths, wipe their foreheads, adjust their instruments, but your head is bent. He wonders what’s going through your mind at this moment. He wishes he were closer, so he could decipher the thoughts hidden behind your eyes up close. 

Then the orchestra begins again. The music swells, somehow even lovelier than before. You haven’t joined them yet. Your hands remain still, eyes closed, head bowed. 

When you begin playing again, Levi notices the smallest smile on your face. He wonders if this is the one you mentioned to him. Is this one your favorite?

The sound continues to evolve into something impossibly beautiful, pure, and clear. 

And with it, Levi feels the ground shift beneath him. It’s like being torn out of time and stitched into something eternal. You aren’t just performing. You are conjuring something, calling light forth from a place only you can reach.

He’s been moved before, yes, but so often by darkness. Rarely like this.

He feels, for a moment like he did the first time he sat atop the walls with Isabel and Furlan, looking out at the infinite expanse of stars. Like the first time he left the walls to see endless plains of land and trees and sky, unfettered by obstacles. The first time he saw the sea, in its endless blue and mystery. He knows that he will forever and irrevocably be tied to this moment. 

Levi is certain that no one in this hall will leave untouched by you.

Least of all him.

Levi waits off to the side while you greet members of the audience. A line wraps around the hall, but he doesn’t mind. He watches you from where he stands, glowing beneath the soft house lights, graceful and composed, accepting every compliment with sincerity that never looks forced. Every so often, you glance his way and he meets your eyes with a small nod, something meant only for you.

At one point, Michael approaches. You laugh at something he says, eyes crinkling with amusement, and Levi catches the faint blush rising in your cheeks. He looks away, jaw tight, and before he realizes it, his feet are carrying him a little closer.

He catches the end of Michael’s invitation just as he comes to stand beside you.

“—join me for a drink?”

Levi’s panics for a moment. He had wanted to walk you back. Had planned on it, but hadn’t asked. He just assumed.

Idiot, he thinks.

Now he wonders if you’ll say yes. Why wouldn’t you? Michael is friendly. Confident. Unscarred. He has no limp to slow him down, no shadows rest under his eyes.

Levi starts to turn away. He figures he’ll speak to you tomorrow, give you space. He doesn’t want to make you feel obligated. Maybe he should have joined the others earlier, when they came to congratulate you.

But before he can take a step, you lunge forward to grip his upper arm. 

Levi freezes.

He turns to look over at you, questioningly. You give him a quick look before turning your attention back to the other man. 

Don’t leave me, your eyes seem to say. 

“You’re so sweet, Michael, I’m quite exhausted though.”

“Can I walk you home at least?”

Levi has turned to stand by you now. Expression empty as always, but irritated with the pushy idiot in front of him. 

“Oh, again, thank you for offering. Levi’s promised to take me back though. He lives not far from where I’m staying,” you say, squeezing his arm tightly. 

He looks sharply at you, having promised no such thing. He’s pleased with your response, but still planning to give you shit for it later. 

Michael looks down at Levi. All his friendliness from a few mornings ago gone, clearly checking out the cane in his hand, scrutinizing it, him. His eyes rove over Levi’s face, resting on his bad eye. He knows what this idiot is thinking. 

I can still take you, jackass, Levi thinks. 

“Well, another time?” Michael offers, sounding slightly dejected, barely sparing Levi a nod of recognition. 

“Of course,” you smile politely. 

“Well, I’ll look forward to it,” he nods. “Brilliant playing again.”

“Thank you, and thank you so much for coming and supporting, it really means so much,” you say as Michael walks off. 

Levi watches your face as you give Michael a little wave. You sound sincere, not annoyed in the slightest. If you hadn’t grabbed and held onto his arm so tightly he’d be oblivious to your true thoughts. 

He coolly watches as the other man leaves the performance hall, noticing how he throws back a curious glance to where you stand fused together. 

He turns to you, “Squeeze any tighter and I’ll lose this arm too.” 

“Hey, you. I’m so sorry,” you laugh, “I noticed you were about to leave.”

He looks at you curiously. “What’s wrong with him?” He gestures back. 

“Oh, nothing, I guess.” You make a face. “He only wants to talk about repertoire and music theory.”

Levi waits for you to continue. He knows you enjoy talking about your work, so he can hardly see how that would be a bad thing. 

“I don’t know he’s…He’s nice, I guess.”

Levi studies you’re expression, then clicks his tongue. “I don’t recall promising you anything.”

Your eyes crinkle at his jab, “Well, no. I mean I can always walk on the other side of the street as we walk back in the same direction.”

Levi scoffs. “Not a chance, moron.”

You laugh at that, giving his arm one more squeeze before releasing him. 

“Well?” you ask, hands on your hips, playfully. “What did you think?”

He nods once. “You were right. Live is better.”

You laugh again, nudging his arm. “High praise.”

He gives you a small, rare smile, and your heart falters. 

“What now?” He asks, head tilting slightly.

You gesture to your dress. “I’d like to change out of this first. After that, probably just head back to the inn.”

“Have you eaten?”

You smile, “Not yet. I was too nervous to eat beforehand.”

His brow lifts. “You were actually nervous?”

“I told you I was,” you say with a mock gasp. “I wasn’t lying.”

“You didn’t look it.”

“That’s because I’m a professional,” you say, lightly swatting his arm.

He nods again, though something flickers behind his eyes.

You squint at him. “Was that an invitation earlier? To eat?”

Another nod.

Your smile deepens, soft and radiant. Something in his chest pulls tight at the sight. 

“Wait here,” you say. “I’ll be back in five.”

He watches as you quickly disappear backstage. Levi thinks back to what you told Michael while he waits. You said you were exhausted. He wonders now if that was true, or if it was just an excuse…a polite way to turn the man down. The thought throws him. Could it be that you didn’t want to spend time with Michael…because you wanted to spend it with him instead?

He can hardly believe it.

Even now, knowing you’ll be back in a few minutes, he finds himself marveling at the fact that you chose him. Not the charming conductor, or anyone else for that matter.

Him.

When you return, the gown is gone, replaced with a simple dress and coat. Still elegant, but more relaxed. More like the girl he’s come to know in quiet rooms and half-lit mornings over coffee.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“There’s a tea house not far from here,” Levi suggests. “They serve food…and they’re open late.”

You grin, “Perfect.”

Admittedly, you feel more nervous now walking beside Levi than you did before stepping onstage. It was sweet of him to wait, hanging back until you were done in the concert hall. It was especially sweet of him to indulge you when you silently pleaded for a way out of hanging out with Michael. 

He pulls the door open for you when you arrive at the tea shop. A wash of warmth greets you as you step inside. There’s lamplight and hanging lanterns casting a golden glow across wooden tables, colorful rugs, and bookshelves brimming with tattered books. A few patrons murmur softly, some reading, some sipping tea in companionable silence.

Your eyes widen as you take in the space. “I love it,” you tell him softly.

“Captain Levi, how are you?” Comes a cheerful voice.

A petite older woman with bright eyes and a knowing smile makes her way over.

“Mrs. J,” Levi says with a nod of greeting. 

“And who’s your pretty friend?” she asks, turning her attention to you with warm curiosity. She’s already ushering the two of you toward a cozy table tucked near a shelf of tatchkis and candles.

Levi introduces you, “She’s in town from Hizuru.”

“Oh, how lovely, dear!” she beams. “Your usual, Captain?”

He nods. “And whatever she wants.”

You smile at Mrs. J before quickly perusing the menu and telling her your order. She nods then pats Levi’s shoulder fondly before bustling away.

You glance at him, amused. “Come here often?”

He exhales through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching. “She makes good tea.”

“Naturally.”

You look around you at the coziness. It’s eclectic and cluttered, not a place you pictured Levi enjoying. The tea must be spectacular. 

He breaks the silence first. 

“So you really played all that from memory?”

You smile at his opening. 

“Mhm, a lot of that I’ve played before, some of the new stuff though was tricky. Some of it still wasn’t quite right tonight, but it’s okay,” you shrug. 

“What do you mean?”

“I had a memory slip,” you laugh. 

He looks at you blankly. “I couldn’t tell.”

“Mhm. Told you I’m good,” you say with a wink. 

He nods seriously. “How do you know when to start playing? When you were playing with the others.”

“It says in the sheets music, but since I was playing from memory I listen for the musical cues. I know the piece so well that I just know at this point.”

“So, muscle memory?” 

“Yes, but not completely.”

He looks at you, questioning. 

“I can’t always rely on my muscle memory. Especially when I’m nervous. All that just blanks so I have to memorize specific chord changes and intervals. That’s why studying music theory is so important”

He nods, but the puzzled look doesn’t disappear from his face. You smile to yourself, noting the emotion in his face. There’s something so endearing about how seriously he wants to understand it all.

“I’ll show you,” you say brightly, “tomorrow or something. Stop by the practice room.”

“You’re still going to practice.” he states, surprised. 

“Mhm,” you say. “Once I take a day off it’s hard to get back going.”

He nods in understanding.

You sit there for a while, basking in the afterglow of the performance and the comfort of his presence.

Eventually, the tea runs out and you finish your meal. The hour on the clock nudges you both back into the world beyond this quiet room.

Levi hesitates as you step out of the tea house. He walks beside you in silence for a moment, then clears his throat.

“Would you be okay with stopping by my place before going back?” He asks, glancing out at the sparse street, “Just for a bit.”

You nod, warmth blooming in your chest. “Of course.”

When you reach his building, he holds the door open for you. You step inside, familiar now with his space. He flips the light on and your steps falter.

Your eyes land on the dining table, where a bouquet of roses sits in the center. Deep red, full, and impossibly lovely.

Your mouth falls open. “Are those—”

“For you,” he says, voice barely above a murmur.

“Levi!” You exclaim softly, turning to face him, stunned.

Levi scratches the back of his neck, eyes not meeting yours. “You’re supposed to give performers flowers, right? After concerts. Or…something like that.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. Your heart swells with overwhelming tenderness. The feeling rises in your chest, warm and expansive, not unlike the one that flowed through you at the piano earlier that night. You’re utterly helpless against this quiet, stubborn man, with his tired eyes and awkward honesty.

Does he have any idea how sweet he is? 

Has he done this before? 

All these questions run through your mind. 

“How did you know I like roses?” You say out loud. 

He turns a darker shade of red, still not meeting your eyes. “Lucky guess.”

You can’t wipe the smile off your face. 

“Here, I’ll carry them for you,” he offers, holding his hand out. 

The moon shines brightly as you walk side by side. The sky above that familiar velvet shade of blue, stretched thin with stars. The cool air slips between you, but there’s no real distance. Not tonight.

You walk a few paces in silence before you speak. Eyes catching on the flowers in his arm. You notice that not a single petal is withered or wilted. 

“Levi…have you ever thought about what you want?”

He looks over at you, one brow lifting just slightly. “What do you mean?”

You keep your eyes ahead, focused on the path underfoot. “Like…for yourself. Where do you want to be in a few years time?”

For a long moment, he doesn’t respond. You wonder if he’s going to brush it off, deflect with a dry comment. 

“I’ve thought about it,” he says, “but only recently.”

“Oh.”

“You?”

You hum an affirmation. 

Around you others roam the night. Light and music spill out from a nearby restaurant. You come across a fountain at the center of the square, one you’ve passed with him before. 

In the middle of the fountain stands a statue of a woman bathed in the soft glow of the streetlamps. She holds a child in her arms, the small figure reaching skyward with outstretched fingers. Water spills gently around them, glistening under the stars. 

You tentatively slip your hand around Levi’s arm and gently tug him toward a nearby bench.

“Come on,” you murmur.

He lets you guide him with no complaint. You sit and you unhook your arm from his and rest your hands in your lap as you both face the fountain. Your heart begins beating a little louder in your chest. You feel the weight of the words you’re about to say, but you say them anyway.

“Have you ever thought about having a family?” 

You’re not looking at him, but at the statue of the woman holding her child. 

What a privilege. 

A family, a child. Things you could not want before. Not in a world where monsters roamed freely. 

Levi is studying you, noticing where your gaze rests. “It’s not something I think about often, no.”

It’s only a partial lie. In the grand scheme of things, it is not something Levi has contemplated much. 

Your eyes shift to him, meeting his gaze. “I guess that’s the same for me. I never really wanted to bring a child into this world before. Or even…” you hesitate, “fall in love.”

You look back to the fountain, following the child’s finger to look up at the stars. With a twinge you think of your parents. The small, loving family you used to have. 

Levi patiently waits for you to continue. When you don’t go on, he asks, “And now?”

You glance at him. There’s no pressure in his voice, no expectations. 

“Now?” You let out a breath. “I suppose, with the right person I wouldn’t mind.”

The truth hangs between you. 

After a while, you speak again. “And…is this what you’ve always wanted to do?”

He tilts his head. “What? Endless paperwork?”

You giggle at that.

He takes a moment to think. “I’ve spent my life fighting. It’s not so easy to figure out what to do with myself.” 

You watch him, sensing the heaviness in his voice.

You sit there for a few more minutes in silence. His eyes are on the sidewalk, but his thoughts are somewhere else entirely.

“It’s what I was good at. Fighting was…how I made sense of the world. How I protected the people I cared about. It was my job…following my instincts.”

You don’t say anything, you just look at him. Willing him to continue at his own pace, letting him choose what to offer, content with the pieces he’s willing to share. Because as you’ve learned, this man has carried far too much. He holds far too many burdens and has faced far too many losses. You want nothing more than to ease the cracks in his heart, but you know all too well that healing cannot be forced. 

“I don’t know what it means to want something just for myself,” he continues. “Or how to even start.”

His face is half in shadow, half bathed in light.

You hum, then, “Well, you get to be Levi. Without all that now,” you say softly.

He makes a face at that, nose wrinkling, as if unsure whether to take it as comfort or pity.

You smile seeing his hesitance. “Don’t make that face. I really like this version of you.”

His eyes lift to meet yours. There’s something tentative in his expression, like he’s not sure he believes you. 

“I never knew Captain Levi,” you say. “I’ve only known just Levi. And he’s more than enough for me.”

He looks at you for a long time, gaze steady, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Searching for something in your face. 

“So?” you prompt, voice warm. “In your wildest, happiest dreams…what would you do?”

He shrugs, still guarded. “I told you, I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on,” you nudge, your arm brushing his.

“This is stupid.”

“Just say the first thing that comes to mind. No thinking. Just…speak.”

He hesitates.

“I guess…a tea shop.”

You blink. Then your face lights up. “A tea shop?”

He gives you the smallest nod before looking away. “Mhm. I guess.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, you’re delighted with his response. “That’s perfect. That’s so you.”

Levi mutters something under his breath and leans forward, turning further away. You notice the tips of his ears turning pink. 

“Okay,” you say playfully. “Let’s do it.”

He looks back at you, confused.

“You and me,” you continue. “We’ll run a tea shop together. Well, we’ll have to serve coffee too, of course. We’ll even have a little bell above the door.”

Levi huffs a laugh through his nose, but he doesn’t argue.

“What?” You laugh, “Someone has to help with your people skills. You’d drive all the customers away!” 

He reaches up and ruffles your hair at that and you giggle again. You notice him smiling, small as always. 

The sky shimmers above the fountain’s gentle spray. People filter in and out of the restaurant, filling the square with the sound of their voices.

He stands and reaches for you and you take his arm. The night folds in around you as you fall into step again, arms linked.

The stars continue to twinkle up above. Somehow, the night sky has conspired to bring you two close, once more.

Chapter Text

The roses sit in a clear vase borrowed from the front desk. Glass and petals catch the gentle spill of afternoon light across the windowsill. Their burgundy petals are breathtaking, they're the exact same shade as the roses your father used to grow in his small garden. Two rose bushes planted side by side, one for you, one for your mother. He always took great pains to tend them. 

“Flowers are like people, my love. You water them, guard them from frost and predators, and trust they will bloom in their own time. It’s not unlike my relationship with your mother, and not unlike how she and I have raised you.” 

You sigh at the memory and run your fingertips over a petal, feeling the faint softness give way to the first signs of wilt. The edges have begun to curl inward, touched by the spring sun. You gently turn a stem around in your fingers, avoiding the small prickly thorns. 

It’s been two days since you received them. Now, you think of the stoic man who placed them in your hands. The fading petals a reminder of how brief your moments with him are.

Levi still comes to the inn each morning, but outside of that you haven’t seen him much these past few days. He’s been swept into the international relations negotiations that began a week earlier with the arrival of Paradis’s military officials. Today, the rest of the world’s delegates will join to finalize a new global weapons treaty.

A draft of the treaty has been in the works since you left Marley. It is the result of the work of several ambassadors, Armin among them. He calls it the Global Arms Ethics Pact, an agreement to ban the development of technologies capable of mass destruction. Things like chemical weapons, long-range firearms, energy systems, anything that could destabilize peace on a global scale the way titans once did.

Most nations signed without hesitation. The wounds from the near end of the world still fresh, but Paradis refused.

They argued for sovereignty, for the right to arm themselves in a world that once tried to erase them. And who could blame them? After everything. Yet world leaders could not look past the island’s catastrophic legacy. Their refusal to sign would mean continued isolation from the rest of the world.  

You knew Levi was furious, telling you it would be the everyday citizens of the island who would suffer from the resulting stalled trade agreements and pulled diplomatic ties. It also meant that Armin’s efforts for lasting peace had yet to come to fruition.

Armin had confided his discouragement to you and Onyankopon over dinner the night after your concert. The meeting with Paradis’s military command days earlier had been tense. He’d been the primary speaker at the meeting, mediating between the Paradis military, the veteran scouts and warriors, and a few selected officials from Marley. 

“It’s complicated,” Armin's eyes are downcast, hands resting on the table, fingers curling with anxiety. “In my heart, I’m a citizen of Paradis, but half the government doesn’t recognize me as one of their own anymore. And the island’s been on the verge of civil war since the Rumbling. I feel like a failure as a leader, my own people have turned away from me.”

“But your authority is recognized by every other major head of state,” Onyankopon argues gently.

Armin’s lips press into a thin line. “Recognition isn’t the same as trust.”

“Hmm I understand your frustration, but also Paradis’s hesitance,” Onyankopon interjects. “If they sign too quickly, others may see it as weakness and exploit it.”

“But if we, or they refuse…Paradis stays a pariah state, shut out of the alliances and resources that could keep the island safe.” Armin says with a frustrated sigh. “Either way, the choice will shape the island’s fate for generations. And if they see me as too much of an outsider, even with my history…they’ll stop listening.”

A knot had tightened in your chest at his words, at seeing the anxiety written all over him. Part of you wished you could disappear into ignorance. That wasn’t in your nature though, nor in the nature of the people you’d come to call family.

The week ahead in Liberio would be tense.

With your mind heavy, you pack your bag and leave your room, hoping a day of activities might stave off the anxiety in your gut.

The afternoon sun filters through the tall windows, casting rectangles of light across the hallway. You walk slowly, stretching your legs after your last music theory class, when Michael corners you.

“I was wondering if you would be free for dinner tonight?”

You panic. No. Absolutely not.  

You know exactly what Michael wants, but you don’t feel comfortable sharing the real reason you don’t want to go out with him. The truth is, even if you were not hopelessly tangled up in feelings for a certain ex-soldier, you still would not be interested. But Michael, sweet and earnest and utterly clueless, hasn’t caught on. In a few weeks, you’ll be heading back to Hizuru anyway. That truth sits in a locked box in the back of your mind, waiting for you to open it.

Michael says your name, pulling you back to the present.

“Sorry, Michael, I spaced out. I already have plans with some friends tonight…”

A lie. 

His face falls, and you’re instantly hit with guilt. Well, maybe not guilt, but awkwardness? Sure. 

“Hmm. You usually practice at night, right? Or work on your manuscript research? I could keep you company and walk you back to the inn.”

“Oh…” You can find no graceful way out. “Sure. That would be nice.” You force a smile.

“Amazing.” He reaches out to squeeze your shoulder before walking away.

You drift back to your practice room and bury your face in your hands with a muffled groan. Maybe you’re overreacting, maybe he’s just being polite. Or he’s angling for a professional contact, an introduction to someone working at the archives in Hizuru. Maybe he’s hoping for a chance at more conducting opportunities. Maybe he’s not hoping for something more. You’re assuming too much.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

You spiral over the situation for the better part of an hour. Finally, you shake your head and stand, deciding to go for a walk. You need some coffee if you’re going to get anything done at this point.

The receptionist gives you a friendly wave on the way out, a sweet redhead who has definitely made eyes at Michael before. Maybe you could drop a hint about her later. Perfect, you think. The ideal way to divert his attention…at least you hope.

You’re still turning over your ridiculous matchmaking schemes as you pay for your coffee, wondering if this might actually work.

Your thoughts drift as you leave the coffee shop. If your mother were here, what would she say? Romance was not a topic that came up often. There was never much time for such things. 

You wander the streets, ruminating endlessly. 

Eventually you find yourself in an unfamiliar part of town. You’re about to turn back when a memorial framed by a large iron gate comes into view. Intrigued, you head towards it, drawn by the sight of photographs, flowers, and signs. You approach, noticing dried flower stems littered and overlapping with wax from old candles pooling in hardened rings on the pavement. Above your head, in the center of the fray, is a metal plaque. 

The inscription sends a shudder down your spine. 

Now Entering Historic Liberio ~ The Internment Zone

Without knowing, your feet have brought you to the place you have avoided for nearly four years. 

It is not the place you remember. The Rumbling leveled it, and in the years since, neat rows of new buildings have taken its place. Your eyes catch on the gate, realizing that it had been rebuilt exactly where the entrance to the zone once stood. You wonder why, all it had ever done was keep your people in. Why choose to restore such an oppressive symbol?

You lean forward, reading the small letters at the bottom of the plaque. 

The inscription describes the internment zone's history, not brushing over the violence and oppression the Eldians faced. 

It explains that the gates were reconstructed as a testament to the resilience that once lived behind them, a monument to survival. You find yourself wondering whose idea it was. No one among the warriors had ever mentioned it. Perhaps you could ask Reiner or Aunt Karina later.

You continue reading. 

These gates stand open, never to be closed, a symbol of a world now open to the Eldians who once lived here in confinement. 

May the living and dead pass freely beyond.

You stand there for a while, gaze drifting to the photographs arranged along the ground, names scrawled in careful script, candles burned low. Old feelings stir in your chest. It’s been a long time since the despair last threatened to swallow you whole. The grief has not shrunk, but your world around it has expanded. 

I’m stronger now.

You pull your eyes from the sun faded faces and look beyond the gates.

It’s been such a long time…

You hadn’t meant to come back here yet…maybe never, honestly. You exhale, crouching slightly, fingertips brushing some flowers left behind. And then, without meaning to, you hear it—

The faint clatter of tin pails swinging from children’s hands, the creak of laundry lines in the wind, the muffled chatter of neighbors leaning in close so the guards would not overhear. 

The sounds drift over the hum of the rebuilt street until you blink and they’re gone.

For so long, this place was your entire world. It’s walls and watchtowers marking the edges of your days, every face familiar because no one could really leave. You grew up between its fences, finding moments of beauty in the cracks, even as the air was thick with rules and watchful eyes. 

You feel the familiar despair creeping through your heart, nearly overpowered by the weight of nostalgia and something more, when a voice calls your name. 

Startled, you turn slowly, unsure if you’ve imagined it.

Then you see her.

She’s older now, with soft lines framing her eyes and silver threading through her dark hair. Still, you know her.

Your voice catches. “Ms. Lillian…”

She approaches you carefully. Then she’s hugging you, and for another moment you let yourself give into your memories.

Two women laughing in the living room, their voices lilting over the scratch of your pencil moving across lined pages. The smell of something simmering on the stove drifting in from the kitchen, mingling with the earthy, minty scent of the herbal cremes Ms. Lillian would always bring in small tins for your mother’s chronic pain. 

Sunlight spills through the threadbare curtains, catching on the dust motes that swirl in the stillness between songs on the radio. The gentle clink of used teacups on their saucers, the soft rustle of pages turning, the rhythmic stir of a spoon against the bottom of a pot.

And then Ms. Lillian’s voice. “Go on and finish your homework now, sweetheart. I’ll stay and help your mama finish dinner. Your father won’t be home till late, will he?”

Your mother sighs, grateful and tired in equal measure. “Not till after ten.”

“I figured,” Ms. Lillian says, rising with a soft creak in her knees. “Maybe we can make some cookies before he gets home, Melody?”

You glance up from your workbook, just in time to catch her wink. 

“It’s really you,” she says. “I wasn’t sure, but look at you.”

“You…I can’t believe it’s you,” you choke out. 

She smiles sadly at that, “I heard you would be back here to play a concert. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, don’t be,” you say, fingertips brushing your eyes. “I didn’t know you survived…what are you doing here?”

“Out running errands. I still live here in the zone.” 

“Did anyone else...” you trail off. 

Her smile turns sad. “There aren’t many survivors from the old block, and most scattered to other parts of the country after. I decided to stay.”

You nod, words sticking in your throat. You both look out over the memorial, letting the silence stretch between you. A breeze picks up, rustling the faded corners of a letter tacked to the metal before you.

“You look just like your mother,” Ms. Lillian says, after a while. 

You look up at her, the grief in you rising, a choked laugh comes out. “I miss her so much,” you whisper. 

“I miss her too, dear,” she says sadly. 

You look down at your shoes, then back at her. “Do you still live there?” 

She nods. “I tried settling somewhere else, but this place is home. I came back and rebuilt in the same spot.”

You hum at that, pulse beating a little faster. 

Ms. Lillian pats your hand. “Come. I have tea at my place.”

Your palms become sweaty at the invitation and panic prickles beneath your skin.

No, no, no, I’m not prepared. 

“Have you been back, dear?” she asks gently, noticing your hesitance.

You shake your head.

She hums in response, “I see. You were there that day, weren’t you?” 

You nod again. 

The sadness in her eyes deepens, “No pressure, my dear.”

You nod again, thankful. “I don’t think I’m ready, just yet.”

She takes your hand, “Well, when you are, come for a visit.”

You’re about to say your goodbyes when you ask a question on impulse. “What’s there now? Where our house used to be?”

She searches your face before responding. 

“A small garden. The soil was healthy from all your fathers gardening.”

Something eases in your chest at that. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” you tell her. 

She nods at that.

“Are there flowers in the garden?” you ask tentatively. 

She smiles, and gently nods again. 

You’re hit with an overwhelming urge to see it, to be connected with your family again, just for a moment.

“Okay, Ms. Lillian, I think I’d like to see it.” 

She brightens at that and leads you further down the haunted streets, toward the place you once called home. 

Toward the place where you lost everything.

You leave the internment zone a few hours later in a daze, barely aware of where your feet are taking you. Your head feels light, every sound too sharp and every shadow too heavy. When you finally stop walking, you’re staring at Levi’s front door.

You don’t remember choosing this destination. It’s as if your body brought you here on instinct, chasing the one person who could quiet your mind. You hesitate for only a moment before lifting your hand to knock, softly at first. Then again, a little louder.

No answer.

Leaning in, you press an ear to the door, willing yourself to catch something. Still nothing. He’s not home. You let your hand drop and take a small step back.

The treaty, you think. He’s probably still at the embassy. 

You sigh deeply, the breath that leaves your body is uneven, more like a tremble than an exhale. You don’t know where else to go, so you sit.

You lower yourself onto the step in front of his door, arms curled around your knees, eyes fixed on the cracks in the concrete beneath your feet. Your pulse is still too fast, your head full of ghosts.

The sun has slipped lower, the light turning soft and gold, when the sound of familiar footsteps breaks through the haze in your head.

Levi is walking toward you, brows drawn in thought. The moment his eyes find you, he stops short. Whatever had been on his mind dissolves, replaced by concern. His eyes sweep over your face, searching before crouching to your level, hands closing firmly around your shoulders.

“Are you okay? What happened?” His voice taut with urgency.

You open your mouth to speak, but your throat locks up. The only thing you manage is a small shake of your head. 

Rising again, he keeps one hand on your arm and guides you to your feet. The key turns in the lock with a soft click, and the door swings open. His grip doesn’t leave you for a second.

Inside, you stop just past the threshold, lingering in the narrow space by the door. Uncertainty knots in your stomach. You’re unsure of where to stand, what to say, how to start. 

When he turns toward you, his gaze has softened, though urgency still sharpens the edges. It sweeps over you, searching for harm. “Talk to me.”

The plea cracks something open in you. Tears spill before you’ve even decided to let them, hot and unrelenting against your skin.

Levi freezes. 

He doesn’t know what to do at first. He knows he can’t tell you to stop, knows he shouldn’t bark at you to knock it off, even if that’s the reflex honed by years of keeping people moving. Truth is, he doesn’t want to do any of those things. So instead he stands there silently waiting for you to tell him what’s wrong. 

“It’s too much, Levi.”

Your voice cracks, and the weight in your chest finally spills over. You try to hold it in, but there’s no point. You don’t have any strength to pretend.

He says your name, gently rubbing circles into your arm with his thumb, “Talk to me.” 

“I was out for a walk and ended up in the internment zone. I ran into one of my mother’s friends.”

He says nothing, eyes intent on your face, patiently waiting for you to continue. 

“She used to live across the street from us, and she still does. My old house…there’s a tree there now. A garden. It…” You take a shaky breath. “I haven’t been back since then.”

His eyes shift with understanding, and maybe the shadow of his own memories. He still feels helpless against your tears, but he doesn’t stop the circles he's drawing into your arm. 

The tears don’t stop.

Levi guides you to sit on his sofa. Once you’re settled he lowers himself into a crouch before you, bringing his eyes level with yours. His hands slip down to take hold of your own, warm and solid, pulling them gently into your lap as if to anchor you there.

“I’m here, you’re safe now,” he says. It’s all he knows to offer. The promise of protection. 

He’s unsure if you’ve heard him. The tears have stopped running, but there’s a far away look on your face. 

“I didn’t mean to go there. I haven’t been back for a reason. I knew this would happen. I’m sorry—"

“Sorry?” He interrupts, his grip on your hands tightens.

“I know this probably makes you uncomfortable, I don’t know why I’m here…I’m sorry, for burdening you.” You pull free, burying your face in your hands.

Levi is stunned. Burden him? Is that what you think? 

He shushes you gently, catching your wrists with gentle pressure, lowering your hands. “Look at me.” 

After a moment he drops your wrists and cups your face in both palms, gently nudging you toward him, desperate for you to see in his eyes what he cannot express with words. 

He searches your eyes for some confirmation that you understand. 

Your breath hitches and you lean forward, dropping your head into his shoulder. He stiffens for a heartbeat, unsure of what to do with so much contact, but he doesn’t pull back. This is right, Levi tells himself. Touch never came easily, but with you, the answer always seemed to be this—give more.  

His hands find your shoulders, determined not to shy away. You collapse further into him without resistance, letting his arms wrap tightly around you.

“Come here,” he murmurs into your hair.

He holds you like a shelter, like he’s bracing against the storm for both of you.

“It’s too much,” you sob, the words muffled into his shoulder. Your tears soak the fabric of his shirt, but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move an inch.

“What’s too much?” he asks softly, urging you to let it out.

“Everything I still feel for them.”

His arms tighten around you.

“I still love them so much, Levi,” you whisper. “And I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know where to put it. I try to put it into my music but it still hurts. I pour it into my students and my work but there’s still so much…”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just breathes with you, holding you close. 

After a while he says, “I know, I know…”

You stay like that for a long time, his palm eventually sliding up to stroke your hair in slow, absent passes. You close your eyes, letting the feel of his body and the familiar scent of him draw you out of the past and into the present. Something inside you unclenches, just enough to breathe.

You pull away when you’re calm, laughing slightly, hands flying up to wipe away the tears on your cheeks. 

He’s still holding your arms, gaze fixed on you. The worry refuses to fade from his expression. 

“I’m okay,” you say weakly. 

He doesn’t answer. His eyes keep searching your face, as if he could read past the words to whatever you aren’t saying.

“I should probably go.”

Levi's grip on you tightens. “Are you crazy?” he barks at you. 

You bite your lip, scanning his face for something, anything, that will tell you what he really wants. Whether this is too much for him, whether your unraveling has crossed some invisible line.

“Stay here,” he sighs, the edge in his voice softening. “I’ll be back.”

He turns away before you can argue. You sink deeper into the sofa, the cushion dipping under your weight.

When he returns, his sleeves are rolled up, a mug of tea in his hand. The sight makes something loosen in your chest. If he’s made you tea, then he meant it when he told you to stay. He sits close enough for your knees to brush, setting the cup into your hands.

“Drink,” he says gently. 

You take a sip, letting the heat settle in your chest. Then, hesitant but needing the contact, you lean your head against his shoulder.

He shifts almost imperceptibly before his arm comes around you, the movement is tentative, as if he’s giving you time to pull away. You don’t.

You settle into him, letting your senses map the quiet constancy of him. The slow circles his thumb traces against your arm, the subtle give and firmness of his chest with each rise and fall of breath, the faint scent of tea lingering on his skin. Your head rests in the curve of his shoulder, and for a moment you let yourself believe he could keep any monster at bay, sustained by the enduring strength that no act of violence has ever managed to take.

Your thoughts drift, unspooling in quiet circles. You wonder, with a pang that is equal parts sorrow and gratitude, if you would have ever met him without that tragic day. 

The thought travels further. Would you have ever found this with anyone else? This rare, unshakable sense of being seen and held exactly as you are. You try to picture it, to imagine another pair of hands offering you the same shelter, another voice speaking into the hollow places of your heart. Nothing comes, the image will not form.

It’s hard to imagine loving anyone else this much.

Wait…

Oh. 

Your breath catches.

Oh.

Oh…

But it’s true, isn’t it? 

You love him. 

You stay trapped in that thought for a while. A part of you wants to spend eternity here, wrapped in this embrace. When you finally speak again, your voice is soft.

“Levi?” You whisper. 

“Yes?” 

“Will you tell me a story?”

He’s quiet for a while. “What do you want to hear?” 

“Anything…a happy memory.” 

Levi exhales slowly, sifting through the years. There are plenty of memories, but not many he would call happy. Most he keeps to himself, locked away where no one can reach them. Sharing one feels strange, but for you…

Eventually, one surfaces. It will do.

“This happened a long time ago. Before the fall of Wall Maria.”

You shift a little closer under his arm, settling in, already lulled into quietness by the timbre of his voice. He involuntarily shifts to pull you in further, tightening his hold around you. 

“Every year the squad leaders would go on a short retreat for leadership training…”

“Get out of my face, shitty glasses.”

Levi plants a palm against Hange’s forehead and shoves them back a step. They only stagger for a second before lurching forward again, grinning like a maniac.

It had been a year since he joined the Scouts. Furlan and Isabel had been dead for months now, but the crater they left behind in his heart was still wide as ever.

Hange had been trying to worm their way into his good graces since day one. Miche was a creep, sniffing people like some overgrown hound.

But Erwin was the biggest pain of them all. Always badgering Levi, trying to get him to demonstrate how he moves so fast with the ODM, asking why he holds his blades like that, on and on. And he’d become even more insufferable since being named commander. If the bastard hadn’t started summoning him to every other meeting and training session, he would have happily avoided him too.

Every effort to win him over only served to piss Levi off further. He just didn’t get this guy’s deal. Stocking the exact tea leaves Levi prefers, offering him a senior position and his own squad. 

Stupid. Manipulative. That’s what Erwin was. 

He really didn’t want to lead his own squad.  He still hadn’t recovered from losing his previous comrades in arms. And Erwin was acting like it was some grand honor instead of a headache he never asked for. He hadn’t earned this, didn’t want it, but as always, he wasn’t given a choice.

So that is how he ended up at this so called “leadership retreat” with the other squad leaders.

So far it had been nothing but grating bonding games and pointless challenges. Levi was just about ready to kill everyone in sight before putting himself out of his own misery.

Now, he sits at the campfire, shielding himself against the wind, watching the fire snap and spit. The light casts itself over flushed faces and long shadows that sway in the wind. The air is thick with the mingled scent of cheap liquor and woodsmoke. 

Hange is too close again, their breath already thick with whatever rotgut is in their cup.

“Really, Levi, you could stop skulking for one minute,” they drawl, shoving a drink toward him.

“No.”

“Alright, let’s get started!” Erwin’s voice cuts through the noise, commanding instant attention from the rowdy group. Most of them have already put away two or three drinks.

“Hell yeah,” Miche woops, finishing his drink. 

“You’re not going to beat me this time, Miche.” Ness jeers. 

Miche flips him off before stooping to check his gear. 

“WAIT.” Hange interrupts, “Levi hasn’t had anything to drink.” 

Levi’s scowl deepens as Erwin turns to him, clicking his tongue.

“Levi, that’s part of the rule. At least one.” 

“You’re all a bunch of dipshits.” 

Before he can sidestep, Erwin catches a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back. Miche leans in with a bottle, and the next second a mouthful of fire scorches down Levi’s throat. He coughs once, the heat blooming in his chest, and shoves Erwin away hard enough to make him stumble.

“Don’t fucking push it, Erwin.”

The man chuckles, the nerve on him. His blue eyes glint with challenge, still focused on Levi. “It’s only fair,” he says mildly, tightening the straps of his ODM gear.

Fuck this guy. 

The other squad leaders follow Erwin’s lead, checking their own equipment. Hange twitters with laughter behind their hands, glasses glinting.

Damn, they really are a filthy drunk. 

“Alright. Rules are the last person to the flag has to down three shots and takes nannying duty for the incoming cadets.” Erwin announces. 

Levi grumbles, muttering under his breath as he stands and shoots his wires into a nearby tree. Getting started before Erwin has a chance to announce the start of the race. 

“HEY!” he hears Hange whine. 

Miche barks a laugh and launches himself after Levi, the hiss of gear cutting through the cold night air. The moon shines brightly on the scouts flying through the air. Levi burns gas without hesitation, cutting clean lines through the canopy.

He reaches the flag first (no surprise there) landing light as a cat on the target branch. Miche arrives seconds later, and Levi gives him the smallest nod of respect. Hange, predictably, rolls in last, half tangled in their cables and laughing so hard they nearly fall from the tree. 

“Looks like Hange is den mother again,” Nanaba snickers. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Hange hollers back. 

Levi doesn’t stick around. He turns back immediately, eager to ditch these idiots before they decide on some other group activity.

By the time they return, he’s already holed up in his tent.

“Levi,” Erwin calls. “Come out here.”

“No.”

“Don’t make me come in there.”

“Like you could make me do anything.”

“Miche! I need your help.”

That was enough to get him moving, but only to shut them up. He steps out of his tent, squinting against the light. For a moment, he just stands there, frowning at the shapes in front of him. The entire camp seems to be gathered in a loose circle, watching.

He opens his mouth to ask what their problem is.

Then it hits him. An icy wall of water slamming over his head and shoulders, soaking him to the bone in an instant. Gasps and muffled laughter ripple through the crowd as he stands there dripping, too stunned to speak.

It soaks through his shirt in a heartbeat, the shock searing into his skin. For a second, all he sees is red. He lunges, slamming into Erwin with enough force to take them both to the ground. The camp erupts in hoots and laughter, the fire throwing their shadows long like wild animals across the dirt. Levi curls a fist around the front of Erwin’s jacket, gaze dipping briefly to the way Erwin’s adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, then back up. His grip tightens as he snarls.  

“You’re dead.”

“Wait.” You cut in, amusement breaking through your voice. “They dumped cold water on you and lived?” You’re laughing outright now, leaning back just enough to catch his expression. His mouth is set, but his eyes are lit with amusement.

“I’m getting there.” 

“Sorry,” you say through your laughter, “I just can’t help picturing it. You’re probably scarier than a titan when you’re mad.”

He sighs, exasperated as you fall back into his chest. 

Erwin shoves back, bracing on one arm, muscles bunching as he tries to throw Levi off. They lock eyes for a fraction of a second, the firelight catching the hard blue in Erwin’s gaze, and Levi digs in harder.

Erwin manages to twist halfway, boots kicking up dust, but Levi drops his weight again, the two of them locked in a stubborn, graceless grapple that neither wants to lose.

“HAH! Fight, fight, fight.” Hange chants, joined by Ness and Nanaba a moment later. 

Levi catches sight of Hange out of the corner of his eye, red flaring in his vision at the sight of the empty barrel in their hand. 

So they are the one who dumped it on him.

He pushes off Erwin in one clean movement, boots scraping the dirt. He lunges for Hange with every intention of knocking that idiotic smile clean off their face when Miche tackles him to the ground. Levi thrashes under him, teeth bared, kicking up dust.

“Calm down, asshole,” Miche says viciously.

“Get the fuck off me,” Levi says, voice deadly low. 

Hange is still doubled over laughing, their glasses slipping down their nose, oblivious to the danger they were just in. “Calm down, Levi. It’s just hazing. Every rookie squad leader gets the same treatment.”

Levi goes still long enough for their words to sink in. Miche eases his hold, and Levi shoves him off. Maybe he came in swinging harder than the situation called for. Tackling Erwin into the dirt over a bucket of water probably wasn’t exactly a…proportionate response. The thought barely registers before his temper flares again. 

“Fuck all of you,” he mumbles.

Across the fire, Erwin straightens his jacket, a fresh bruise blooming high on his cheekbone. He looks irritatingly pleased with himself.

Levi’s pulse is still hammering, but the worst of the heat is gone. Beneath the irritation, something like sheepishness stirs. Though he would rather bite his own tongue off than admit it.

He brushes the dirt from his hands, glare fixed on the lot of them. He clicks his tongue in disgust before disappearing back into his tent. 

“Wait, how is that a happy story?” You ask when he finishes, shaking your head.

“Hmm.” He leans back slightly, eyes half-lidded in thought. “They were all so carefree that night.”

You nod, watching a hint of something softer pass over his face. Melancholy settling in the corners of his mouth, pulling at the space between his brows.

“It’s nice to look back on,” he says quietly. 

You nod again, “I love that story,” you say, your voice filled with drowsiness. The emotions of the day have worn you out, and it’s so warm here, safe.

“Feeling better?” His voice drops into your hair, the vibration as steady as the rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

“Mhm. But you know that story does nothing to help your image, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just that it sounds like one of your favorite memories. Which means you’re a total softie on the inside.”

Levi groans, but the sound lacks any real bite. “Not this again.”

You tip your head up to grin at him. “You can’t hide from me, Levi Ackerman.”

A faint huff of amusement escapes him, “It seems like you may be right.”

You bolt upright at that, twisting to face him head on. “Say that again.”

“Not a chance.”

“Please!”

“Relentless.”

You groan theatrically and drop back into the arm he still has stretched over the back of the sofa, feeling his fingers brush the curve of your shoulder as you settle. You let your eyes half-close, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you.

After a few minutes, you whisper, “Really though…thank you for the story.”

Levi glances at you, catching the slow flutter of your lashes as your eyes drift shut. Your breathing evens out, each inhale softer than the last, the evidence of the day’s tension draining from your face. 

Overwhelmed with tenderness, he reaches out to brush your cheek, feathering his fingers along the curve of your cheekbone. Your skin is warm beneath his calloused touch, and you unconsciously melt deeper into the circle of his arms, your head fitting against him like you were made to rest there. He can’t deny the soft smile that forms on his face as he takes in the sight of you finally at peace. 

Despite the laughter, he knows the wounds you carry have not vanished. They will not disappear, not entirely, ever. He knows this too well, for his have not either. But for now, they are quiet. For now, he has drawn you away from the weight of them, anchored you here in this moment, to him.

His gaze moves over your features, softened by the remnants of laughter and the haze of sleep. His eyes find your mouth, memorizing its shape. Slowly, his fingers slide from your cheek to trace the bow of your lips, brushing lightly, testing the reality of their softness. They yield beneath his touch, soft and impossibly, infuriatingly lovely. 

A breath escapes him, frustrated, resigned. His hand falls away, settling back against his side. He looks away, but leaves his head resting against yours, eyes closing. He means to sit like that for only a moment, but the dark steals over him faster than he expects.

You wake a few hours later to a world swallowed by darkness. Shadows pool in the corners, blurring the edges of the room. The only sounds are the slow, deliberate ticking of the clock and the steady rhythm of Levi’s breathing.

Somewhere in sleep, the two of you have shifted. He’s propped against the corner where the armrest meets the back of the sofa, his body curved protectively around yours. One arm rests firm across your waist, the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of your clothes. His presence closes around you, cocooning you from the outside world.

You shift slightly, hesitant, careful not to wake him. Your gaze lifts, and—ah. Too late.

He’s looking down at you with wide, uncertain eyes. 

You both sit up at nearly the same moment, untangling awkwardly.

You let out a soft, nervous laugh. “Sorry—”

“How are—”

The words collide in the air. You both stop, a shared blush blooming between you.

Levi reaches to turn a lamp on. 

“Guess we were both tired,” you offer, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers fidgeting there for something to do.

“I didn’t mean to…” he trails off. Make you uncomfortable, he finishes in his mind. 

“Hmm?” you ask, still hazy from sleep. “Oh, it’s my fault,” you say a moment later, catching his meaning. “I was tired…”

The silence stretches. Both of you are still red-faced, caught in this strange, fragile space. 

You clear your throat. “I think I’m just going to call a cab back. I’ve had enough walking for today.”

He answers you with a brief nod, eyes studying your face like he’s trying to decide whether to say more.

You shift forward in your seat, almost standing before a thought roots you in place. 

“Levi?”

“Yes?” Levi says, adding your name softly as an afterthought. 

“Do you remember promising me you’d take me to the battle memorial?”

He pauses. Of course he remembers, what he doesn’t know is why you’re asking now.

He nods, hesitantly. 

“I think…I’m ready to go. Tomorrow. If you’re free?”

It’s been a long day, and Levi isn’t entirely convinced you’re up for this. “Are you sure you’re feeling ready for that?”

You answer without hesitation, “I think I need to get it all out now. Honestly, I thought I’d wait and do it on another trip entirely, but right now…I feel ready. I need to see it, for some sort of closure.”

Levi studies you for a long moment before giving a small nod. “The treaty negotiations are still going on, but it’ll be fine if I miss a day. Jean and Connie weren’t there yesterday.”

“Okay,” you smile, relief flowing through you. “Let’s go tomorrow.”

The morning dawns and Levi’s mind is a mess. A million small, disjointed things run through his mind. Flashes of your voice, the weight of you against him, the press of your knee against his, the softness in your eyes when you looked at him.

He's never let himself stay that close to someone for so long, and it leaves him feeling far too exposed. He liked it, that much he can’t deny, but the warmth of it sits uneasily beside the vulnerability it left behind. Like an open window he forgot to close. 

He checks the clock. You usually don’t come down to the inn lobby for another hour. That gives him time to pull himself together before seeing you again.

Levi pushes himself out of the armchair he fell asleep in. A deep, familiar ache protests the movement as he makes his way to the stove to fill the kettle. He leans against the counter, fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the tile. The urge to rub at the stiffness in his leg itches at him, but he resists, jaw tightening.

A tentative knock at the front door breaks the silence. His head turns toward the sound, brows knitting. He isn’t expecting anyone.

Another knock, a little louder this time.

Who the hell could that be so early in the morning?

Levi throws the door open, ready to chew out Jean or Connie for locking themselves out of their own place again. The words die on his tongue as he stops short at the sight of you, nervously chewing on your lip with two cups in your hands. 

“Uh, surprise?” You say. 

“What are you doing here?” Is all Levi manages.

“I wanted to bring you tea for once!” You say brightly. 

He blinks, caught off guard, his gaze moving from your face to the two cups in your hands and back again. 

You notice the faint disarray in his appearance, a detail that sparks a twinge of guilt for catching him so early in the morning. For a moment, it seems like he might ask something else, but instead he steps back from the doorway, pulling it open a little wider.

“…Come in,” he says finally.

You step past him, the faint steam curling from the cups as you move. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles as you stretch out your hand to pass him the tea. 

There’s a brief silence before he clears his throat. “Make yourself comfortable. I, uh…need a few minutes to get ready.”

You nod and smile, noticing the sound of the kettle whistling in the kitchen. “I’ll turn the stove off for you.”

He lingers for another second, as if debating whether to say something else, then turns toward the bedroom. 

Your eyes follow him down the hall until he vanishes into his room. Turning toward the stove, you switch off the burner before wandering to the bookshelf.

Your eyes land on a familiar title, one you remember sending to him fresh off the printing press in Hizuru. The spine is worn, softened from use. The sight pulls a smile from you before you can stop it. Not only did he keep it, but he’s read it. More than once.

You reach up and slide the book from the shelf. As you tilt it open, something slips from between the pages and flutters to the floor.

Bending to pick it up, you freeze. Your fingers almost drop it again when you see what it is.

A photograph.

Of you.

Heat blooms in the pit of your stomach as your eyes drink in the image. You remember the day instantly. Yumi and Ellery insisting you pose so they could memorialize the moment, your birthday dress and makeup making you feel a rare kind of pretty. You had been happy that day. 

You weren’t sure he would keep it. 

But here it is.

The soft click of the door opening jolts you. Your pulse spikes as you fumble the photograph back into the book, your fingers clumsy in your haste. You slide it onto the shelf, too quickly, almost knocking another spine out of place. Grabbing a different book at random, you force your hands to still, willing your face into something calm as his footsteps draw closer.

When he steps back into the room, you glance up. For a moment, you wonder if he sees the slight stiffness in your movements. If he has, he’s shown no sign of it.

“Ready?” 

You hum in response, placing the book you grabbed back carefully, as if it had always been the one you meant to take. Then you fall into step behind him, following him out the door.

The cab door clicks shut behind you and cooler air greets your skin, laced with the scent of grass and sun warmed stone. Before you lies the memorial, tall blades of steel rising from the earth, their weathered surfaces catching the pale light. Each one towers at ten meters, their shadows long across the grass. They stand in clustered ranks across the field, solemn and unyielding, like warriors frozen mid-charge. 

It is the first time you have set foot here since the day you and the warrior families fled to escape the Rumbling. The sight of the steel blades drags you back without mercy. Their presence reminds you of the monsters that had blotted out the sun, the ones whose footfalls rattled the earth beneath you. The smell of grass tilts suddenly toward smoke in your mind, and again you hear the distant, steady thunder that grew louder with every heartbeat. You remember how the shadow of the titans stretched toward you across the ground, swallowing everything in its path. 

The memories continue to plague you without mercy, bringing you back to those final moments before you were forced to transform, you had looked to these same plains, hoping for one last glimpse of the open sky.

You and Levi drift between the towering blades. Your fingertips brush against a weathered surface, the metal cold and faintly rough beneath your skin.

Eventually you sink to the ground, the grass soft but uneven beneath you. Your back rests against the base of one sword, the steel solid at your spine. Levi approaches at an easy pace, stopping at your side. He stays standing, leaning into the metal with his arms folded loosely. 

The wind threads through the grass in a low hiss, lifting strands of your hair. 

“The titans were really tall, huh,” you say at last, eyes tracing the steel above you.

“Some of them,” Levi replies. His voice is quiet, almost flat.

“I wonder if pieces of the old person were still in there…after they were turned.” The words leave you slowly.

For a moment, his expression darkens, “I hope not. For their sake…and mine.”

You hang onto his words, catching his meaning. 

“I was only turned for a brief period that day, but I don’t remember anything between transformations.”

He looks down at you thoughtfully, brow wrinkling. “Nothing at all?”

You shake your head. 

“I guess that’s a relief.”

You nod. Levi stays quiet for a while, chewing on words that seem reluctant to leave his mouth.

“Before the Rumbling,” he says finally, “Zeke turned all my men using his spinal fluid. I’ve always wondered…if they knew.”

Your head lifts, but he isn’t looking at you anymore. A coldness has settled over his features.

You frown. “Connie told me. I'm so sorry that happened to you and your men, though I’m not surprised. Zeke was a creep.” 

He stays silent, gaze drifting somewhere far beyond the field. You recognize the distance, the way old horrors can rise again like shadows on the horizon, stretching long until they swallow the present whole. A faint pull tugs at your chest, the need to anchor him here, to remind him of where is, of who is with him now. Reaching up, you take his hand, gently easing his arm from where it’s crossed over his chest. It’s a long moment before he looks down at you, but when he does, his fingers curl around yours in a gentle squeeze.

Above, the sky stretches wide and endless, a vast, unbroken blue.

“Levi?” 

He hums an acknowledgement.

“Can I tell you something?”

“What do you want to tell me?”

“I’m so sad, all the time.”

You pause there, Levi patiently waits for you to continue. 

“The world has come so far…and, I believe things are actually better than they were before. I mean, we’re free now, right? But sometimes that only makes it worse.”

Levi hums in response, he knows what you’re talking about. Knows it all too well. 

“I keep busy because otherwise I’ll just lie there in bed for days on end again. Life is so different. Sometimes the weight of that day is too much…and I mean beyond my personal losses.” 

The tears fall down your face now. “And I hate the feeling of wanting to cry. It feels so childish, like I’m throwing a tantrum because I can’t adequately explain with words all the horrible things happening inside me.”

Levi watches as the wind blows your hair and your body heaves with a sigh. 

“I’m very sorry that you’re always picking up the pieces.”

Levi studies you for a long time. If there were a way to show you the truth of it, he would. That nothing you feel could ever push him away. That he knows what it's like to carry such grief. That in the years you were far from him, he missed this, being the one beside you when the heaviness pressed too close. And now, with you here, the balance feels restored. 

“Let’s go for a walk.”

He helps you to your feet, keeping hold of your hand.

You walk for a while up a path that leads into the hills. Eventually Levi leads you off the path to overlook the valley. He shows you the stone with his friends' names, and with a gasp you notice the names from Marley.

“This was Armin’s idea,” he explains.

Your eyes fill with sorrow. 

"We can add your parents' names too."

"Levi, thats..." You curse internally at the tears that arise. 

He says your name softly, squeezing your hand in his, “You’re never a burden, alright?”

You search his face, finding nothing but sincerity, and give a small nod. Without letting go, he guides you to the bench. The wind moves through the grass below as you sit together, the view stretching out in endless lines of silver and green.

You feel lighter today, the heaviness from the past two days has loosened.

You step into the recreation center, nearly colliding with someone rounding the corner.

Michael.

His face brightens for a split second before it falters.

What? 

Oh shit…

“Michael! I’m so sorry-”

“Oh, it’s okay!” He interrupts with forced enthusiasm, putting up his hands.

“No, really I’m so sorry…I really didn’t mean to stand you up.”

“It’s really okay, don’t worry about it. Another time maybe,” he says, still maintaining the forced cheer. 

“I went for a walk that day and ended up running into one of my neighbors from the internment zone. It kind of set me off…”

His expression shifts, understanding softening the lines around his eyes. “It’s okay. I understand.”

You sigh, catching your lip between your teeth. “Listen, Michael, I think you’re really nice…and maybe I’m assuming things, but—”

“Hey,” he interrupts again, this time with a smaller, warmer smile. “I get it. It’s okay. No hard feelings.”

Relief settles in your chest as you return the smile.

It's been a few days since Levi has had the chance to really sit in his own home. The day after taking you to the memorial, he was stuck at the embassy, locked in meetings. 

The work paid off in the end. Paradis signed the treaty.

He’s back in his quiet apartment now, alone. Levi lets his eyes wander over the space out of habit.

Wait…

Something is off on his bookshelf.

One title is pushed out just slightly, the edge not quite flush with the others. 

He studies the title on the spine. 

Pulling it free, he flips it open and finds the photograph tucked inside, not where he left it. The page is wrong. The crease in the corner is different.

A groan escapes him. He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose before studying the photo, eyes lingering on your face.

Alright, he’s been caught. 

It’s time to stop running from this.

It’s time to stop running from you.

Chapter Text

The day’s last light spills across the street as Levi makes his way toward the recreation center, putting distance between himself and the suffocating press of ambassadors and delegates inside the embassy.

But the outside offers little reprieve. A crowd of protestors from an extremist anti-Eldian faction have gathered to protest the terms of the treaty. Their voices echo and cut through the evening air as Levi makes his way through the square. Our Humanity First, they shout in unison. The same slogan glares from pamphlets scattered across the cobblestones, pages catching the light as they are passed from hand to hand. 

The origins of the phrase are a mystery, but it has crept steadily into public consciousness in the years after the Rumbling. Its polished ring masks the ugly insistence that Eldians are not truly part of humanity, that the rest of the world must still be defended from their inherent evil. To add to the uncertainty, no one knows for certain who is backing the movement. Though Pieck suspects the extremists are being fueled by powerful businessmen with strong ties to weapons manufacturing from before the Rumbling. Men like that would certainly oppose a global pact banning the development of new weapons. There is no profit to be made in peacetime.

And they still might have their way. Every nation has signed the treaty, but ratification still hangs in the balance.

Levi moves through the crowd, guarded against the jeers and shouts. His shoulders stay squared, his steps even, but there is a faint tightening at his jaw that remains as he steps into the recreation center.

Thankfully, the noise from outside is immediately replaced by the low chatter and faint music playing in the center.

“She stepped out for coffee,” the receptionist calls, waving to him. 

He pauses. “Did she say when she’d be back?”

She shakes her head. “She was set up in her usual room though, if you want to wait for her.”

Levi nods and heads down the hall.

The muted scent of varnished wood greets him as he steps inside, laced with the faint trace of rose you always leave behind. It folds around him, easing the restless edges of his mind.

His eyes move over the room, taking in the books sprawled across the piano and loose pages scattered over the spare chair. She must have had a long day, he thinks.

Leaving the door open, he gathers the papers into a neat stack before settling into the empty chair, pulling a folder from his bag to look over while he waits.

You walk back into your practice room after a quick coffee run. You know you shouldn’t be drinking it this late, but a little more caffeine won’t kill you.

“Hey, you,” you say when you spot a familiar figure in your room. 

“Hey.”

You smile, closing the door and setting your cup down on a nearby shelf before crossing to the bench.

“Protestors give you any trouble?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No. You?”

“No.” He shrugs. “There’s more of them now than this morning, though.”

“I’m surprised that many extremists are willing to show their faces,” you say. 

He frowns and shrugs. 

“Hopefully it’s just noise. They don’t really have any power,” you add. 

“I wish that were true.” He studies the ground before looking back up at you. “Some man spoke today. He used to be a businessman, now he’s playing politician. He was saying the same things they were, probably gave them the nerve to show up.”

You frown. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not.”

You chew your lip, thinking.

Then he says your name, softer now. “I need a break from all that.”

You nod once. “Then stay here for a while.”

You go to grab a score from the pile of sheet music you left behind. “Couldn’t leave the mess, could you?” You tease, noticing the pile looking significantly neater than how you left it. 

He smirks at you and shrugs, “What are you practicing?”

“Oh, just some new music for a concert next month. One of Ellery’s cellist friends will be visiting Hizuru and wants to perform with the both of us.”

He nods, expression twisting momentarily. 

You turn back to the piano, neither of you wanting to press the subject.

After a while, you glance up, noticing the furrow of his brow as he flips through his paperwork.

“Want to come sit?” You ask, patting the spot beside you.

You notice a shy look passing over his face, but he joins you. You shuffle a bit to make room before letting your fingers fall back to the keys. 

You begin to play and Levi watches your hands. He leans in slightly, drawn forward by the sound.

The air between you vibrates faintly with the low resonance of the bass, the higher notes ringing like bells. You can feel him watching, the weight of his stare as tangible as his presence beside you.

You're lost in the sound and flow when he says your name, voice threading softly between the notes. He places a scarred hand over yours, his palm warm against the back of your hand. 

Your heart seizes and the music falters beneath your fingers. He’s closer than you realized, shoulders brushing, the contact burning a hole through you. You imagine that if you shift away, light might spill from the spot, bright and impossible to ignore.

“Yes, Levi?” You keep your eyes on the keys. 

“Were you nosing around my bookshelf?”

Your fingers go completely still when you realize…

The photo. Did you forget to put it back?

No, no, I definitely put it back. So why…?

But his bookshelf is out in the open, spines lined neatly on display for anyone to see. Why would he care if you were checking out his books?

You look up, locking with silver eyes so bright and unyielding, stripping you bare. 

“Didn’t know it was off limits,” you whisper.

He huffs out a laugh, looking away just enough to make you want to pull his eyes back to yours.

You are acutely aware of the place where your shoulders touch. 

“Well, on the subject…keeping photos of me?” You tease, your voice imperceptibly soft.

His face turns back toward you, the faint shift bringing him closer. “Did you not want me to?”

“Of course I wanted you to.” 

Do you understand how much?

His arm comes to settle along the back of the bench behind you, a barrier closing you in. The air between you is thick, threaded with the faint scent Levi always carries. 

A familiar flame flares low in your stomach, heat winding through you as your gaze dips to his lips.

He clicks his tongue softly, saying your name. The sound runs down your spine, leaving your skin tingling. His other hand comes forward, fingers settling on your chin, tilting your face until you are looking at him fully. 

“Eyes up here.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. 

“What are we doing?” he asks at last, the words barely louder than a whisper. 

Ah, there it is, you think. 

The fear you know he carries. 

But you’re familiar with it, his fear. It is not unlike your own, and you understand how fear can twist and pervert and take away any and all goodness. 

You won’t let it, not now. 

You answer with a soft hum, eyes never leaving his. Then, finally, you whisper, voice full of tenderness—

“What people do.”

He furrows his brow, dropping his hand from your face, “I can’t–”

“Hush,” you silence him, closing the distance. 

Levi stills at the touch of your lips, eyes flaring open in shock. For a moment he doesn’t move, overcome with uncertainty.

But it doesn’t take long for him to meet you, where you’re at, as he always does. 

The first brush of reciprocation stills everything. The quiet hum of the light bulb, the faint traffic outside, the chatter of people passing through the hallway, all of it drops away until there’s only the warmth of him surrounding you. You shift closer, knees touching, the bench creaking under your combined weight.

His hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking once, slow and grounding. You reach for him instinctively, fingertips finding the curve of his neck, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse. His other hand slips into your hair, threading through it gently. He holds you there like he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.

You cling to him, lips moving hungrily against yours until he tears himself back with visible effort. Your name slips from him, whispered, tender, desperate—

A supplication. 

You kiss him again, fiercer this time, for you alone can banish his doubt. 

Levi is led by instinct. 

He doesn’t understand the need, only that he’s desperate, and the answer is here. 

He feels like a fool, for why did it take him so long to kiss you?

And to think, all it took was a little bit of curiosity to lead him to this moment. 

Curiousity that he thought was killed in the Underground, buried in Shiganshina. 

Cracks and mud and blood but now…

Alive again, in you. 

And what is left of his fear moves easily away, giving way to hope and love and lust. 

A siren’s call, heat, sun yellowing around him, bathed in prisms of red, amber, gold, and again and again and again…

From here to a thousand mile view of one another. 

This kiss is deeper, slower still, and time—

Time, time, time. It unravels. He moves so slowly that he beats time, forges it. 

And though the fear has subsided, his heart is still escalating. 

As is yours. 

Like you’ve decided to climb an obstacle, or two.

You both have had your mountains to ascend and descend, but none of that matters now. What matters is this endless golden place you’ve found, together.

You kiss him again and again, deciding that there is no better taste than this.

His arm slides around you, steadying, drawing you closer until there is no space left to close. You stay there, lips pressed, limbs tangled, and breath shared. 

You part for a moment, breathless, gaze drifting down the lines of his face. A soft giggle escapes you.

“Levi, my lipstick is all over you.” You cradle his chin, swiping your thumb across his mouth in an attempt to wipe it away.

He catches your wrist, pulling you back in. 

“Shh. Who gives a fuck.”

You click your tongue, smiling into the kiss as you give in again and again. 

Now you understand the poets who bled their longing into paper, the composers whose melodies burned with something larger than themselves. This is it. This is the force they were trying to name.

You blow kisses to the universe as you kiss him. Your mind whispering a plea—

Now you know…I hope you know.  

You and Levi eventually manage to compose yourselves, though the air between you still hums with electricity. You reach for something in your pocket and hold it up to wipe the makeup you’ve smeared across his face. 

He catches your hand before you can get far. 

“You kept this?” His voice is intimately soft as he touches what’s in your hand. 

It’s the handkerchief he gave you all those years ago, its fabric worn soft with time. 

“Mhm,” you say and gently wipe the smear of lipstick from his mouth. He takes it from you without a word, brushing away the marks left on your own skin.

“Come on,” he says at last, voice quiet but steady. “I’ll make you dinner.”

The walk to Levi’s apartment is, in a word, lovely. 

The sun has come to set in what looks like the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever seen. But maybe that's just the aftershock of what transpired between you and the man beside you. 

Crossing the threshold into his home brings a pulse of nervous energy. It's just you and him now. 

You spread your lesson plans on the table while he cooks, grateful for the distraction, though it does nothing to hide the heat blooming in your cheeks.

At dinner his movements are restrained, his posture tight. Every attempt to draw him into conversation falters, and his gaze never truly meets yours. You search his face for a sign, a clue, but find only the determined set of his jaw.

A feeling of doubt lodges in your throat. Did you overstep? Does he not feel the same? But you remind yourself that he was there with you for every moment.

The silence stretches between you as you stand shoulder to shoulder at the sink. He washes, you dry, just as before. It’s gnawing at you, and still, you cannot think of a single thing that would bridge it.

When the last plate is set aside, Levi wipes his hands and leans against the counter. His arms fold over his chest and at last, his eyes lock onto you.

He does not speak, but inside he is running circles. 

He feels the pull of something that is equal parts desire and dread, wondering if you have been here before, if someone else has known you as he wants to know you. He worries about crossing a line you have not invited him to cross, about fumbling his way forward when he has no real experience to guide him. 

His fears loop over and over.

I am not enough, she deserves more. 

Is it worth it, is it worth it, is it worth it?

There is no map for this. No way to know where the road ends.

And yet…

You stare back at him, steady and defiant. Daring him to take back what has transpired.

He takes one step toward you, then another. The room shrinks with each step. 

Your pulse quickens, and you lean back, hands brushing the counter. 

He stops in front of you, close enough for you to feel the warmth coming off him, hand twitching at his side as if he is still deciding.

You do not move, eyes on him.

His own are silver and molten, an emberglow shower of falling stars.  

Something in him gives.

Caution be damned.

He closes the gap and his mouth finds yours, not tentative this time. It is hard and hungry and full of all the words he is not ready to say.

His tongue parts your lips, tasting you in a slow, deliberate sweep before deepening the kiss. His breath mingles with yours and your fingers fly into his hair, raven and soft. The heat of it chases away every last coherent thought. All you know is that for the second time today Levi has wiped the world around you to a dim. 

The touch of his hands starts tentative, skimming along your sides, but grows bolder with each pass. You gasp as his hands slip beneath your shirt, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine and coming down to squeeze your hips.

You desperately need more, desperately need him. 

And blessedly, he is hungry for the same thing.

His mouth finds your jaw, then your neck. Each kiss lingers, leaving behind a trail of warmth that spreads like fire under your skin. The faint scrape of his breath follows, tethering you closer and closer until you tilt your head without thinking, offering him more.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, the words slipping free.

Your hand trails down from his hair to the collar of his shirt, heart pounding as you come to hold his gaze.

“So are you,” you say softly.

His breath stumbles, surprise written across his face before he can hide it. 

Your hands find the first button of his shirt and work it free, then the next, until the fabric parts. He lets you ease it from his shoulders, body lean, all corded strength and quiet restraint, and you do not hesitate before touching him. Your palms explore the lines of his chest and the taut pull of muscle beneath his skin, committing every inch to memory.

Your mouths meet again, need rising between you like a tide and you rock your hips into him without thinking. His groan catches against your lips.

He breaks away, eyes dilated and dark. His voice is low when he speaks.

“Tell me to stop.”

Your answer is already in the way you look at him.

Never, you think. 

“Do you want to stop?” you whisper. 

He exhales, murmuring your name as he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“You are want I want, Levi,” you say, leaning in to kiss him again. 

“Relentless woman,” he mumbles, though his lips are already chasing yours.

You smile against him, nipping his lip in reply.

“You love that about me.”

He grunts softly, pinching your hip. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Hmm, too late.”

He shoots you a look of exasperation, though the corner of his mouth gives him away. Then he laces his fingers through yours, leading you down the short hall to his room. 

The doorway swallows the last of the light from the hallway as you enter, a little glow seeping in from the street outside. It drapes the room in thin, silver ribbons that pool across the floor. It finds Levi’s face, breaking gently over his features. His gaze moves slowly, carefully, tracing over you as though committing each detail to memory before reaching for you. 

But you cannot wait. You pull him back in, pressing small kisses along his jaw, nipping playfully at his ear. His hands find your hips, then lower, gripping you firmly as he walks you backward. The back of your legs meet the bed, and with a steady push of his body, you sink onto it beneath him.

His palms travel up your thighs, warm and assured by the soft give of your body into his, trailing slow kisses down your neck. You fumble with the buttons of your shirt, and he joins you, pulling the fabric open and tearing the last few free with an impatient snap. You reach for the clasp of your bra, fingers slipping against lace, and he stills, watching you with hesitation before his hands cover yours. Together you work the hook loose, clumsy at first, until the straps fall away. He lets out a shaky breath, eyes meeting yours as if to ask permission. Then he leans back in, tracing the curve of your breast with his lips, his breath ghosting over sensitive skin before moving lower, pressing slow, deliberate kisses down your stomach. His hands follow, mapping the shape of you, fingertips brushing in his wake as if to claim every inch.

The shadows shift with his movement, spilling over you until you are open for him, the bare line of you caught between darkness and the faint, flickering glow. You could be burning and not notice, content to sit forever in the warm, blinding light of this oblivion.

He tugs at your skirt, sliding it down your hips with impatience before casting it aside, forgotten on the floor. Lowering himself, he presses a kiss to your knee, then another to the inside of your thigh, his mouth leaving a slow trail as he moves higher, slipping further into shadow, until all you can feel is the heat of his breath where you want him most.

His hands find the lace at your hips, hesitating just long enough to search your face. For a moment the room stills, nothing but the sound of your breathing between you. Then you nod and he slips the fabric down. 

He plants kisses and tiny bites inside of your thigh, causing you to gasp, fingers clutching the sheets. He braces his hands at your hips, thumbs drawing slow, grounding circles.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” His head dips, lips brushing your skin.

“You undo me,” another kiss to your thigh.

“And I forget…how to be careful.”

Before you can answer, his mouth finds you, pulling a startled gasp from your throat. The first touch of his tongue is deliberate and restrained, as though he is testing your fragility. Your hips twitch, but his grip steadies you, firm and patient.

The air around you shivers with heat. You aren’t sure if it’s your skin or your soul that’s catching fire.

Levi has never been here before, but he moves with the same unshakable focus he brings to everything else. He has spent his life accomplishing the impossible, and now he turns that same attention on you. The mission is simple in his mind. To draw those soft, unguarded sounds from you, the ones you cannot hold back. 

He will not stop until he has earned them.

He listens for every shift in your breath, learning the pitch of your moan when his tongue moves just right. Makes small, exact adjustments, refining his approach until each touch pulls something sweeter from you.

You arch under him, a whimper spilling free, the pleasure building with slow, unstoppable force. His hands anchor you, holding you in place as he works with patient intensity, drawing you higher.

“Levi—” His name breaks from you. 

The sound makes him groan against you, the vibration sending heat straight through to your heart. One hand finds his hair, twisting in the dark strands, and he hums low in approval, the sound deep and satisfied.

You finally come apart, the room tilting between shadow and silver light. Your back arches, your thighs tighten around him, and the cry that leaves you is his name, torn from you before you can stop it.

Levi doesn’t move right away. He stays with you, mouth still on you, coaxing every last wave of pleasure until you are shivering and gasping. Only when the tremors ease does he lift his head, lips slick, eyes dark, fierce, and unbearably soft all at once. You pull him up into a kiss, your body still shaking with aftershocks, nerves raw and sensitive. 

But it doesn’t matter. You want more. You want him. You have wanted him for years, wanted him from oceans away. All the times you imagined this, and now he is here, warm and solid and real beneath your hands.

His mouth is hot against yours, his body a solid wall of heat, braced above you as your fingers find his waistband. You fumble the fastening with desperation, and his groan rumbles into your mouth, low and wanting, as you shove the fabric down his hips.

He helps you, just enough to free himself, before claiming your mouth again, messy and deep. You feel him now, hard and needy, pressed against your thigh, and your breath catches. There is no hesitation. You guide him toward you, fingers curling around him. His head drops to your shoulder with a shaky exhale, muscles taut as he steadies himself.

But he hesitates. He meets your eye with a silent question. You kiss him in response, nudging him forward. 

He pushes in, slowly, deliberately, gently, inch by inch, your whole body arching in response. The stretch pulls a gasp from your throat, every nerve alive, the need for him burning hot and bright.

He stills halfway, breath ragged. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You pull him closer in response, cradling the back of his neck with one hand, sliding the other down the line of his spine. 

He pushes deeper, filling you completely, until you are clinging to him with everything you have. The moan that leaves you is raw and needy, and he swallows it with a kiss, hips beginning to move in smooth, unhurried rolls. The bed creaks in quiet protest beneath you, but the sound fades against the rush of blood in your ears. 

There is only Levi. His breath at your throat. His hands gripping your hips like he can anchor you both here, in this sliver of time. You savor the deep, steady rhythm of him inside you, each thrust carrying the weight of all those years. The longing folded into paper and ink, the nights spent wondering what it would be like to touch, the ache of distance now broken open.

You are sensitive, every movement sparking through your nerves, but it only sharpens the pleasure. Your hands move over him without pause, gliding along the hard lines of his back, the curve of his shoulders, the sharp cut of his jaw. You drink in the sight of him so flushed, focused, and undone in a way you have never seen. 

His mouth finds your neck again, murmuring something you cannot quite catch. Your name, maybe. A curse. A prayer. 

Somewhere above, the moon hangs conspiring with the stars, spilling silver light across the bed, across the shadows that curl around the room where you make each other yours.

Golden light spills through the curtains when you wake. For a moment you are suspended in that liminal space between sleep and memory, unsure of where you are. 

Contentment washes over you as you remember. You sigh into the warmth pressed along your back, the steady weight of a hand resting low on your stomach, the way your bodies fit together as if this has always been the way.

Levi’s breath is slow and even against the back of your neck. He is asleep, or very close to it. When you shift slightly, his fingers flex with a faint, unconscious twitch, but he does not move away.

You turn to face him. His eyes are closed, hair mussed in every direction, mouth softened in a way you rarely see.

“Levi?” you whisper.

He hums low, his arm tightening around you instinctively before he blinks his eyes open, just a little. He looks at you as if he is still testing the edges of reality, still deciding whether he believes you are truly there.

His thumb drifts in slow, absent strokes across your skin. He dips his head and rests his forehead lightly against the curve of your shoulder. You smile faintly, your hand coming up to stroke his hair. He doesn’t move away. If anything, his arm tightens, drawing you closer until you can feel every line of his body pressed against yours beneath the sheets.

The silence holds. You can hear the low rhythm of his breathing, feel the steady thump of his heart against your chest. Then his lips graze the place where your neck meets your shoulder, softly, testing.

You sigh, tilting toward him instinctively, baring a little more skin. The kisses stay slow, unhurried, but the heat in you builds, curling warm and steady through your veins.

He pulls away and the sheet slips low. His gaze following the line of you in the morning light. There is no rush in the way he leans in, hand sliding over your hip, palm warm against bare skin, thumb drawing slow circles, reacquainting himself with you. 

You draw him closer till your mouth finds his. The kiss deepens, tasting of sleep and something sweeter beneath it.

He groans as you pull him on top of you. His body already echoing your silent plea. He settles over you and you guide him between your legs, your breath catching when you feel the press of him again, the stretch that will become familiar with time. 

He watches your face, the way your lips part on a shaky breath as he pushes into you. Your body yields around him, heat drawing him deeper, and his gaze stays fixed on you as if he could memorize the exact moment you take him in. Your hands come up to his shoulders, pulling him closer until his forehead rests against yours.

This time there is no urgency. Only the slow, steady rhythm of two people who have been waiting years to wake like this.

A soft sound escapes you, helpless under the solid heat of his body, the glide of his skin beneath your hands. Every slow, deliberate roll of his hips sends a shiver through you, your breath catching in rhythm with his movements. The light through the curtains shifts with the motion, gold pouring over the sculpted lines of his back before breaking orange across your skin

Levi’s mouth finds yours again, the kiss starting lazy but growing hungrier when your fingers rake lightly up his spine. He exhales against your lips, the sound low and rough, and his pace deepens.

Your legs wrap around him without thinking, drawing him closer, pulling him deeper. He groans at the change, the sound vibrating against your mouth, and his thrusts grow more deliberate, hitting a place inside you that makes your nails bite into his shoulders.

The bed rocks gently beneath you, each movement sending a shiver up through the mattress. He shifts, bracing one hand beside your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to hold you exactly where he wants you. The control in his movements only makes the heat build faster, curling low in your stomach until you are arching into him with every stroke.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark. “Still okay?” he murmurs, voice low and uneven.

You nod quickly, your answer caught between a gasp and a moan. “Yes, Levi.”

That seems to unlock something in him. His rhythm sharpens, each thrust pushing you higher until the sounds leaving your mouth are broken and breathless. He catches your wrists, pressing them gently into the mattress beside your head, holding you there as if to keep you from drifting away from him.

You feel it building fast, the same dizzy pressure from last night but brighter, sharper in the morning light. His mouth dips to your neck, the scrape of teeth followed by the warm sweep of his tongue, and the mix of pleasure tips you over.

You fall apart beneath him, your body trembling around him, his name slipping from your lips. He groans through his own release moments later, hips stilling as he buries himself in you, head bowed to your shoulder.

For a long time, neither of you moves. The light shifts again, softer now, and the only sound is the slow, uneven sounds of your breathing as you lay there together.

You finally leave Levi’s sometime around midmorning, though every part of you resists. He is already late for the embassy, and you have a full afternoon of piano lessons ahead. Besides, yesterday’s clothes will not do. You need to stop by the inn before anything else.

In his bathroom, you freshen up as best you can. Your fingers working through the tangles in your hair, coaxing them into something presentable before you step outside.

Still, the mirror reveals evidence of the night. Flushed cheeks, a love mark blooming at your neck, and the curve of a smile you could never hide even if you tried. You will have to be intentional with your makeup later, but for now you pull your hair forward over your shoulders to cover the mark. Your fingers move to the buttons of your shirt, fastening them one by one. A small smirk tugging at your lips when you reach the gaps where a few are missing.

This man will be the end of me…

Down the hall, you pause in his bedroom doorway, watching him pull on his shirt. Smiling at the sight of his hair still mussed from your hands.

“Let’s get you a cab,” he says, approaching and brushing your hair aside. His eyes catch on the faint love marks along your neck, heat and tenderness passing through his expression. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him.

Oh, this is dangerous, you think. You’re one breath away from throwing the day away in favor of coaxing him into another tumble beneath the sheets. Levi senses your thoughts, chuckling against your mouth.

“I’ll come find you later?” 

“I’m getting dinner with Onyankopon and Armin,” you say regretfully. 

Something guarded returns to his expression. The heat in his eyes cools and you see a flicker of caution there…logic, and with it, fear, settling back in. He doesn’t want to overstep, push you further than you two have already gone. If you need your space then he’ll give it to you. 

But you want no such thing.

“But I’ll be back at the inn by eight, if you want to come by?” 

He nods, relief softening his features. The corner of his mouth lifts, unable to stop the way his lips curve at that. 

His hands nudge you out of the doorway and down the hall. You sigh, reluctant. He’s right, we should go, you think. 

“Wait here,” he says once you reach the living room, disappearing into the kitchen before you can ask why.

You blink after him, puzzled, until he returns a moment later with a steaming cup of coffee.

Your smile deepens as you wrap your hands around the mug. A satisfied hum escaping you after the first sip. 

“Thank you,” you whisper shyly. 

Levi watches your expression before clicking his tongue and placing his hand on your back to guide you toward the door. 

He walks you out and waves down a passing cab. He lowers his hand from your back he as opens the car door for you. The golden light of the morning catches the edges of his profile as you get in and glance up at him. 

You tuck the image away in a pocket of your heart, now overflowing.

You stop by a pharmacy on your way back to the inn. You may be inexperienced in love, but you’re not naive enough to let nature run its course unchecked. As wonderful as it is that you and Levi have crossed that boundary, you know better than to risk letting last night (and this morning) turn into something neither of you are ready for.

The woman at the counter hands you two bottles of pills, and you take one before tucking the rest in your bag. 

Passing through the town square, you notice the protestors again, their numbers larger than yesterday. Their chants slice through the warmth still clinging to you, pulling the world back into clear, harsh reality. You find yourself worrying about Levi, your friends, and whether the treaty will hold together under the pressure of the day.

The hours blur together, your lessons and errands threaded through with the memory of his hands, his voice. Distracted by the way the colors around you came alive and time itself seemed to stop. 

Before you know it it’s time for dinner.

You meet up with your friends at a small place halfway between the recreation center and the inn.

Inside, the little restaurant is warm and dim. Armin and Onyankopon are already seated, chatting over drinks when you approach the table.

You settle in. “So, how bad was it today?”

Onyankopon groans, tipping his head back. “Endless speeches. Same points, same posturing. I swear some of them just like hearing themselves talk.”

Armin nods. “Nothing new, but it’s exhausting.” He pauses, studying you a little closer, and his eyes narrow. “Wait! What’s that on your neck? Are you okay?”

Your hand flies up before you can think. You’d been careful to cover the evidence of Levi this morning, but the warm weather and a long day have worn the makeup thin.

You stare at Armin, eyes widening by the second. 

“Oh…I—”

Onyankopon bursts out laughing. “Armin, seriously?”

Armin blinks once, then twice, his expression catching up.

“Wait…oh...” 

You groan. Trust Armin to piece it together in the most awkward way imaginable.

“But I thought you and the captain—?” he starts, then stops, staring outright now.

You hide behind your hands, heat flooding your cheeks.

“Wait. You and Captain Levi?”

Onyankopon leans in with a grin. “Didn’t you notice he was late this morning?”

“You’re not helping,” you grumble at Onyankopon, peeking through your fingers.

“I was a little busy fighting for world peace,” Armin mutters, though he’s watching you with barely concealed delight.

“Ugh, you two! Leave me alone,” you laugh, shaking your head.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Onyankopon says.

Armin’s smile gets bigger. “Oh, Jean owes me so much money,” 

“What?” You drop your hands.

He flushes.

“You were betting on this?”

“Please,” Onyankopon says, still teasing, “Do you think we’re all blind?”

“I thought I hid it better.” You look back and forth sheepishly at your friends and to your astonishment Armin starts to tear up. 

“Armin!” You laugh, confused.  

“I’m just so happy,” he says, wiping a tear. “I’ve been waiting forever for this to finally happen.”

Your laughter softens when you see the sincerity in his face. You reach across the table and squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back.

Onyankopon shakes his head with a chuckle, “I’m gonna give Levi so much shit for this.”

“Please don’t,” you plead. 

“No promises,” Onyankopon teases, raising his glass to you. 

Levi is already waiting for you when you get back, his eyes finding you the moment you step inside. Your heart swells, filling to the brim at the sight of him. Without a word, you take his hand, and the two of you head upstairs together.

The door shuts softly behind you and you both collapse onto the sofa with a sigh. The weight of the day catching up all at once. 

“Oh, I got you this.” He reaches into his pocket and holds something out to you. 

You blink down at the bottle in his hand. 

They contain the pills you took this morning.

Your throat tightens, you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. His face is unreadable, save for the faintest crease of tension at his brow and a small blush blooming on his cheeks.

“Levi?” you laugh.

He shrugs, looking anywhere but at you. “Wasn’t sure if you had any.”

Something warm settles in you, a feeling sweeter and deeper than desire. You reach over and curl your fingers around his, taking the bottle, but not letting go of his hand.

“Thank you,” you say. “I already have some.” 

“I hope this isn’t overstepping…”

“Not at all. You’re taking care of me, it’s adorable.”

His shoulders ease, and though he doesn’t say anything more, the relief in his eyes is tangible. 

“Come here,” you say, pulling him into you. He resists for only a moment before leaning in, his weight settling against your side. 

The tension leaves him slowly and you rest your cheek against his hair. He wraps an arm around you without a word. The day, the noise, the endless chaos of the world outside…it all fades. 

Here, in this small corner of time, you let yourself believe in one simple truth.

He is here, with you. 

I am his, and he is mine.

Chapter Text

Marley 854

The world has been unbearably bright since that day.

There are no tall walls of brick and stone, no forests deep enough to soften the sun. Just an open wound of land where there was once life, where trees once bent in the wind.

And the silence. 

Fuck, the silence.

No clamor of markets, no rumble of carriages or engines…

No Hange to chatter his brain to mush…. 

Only the thin whistle of air through emptiness.

There is nothing left to be covered in, nowhere to hide, nowhere to pretend.

Even so, there is no mercy for Levi…the desolation does not belong to just the land. It mirrors what’s left inside him. 

And his body makes sure the ruin is felt in full, like salt ground into an open wound. Pain, constant and vulgar, refusing to fade. 

He’s stopped counting how many places ache, stopped hoping they’d stop. Things don’t heal the way they used to. The strength that used to surge through his blood like a current is now gone. 

And with it, the rage. That singular focus that made him useful and dangerous. 

Now there’s just…whatever the fuck this is. 

At least Armin and the others are near, though he feels a pang when he involuntarily searches for Eren’s face…Sasha’s, Mikasa’s. 

He doesn’t know how to feel about the kids still calling him captain. He’s not a captain anymore. There’s no war left to fight, no commands to give. Still, the title binds him to them, as much out of duty as love.

They were his underlings once, but they’re his family now. These days all he can offer them is his presence, staying near enough to shield them in whatever way he still can. He won’t risk losing another.

He watches them laugh, argue, cry…grasping at some semblance of normalcy in this upside down world.

And he’s proud of them. 

Seeing them now makes him wonder if he ever really knew how to be alive. They are strong…in all the best ways. He sees as they constantly find ways to welcome the warriors from Marley with kindness and understanding. An example he’s trying to follow. How funny it is, him looking to them for guidance. The world really has flipped on its head. 

There’s only one face he doesn’t recognize in this house. 

That woman.

He supposes her unfamiliarity is the reason why his attention often slips to her. There’s no real reason for her to consume his focus as much as she does. She poses no threat, offers no reason for him to be suspicious. It’s because she’s part of the unknown. That is all. 

Each morning he observes as she passes by with tired eyes and even fewer words than him. She keeps her distance at meals, disappears the moment she’s no longer needed.

Curiously, he catches her eyes on him often (more often than chance should allow). He doesn’t miss the faint flush in her cheeks when their eyes meet, or the way she bites her lip nervously before looking away. 

He keeps his distance. 

He doesn’t anticipate the way her tongue would sharpen the day after Karina sent him to check on her. It should irritate him. Instead it stirs something light and playful in his chest.  

Now, he can’t seem to stop himself…can’t deny the fun in teasing her. 

So he finds himself prodding at her more often than is wise. A word dropped just so, a glance held too long. Each time he eagerly waits for the shift in her posture, the flush crawling up her neck, the way her mouth presses tight when she’s scrambling for composure.

Trouble, trouble, trouble. 

Days pass. 

Levi didn’t mean to fall asleep, but his body still doesn’t know how to rest properly. He only meant to close his eyes for a second. Just long enough to soothe the pounding in his skull. 

He’s awakened by light footsteps and the creak of the floorboard near the doorway. 

A pause. 

He’s used to people hesitating, accustomed to them walking back out of the room when they realize he’s there. No one wants to be the one to wake him.

She seems to be the exception. 

“Are you…alive?”

He opens an eye, what a ridiculous question.  

Ah, and she’s blushing again. He can’t help but smirk inwardly at that. 

“I was going to go outside. It’s clear tonight.”

And…?

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Levi waits for her to say more, but she doesn’t. Her eyes shift awkwardly before she moves past him, disappearing out the front door. 

He stares after her. It takes him a moment to realize his body has followed, carrying him to the door. He pauses as he reaches for the handle.

Well, the room is getting stuffy, he tells himself. With that excuse in mind, he pushes the door open. 

Her head snaps up, startled by his sudden appearance. 

He’s immediately seized with self-consciousness. Maybe he should have stayed put, maybe she wants to be left alone. Still, slipping back indoors would make him look even more ridiculous. So he drops to sit next to her, relieved when he sees the line of her shoulders relax and face tilt back up to the sky. 

Time drifts, Levi remains quiet beside her. He senses the rhythm of her breathing. Notices, out of the corner of his eye, how her attention never wavers from the stars. 

Gradually, that barbed and feral thing soothes inside his head. The ease that settles over him is strange, unfamiliar. 

He’s still turning over the thought when she speaks, her voice soft, velvet, lilting. He hadn’t noticed the sweetness in it until now. 

“It feels like the world should have stopped spinning.”

Levi thinks about that, offering a hum of acknowledgement. He knows that feeling, knows it all too well. He senses the regret in her voice, the sadness, the anguish. He doesn’t know what to say. The truth is he’s no closer to making sense of it. He has yet to make peace with the world and time…how they remain indifferent to all of it. 

Indifferent to the abandoned child underground, to the new names on gravestones, to the blood painting the trees.

The rabid pounding in his skull returns.  

Levi turns to face her, grasping for the peace that had almost taken root. 

The silver starlight crowns her with an unearthly glow, and he finds himself held captive, tracing the shape of her nose, the slant of her jaw, the small crease between her brows.

He notices things he hadn’t before.

The slope of her lips. The slow blink of her lashes. A light alive in her eyes that he’s never seen in the daylight.

He catches curiosity sparking in her eyes as she looks back at him, reads the faint shift from wariness to delight. Her lips press together in the barest smile before her gaze leaves his, returning to the heavens.

What he cannot find within himself, he finds reflected in her.

She’s so different from him…her face never wears any armor. Whatever she feels lives openly there for all to see. 

Exquisite, he thinks.

Even…

Beautiful.

Beautiful? 

The word startles Levi back behind his walls and he looks quickly away, barricading himself back in. 

But the next day, he can’t resist the nearness of her. Searching, against his own better judgment, for that light he saw in her eyes.

But it’s gone.

And he finds himself wondering, against his will, how the hell he’s going to bring it back.

Marley, The Present

The Politician

The politician’s reasons for stirring unrest are simple. 

Before the Rumbling he was a rich man, and just like the rest of humanity, he lost everything.

He does not care for the indignity of being brought down to earth with the rest of humanity.

He wants it back.

The power. The money. The recognition.

And the treaty puts all that at stake. A ridiculous proposition really...the proposal to ban the creation of new weapons. Who wants to live in a world with no defense? No, no, no. The treaty could not be allowed to succeed. Chaos must be stirred...

And he found just the right group of people to help him.

The masses are still seething with fear, anger, and grief, terrified that the devils from Paradis may one day attack again. He whispers into that fear, shapes it, reminds them who is to blame.

To him, the Eldians are the perfect scapegoat. If peace ever takes root, if people ever stop looking over their shoulders, his power will vanish. Better to keep the masses restless, convinced that danger still lingers. That only men like him can guide them to safety.

If he can just get the leaders of the mob to focus. Impatient people…they are too intent on stirring chaos now. They want to commit violence for its own sake. To hurt both the everyday man and those irritating individuals from that island.

He tells them to wait, urges them again and again, knowing how much time he has already spent convincing them that a violent attack would backfire. That blood spilt would sabotage their greater goal. 

He cannot allow them open violence, not yet. Stirring outrage is more useful than carnage.

It’s a gamble, and he knows it. Every meeting, every vague promise, every warning is a bet that they will listen long enough to let anger build. If he wins, the treaty falters and power tilts back into his hands. If he loses, chaos erupts too soon, and all of it slips away.

“Any politicized attacks would only result in the treaty’s success. Which means less money and success for all of us.” 

Pesky, nasty business.

The Lovers

Morning,

It feels like you’ve struck gold—the kind that can’t be mined or stolen. 

And you can’t get enough.

You and Levi have scarcely been able to leave each other alone in the days since your first kiss. Indulging in the luxury of each other’s presence. 

You’ve long known the call of his soul, now you get to learn his body.

And he is just as studious as you. 

Not an inch of you has gone undiscovered. 

Now, you lay together in the morning light. Rays of sun land in shades of pearl and you cherish the nearness, tracing lines across his skin, a map of knowledge only for you. Your fingers feather across his chest and arms, occasionally snagging on the ridge of a scar. He doesn’t have many, but the sight of the few stirs curiosity and sorrow inside your chest. They are eternal evidence of the ghosts that haunt him. A manifested history of violence and war. 

He catches your hand as you trace a particularly deep carving on the inside of his bicep. 

“These are deep scars,” you mumble into his skin. Eyes brushing over him before resting on the space between his thumb and ring finger. 

He hums, sensing the line of your vision. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” you whisper. 

“Well, you know this story,” he holds up his hand. 

You nod, taking it in yours, placing two kisses on his knuckles before sliding your fingers to trace the line carved down the inside of his arm. 

“And this one?”

“It isn’t a pleasant memory,” he mumbles into your hair. 

You look up at him, eyes expectant. 

He sighs, seeing the persistence on your face. 

“That one I got in the Underground.”

“Kenny?” you ask. 

“Mhm.”

“Tell me,” you prod. 

You want to know his stories. You hope he will unlock them for you, let you step gently into that fragile space called the past. But what matters most is that he feels the truth beneath the request. That he is cherished, and that you will stay with him, even in the darkest of memories.

“Kenny had this obsession with the military police.” He says quietly. “He provoked a group of them and left me to fight them off.”

“That’s terrifying.” 

“Hmm. He’d do shit like that to teach me how to fend for myself. It’s not the worst he put me through.” 

“How often would he do that to you?”

“Frequently.”

“You must have been so young.”

He hums into your hair. 

“How about this mark?” You trace a line across his chest. 

He smiles a little at that. “Isabel.” 

“What, did you piss her off?” you tease. 

“Furlan and I were teaching her how to use ODM gear.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, studying the wistful look on his face. 

“Tell me,” you whisper. 

He rolls his eyes at you, teasing, a hand coming up to push back your hair. 

You look back at him with wide pleading eyes, a look you know he can’t resist. 

He sighs, but you note the hint of a smile as he starts speaking. 

Isabel’s laughter echoes brightly through the alley as she rockets ahead. Her cables snap sharply against the stone, sparking faintly where they bite and grapple.

“Bet I can take the corner faster than you!” she shouts over her shoulder.

“Idiot,” Levi mutters, already kicking off after her. Furlan’s voice echoes somewhere behind. 

“Isabel, wait!”

But she’s too fast, too reckless.

Levi narrows his eyes. She’s angled wrong. The anchor point she’s chosen will swing her straight into the wall. And at the speed she’s going…

“Isabel!” he barks.

She twists in midair, realization dawning too late. Her eyes go wide.

He’s already firing his line past hers, catching her around the waist and yanking hard. She jerks back with a yelp, the momentum wrenching him sideways, tangling their lines. For a heartbeat they’re both weightless. 

Then a snap.

His gear jolts. The broken wire whips free and the steel hook skims across his chest in a hot, tearing arc before clattering against the wall.

“Levi!” Isabel cries, clinging to him as he steadies them both, landing hard on one knee.

The burn across his chest makes him hiss between his teeth, but he keeps his grip firm around her. “Tch. What the hell were you thinking?”

She blinks up at him, stricken, eyes already filling with tears. “I—I didn’t think it’d—”

“You didn’t think. Exactly.” He releases her only when Furlan runs up, pale and furious. 

Levi looks down at the blood staining his shirt, the wound hot and stinging. 

Isabel’s hands tremble as she reaches toward it. “I’m sorry, Levi. I’m so sorry.”

Furlan swats her hands away, pressing cloth to the gash. “You’re damn lucky he was there.”

Levi grunts, biting back the pain. Isabel’s face crumples, tears spilling. She’s crying harder than he’s bleeding.

He sighs, despite himself, and reaches out to ruffle her hair. “Stop it. You’re fine. That’s all that matters.”

Her sob hiccups into a shaky laugh, and she nods, clutching his sleeve in apology.

You rest your chin lightly on his chest, tracing the scar again. “You must have been furious.” 

“Mhm, hurt like hell too.” 

“She sounds like a lot of fun though, I wish I knew her,” you laugh. 

“I wish that too.” 

“Are any of these from titans?” You ask. 

He frowns slightly, shaking his head.  “Unless you count Zeke blowing me up with a thunder spear.” 

You hum softly and let your fingers trail along the scar that cuts across his eye, then lean in to press a gentle kiss just above it.

“I guess they didn’t call you ‘humanity’s strongest’ for nothing.”

“Tch. Enough of that.” He growls playfully, turning over to bury his head in the crook of your neck, fingers grazing a ticklish spot on your belly. 

“Levi!” You gasp, laughter bubbling out before you can stop it.

“Your turn,” he says, voice low against your skin.

“What—”

The protest dies in your throat when his mouth moves against your neck. You gasp again, his lips teasing, nibbling at a spot that sends heat rushing through you.

“Hmm. How did you get this mark?” he murmurs against your skin, his tone a mockery of your earlier question.

“Hey—”

He cuts you off with another kiss, another sharp little bite, this time to the inside of your arm.

“And this one?” he asks smugly.

“Levi, enough!” You giggle, tugging at his hair.

He ignores your plea, dragging kisses down your arm until he finds your wrist, planting a love bite there that draws another yelp and laugh from you.

“Stop, stop,” you manage breathlessly, grinning as you catch his chin in your hand. “Okay, no more questions.” You tilt his face up, pulling him into a kiss.

You feel him smile against your lips, his hand sliding up your chest and resting on the back of your neck, playful and possessive.

You thread your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly until the smile fades into something hungrier. His mouth opens against yours, the kiss deepening, drawing you in until you forget how to breathe.

Too soon he pulls away, prompting a whine from you. 

He pinches your hip, “We need to get ready. It’s getting late.”

You pout at him, refusing to let go. “Already?”

His mouth quirks upward, but his tone is firm. “Already.”

You sigh dramatically, letting your head fall back against the pillow. 

“Come on,” he says, softer now. “We’ll be late.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling as you sit up, noticing how, despite his insistence on starting the day, he still looks at you as if he’d rather stay here forever.

Noon,

Cherry blossoms sashay to the tune of the wind and bird song. The sun hangs high above the buildings, spilling brilliance over everything it touches.

You and Levi sit outside the recreation center watching as children dart in and out of the entrance. Their arms full of paintbrushes, sheet music, and instruments too large for their hands, laughter trailing behind them.

Your heads lean close, foreheads nearly brushing, voices lowered to a private register. You whisper eagerly about your small triumph with a difficult student earlier that morning. Levi listens, straight-faced, slipping in the occasional jab about kids tripping over themselves with too much junk in their arms. His face is straight but his eyes betray his delight.

But bliss never lasts long.

Nearby Gabi rounds the corner, Falco on her heels. “Look! It’s the captain!” she chirps.

Falco squints. “Who’s he talking to?”

“Oh! It’s Melody!” Gabi says, practically bouncing now. 

They both pull up short, just beyond your line of vision. Gabi squints, her eyes zeroing in on the narrow space between you and Levi.

“It looks like they’re having a serious conversation,” Falco says cautiously.

“Wait, it looks like…they’re kissing!” Gabi hisses, scandalized.

“Gabi—”

Before he can stop her, she cups her hands around her mouth. “ARE YOU GUYS KISSING?!”

The spell is broken. 

Your head jerks up, eyes wide.

Levi turns slowly. 

You press your lips together, fighting back laughter when you see who it is. 

Gabi steps closer, mischief blazing. Levi glares, stopping her in her tracks. But she knows just as well as you, that these days Levi is all bark and no bite.

“So?” she presses, brown eyes alight with victory.

“No,” Levi says flatly.

“Seriously? Because—“

“What did I say, brat?”

You catch Falco’s eye and the two of you exchange a private laugh, both well aware of how this back and forth could spiral into eternity.

You shoo Gabi away, and Falco wisely pulls her into the center before she and Levi can really start bickering.

“Those little shits,” Levi grumbles once they’re out of earshot. 

You shake your head, amused. 

Levi tilts his head back toward you. “So, how much trouble did that just earn us?” His mouth twitches, the smirk undoing any trace of annoyance.

You laugh, heat blooming in your cheeks. “Well, honestly? Most of our friends already know there’s something going on.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Do they.”

“Apparently…”

“Someone has a big mouth.”

“Hey! They guessed.” 

Levi glances at you sidelong. “Guessed? You can’t keep a secret to save your life.”

You shake your head. “Not true!”

He clicks his tongue teasingly. “Mm. Sure.”

“Okay, well…”

His face tries to remain stern, but his eyes are twinkling at you. He clicks his tongue and mumbles your name, exasperated. 

“Why do you think it was me who gave it away? You do realize you’re pretty easy to read once someone knows your tells, right?”

Levi huffs, amused, “That so?” 

You nod, smug.

Levi leans in a little closer, voice lower. “Hmm, and you’re the master of subtlety.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on.”

“Levi, I’m perfectly subtle.”

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe you naturally trip as much as you do when I’m not around to catch you.”

“Oh my god. You’re the one always staring.”

“Tch. Staring? Maybe you’re just always in the way.”

You narrow your eyes. “In the way, huh?”

The breeze stirs between you, carrying the weight of your stare. He raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for your challenge. 

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, a smile slipping through despite yourself.

Levi leans in a fraction closer. “I know,” he says smugly. “You like that.”

What’s gotten into him? You can’t help your blush. 

He eases back just enough to watch your reaction, eyes gleaming in triumph.

“You’re so full of yourself,” you fire back, though your tone lacks conviction.

He doesn’t bother answering, the look he gives you says everything. The space between you thickens, charged with unspoken desire.

You roll your eyes and turn away, trying to disguise the heat growing on your face. “God, you’re the worst.”

“Mhm.” He smirks, crossing his arms. 

You both look up at the sound of footsteps, a familiar figure approaches.

Michael.

You’re guessing your cheeks are cherry red at this point. 

His stride falters when he spots you and Levi, eyes widening for the briefest moment before he masks it with a polite nod. You manage a small wave, and he gives a tight smile before slipping quickly inside.

“He likes you, you know,” Levi mumbles.

“Hmm, we talked. Sort of. He’ll get over it.” You shrug, brushing it aside.

Levi tilts his head, giving you a sidelong look. “Can’t say I blame him.” 

You don’t think your blush can get any deeper, but it does. 

“Hmm, I’m spoken for,” you say lightly. 

“That so?”

You grin at him, “Mhm, there’s this grouchy military captain...”

Levi huffs, pretending to be unimpressed, but the faint flush creeping up his neck betrays him. “Tch. You could do better.”

“Nope. Never.” 

And Night

Night has fully settled by the time you and Levi finish dinner and step out of the restaurant.

You had wanted to cook for him, but Levi had very coolly shut that down with, “You can’t cook.”

“Please?”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

There was no arguing with him. So instead, you convinced him to let you treat him to a local place that serves Hizuran cuisine.

“It’s only fair, you’re always cooking for me.”

“I like cooking for you, stupid.”

“But I want to do something nice for you…”

“No.”

You hold his glare before playfully laying down your ultimatum. “Fine. I’ll just get to bed early. Maybe even spend the night at the inn…”

His steely gaze sharpens immediately. “Fine.”

Now, walking side by side, you can’t help but notice the faint blush that lingers on his face. A man so unaccustomed to receiving affection, yet all you can think is how much you want to give him, again and again, until he learns to accept it without complaint.

An idea takes root as you walk together. 

“Levi, let’s go watch the stars.”

“Where?”

“The waterfront’s not far from here, right?”

He doesn’t argue as you slip an arm through his, leading him through the streets, only stopping when you've reached a bench overlooking the water. 

By the time you arrive the moon is floating high, its reflection stretching across the dark surface in a silver path. The stars are like dust across the indigo sky, grounding you in the present and giving you the courage to say what your heart wants. 

“Levi?”

”Yes?”

“I want you to come back with me to Hizuru.”

Levi stills, you see his eyes widen slightly. 

“Just think about it…” you say gently. “We could open that tea shop. Before the Rumbling, Hizuru was known for their tea.”

His gaze lowers to the ground, but he still doesn’t speak.

“There’s this old storefront near my apartment. It’s been empty for years. Every time I walk past it, I think about what it could be.”

You breathe in deeply before continuing. 

“I know you have a life here. I’m not asking you to decide anything tonight. I just…I wanted you to know.”

The water shifts quietly against the pier, carrying the silence between you. Levi’s eyes remain lowered, unreadable, his features set in that rigid stillness you’ve come to know. For a moment you think he might pull away, retreat behind that wall of his. 

Instead he gathers your hand in his, placing a gentle kiss against it.

You don’t press him. Accepting his silence and resting your head on his shoulder, content for now. 

Above you, the night sprawls wide and endless, the heavens watching in silence.

Levi slips from beneath the covers, careful not to wake you, padding barefoot down the hallway. In the kitchen, he sets the kettle on the stove, the ritual grounding him as always. He folds his arms and leans against the counter, gaze moving toward the window above the sink. The moon has followed him here too, as though it means to press your words further into him, refusing to let him turn away.

He turns them over carefully in his mind. Your invitation. Your hope. 

Could it really be that simple? To cross the sea at your side, to let the tide sweep him toward something unmarked by blood or loss? To step into a life that feels too good to belong to him?

The doubt rises, sharp as ever. He’s lived too long waiting for the next blow to fall. He doesn’t know how to embrace joy without bracing for the moment it will be wrenched away.

Even now, he can feel the old reflex coiling tight. The same instinct that kept him alive also tells him he is a fool for reaching for peace. That the very act of wanting is tempting fate. 

A memory surfaces, unbidden. 

Furlan is grinning, bright and reckless, giving Levi a light punch to the arm as horses thunder past on the Survey Corp training ground.

“We can do it, Levi,” he says, eyes alight with schemes. “Find some corner and build something for ourselves. A place just for the three of us.”

Isabel’s laughter spills over. Her ideas are bigger, brighter, wilder—

A tea shop with flowers crowding the window. Horses…three of them. A rooftop they can climb at night and lie back to watch the sky.

Levi doesn’t answer. He only shakes his head at their dreams.

But later, when they are both asleep, he lets himself imagine it. Just for a night.

In the morning, the dream is gone…Isabel and Furlan following not long after. 

The kettle begins to whistle on the stove, pulling him back to the present. He exhales slowly, running a hand over his face. 

He thinks of the bonds that tie him to Marley, of the tasks left for him to do…

The truth is, there isn’t much. His part has already been played. He attends meetings at the embassy, sits through hours of voices rising and falling over policies and treaties, lends his name when useful…but the future no longer rests on his shoulders. He is part of the old vanguard, a relic of a world that no longer exists. The fight has moved on without him, carried forward by younger minds with a vision for peace.

It has been their world to shape for many years now, not his.

Since the Rumbling, or even further back…

Since Armin became the Colossal Titan. 

Levi closes his eyes and looks inward, peeling back further layers of the veil. 

And what’s there waiting? 

A lot of fucking pain. 

But also…you. 

He hadn’t expected you. Not in this stage of his life, not when he thought all that remained for him was to endure the years that stretched ahead.

Yet, you are here, offering him something new, something more than just survival. Offering him eyes that see more than the sum of his scars, a heart that sees past the wounded soldier put out to pasture. You call him into light, into life. Into love. 

Yes…love.

But love is the most dangerous thing of all. It has cost him too much already. And after everything, how can he expect you to walk with him through the bleak places of his heart?

He hears your footsteps approaching. You appear, hair mussed from sleep, wearing one of his shirts.

His heart seizes. He’s being given the opportunity to always be greeted with this sight.            

“Come back to bed,” you say, touching his hand. 

He’s reluctant, doesn’t want to keep you up, knowing that he will spend the rest of the night lying awake, tossing and turning. 

But how can he say no to you?

Your breathing evens quickly back underneath the covers. Levi lies still, staring into the dark. He tells himself he won’t sleep, he rarely does. But the steady rise and fall of your chest, the faint scent of roses clinging to your skin, and the warmth of you pressed to his side wears him down, drawing him under until his eyes slip closed.

For the first time in years, Levi dreams…

Smiling, she blows indigo kisses, gown flickering and doused with remnants of the sea. 

Levi stretches his hand, catching what is left of the fabric between his fingers. Catching what is left…left of spring moving from east to west as he stands still before her.

Rose petals mist from crystal depths and parallel worlds above, bringing her once again, face to face, awash in a glow. 

Where is the light? 

Levi shades his eyes, standing now in penumbral shadow—

A second moon and she is the sun. 

The expanse of light arises above her, swallowing the night as Levi passes through shade and shadow, parting darkness, vermilion streaming through his fingers. 

He wrestles with the compass in his hands, begging it to swing away from pain and ambivalence. 

He’s learning that loving less is not the art of resilience. Loving less is not the art of strength. 

But how? His whole life he has been shrouded in dust and death. 

He feels his trigger points failing. 

Oh to be where she is headed.

To rest under the same sapphire sky.

Chapter Text

Unrest is on the rise. 

The first signs are small enough to pass as coincidence. Shop windows smashed in the night, slogans smeared in red paint across walls. But soon it spreads. Broken glass littering the streets, sirens chasing shadows through the city.

Then comes the explosion. A memorial across town torn apart by fire and thunder.  The blast shakes the air for blocks, rattling window panes and sending flocks of birds screaming into the sky. When morning arrives the place is unrecognizable. Stones cracked, statues blackened, wreaths of flowers reduced to ash.

Crowds gather at the site, some weeping, some shouting. Soldiers arrive, but their presence only thickens the tension in the atmosphere. 

Armin is exhausted. While his efforts with the treaty have pushed through, there’s not much he can do to stop the civil unrest brewing against his people. 

“It feels like we’re back to the ‘if we don’t destroy them, they will destroy us’ mentality.” He tiredly says to Levi and Onyankopon. 

The three men are sitting in Armin’s office discussing how to deal with the protestors and recent violence. 

“Not to add to your plate,” Onyankopon begins, “but I’ve got worse news. The investigators with the military police report that the extremist group is planning another attack.”

Levi’s head snaps up. “Where?”

Onyankopon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Take a wild guess.”

Levi and Armin exchange a grim look.

“Spit it out,” Levi says flatly.

“Here,” Onyankopon answers, meeting his eyes.

“Here? As in the embassy?” Armin asks, alarmed. 

Onyankopon nods. “Yes. I’ve already requested more military police in the square, but to be honest, I don’t know how to move forward.”

Levi leans back, considering. “The protestors don’t seem to be going anywhere. Hard to predict what kind of attack they’ll risk when their own people are gathered here.”

Onyankopon nods, thoughtful. 

The weight of the discussion hangs heavy in the air. Armin starts to respond, but is interrupted by a sudden pounding on the office door. All three men jump in their seats.

Connie bursts in.

“Oi. What the fuck was that?” Levi snaps. 

“Sorry, sorry! I wanted to see if any of you know where Melody is? Jean and I brought Scout so she can meet him before she leaves.” Connie says. 

Levi sighs through his nose, feeling his irritation spike. Typical Connie, showing up out of nowhere with no sense of timing.

“Sorry…were Jean and I supposed to be here for a meeting?” Connie asks, looking around the room.

“No, Connie, we’re just trying to figure out what to do about the recent attacks.” Armin answers. 

“Ah, right.” He purses his lips. 

“I think Melody is in a piano lesson.” Onyankopon tells him. 

“Oh! Perfect! We were hoping she’d be around here. Do you know when she’ll be done?” 

Levi stares at Connie for a second.

That stupid dog, but you had mentioned wanting to meet him.

Levi lets out a reluctant sigh. “I’ll go get her,” he says, getting up without another word. 

He brushes past Connie and heads out of the room, ignoring Jean’s wave and the dog’s yapping outside as he pushes past protestors toward the recreation center. 

He nods to the receptionist before finding your usual room, but it’s empty. 

He wanders the hall, still irritated, before hearing your voice coming out of one of the larger rooms. He wanders over and opens the door quietly. You’re in the middle of a piano lesson with your back to the door. Levi slips into a chair at the back, content to wait.

He watches as you lean toward the piano, animatedly discussing a piece of music with your student.

“Your entrance should evoke warmth, but your body language is anxious and timid. Relax your shoulders, yes, deep breath, and then breathe out as you sink into the keys.” 

The girl starts playing, but she doesn’t get very far before you interrupt her.

“Mhm, good. Stop there. Could you tell how different it sounded that time? It was evocative but not forced, and all you changed was your breathing. Do you understand?”

The girl blinks, “Uhh…yes?”

Levi smirks faintly. The kid’s tone says no, but he catches the way she glances at you, hoping to please. 

He hears you sigh deeply. 

“Well, I want you to practice building awareness before you start playing. Drop your shoulders, deep breaths, and the other things we talked about today, okay?” You gesture for her to close her score. 

The girl nods quickly, “Mhm, thank you.”

“It was great working with you again, I’ll see you next time I’m in Marley.” 

Levi watches as you and the girl stand. Though her posture is hesitant, her face brightens the moment you open your arms. She leans in for a hug, and he can’t help but smile at how effortlessly you’ve eased the girl’s anxiety.

“Have a safe trip back!” the girl says, waving backward as she walks out, throwing Levi a confused look as she passes him.

“Thank you!” you say, finally turning around. 

Levi stands quickly when you notice him. 

“Levi?” you say, your smile growing. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t say anything at first. Rendered mute for a moment, still unaccustomed to the joy you always greet him with. 

“Are you stalking me?” you tease, squeezing his arm. 

He rolls his eyes and scoffs at that. 

“Jean and Connie are here, they want you to meet their dog.” 

“Oh! They brought him here?”

Levi’s lips twitch at your excitement. “Mhm, they’re waiting for you outside.”

You bounce excitedly as Levi’s hand falls to your back, following you out of the room. Together you cross the square to where Jean and Connie are waiting with their very cute dog tugging at its leash.

“Hi, nice to meet you!” You giggle bending down to greet the eager puppy after hugging Jean and Connie in greeting. 

The dog’s attention shifts from you to Levi, bounding toward him before anyone can stop it.

“No. Down,” Levi mutters, awkwardly fending the dog off with his cane. Irritating animal.

But then his eyes flick back to you. You’re laughing as you bring the puppy’s attention back to yourself, delight written all over your features. For a moment, his irritation eases. 

“Leave Levi alone, silly,” you laugh. 

Levi shoots you a grateful look, and you scrunch your nose at him playfully in reply.  

“We’re taking him to the park for a bit. Want to come?” Connie asks.

“Oh, yes!” you reply, straightening and brushing dust from your skirt.

“I’m going to head back in.” Levi says to you, “I’ll see you later?”

“See you later,” you say, smiling and squeezing his arm. 

You see the ghost of a smile as he turns away. 

“Okay, let’s go,” you say to Jean and Connie.

Onyankopon is enjoying a quiet morning, coffee in hand, reading a letter from his parents when a sharp knock rattles his door. 

He smirks the moment he sees who it is. “I was wondering when you’d come by.” 

“Are you busy?” Levi asks, crossing his arms. 

“Nope, come in.”

Levi steps inside, hesitating a moment before following Onyankopon further in. 

“Why do you always act like it’s your first time here?” Onyankopon asks, motioning him further inward. “Tea?”

Levi rolls his eyes, “Sure, thank you.”

“So? Here to gush?”

Levi clicks his tongue. “Yeah, yeah, are you going to gloat or actually help me?” 

“What, trouble in paradise?” 

“Fuck you. Forget the tea.”

“Alright, alright,” Onyankopon chuckles, studying him more closely. He’s put together as usual, save for the slightly crazed look in his eyes. 

The man is far easier to read than he probably realizes.

Onyankopon shakes his head as he disappears into the kitchen, keeping his curiosity at bay. By the time he returns, Levi has dropped into an armchair.

“So, what is it?” He asks, handing him a steaming teacup. 

Levi doesn’t answer for a while. Then, with resignation, “She asked me to move to Hizuru.”

Onyankopon’s brows lift, taking in the information. “That sounds like good news.”

Levi hums thoughtfully, eyes everywhere but Onyankopon’s. 

“So what’s the problem? Is it just not working out?”

“No, it’s not that. I—” Levi breaks off, fingers flying up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know.”

Onyankopon leans back, waiting. He knows better than to rush.

“It’s too easy. It’s a bad idea…” Levi mutters at last.

Onyankopon wrinkles his brow, thoughtful, waiting for Levi to continue. 

“And how could I leave now? With everything that’s going on. It feels wrong to leave Armin, to leave you all.”

Onyankopon chuckles, “If that’s truly what’s holding you back, don’t let it. We’ll be fine. And if Armin really needs to he can write to you.” 

Levi exhales slowly at that, nodding. 

“It would be good for him, honestly. Let him spread his wings a little without you there to rely on.” 

Levi studies Onyankopon before continuing. 

“It’s more than that. It’s also…”

Levi falls silent, gaze dropping to the teacup in his hands.

“In some ways, I feel like I’ve duped her. The way she looks at me, I don’t…deserve it.” 

“Why not?”

Levi doesn’t answer. Instead, he fixes Onyankopon with a hard stare, daring him to come to his own conclusions. 

Onyankopon leans back, taking in the man before him. Arms crossed, legs crossed, always guarded. He considers his words carefully. From Levi’s view, the violence of his past may still be all that defines him. The lives he failed to save, the blood he’s spilled, even when justified, mark him as unworthy.

It is not difficult to imagine the rest. That a man who has lived by the sword cannot possibly deserve to be met with kindness, let alone love. That because he was forced into a life of brutality, he now forces himself into a kind of purgatory, refusing any lasting goodness offered to him.

Onyankopon debates whether to speak his thoughts out loud, whether Levi is ready to hear them. He knows pressing too hard will only make the man retreat further into himself. But he also knows silence will leave Levi clinging to that warped sense of justice.

Finally, he asks, “Are you trying to get me to convince you?”

Levi sighs, then mutters. “It would be a mistake.”

“Why?”

“I’ve already told you why.”

“Sorry, Captain, but that’s not good enough and you know it.”

Levi glares at him, jaw tight. “I’m not meant for love and relationships. It’s just not my lot in life.”

“Sure, before. But now?” Onyankopon presses. 

Levi falls silent again.

“I’m a curse. Everyone eventually leaves me,” he eventually whispers. 

Onyankopon considers this carefully before answering. 

“As often as that’s been true, there’s also evidence to the contrary. Look around you. All of us here in Marley are still with you, and we aren’t going anywhere.” 

Onyankopon pauses before continuing.

“Do it scared, Levi,” he says gently. “The world is different now. No more titans. No more battles like before. Just do it scared.” 

Levi looks at him, his eyes tired and weary. 

“You’re just going to have to be strong again, Captain. Even if you don’t want to be.”

Levi is still restless. 

He sits on a bench alone at the edge of the road where cobblestone meets sand. A gray horizon stretches endlessly before him, the sea teeming with infinite wildness. Push and pull, push and pull. 

He’s always admired how it carries its own contradictions with ease. 

At the end of the pier, three figures cast fishing lines into the restless water. Levi studies them until the realization dawns on him. A child’s awkward enthusiasm, a man’s practiced efficiency, an elder stooped with age…a family. Grandson, father, grandfather. After the Rumbling, such a sight borders on the miraculous. Three generations intact when so many others have been erased. 

Levi cannot look away, held in place by the grief of what’s been lost and the fragile wonder of what remains.

He turns inward. 

These last few weeks have been life changing. Life affirming. But acceptance isn’t so easy. Those old monsters, old accusations, they come for him. 

Paralyzed. Paralyzing. 

No, not anymore, he tells himself.

At what point does he simply decide to jump, despite not feeling ready? 

And it would dishonor them, wouldn’t it? To give into fear? 

Wouldn’t it be much better to give into love? 

Yes, it would be far better.

And hasn’t it always been true that the paths he has chosen have always been because of love and goodness? 

Taking Isabel in, giving that young scout Petra’s patch, saving that boy who stole Sasha’s purse… 

Even freeing Erwin from his duties as commander. 

And Levi is so tired of death. At this point he’d rather face the inevitability of life. 

Sweet and sour and bitter and all mottled uncertainty. 

What does it mean to live, anyway? What does it mean to heal? 

He studies his right hand, the scar a permanent testament to what was taken from him.

But healing doesn’t mean freeing himself from the evidence, the blemishes, the stains of the past. 

And maybe being free doesn’t require returning to the purity and fullness one entered this life with. Does failing to survive whole mean losing things essential? Does it mean never gaining things of value, later on? 

Maybe, as people, we don’t always survive in full, but survive in part. That doesn’t make us any less worthy of fulfilled desires and dreams. 

It is a universal truth. 

But the miracle of strength never loses its wonder. To rise above, to choose love and life despite impossible odds. 

Levi sits, poised with one foot in the past, one in the future, searching inward, reaching for the part of himself that refuses to yield. The resolve that has carried him further than reason should allow.

Finally, something in him has been resurrected, something deeper than pain. Deeper than anger. Deeper than fear. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, listening to water, wind, wood.

The image of you arriving back in Marley appears in his mind. 

He thinks of the letter and the words he wrote. How they are even more true today than they were yesterday. 

He really should give you that letter.

It’s late when Levi returns to you. The streets outside the center are loud with the sound of protestors, but inside it is quiet, safe. Levi watches you play, finding peace in the delicate sounds that soften the space between you.

“Do you have one in your place in Hizuru?” Levi asks, gesturing to the piano when you finish playing.

“Mhm. It took a while to get one. It’s smaller than this though.” 

He nods, thoughtfully. “So, what would the arrangement be?”

Your eyes meet his, giving him your full attention. 

“In Hizuru?”

He nods. 

You smile. “Well, my place is small. So we would need to find someplace bigger.”

He nods again. 

“Unless, you want to find your own place? I would understand…”

Levi shakes his head. 

You wait for more, for the confirmation that he has in fact decided to come with you. But he’s still quiet, and you know the best approach is patience, so you begin to play again. Content to wait on him to continue the conversation. 

He catches your attention by saying your name. With a tilt of his chin, he beckons you over. You rise from the bench and step toward him, a shy smile tugging at your lips as he takes your hand, pulling you into his lap.

Your hands come down to brush hair out of his eyes as he searches your own. 

“You really want to open a teashop?” 

You see the deeper question in his eyes. Do you really want me there? 

“Yes,” you say, “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.” 

Silence stretches between you. His eyes study yours, intent, searching for the slightest trace of falsehood. You hold his stare, offering yourself openly.

“What if you get sick of me?” he eventually whispers.

Your thumb strokes his brow, trailing down to trace the scar across his eye.

“Levi,” you say tenderly, “I spent those years wishing you were there with me.”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly, looking away. 

“Do you remember when I first told you I was leaving Marley?”

He doesn’t look back, but he nods.

“I wanted to ask you to come with me then.”

At that, his eyes find yours again.

“I know this thing between us is new,” you whisper, “but we’ve known each other for what feels like forever.”

You shift in his lap, adjusting until you’re facing him fully. Swinging one leg over, you settle against him. His hands coming around to stabilize you, gripping your hips. 

“Yes,” he whispers. “I suppose you’re right.”

You tilt your head down to kiss him, and he welcomes the touch. Your hands rest on his chest before sliding up to grip his shoulders. 

He breaks away. “I don’t want to disappoint you. There’s still so much that I’m working through, a lot I still haven’t figured out how to share…” 

You watch him gently as he trails off. 

“You don’t have to, Levi,” you whisper. 

“I just want to be clear. About who I am.” 

Your lips hover against his. “I know this. I know you and that there may always be more going on under the surface,” you whisper. “But I’m patient, and I…”

Love you.

But you hold back, fearing to startle him further back behind his walls. Instead, you lean in, capturing his mouth again. 

It seems he understands. 

He leans into you, hands gliding from your hips to your back, pulling you closer into him. He breathes you in as your fingers trace slow, lazy circles at the nape of his neck, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. Once again, you’re overcome by the scent that belongs only to him. You breathe it in deeply, letting it fill you. 

The delicate movements turn into need. 

Your tongues meet in a battle of lovers. His hands slip beneath your shirt, splaying wide against your back. You shift against him, hips pressing closer, and he answers with a low sound in his throat, his hands locking you to him. The next time you grind into him, there’s no mistaking his arousal straining beneath you, and you savor the satisfaction of knowing he wants you.

His hands roam beneath your shirt until they find the clasp of your bra. He gives it a tug, the strap snapping sharply against your skin. The sensation ripples into a shiver down your spine, a soft moan spilling into his mouth.

Levi kisses you slower now, savoring your reaction, before urgency takes hold. 

In the next instant he’s standing, bringing you to your feet, driving you backward until your spine meets the edge of the piano. Your hand falls down to stabilize yourself and the keys whine beneath the impact. He breaks the kiss only to tug impatiently at the top buttons of your shirt, peeling the fabric down your shoulders. His lips claim newly bared skin, kissing down your throat, collarbone, and shoulder. In one swift motion he turns you toward the piano, molding his body to yours. His hands come around, gripping the soft flesh of your belly then your breasts, finding his way under your bra. 

And you are undone. Lost completely in the spell he’s cast. The feel of his hands exploring you, the smell of his hair, his tongue on your skin, suckling and worshipping. 

Then one hand drifts lower, gathering the hem of your skirt. The fabric rides slowly up your thighs, bunching under his fingers. The brush of his knuckles leaves you trembling with anticipation. His touch finds its way higher until his hand slides between your legs, pushing aside lace already soaked. His lips brush the back of your neck. 

You whimper, hips jerking back into him, shameless in your plea for more. His grip steadies you, one hand firm at your waist as the other toys with you, stroking until you’re a mess of slick and heat, lips parted, begging.

“Please, Levi,” you breathe, the words breaking on your tongue.

He growls softly, and though he revels in the sight of you undone, he grants mercy. You twist just enough to help shove at his waistband before he firmly turns you forward again, pressing you back into the piano’s edge.

You feel him align himself and the stretch of him filling you draws a moan too loud for the quiet room. Heat surges through you as he sinks deeper, and you can’t help the second moan that escapes as he begins to move inside you, one hand wrapping around your belly, gripping your naval, his other hand moving back up to squeeze your breast. 

He bends you over, his breath hot against your ear. The sound of your name on his lips mixes with the low, hungriness in his throat, a rhythm as relentless as the pounding of your heart.

You are completely his. One hand slams down on the keys, a harsh, discordant chord ringing out. The other clutches at the music stand, the cool wood biting into your palm, the only thing tethering you to this plain of existence as he drives you further into the piano’s edge.

And in the midst of it, that wild, desperate thought tears through you again. I love you, I love you…

But you don’t say it. You can only hope that he knows, that he understands, that he feels the same. That with every whisper of your name, every kiss pressed into your shoulder, every trace of his hand against your skin, that he means to follow you. That he won’t let you leave him behind. That the sweet, needy passion blazing between you is enough to bind him to your side, across seas and futures unknown.

Suddenly, a knock sounds at the door. Both of you still instantly, your heart leaping into your throat, pounding now for reasons that have nothing to do with the way Levi is inside you.

Your eyes fly to the door, mercifully it’s locked. You look to the window, also closed. 

“Melody, are you okay in there?” A familiar male voice carries through the wood. 

Your head snaps back, wild-eyed, meeting Levi’s stare. His grip on your stomach tightens, heat burning in his gaze. 

I thought we were alone, your eyes say.

You’re unsure of what to do. 

Levi doesn’t move. He just holds your stare, studying you. His eyes look to the door, then back to you, assessing. Then, a wicked look crosses his face. Slowly and deliberately he starts to move again. 

Holy shit. 

You have to get rid of the intruder. 

“Yes, I’m fine, Michael!” you squeak, pitching your voice higher in a desperate attempt to sound casual. You’re desperate to get rid of him. 

“Are you sure?” His hand jiggles the lock. 

Levi’s hand slides over yours where it clutches the stand, pinning you in place. A moan bursts from your lips, unrestrained, betraying everything. His palm clamps over your mouth before the sound can spill further, fingers pressing firmly against your cheek.

“Shhh,” he hums gently into your ear, drawing another muffled cry from you into his hand.

“I’m the only one who should be on your mind right now,” he murmurs, voice rough with possession. His other hand trails lower, slipping between your thighs, finding you in a way he’s learned you love. 

Oh. Holy fuck.

You whimper into his palm, the sound pathetic, desperate. He keeps you there, pinned and trembling, your body splayed between the piano’s cold edge and his relentless heat.

Michael’s shadow lingers another moment, uncertain, then his footsteps finally recede.

Relief floods you, but it’s drowned almost instantly by the surge of pleasure Levi drives into you. His pace grows more insistent, claiming every piece of you now that you are alone again.

You forget the door, forget the rush of almost being discovered, forget everything but the way of his body with yours. 

Levi’s hand is still over your mouth and you can’t help the moan. 

“That’s it,” he says in your ear. “Let it out, I’ve got you.” 

That does it. You fall over the edge in release. Levi groans as he feels your release, his control fraying. His thrusts grow rougher, shorter, his breath hot against your neck.

He buries himself deep, chasing the rhythm until the tension wrenches a low moan from him. With a final, shuddering thrust he spills into you, holding you tightly against him.  

You sigh, savoring the moment. Finally, he lets go of you and you peel yourself off the piano, turning to him, adjusting your skirt as he adjusts his pants. You notice the blush on his skin and you can’t help but giggle. 

He glances at you, and the amusement in his eyes only makes your laughter grow. A smile tugs at his mouth as his hands lift to fix your collar.

You lean in, pressing short, sweet kisses to his lips, feeling them returned in kind.

The room is quiet save for the sound of your breathing and the steady tick of the clock. The night has settled in deeply and Levi lies beside you, awake. 

He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, noticing a strand of hair that has fallen across your face. Without thinking he reaches to brush it back. His fingers trail lazily down to caress your brow. 

Somewhere outside, a dog howls once. 

You shift under the covers, expression scrunching up in your sleep. Levi pulls back.

Then you settle, your features softening. He studies you more closely, narrowing his eyes. Your breathing is steady, you haven’t wakened. He breathes out slowly, noticing that the strap of your shirt has slipped down your shoulder. He lifts it back into place with the same care he used to stroke your hair. 

Then, you mumble something. 

“…love…you…” you sigh, the words ghosting from your lips, escaping the dream you’re lost in.

Levi’s entire body goes still. For a long moment he only stares, heart pounding. 

The words …

They were unmistakable. 

Rarely has Levi heard words so tender directed to him. 

Were they truly meant for him, he wonders.  

You shift again, turning away, the sheets twisting with you. Once again he lifts his hand to comb through your hair, slow and gentle. His eyes soften as he feels you involuntarily sigh into his touch.

Yes, he has lost much, but he has also gained along the way. And a poor man such as he knows how to cherish precious jewels. 

Yes, Levi thinks, I’ll follow you.

“You should visit Paradis next year,” Armin says, his voice bright and warm. “For Historia’s coronation anniversary celebration.”

You turn over his words, cup resting loosely in your hands. You look over to Levi who has an eyebrow raised at you. The corner of your mouth lifts despite yourself.    

“You really should. I went last year,” Pieck says, leaning back in her chair.  “It was a lot of fun, actually.”

Armin nods, his eyes flitting back to you, then toward Levi. “I’ve been trying to get Captain Levi to go, but maybe if you come this year he’ll actually attend.”

Your eyes find Levi again, who is predictably avoiding Armin’s gaze, eyes fixed on something unimportant. Typical.

“Honestly, that sounds like fun. We’ll see if I can convince him,” you say teasingly. 

Pieck hums knowingly, sipping her drink. Armin smiles into his, clearly pleased. 

“Well, I should leave you all to your work,” you say with a slight yawn. “I need to run through some material that’s been kicking my ass.”

“When’s your next performance?” Onyankopon asks. 

“Day after I get back,” you say with a groan. 

He nods sympathetically. 

“Catch you all on Friday?”

“Yes, you know Gabi will kill us if we’re not at the play.” Reiner rolls his eyes. 

You nod emphatically at that, twisting your features in mock worry. 

You wave at everyone, squeezing Levi’s shoulder on the way out. You hope he won’t give you too much shit for the slight public display of affection later on. 

Despite the late hour, the square is still thick with protestors as you make your way from the embassy to the recreation center. Their voices echo, sharp and ugly, banners waving under the glow of torches. You keep your head down, quickening your pace and willing yourself not to flinch. Paranoia prickles at your spine, but you push through it. 

Inside, it is blessedly empty and quiet. You draw in steady breaths as you slip into your room and settle at the piano. For a moment, the music eases the tightness in your chest, the movement of your fingers coaxing you into a calm.

You’re lost in your head when you hear the sound of glass shattering.

The sound is sharp and jagged, followed by shouts. Your heart starts racing. 

Another crash, then another. The voices swell, growing closer, no longer contained to the square.

Heart hammering, you grab your things, peaking your head into the hallway. There’s no one there, but the air smells wrong. Confused, you slowly make your way through the hall, observing the broken windows, shards glinting under the hallway lights. 

Outside, the mob is pulling back, their torches flaring as they retreat from the building. Their shouts growing fainter as they move farther away. You pause in confusion. 

What…?

You’re staring at the retreating crowd when something dark and seeping appears at the corner of your eye. 

Suddenly you recognize the smell. 

Gasoline.

Oh shit.

Instinct takes over. You run, panic closing in. You have just breached the exit when a deafening roar explodes behind you. Heat slams into your back and the world erupts into fire and smoke.

The second blast feels closer. A surging force rippling behind you. 

Then you are airborne, weightless, until the ground rises up and knocks the breath from your lungs.

Stone, dust, fire. The world tilts and shudders, folding in on itself.

It all fades to black.

Chapter Text

Levi

“So what exactly did your contact with the military police say about the next attack?” Reiner asks Onyankopon once Melody leaves the room.

“He was vague, if I’m being honest. I’m not sure how seriously we need to take the threat. I’m hoping the increased police presence will be enough to deter their plans.”

“They’re out there now, correct?” Armin asks, turning to Pieck.

She nods, standing by the window, looking down and out into the square. “Yes, they’re there.”

Armin hums in acknowledgment.

“Though it looks like they’re just sitting around. Useless as usual,” she adds flatly.

Levi clicks his tongue. Typical.

Silence fills the room. Minutes pass in uneasy stillness before Connie and Jean resume the conversation with Reiner and Armin.

Levi crosses his arms, only half listening as the talk drags on. His mind is drifting elsewhere...to Hizuru and the future. The unrest here feels distant, something he’s already stepping beyond. He’s almost tuned the conversation out completely when a faint shift in movement catches his eye. Pieck has gone still, her shoulders drawn tight, eyes locked on the square below.

“Something is wrong,” she mumbles, her hand pressing against the window pane. 

“Pieck?”

“Something is wrong in the square,” she repeats, tone sharper this time. 

“Hey, quiet.” Levi orders the others. They all fall silent instantly. 

Pieck pivots suddenly, bolting out the door without another word.

Levi exchanges a confused look with Armin and Onyankopon before rising to follow, the rest not far behind. 

In retrospect, this moment will haunt him. He will remember the hour and the semblance of peace...the protesters outside a mere annoyance, background noise. Later, he will damn himself for failing to heed their threat.

The first blast hits.

Levi’s heart stops, feeling the rattle of the walls. 

His right hand twitches with the memory of Zeke, the flash of light, heat licking his skin, the shockwave ripping him to shreds. For a split second, he’s back there, blown to bits. Ruby red droplets against a canvas of emerald green. 

This is it. This time he is certain he will not survive. His body braces for the inevitable impact that will sear his skin and shatter his bones, bringing his existence to an end. 

But the pain does not come, he is still standing. 

Something begins ringing in his ears. He realizes that the others have already surged ahead, their shouts echoing back at him as they vanish out the door. 

Confusion fills him. If the embassy was not the target, then where…?

Plumes of yellow and orange flare beyond the window. His stomach drops. 

No.

No. 

No. No. No. No. 

His body moves on its own, carrying him through the doors. Dread drags at his feet, yet desperation pulls him forward faster.

He sees Pieck and Onyankopon huddled by a figure on the ground as he draws closer. 

Could it be? 

It’s her. She wasn’t inside. Relief crashes over him, his knees threatening to buckle.

But something is wrong. Terribly wrong. Pieck’s face is contorted with fear. Onyankopon is shouting something to Armin, who is shaking a man in uniform by the arms. 

And now he sees. 

Blood. There is so much blood. 

Her blood.

It coats the pavement in pools, dark and glistening. 

He drops to her side, ice flooding his veins. Her face is lit by the deathly flames, illuminating a gash from when she hit the pavement, her arm bent at a strange angle.

The ringing in his ears intensifies. He’s been on the other side of this, has been the one found bleeding in the rubble. Now he is the one kneeling, helpless.

His throat closes, he cannot bring himself to feel for a pulse or to ask the question. 

Armin comes around then, face pale, voice urgent. 

“She’s breathing. We have to get her to a hospital,” he shouts. “Onyankopon!”

Levi senses someone jostling him, pulling her away. He looks up wild eyed. 

“Move, Levi. We’ve got to get her in the car, now.”

His thoughts are sludge, too slow to keep pace. All he can register is shouting, the rush of footsteps, the distant roar of fire as others scramble to douse the flames.

And the blood, so much blood. 

“Captain, let’s go.” Connie’s hand clamps around his arm, dragging him toward another vehicle, away from the blaze.

The ringing in his ears sharpens, drowning everything.

It feels like no time and too much time before they screech to a halt at the hospital. Levi watches numbly as Onyankopon disappears inside, carrying her limp body.

He follows on unsteady legs. The acrid stench of disinfectant hits him hard and for a moment he thinks he might choke. A stretcher flashes past holding her form, then it disappears behind swinging double doors.

Levi collapses into a chair, hollow.

No thoughts form, only panic.

And despair. 

A clock on the wall catches his eye. 

Tick tock. Tick tock. 

Raw despair. 

“She’s going to be okay.” Onyankopon says beside him. 

Levi looks frantically from the clock to Onyankopon, to Armin. To Jean, Connie, Reiner, and Pieck, then finally around the room. 

He is sinking.

Down.

Down. 

Down.  

Into the sunken place. 

Only this time there is nothing to cling to. There has always been something to cling to. A commander’s shadow to follow, vengeance to cut through grief, a disaster so vast it left no room for mourning. 

But now…

Tick tock. Tick tock.

He has no idea how much time has passed. 

“Captain?”

It’s Armin. The poor boy is looking at him with wide, questioning eyes. 

Levi is confused. What questions could he possibly have right now? What answers could exist in this moment?

“Captain, here…” he’s pressing something into his hands. A cloth. 

“For your hands”

Levi looks down at his hands. Blood. So much blood on his hands. Coating his palms, staining his soul. Where did the blood come from? 

Isabel, Furlan, Gunther. Eld, Oluo, Petra, Erwin, Hange, Eren…

But this is her blood. Why is her blood on his hands?

She does not belong there on that long list of names…

Why is her blood here?

Tick tock. Tick tock. 

“Captain,” Armin says again, urgent now, kneeling before him. “She’s going to be okay.” 

So hopeful. Still hopeful, even after everything they have lived through. Levi envies it. Wishes, for one brief moment, that he could be so naive.

Before he can respond someone else arrives and begins speaking to him, to them. 

“We’ve stabilized her condition. She lost a lot of blood from her head wounds and her arm is broken, but she’s stable now.” 

Levi wants to feel relief. But he cannot. Dread still coils like a snake in the pit of his stomach. 

“Is she awake?” Armin asks.

“No, not yet.”

“How long will it be?” Onyankopons asks.

“Well, we aren’t sure when she will wake up. She experienced significant head trauma.”

“What do you mean?” Levi hears himself saying. 

“Well her brain experienced trauma from—“

“You said that already.”

“Yes. What I mean is, we are hopeful she will wake within the next twenty-four hours. If not, we’ll need to run some tests and have a specialist come in as there is not much known about coma patients—“

“Coma?” Levi interrupts, alarmed. 

“There’s no need to panic. As I said, we are hopeful she will wake up soon.”

“Then why would you say that?”

“Well, sir, she experienced significant blood loss from her head wounds. We’re hopeful she’ll wake up in the next few hours but there’s a high chance she will be out for longer. But please trust that we’ve done everything we can in the meantime.” 

Levi sinks back into his chair. Processing. Not processing. The words fall flat,

“For now I suggest you go home, get cleaned up. The nurses need time to finish preparing her room. Come back in a few hours and you can see her.”

Levi says nothing. Armin thanks the doctor, then turns to him.

“She’s going to be okay.”

Levi shakes his head. He cannot make himself believe it. 

Tick tock. Tick tock.

His eyes fix on the clock. He is moments away from ripping it off the wall and smashing it to pieces, just to make it stop.

“Let’s go Levi, we’ll come back in a couple hours.” Onyankopon says quietly. 

Levi’s eyes tear from the clock, “I’m not going anywhere,” he hisses. 

Onyankopon falters, then nods, dropping back into the chair beside him. 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

The sound drills into Levi’s skull. Each strike another reminder of how helpless he is, of how time drags her farther from him with every passing second.

Abruptly, he rises and walks to the front desk. The receptionist doesn’t look up at first. He clears his throat, and when she finally lifts her eyes, her face goes pale. It isn’t the blood that startles her. It’s the look in his eyes.

“You need to take that down.” He gestures to the clock. 

“Uh, sir?”

“You need to take it down.” He emphasizes. He senses Onyankopon coming up behind him, feels a hand on his shoulder. He ignores it. 

“Umm…” She hesitates. “Okay, sure. Yeah.” She rises quickly and lifts the clock from the wall.

“Uh, do you want it?” She holds it out to him, hesitant. 

“Just get it out of here,” he says, voice weary. He turns back toward his chair. 

She frowns, but her expression softens as she sees him sink down again, shoulders heavy. She disappears through the double doors, the clock cradled awkwardly in her arms. She returns a few minutes later, empty handed.

Levi sits for a long time. The room is quiet now, the maddening tick of the clock finally gone. 

At last a nurse appears, stepping into the waiting room. “You can see her now. Though I suggest you wash your hands first.” Her eyes land briefly on Levi.

Right. The blood.

“Bathroom is down the hall,” she adds. “Then you can go in.”

He sighs and rises, trudging off to scrub the crusted red from his palms. When he returns, he gives the nurse a faint nod.

“We’ll be out here,” Pieck says gently.

Levi acknowledges her with the smallest tilt of his head before following the nurse behind the double doors. Every winding turn of the hall pulls him deeper, until at last he reaches the room that holds her.

He stops in the doorway.

Her head is wrapped in bandages. The ends of her hair are singed black. Her arm lies bound in a cast.

Levi freezes. The sight cleaves through him.

He cannot step forward, cannot even breathe. His vision fills with other rooms, other beds, other faces broken and still.

It is too much.

He pivots sharply, snapping back from the doorway as if struck, pushing past everything and everyone in his way. He shoves through the hospital doors and into the night, desperate for distance, desperate for air.

The sun rises and sets. A whole day passes before he returns.

​A whole day of circling the hospital doors, unable to step inside.

When he finally goes back, she is still asleep. 

But Levi forces himself through the doors, forces himself into the room.

He sits at her side, elbows braced on his knees, eyes fixed on her face. He studies every line, every shallow rise of her chest, as if willing her to stir.

Silently, he begs.

Begging who, he does not know.

You are looking down at a face drained of color.

It takes a moment for you to realize…it is yours. 

What has happened? You try to speak, but there is no sound.

Around you are rippling walls of white stretching out in every direction, leading to blinding and endless new worlds. 

You stand, a fragment against the infinite, turning to face the horizon where the moon first rose and where the sun last set.  

A man is at your side, his face full of sorrow. You lean forward but his features distort, warping beyond recognition. 

His name…what is his name? 

You turn from him, toward the pull of the tide.

Others are waiting.

Your mother. Your father.

Joy floods you. Pure, overwhelming joy. The tide brings you to them.

Oh, it has been so long. Too long. 

But they stop you. Arms outstretched, shaking their heads. Their outlines ripple, breaking apart.

You falter, confused. 

Your mother smiles and gestures toward the man you left behind. 

You look back, confusion biting into you. Him? You do not know him, you do not even know his name. 

You want them, not this stranger. It is time to go. 

You turn, but your father shakes his head and lifts his hand, pointing you back. 

Pointing you back to Levi. 

Levi. 

Recognition pierces through you. Memories tumble forward and his features sharpen as it all comes rushing back. 

His hand gripping yours, pulling you through broken streets as rubble shifts beneath your feet. The two of you soaked to the bone, dashing through the rain like fools. Quiet nights sitting side by side beneath a canopy of stars. Gentle fingers brushing yours, passing you a cup of coffee. The peel of an orange curling in his palm, scent lingering in the air. The feel of gentle, shy kisses, a hand pressing against your lower back. Him standing at the edge of the docks, wind tugging at his hair, eyes soft with wonder as you return to him after so many years.

His lips begin moving. You lean in close, straining to hear. With effort, you make out a single word.

“Stay.”

At once, your body knows what your soul has already chosen. 

Alabaster walls shudder around you, angered, surging forward. The tide drags at your legs and your arms, trying to claim you whole. 

But your parents are there, stepping closer. At once their hands are on your back, forcing you forward. Blessing you with this last act of love. 

With new found strength you reach toward him, fighting the pull of the tide, fingers clawing forward until they touch his hand. The force yanks harder, trying to tear you away, but you cling to him now, with everything in you. 

Yes, Levi. I will stay.

Chapter Text

Levi’s heart sits on the precipice of a wide, dark chasm.  

Closer than it has ever been before.

For five days he drifts in purgatory, toeing the edge. Unable to quiet the mutt of accusations snapping at his spine. 

He sees his past reflected, hardened with pressure. 

The mutt stays close by, haunting the halls along the way to your room, where he waits.

The world slides from white to black and hues of red as you come to, echoes of your dream reverberating through you. 

Confusion hits. 

Where am I? 

Your skin prickles with sweat and your throat feels raw. Panic slowly rises as you catch sight of the needles in one arm and a cast on the other. Your heart thuds in your chest as your eyes frantically scan the dark room and uncontrollable tears begin to roll down your face. 

Someone stirs in a chair beside you. 

You draw back.  

Their eyes open, widening when they notice you peering back at them. 

They whisper your name, uncertain, leaning forward. 

Your heart floods with relief and you breathe out, recognizing his face. 

Levi. 

“Levi?” you whisper, “Where are we?” 

You can’t keep the tremble from your voice. You want to reach for his hand, but the cast prevents you. 

“You’re awake,” he says, moving to sit by your side, careful not to jostle you. His hands come up to cup your face, thumb stroking your cheek gently. 

“What?” you ask, free hand coming up to cover his. 

He doesn’t answer, his eyes intently searching yours. You notice his jaw is tight, and you think his hands might be shaking. 

What has happened, how did I get here? 

You study Levi closely, noticing that the dark circles under his eyes are more prominent than usual. His usual unshakeable composure cracked like porcelain. The sight of it fills you with worry. 

“You were hurt badly,” he says finally. “There was an explosion.” 

“An explosion?” you whisper. 

“Yes, don’t you remember?” 

You shake your head. 

He nods, still searching your face. “I’m going to get the doctor. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. You grip his hand tightly as sudden panic fills you at the thought of being left alone. 

“It will just be a few minutes, alright? You’ve been out for a while. It’s important that she comes to talk to you.” 

You furrow your brow. “Levi, I’m so confused. Please don’t go.”

His eyes soften. “I’m sorry, we’ll talk about it after the doctor comes in, I promise.”

He leans forward to kiss your forehead and leaves without another word. Your eyes follow him until the door shuts, thoughts churning.

How did I get here?  

A few minutes pass before Levi returns with a woman you assume to be your doctor. She greets you kindly by name while Levi walks around to stand protectively at your side.  

“I’m Dr. Mahr, one of the doctors who’s been attending to you the past few days, how are you feeling?”

“Um, hello,” you say hesitantly, “I’m okay. How long have I been here?”

“About five days, you were out for quite a while. Are you experiencing any pain?”

Her words hit you. Five days?  You look to Levi for some confirmation of truth, but his eyes are elsewhere, unfocused and tired. 

You sigh, turning back to her. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

She jots down a few words on her notepad. “Are you in any pain?” 

You take a moment. “Well, my head is hurting pretty badly.”

“Mhm, that’s to be expected,” she nods to herself. “I’m going to send in a few nurses to check your vitals and run some tests, okay?”

You nod. 

She offers you a warm smile. “It’s good to see you awake, your loved ones have been worried about you.” She shoots a pointed glance at Levi as she turns to walk out. 

You stare after her blankly. 

“Levi?”

He looks down at you, eyes pulling back into focus, tense with concern. 

“Please tell me what happened.”

He sighs, sitting down on the bed and taking your free hand in his.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” 

You scrunch your face in thought. “I remember sitting with you all at the embassy, then going to practice…”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm…” 

He pauses. 

“The protestors blew up the recreation center.” 

Your face pales. You search your mind, trying to pull the memory forward, but you fail to find it. 

“I was inside?” 

“It seems like you got out right before. Pieck found you outside on the ground.” He says softly, eyes cast down on where your hands are intertwined, his expression distant. 

You wait for him to continue. 

“You were unresponsive. I thought you…” he trails off. 

Your chest aches as you catch his meaning. Then another wave of panic seizes you. 

“Was there anyone else…?” 

He shakes his head. “No, it was late. You were the only one there.” 

You sigh in relief before sinking back into the bed, exhausted. Your thoughts drift as you stare at the wall, trying to process. 

Levi is still holding your hand when the nurses arrive. 

They greet you gently before beginning their routine. They ask questions in soft tones, and you answer as best you can, putting up with their poking and prodding. The kindness in their faces helps, though the attention leaves you restless and anxious. 

Two hours pass before the nurses leave. By then you are completely drained, your head aching from the effort, your skin tender from their work.

Levi returns to sit at your side, taking your hand in his once more. Neither of you says a word. You want to apologize, to tell him that you didn’t mean to make him live through this nightmare, that you hate the worry carved into his face. 

Finally, you speak.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he asks, confused. 

“I didn’t mean to…”

“Stop, stop,” he says. 

You sigh. “I’m so tired, Levi.”

He grips your hand harder, face pained. “You can rest. I’ll be here.”

You nod, looking around the room. You notice a book on the bedside table.

“Is that yours?”

“Mhm.”

“How long have you been here?”

“A while.”

You nod again.

His hand comes up to brush your hair. “The others have been here too.”

You give him a small smile, then gesture to the book. “Will you read to me?”

He follows your gaze. “Of course.”

He brings the chair close, opening the book with one hand while keeping hold of yours with the other. His voice is quiet and unhurried as he begins to read, his eyes going to your face often. 

You try to listen as he reads, but it’s difficult. After a while you give up trying to follow, unable to focus. Even so, you’re comforted by the soothing timbre of his voice.

Your eyes drift down, frowning as they find your cast.

Levi notices what you’re staring at as he turns a page. “Your arm should be healed in a few months.”

“Oh,” you say blankly.

He frowns, but keeps reading. 

His voice carries you somewhere far away. Past the ache in your arm, past the ache in your head, until your eyelids grow heavier and heavier.

Levi anxiously watches the rise and fall of your chest, fighting the panic that has been rising within him since you drifted off to sleep. So far he has been unable to shake the fear that your eyes may never open again. But the doctor’s advice echoes in his head. You need rest. It’s normal. And his own body is nearing its limit. He has haunted this room for nearly four days, driven by adrenaline and dread. Onyankopon had dragged him home once, and on the other days showed up with clothes and whatever else he needed. He had barely noticed, half alive in the chair at your bedside, caught between the hope of your breathing and the terror that it might stop.

Where did it all turn? When will it end? How many careless mistakes did he make this time? He’s been winding the memories back in his head, again and again…that night playing in a sick loop that he cannot shut off.  

Though he has been mercifully spared the sting of death this time, he is still grappling for a way forward. 

How can he recover that brief spark of hope he had for the future?

He was so close to that life…

His eyes burn as he forces them to stay on you. Every breath you take feels borrowed, every still moment an invitation for heartache to crawl deeper under his brittle skin. 

The first few days crawl by in a haze of pain. There isn’t much you can do but rest, and so you surrender. Levi rarely leaves your side, reading aloud to you when you ask. Your other friends come and go, their visits breaking up the monotony. You're grateful for the love and support, but your disorientation over your current circumstance persists. 

On the third day Dr. Mahr shares that you will need to stay at the hospital for at least another week, maybe more. 

“I was supposed to return to Hizuru,” you mention. 

“Yes, Levi explained to us. Once we confirm that you’re in stable condition we’ll clear you to take the trip back.”

“They were expecting me…” you trail off.  

“Armin sent Ellery a letter letting her know what happened,” Levi tells you. 

You nod, but you’re still confused, and worse, frustrated. Their explanations are clear in sound but distant in meaning. 

And your focus is not the only thing failing you. There’s something wrong with your memory. You’re struggling to remember things after they’ve been said to you, asking the same questions over and over. Each lapse feels heavier than the last, proof that something inside you is broken.

It doesn’t stop there. You tried to walk on the third day, but could only take a few steps with Levi’s help before feeling too dizzy and nauseous to continue. You feel helpless, healing is a slow process.

It unsettles you, how quickly everything can change. One moment you were playing piano, the next—this. It reminds you too much of the day the world ended. 

How did this happen again? That’s fate, you suppose. It gives, then takes.

Dr. Mahr repeatedly reassures you that your short-term memory loss will not last forever, but you remain anxious. How can she be sure? 

“I can’t make any certain promises, but I am very confident this will not be a permanent side effect,” she says with a hand resting on your shoulder. 

All you can focus on is her lack of absolute certainty, and the throbbing migraine you’ve had since waking up is only making matters worse. 

“How long do you think the pain in my head will last?” you ask her. 

She pauses, considering her words carefully. “Honestly, that, I don’t know. Migraines are often a long term side effect of head injuries as severe as yours.”

A gut-punch. 

“Are you saying I will always feel like this?” you ask quietly. 

“No, not to the level of pain you’re experiencing now, but some days will be worse than others.”  

On your fourth day you decide you need to try something, anything, to reclaim your autonomy.

“Levi, could you bring me something to read?”

He looks up from some paperwork Armin dropped off earlier.

“Of course,” he pauses. “We can ask Onyankopon when he stops by later, okay?”

You frown, brows knitting, but nod.

The next day Onyankopon arrives with a small stack of books.

You try. You really do, but after only a few paragraphs, the words slip away, scattering before you can hold on to them. All comprehension dissolving the moment your eyes move forward. Your fingers tremble around the pages, bitterness rising to meet the frustration bubbling in your chest.

Levi watches from the edge of the room, still and silent.

You lower the book to your lap. “I can’t focus,” you whisper. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You were just in a coma,” he says, quickly. 

The dawning horror of your situation sits heavily on your shoulders, the air thick with the weight of it all.

Hours later you try again. Determined. You will read this book without help.

“I’ll read it to you,” Levi offers gently. 

“No. I have to do this,” you say, stubbornly digging your nose in the pages, ignoring the exasperated look he sends your way. 

Only minutes pass before you give up completely, though you still hold the book up. You don’t want him to see the embarrassment prickling on your face. Don’t want to add to the helplessness he must already see in you.

And it’s not just shame, it’s also guilt. Before you sits a man who already carries so many burdens, how can you expect him to carry you through this too? 

No, you don’t want him to see that you’ve given up. However, disguising the sounds of your sniffing as you begin to cry is a whole other ordeal, and in the end, you can’t hide from him. 

You hear him rise from his chair, approaching the bed. The mattress gently gives as he sits in front of you, waiting. You refuse to acknowledge him, stubbornly hiding behind your book, willing the hot tears sliding down your face to disappear. Then, you feel a strong hand gently, but firmly pushing the book down. You’re too weak to resist. 

Not fair. 

You drop your gaze, unable to meet his eyes. He takes the book from your hands and sets it aside. He says your name softly, but you refuse to look up.  

His fingers brush your jaw, tilting your chin until you cannot avoid him anymore. His eyes catch yours, and all you find is unbearable tenderness. No judgement, no pity. Tears rush down your face faster, raw and unstoppable.

“It’s going to be okay, alright?” he murmurs. 

You shake your head. 

“It’s only been a few days.” 

You don’t respond. You know he’s right. You’re just so damn confused. You make a futile attempt to wipe away your tears before speaking. 

“Levi?”

“Yes?” 

“Will you hold me?”

His eyes widen. It’s the first time you’ve reached for him since waking. He only nods in response. 

You shift to the side, laying down. He carefully settles in beside you, wrapping his arms firmly around you as you curl into his chest, his warmth grounding you as the tears keep spilling. 

You fall asleep like that, held in his arms.

You wake several hours later in the same position. The curtains are drawn, but faint light seeps through the gaps, the first rays of morning. Beside you, Levi’s breathing is steady.

He’s asleep, you realize.

A sigh slips out. Another day of trudging through the sludge.

When he stirs, you tighten your hold, unwilling to let him go. His arms answer instinctively, pulling you closer.

He never stays asleep for long, you think. 

His grasp around you is tight, nearly crushing, but you don’t ask him to let go. Instead, you allow it to remind you that you are still alive. Even so, terror and guilt swell in your chest as you settle into the closeness. You had almost slipped away, almost abandoned him to more loss, more grief. 

How could you have almost left him to face this world alone?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

His voice stirs against your hair. “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

Silence stretches. His arms don’t loosen.

Finally, he answers. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You continue to cling to him, burying your face in his chest. Slowly, the heaviness you’ve been feeling begins to soften. 

After a while, you tilt your face up, pulling away slightly. He looks down at you curiously, noticing a small smile creeping onto your face. 

“Uh, Levi?”

“Mhm?"

“So, don’t take this the wrong way but…”

You trail off, smile growing. 

He raises an eyebrow at you, curious. 

“Um…when was the last time you showered?”

He groans at your question, gently releasing you and sitting up. 

You can’t help but laugh at his response. “So?” you prod. 

“Is that your way of telling me I smell like shit?”

“Well…”

He clicks his tongue at you playfully, but a shadow falls over his face. “I didn’t want to leave you and risk…” he trails off. 

You frown, averting your eyes as guilt surges forward again. Even so, the realization of his devotion cuts through the heaviness.

“Wow, I must be something special if humanity’s cleanest soldier stayed at my bedside for what…several days straight?” 

“Alright, brat. I’ll leave,” he says flatly, but his eyes hold a trace of amusement, and underneath it, relief.

You smile at him. “You need to take care of yourself too. Go home for a few hours, I’ll be okay.”

He shakes his head, eyes shifting from relief to panic. 

“Levi,” you whisper. 

His eyes are frozen on you, chaos swirling in his head. 

“Do this for me please?”

He holds your gaze, but you don’t break. 

“Seriously? You’re going to argue with me? When I’m in this condition?” 

He rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. “Glad to see you’re as relentless as ever.” 

You tilt your chin down and widen your eyes. 

“Fine. Fine,” he sighs. 

You hum at his surrender, satisfied. 

He shakes his head, but leans forward to kiss your forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

You smile and give him a little wave as he disappears out the door.

Levi leaves against his better judgment.

He knows you’re right. His skin has been crawling for days. The change of clothes and a quick wash in the hospital sink fall far short of his usual standards, but the idea of leaving always brought panic. His mind always jumped ahead to disaster, picturing the hospital in ruins, or worse, you falling lifeless in sleep. So he stayed, pushing aside his own needs just to be certain you were still breathing. 

He was truly prepared to stay longer, ready to insist that you drop the subject. But as usual, he found himself giving in. 

At least you’re teasing him again. At least you laughed and managed a small smile. He’s been worried about your state of mind. Until now all he had seen from you was shock and confusion. The relief of glimpsing even a trace of your old self feels immeasurable.

His mind turns to the investigation of the attack. Very little meaningful progress has been made. A few protestors were taken in, sure, but the ones pulling the strings slipped away. The leaders Levi most wanted to deal with still haven’t been found.

With a sigh he enters his apartment, taking in the dust motes swirling in the sunlight. The curtains were left open by Onyankopon, assumedly. He swipes a finger along his bookshelf, frowning at the smear of filth. He lingers for a moment before shaking his head and walking away. 

The dust will have to wait for another day.

It’s midday by the time Levi returns. The bright sun pours through the tall hospital windows, pooling across the tiled floor in wide, warm rings. Armin is the only figure in sight, resting against the wall by your door with his eyes closed and arms crossed. Panic surges through Levi at the sight of him. 

“What happened?” he says, approaching quickly. 

“Nothing. She was tired so I left so she could take a nap, but I wanted to talk to you,” Armin responds. 

Levi’s shoulders relax and he nods in response. 

“So, the military police found them. The guys who are responsible for the attack.”

Levi goes still, eyes narrowing. 

“They were found at a safe house last night, and you’re never going to believe who the safe house belongs to.”

Levi thinks for a moment. 

“Is it that peace of shit politician who was against the treaty?” 

Armin nods. “If we can get these men to testify against him we can discredit his current level of influence. Though, I’m not sure he’s directly behind this. If anything, the attack undermines him. He’s been trying to stir unrest, not outright violence.”

Levi wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Right, but why didn't they attack the embassy?”

“I’ve been wondering that too. And I think the embassy’s just too guarded and too obvious a target. The center is different, I think the extremists wanted to hurt the civilians…I mean, people go there to have a break from the mess we’re all in. My guess is the mob leaders either got impatient or lost control of the crowd.”

Levi nods, he already knows what he’ll do when he sees those men.

“Where are they being held?”

“At the precinct. They’re under close watch…there’s been a lot of unrest since they were brought in. More Marley supremacists have shown up to protest their arrest. But Eldians are showing up too…”

What a mess, Levi thinks. 

“When are you going to speak to them?” he asks. 

“Oh, I was going to have Jean question them. He’s going in later today.” 

“Tell them to expect me,” Levi says tersely. 

“Uh, Captain—“

Armin is cut off by an angry feminine voice echoing from around the corner. 

Both men pause, heads swiveling to the voice, loud but words indistinct. More loud, indignant voices rise to meet it moments later. 

Levi’s eyes narrow, annoyance rising. “They’re going to fucking wake her up,” he grumbles, feet already carrying him toward the commotion. 

Armin’s eyes widen as he hurriedly follows after his captain. 

The words become clearer as they draw closer, breaching the double doors and entering the lobby. 

“What do you mean I can’t see her?! I’m her oldest friend!” 

“Ma’am you can’t go back there. I’m sorry, but all her visitors must be approved beforehand. You’ll just have to wait for—“

“I came all the way from Hizuru—“

“Ma’am please, lower your voice!” 

“Oi, keep it down,” Levi says as he and Armin approach.

The woman freezes, turning around to face Levi and Armin. 

“Wait…” Armin mumbles, recognition flashing across his features.

“Armin! Thank goodness.”  The woman rushes forward, throwing her arms around him. 

Levi steps back, a scowl tugging at his face as the sudden display catches him off guard.

“Ellery!” Armin exclaims, returning her hug. 

Oh, Levi thinks. 

“Were we expecting you? When did you get here?” Armin asks as they pull apart. 

“No, but your letter worried me. I got here just now,” Ellery says, “They aren’t letting me see her, they’re saying I need approval from—“

“It’s fine. She can go in,” Levi says, directing his words to the receptionist who’s watching Ellery with a look of disdain. 

“Oh!” Ellery’s eyes widen as they fall on him, “You must be Levi!” 

He gives her a curt nod, not entirely sure what to make of her. 

“Um, can I go back and see her?” She asks, hesitantly. 

“She’s asleep.” He says flatly. 

“Oh…” she falters under his glare. 

Armin glances between them uneasily, but also amused.

Levi sighs, relenting. “I was going to sit with her until she wakes up. You can join me. Just keep it down.” 

Ellery beams, giving Levi a quick nod.

Armin shakes his head, biting back a smile. “I’m sure she’ll be happy you’re here,” he says, pulling her into another hug before turning back to Levi. “Captain, are you sure you want to attend the questioning?”

Levi gives him a hard look. “Tell Jean I’ll be there.”

Armin bites his lip. “Okay. Jean will be there in an hour.”

Levi nods once, then jerks his chin for Ellery to follow as he heads down the hall.

You wake to the sound of raised voices echoing faintly down the hall. Groggy, you rub your face and blink against the dim light. The curtains are still drawn, the room cocooned in darkness.

Levi isn’t back yet, you think with disappointment. There’s nothing to do but sit with your thoughts, and you’d rather endure the boredom with him nearby than on your own. You push yourself upright, eyes resting blankly on the wall across from you. That’s when the door eases open. You perk up, heart lifting as Levi steps inside. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you awake, and you catch the scowl he throws over his shoulder.

“What?” comes a familiar whisper. Then Ellery’s face peeks out from behind him, bright and eager.

“Ellery!” 

She says your name crossing the room and taking your hand in hers. Behind her, Levi crosses the room, pulling the curtains open and flooding the room with warm daylight. 

“You poor thing. How are you feeling?” 

“Mmm, like shit,” you say, offering her a smile. “I didn’t know you were coming.” 

“I left Hizuru as soon as I heard. Everyone is so worried.”

“I’m okay now,” you say, though your smile weakens.

“You don’t look okay…” she trails off.

“Rude,” you huff at her.

She shrugs, giving you a smile.

It’s good to see your friend, and it warms you that she came all this way just to make sure you were safe. She hasn’t set foot here since… well, since before the Rumbling. Back then she had sworn she would never return to Marley. The memories of the internment zone were too heavy, too cruel to revisit.

“So, I guess you met Levi?” you say shyly, glancing over at the man leaning against the wall. His eyes are already on you, expression shadowed with concern.

“Sort of. Nice to meet you!” Ellery chirps, giving Levi a wave.

He gives her a guarded look, the faintest trace of a frown tugging at his mouth. You stifle a laugh behind your hands.

“Levi, play nice,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes but dips his head in a curt nod toward her.

Ellery turns back to you, eyes flaring with an impish grin.

“I’m going to leave you two,” Levi says. “I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”

“Wait. Where are you going?” you ask, disappointment tugging at your voice.

“I need to take care of some things, but I’ll be back.”

“Oh.” Your face falls.

Levi hesitates, then adds quietly, “They’ve arrested the people responsible for the explosion.”

Your brow furrows, but you nod.

“I’ll be back right after. You two catch up,” he says, gesturing to Ellery.

You nod again, meeting your friend’s eyes as she squeezes your hand. Once Levi is gone, she turns fully toward you, her expression bright with mischief.

“So, you’re right. He is so cute.”

A startled laugh bursts out of you, and she joins in. Together you dissolve into helpless laughter, shaking so hard your stomach aches.

“I have so much to tell you,” you manage once the laughter subsides.

“Then tell me now,” she urges, grinning.

“My head is killing me, so it might take a while,” you admit, wincing.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have all the time in the world,” she says, giving your hand another warm squeeze.

Levi arrives at the precinct, eyes dark and jaw set with the fury that has been simmering under the surface for days. He’s hit with the scent of old paper and stale coffee as he enters the lobby. The receptionist greets him with a nod.

“Captain!” Jean calls out from across the room. “It’ll be a few more minutes. The detectives are finishing up their round, but we’re next.”

Levi gives him a tight nod.

“Would you like something to drink while you wait?” the receptionist asks. “We have tea or coffee…”

“Tea is fine, thanks.”

She disappears and returns a few minutes later with a thin paper cup. Levi takes it with a muttered thanks. The heat seeps through the flimsy cup, scalding his fingers. He blows on it slightly, but the tea is still far too hot to drink.

The minutes drag. Every tick of the wall clock claws at him. In his mind, he sees your body crumpled on the ground, bleeding out as dust and smoke curl through the air.  

The door to the interrogation room swings open.

“You’re clear to go in,” one of the detectives says. “His name is Keith Jones.”

Jean nods and Levi follows.

Inside, Keith waits, cuffed hands resting on the table in front of him, slouched and smirking. He spits on the floor as they enter.

Levi raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, choosing to lift the cup of tea to his lips. Still too hot.

“Well, well,” Keith drawls. “What’s this?”

He looks at Levi. “You. Mind getting me something to drink?”

Levi says nothing, remaining standing as Jean takes a seat across from him.

Keith shrugs. “What’s this about, huh? So we lit a few fireworks. Nobody got hurt. I already told the last guys.”

Levi doesn’t move. “Someone got hurt.”

Keith pretends to think it over, then grins.

“Oh. You mean that Eldian half-breed bitch?”

Tension snaps through the room like a whipcord.

Levi doesn’t blink.

“Start over,” he says.

Keith laughs. “What, her? Dirty blood like that doesn’t count. Like I said, no one got hurt.”

Levi sets his cup down on the table calmly.

Then he lifts it again, gripping it firmly in his hand, and hurls the scalding liquid into Keith’s face.

Keith yelps, lurching back, chair legs screeching as he twists. Levi steps in and with a sharp kick, he topples the chair. Keith slams face-first into the table before crashing to the floor. Blood gushes from his nose.

Jean winces, but does nothing to intervene.

Levi crouches low, voice empty and cold.

“I said,” he repeats, “start over.”

Keith groans, dazed, blood trailing down to coat his upper lip.

“You fucker—”

Levi shuts him up with a kick to the face.  

Keith spits blood, snarling. “You think this shit scares me?”

But Levi isn’t finished. He kicks his face again, fully breaking his nose before delivering a kick to his arm then stomach. 

Keith thrashes, but Levi picks him up and shoves him back down into the chair. The cuffs rattle as his arms strain against them.

“Who gave the order to set off the explosion?” Jean asks.

“No one told us. Our boss wanted to wait, but we were bored. Like I said, fireworks.”

Levi’s eyes flare in anger, “You lit the place up because you were bored?”

He grins. “Guess your little Eldian bitch was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Levi sees red.

He slams Keith against the wall, the cuffs clanging as bone meets concrete. Keith gasps, legs scrambling, before Levi drives his knee into his gut. The man folds with a wheeze.

“Wrong answer,” Levi snarls, yanking him back up only to smash his face into the table again. 

Keith groans, sagging in his grip. His smirk disappears, the first signs of fear creeping onto his face. 

Jean shifts, jaw tight, but he says nothing.

“Maybe next time—”

Levi’s fist smashes across his face before he can finish. The crack echoes through the room, and Keith slumps sideways in the chair, barely conscious.

Levi breathes hard, flexing his hand once, then releases his grip. He straightens, gaze cutting cold over the broken man. Without another word, he turns on his heel and strides out. The door slams behind him. 

Jean lets out a slow breath. He drags the chair over to where Keith lies slumped on the floor.

“Alright. I still have some questions.”

Levi leaves the precinct feeling heavy. The fury he unleashed on Keith did little to quiet the dread gnawing at him. His chest still feels caged, crushed from within.

It’s not enough. I’ll still lose her. No matter what.

He doesn’t call a cab back home. Instead, he walks the distance, bitterness echoing in the steady fall of his cane against cobblestones.

The sun has set by the time Levi returns to the hospital. Ellery departs not long after, assuring you she’ll be back in the morning

You’re trying to read again, but give up in frustration. 

Levi looks up at you. “It will come back.”

You shake your head, feeling lost. 

“If I can’t focus on reading words, how am I going to focus on reading music?” 

“Give it time. Your brain is healing. And you can’t play anyway with your arm. Don’t stress about it.”

You scowl at him. “You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to not be able to read. I feel so helpless.” 

Levi frowns, taking a moment to consider. 

“I didn’t learn to read or write until I was an adult.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nods. “Furlan taught me. And it didn’t really stick until Erwin made me practice.”

“Wow,” you say, taking it in. 

He studies you. “It’s just going to take time.” 

“I know you’re right, okay? I’m just frustrated. I wake up here after getting caught in an explosion I don’t remember, and my arm is broken, my head hurts, and I can’t focus for shit.”

His lips form a line, unsure of what comfort to offer. 

“I’m sorry for complaining, but I’m so uncomfortable. One minute I’m playing piano and next, I’m here…”

He nods. 

“How long did it take for you to recover?” you ask, nodding toward him. 

He raises his eyebrows, “What, from all this?” He holds up his hand and gestures to his eye and leg.

You nod.

“You were there for all of it.”

“Right…for the injuries you received during the battle…”

He frowns, “Zeke got away from me only a few days before that.” 

You stare at him dumbfounded. 

“Wow,” you finally say, guilt washing over you. An old fear arises in the pit of your stomach. You’re worried that he looks down on you for being soft. For needing more than he does. 

“You’re not seriously comparing us, are you?” He frowns. 

“Well, it’s hard not to wonder what you’re thinking, or what you’re expecting of me.”

He furrows his brow. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he says finally. 

You frown at him, “Well, Levi, I have a fucking concussion.” 

He sighs, with frustration, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m not good with words. What I’m trying to say is, that’s not an example I expect you or anyone to follow.”

“Right, because you’re so lenient with the people in your life.” 

He’s staring at you, at a loss. 

You look away. 

“I don’t want you to see me differently because of this.”

He frowns. “Why would I see you differently?”

“Like I said, I don’t know what your expectations are.”

“Where the hell is this coming from? You’re not like me and I never want you to be. I didn’t give a shit about my life back then. I had one goal and I was going to achieve it at any cost. Even if it was my body, or my life. It’s not the same.” 

You open your mouth to speak but he interrupts you. 

“You were never a soldier. Why would I expect you to act like one?”

You take a deep breath, unsure of how to express your fear and frustration.

“I don’t feel right, Levi. My head is fucked. And I don’t deal with things the way you do.”

You pause, he’s staring at you trying to understand.

“Dr. Mahr said it may take months, or years, for my head to get better. Months or years of living like this. I haven’t wrapped my head around it.”

He opens his mouth but you forge ahead. 

“I’m not going to be able to just shove my feelings about this away. And playing my instrument helps me deal with all…this.”  You gesture to yourself. “What’s going to keep me from falling back into the abyss? No amount of you telling me to push forward and to just deal is going to help.”

“What are you saying?” he demands. 

“I’m asking you if you can be there for me. In the way that I need.”

Levi leans back, staring at you, trying to find the right words.

“I admire the ways you’re different from me. I would never expect for you to deal with this the way I would.” 

You search his face, then nod, your energy completely spent. 

“You could have died,” he says, clearly not finished. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Will you stop apologizing? I’m sorry. I should have taken the threat more seriously. I shouldn’t have let you go over there alone.” 

You frown. “I’m apologizing for putting you through this.” 

“No, stop.” He says your name. “Can’t you see that I—” He stops, unwilling or unable to finish the sentence. 

You sigh, shaking your head. “Listen, I’m really tired. I think I want to be alone right now.” 

“Are you insane? You almost died and now you want me to leave? No.”

“Levi.”

“No. You can be a brat all you want, but I’m not leaving.”

You scowl at him but let it go. He’s right. You’re being difficult, pushing him away when what you really want is for him to stay.  

"Fine."

You lay down and turn on your side, giving into your exhaustion. Sleep claims you quickly, heavy and dreamless.

Levi settles into the chair at your bedside. The silence stretches for hours, broken only by the tick of the clock and the occasional murmur from down the hall. He reads for a while, stealing glances at you, watching the rise and fall of your breathing in the dim light. 

Eventually, you wake, shifting restlessly as a sharp pain stabs behind your eyes. You curl into yourself, desperate for some modicum of relief or comfort.  

“Levi?” you whisper after a while. 

He looks up from where he sits, book still in his hand.

You sit up, sheets twisted around you. “Will you…come hold me?”

The book is forgotten instantly. He rises and slides in beside you, gathering you into his arms, his grip firm but gentle. 

The pain doesn’t vanish, but the storm inside you eases, just a little.

Levi rubs his thumb in soothing circles on your back, unable to sleep. 

He doesn’t know what to do. 

He is stumbling around on this perilous path. 

And it’s a long way to fall. 

How quickly it all changes. 

And how quick he is to retreat behind those walls where shame waits. Shame and grief. That is all he feels. 

Luckless, compass spinning around and around. There is no exhaustion more complete. 

Survival is all he knows, all he must continue to know. 

Chapter Text

Six weeks prior

Levi does not know what it feels like to fall in love—

But what he does know is the ache of listening for one laugh among countless others. Yearning for one stolen touch that has branded itself into his memory. The solace of one presence that stills the ruin inside him. 

He is doomed. That much he knows for certain as he stands with his eyes on the sea. The dock thrums with noise and bodies, but he stands quiet and still, waiting for that stubborn and elusive woman to finally arrive. 

All the chaos falls away the moment she appears on the ship’s ramp. 

He stares as the sun settles behind her, crowning her in gold-amber rays of life. Each step she takes toward him undoes another stitch in the wall he has built around his heart. 

Wind tangles her hair as their eyes meet, and she smiles. Levi forgets how to breathe.

For nearly four years she has been mere words on a page. Now she stands before him, more radiant than the sum of memory and longing could ever be.

She is the sun, moon, and stars—every unreachable thing.

And he is just a man standing in the dark. 

—If falling in love is anything, it must be this.

The Present

Nearly two weeks have passed since you first opened your eyes in this room. Though the headaches remain, you’ve begun to accept the situation a little more than before, and in the last week you’ve grown used to being alone. 

Ellery you shooed off to spend time with Reiner, Pieck, and the others. 

“Please, I love you, but your hovering is kind of driving me crazy.”

“Fine, fine!”

“I’m sure Reiner could use some free therapy, or go flirt with Jean or something.”

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out, but obliged your request. 

Levi has been around less too. You tell yourself he has his own life, but you can’t help wondering if he’s avoiding you. The spiraling anxiety that rises whenever you think too deeply about it has been unavoidable. Maybe now that you’re doing better he no longer feels obligated to sit by your side. Maybe it was just sex to him. Maybe you freaked him out by asking him to move to Hizuru with you. Maybe he’s pulling back because he doesn’t know how to break things off. 

You’re troubled by his absence, but there’s been other visitors to distract from his distance. Michael came by with a few of the other teachers, bringing word that music lessons have been moved to a schoolhouse nearby. The destroyed instruments and art supplies will take longer to replace, but the community is showing up for one another.

Not long after, Gabi and Falco appeared with Jean and Connie in tow, and more importantly, their dog. The moment the pup bounded into your room your mood lifted, his paws skittering against the tile as he tried to climb onto the bed. Gabi laughed as she tried to keep him under control while Falco kept apologizing, but you only smiled wider, delighted by the chaos. Jean shook his head, muttering that Connie was to blame for letting the dog off the leash, while Connie insisted it was good for your recovery to have “a little excitement.”

In the quiet stretches with no visitors, you’ve taken to writing. It consumes your focus, but it isn’t as frustrating as reading. It was Dr. Mahr’s idea. She explained that the stimulation would teach your mind to find its strength again. You had agreed to the idea skeptically, but you were ready to try anything at all to keep the slow hours moving. 

Now your new notebook blooms with fragments and nonsense sentences trailing off next to flower petals and stars sketched into the margins. 

Maybe I can ask Ellery or Levi to bring me some colored pencils, you muse with a small smile. You can already hear Levi giving you shit for the request—What are you, five?

You’re jarred out of your thoughts by the door opening with a soft click. You look up to see Dr. Mahr entering with a beaming smile.

“Good news, the tests we ran on you a couple days ago went well. You’re in the clear.”

You set your notebook aside and give her a questioning look. “What does that mean?”

She places a hand on your shoulder. “It means you can leave the hospital. I’ll clear you for discharge tomorrow.”

You furrow your brow. “But I’m still in so much pain…”

She nods, her voice gentle. “I know. Recovery from a head injury is slow, but you’re strong. I’ll give you a list to take to the pharmacy. Pain medicine and supplements that will help with the headaches and brain fog.”

You nod.

“I’ll also give you my notes to bring to your doctor in Hizuru, okay? They’ll know when to remove the cast, but it will be another five or six weeks.”

You sigh, but nod. “Alright.”

“And I recommend stopping by the pharmacy before you board a ship to Hizuru. You might experience increased motion sickness. I’ll write down what should help.”

“Okay.”

“Keep in touch, alright? I’m sorry I can’t see you through to the end of your treatment.”

You manage a small smile. “You’ve already been so kind. This has been…a lot.”

Her hand squeezes your shoulder gently. “Would you like me to explain everything to Levi or Ellery when they come by?”

“Yes, please.”

She nods, giving you one last warm smile before slipping out of the room.

When the door shuts, you sink back against the pillows. You’re grateful to be leaving the hospital, but feeling resigned to the long road still ahead. After a moment you reach for your notebook, once again letting your pen wander across the page.

Levi has begun avoiding the hospital, only dropping in for a few minutes at a time before fleeing, overwhelmed and strangled by helplessness.

The past few weeks have been difficult. Immeasurably. His sleep has worsened, if that’s even possible. It feels like he’s caught in the same endless nightmare. Even holding you offers no reprieve. The visions won’t release him. 

The line between memory and reality has grown oh so thin. Sometimes as he sits, half asleep at your bedside, it isn’t you he sees, but Erwin. 

And he cannot untangle the two. Both souls bound to the same plea—stay.

“Is it that important to you? More than your legs?”

“Yes.”

“More than humanity’s victory?” 

“Yes.”

Please, Levi thinks…

…more important, than me? 

Levi searches Erwin’s eyes, hunting for even the faintest hint of hesitation. Some crack in his resolve, a sign that he might bend.

But Erwin’s eyes never falter. 

“I see…”

He turns, unable to hide the hurt on his face. 

“Erwin, I’ll trust your judgement.” 

Erwin’s face vanishes, blurring into ruins at the edge of a forest where Kenny sits, coughing up blood against the daybreak. 

“That day…why did you leave me?”

Soulless eyes stare back at him. An answer is given, but it doesn’t satisfy the wound. Provides no antidote to the poison. 

The scene changes again. 

To a brothel in the Underground. 

A horseback ride in the rain. 

A forest outside Wall Rose. 

A house in Shiganshina. 

An airplane hanger. 

Now, a room in Marley. 

I can’t get out, Levi thinks. I’m a fool for thinking otherwise. I’ve been waiting for time to carry me forward, but I’m stuck.

Does time unravel all knots? 

Or not? 

She has not left me, but the day will come. One way or another, she will be gone.

If not. 

I will lose her…is it better to lose her to distance or death? 

Midday sun spills into the kitchen as Levi stands with his head bowed, hands gripping the edge of the tiled counter. 

The invitation to a life renewed remains, placing before him a choice that belongs wholly to him.

He really should visit.

It’s mid-afternoon when you find yourself in front of a mirror for the first time in weeks. 

You have gone out of your way to avoid your reflection, unwilling to face what might be staring back at you.

But you’re leaving the hospital tomorrow. It’s time.

So you stand, finally looking. Your arm is still bound in a cast, but the thick bandage once wrapped around your head has been reduced to a strip crossing your forehead. A large bruise high on your cheekbone is fading, shifting from deep purple to a blotched yellow. 

You sigh, eyes finally catching on the burnt and uneven ends of your hair.

“I can’t trust either of you,” you mumble, glaring at Ellery and Levi’s reflection in the mirror.

“Huh?” Ellery asks, looking up from a violin score in her lap. 

You don’t answer, pulling glumly at your ruined hair instead. 

Ellery fixes Levi with a stare from across the room. He raises an eyebrow at her. 

She gives him a pointed look. Don’t just sit there. 

“What’s the matter?” he says, turning to you. 

You glare at his reflection in the mirror. 

“I can’t believe you both just let me go around with my hair looking like this.” You punctuate your last word with a tug of your hair. 

Levi and Ellery share another look. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” Ellery whispers loudly. 

Levi stares at her, jabbing an incredulous finger at his chest as if to say, Me?

“I can hear you,” you cut in, annoyed.

Levi clicks his tongue and says your name, “Honestly, I’ve been a little preoccupied with worrying about the rest of you.” 

“I look ridiculous.”

“Stop that–”

“How can we help, love?” Ellery cuts him off with another pointed look.

You shake your head, scowling at them both before turning on your heels and leaving the room. 

“Uh…should we follow her?” Ellery asks, pencil tapping against her forehead. 

He raises an eyebrow, eyes fixed on the door, unsure. Before either of them can move, you’re back with a pair of scissors in hand. Ignoring them completely, you stride to the mirror and start hacking at your hair with one hand.

“Oi, oi let me help you,” Levi says, immediately getting up.

Ellery watches with wide eyes. “Wait. Levi, have you cut hair before?” 

“No,” he says tensely, gently prying the scissors from your hands as you shoot him a defeated look. 

Ellery rises from her seat. “Okay, let me—” 

“No, no. You are not touching my hair ever again,” you hiss, turning to Ellery. 

“Hey, that was one time! I’ve given plenty of haircuts since then!” 

“No, you are not allowed near my hair with a pair of scissors ever. Levi, don’t give them to her.” 

He gives you a flat look, eyes darting between the two of you. 

“I cut Yumi’s hair all the time!”

“Yeah, no shit. Yumi is too nice to say anything.” 

Ellery sighs, “Whatever.”

“So…” Levi trails off, scissors in hand. 

“Just cut the ends off please?” You turn back around, eyes fixed on him through the mirror. 

He nods, dragging a chair over for you to sit in. “Ellery, hand me her hair brush.”

You drop into the chair with a dramatic huff, shoulders tight. Levi ignores your theatrics, setting the scissors down before taking the brush from Ellery and running it through your hair gently.

“Not so hard,” you still complain.

He clicks his tongue. “Tch. You’ve got tangles everywhere. Stop moving.”

Ellery tries not to laugh as she leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Aww, you guys are so sweet.”

You glare at her through the mirror. “Don’t make it weird.”

Levi doesn’t say anything, focused on gathering a section of your hair between his fingers. He studies the ends carefully, then snips. 

You flinch. “Please don’t cut off more than you need to.”

“I won’t. Stop fussing,” he says calmly. 

You sigh, but nod. His eyes soften perceptibly when you relax into the chair. He brushes through another section, careful to hold it steady so the pull doesn’t irritate you again.

Several minutes pass before Levi finishes, smoothing the last strands into place and setting the scissors aside. 

“There,” he says simply.

You study yourself in the mirror, hair falling neatly around your face, shorter but no longer burnt. 

“Does it look okay?” you ask, voice small. 

He meets your gaze in the mirror, his expression unreadable. “You look fine. Better than fine.”

Your cheeks warm and you look away, fiddling with your hands. Ellery notices and smirks, but wisely keeps her mouth shut.

“Thank you.”

Levi only nods before heading to the door to look for a broom. Ellery, of course, ruins the moment by clapping her hands together.

“You look perfect. Next time, let me add some layers—”

“No!” you and Levi snap at the same time, and Ellery bursts out laughing.

Ellery leaves soon after, pressing a kiss to your forehead and promising to return in the morning to help you discharge.

Levi stays, settling in across from you as you doodle absently in your notebook. It isn’t long before you feel his eyes on you. 

You look up, searching his face but unable to read his thoughts. “Is something on your mind?” 

“Dr. Mahr talked to me.”

You give him a small smile, nodding as you try to decipher his tone.

“We should talk.”

A sinking feeling gathers in your gut. You set your pen down carefully. “Okay…”

“I’m going to stay back in Marley since you’ll have Ellery to help you on the journey back. Armin asked me to be here for the trial for the men who planned the explosion.” 

“I see,” you sigh. It makes sense, you guess, but you’re disappointed. 

You try to keep your face neutral as a litany of questions flood your mind. Where does this leave you two? Will he eventually join you in Hizuru? Have you misread things between the both of you? 

“Also, I won’t be able to be here when you get out tomorrow. I’m helping Connie with something.”

“Oh,” you whisper, slightly taken aback. 

You tilt your head, examining his expression. He’s not quite looking at you, staring past your shoulder with a distant, empty look. You want to ask what’s really going on, but before you can he stands abruptly. 

“Do you need anything before I go?”

“You’re leaving?”

He nods, clipped. “They’re bringing that shitbag politician in for questioning.”

You think about pressing, but the silence stretches and you find no opening. Finally, you shake your head.

He nods once and is gone.

The door clicks shut behind him, and you stare after the empty space he’s left. You have no words for his coldness, only the gnawing certainty that something is wrong.

Dr. Mahr sends you off the next morning with a hug and a few words of encouragement.

“Don’t be discouraged if the next few weeks are difficult.” She squeezes your shoulder, and you manage a weak smile.

The mid morning sun waits just beyond the doors. You’re immediately struck by the brightness as you step out. The light feels white and hot and already too much for your head, but you’re thankful for the warmth after two weeks indoors. 

I may as well get used to this feeling, you think with resignation. 

The car ride back to the inn doesn’t take long. 

“Armin wants to stop by for lunch, are you feeling up to it?” Ellery asks as you head up to your room. 

“Mhm, it would be nice to see him, I miss him,” you say assuringly. 

“Great, we can meet downstairs in an hour.” 

You nod before closing your door and flopping onto your bed, thoughts elsewhere. You can’t get the sudden coldness Levi left you with out of your head. 

Did I do something?

And you remain preoccupied as you sit with Armin and Ellery for lunch.  

Eventually the question that’s been bugging you bubbles over during a lull in the conversation. “Armin, was Levi at the questioning yesterday?” 

His brow creases. “No, I didn’t see him there.”

You frown, confusion evident on your face. “Oh. He said something about going.”

“Hm, well he wouldn’t have been allowed in anyway. With what he did to the last guy. 

“What did he do?” you frown. 

“Uh…he kind of beat him bloody…”

Your eyes widen. 

“Damn,” Ellery smirks. 

Armin shrugs. “He deserved it, but the detectives weren’t too happy about it.”

You hum, thoughtful. 

“Speaking of, I’ve arranged it so you don’t have to come back for the trial. You can write a letter instead, describing the events, your injuries, and how you’ve been impacted.”

“You don’t need me to be there…”

He shakes his head. “The judge is permitting it, given how much you’ve been through. Plus, we’ll have the teachers from the recreation center and parents in the community testify to how much was lost in the explosion.”

“I see, but you need Levi to be there…?” you trail off. 

“Hm?” Armin asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Levi said that you want him to be there.” 

Armin stares at you, “I didn’t. Maybe he misunderstood something I said?” 

You frown again, eyes falling to your lap as Armin studies you with a puzzled expression.

“Armin, do you know where Connie is today?” 

“He’s at the embassy, how come?” 

Your frown deepens. 

“No reason.”

You retreat to your room when Armin leaves, completely exhausted by the steady hammering in your skull. Still, there’s a deeper ache inside you. 

You’re pissed off and hurt. Levi clearly is avoiding you. He has been, for the past few days now. 

Has something changed? You wonder. 

He’s never explicitly put how he feels for you in words, but you’ve never needed him to. His actions say more than words ever could, but now you need some clarity. 

Despite your better judgement, you find yourself in a cab on the way to his apartment. You’re too tired to think straight, and every instinct tells you not to do this now, but your temper is already in motion. 

“Please wait here, I won’t be long,” you say to the driver when you arrive. He gives you a grunt of acknowledgement. 

It’s late in the afternoon, nearing evening. He should be home. You march up to the door and pound on it. 

A few minutes pass before Levi answers, eyes widening when he sees you. “Are you okay?”

“You lied to me.” 

“What?”

“Armin didn’t ask you to stay, and you weren’t with Connie today.”

He stares at you, guilt overwhelming his features. 

In that instant your confusion and irritation at being lied to bubbles over. You had planned to calmly ask what’s been going on with him, but to hell with that.

“Do you really respect me so little that you couldn’t even bother to tell me the truth?” 

“What, no–”

“God, Levi. I know you aren’t the most emotionally intelligent person, but–”

“Hey. What the fuck?” he interrupts. 

You’re breathing heavily as the pain in your head reaches a very high level. 

“You don’t have to move to Hizuru with me. We don’t have to continue this, but seriously–”

“Woah, woah–”

“–I thought this meant more to you than just sex. I thought I meant more to you. 

“Of course it’s not just–”

“If you didn’t want to be with me you should have been honest with me right away about what this was to you. Instead of stringing me along these past few weeks.”

He says your name, “Will you come in and let me explain? Please.”

You stare at him, overcome by exhaustion. You feel like you might pass out. 

“No. You know what, Levi? It hurts that you lied to me. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? When you’re ready to stop shutting me out like a child you know where to find me. I have to go.” 

With that you turn around and walk away, hopping back into the cab before he can follow.

Levi is reeling. He hadn’t meant for it to end like that at the door. All he wanted was time to think. But time is a coward’s excuse, and he knows it.

This is why you shouldn’t have become involved, he tells himself. This is why you should keep your distance.

But then another voice makes itself known.  

And how long will you keep pretending you don’t want her? Can you truly push her away and make her walk away for good?

He shuts his eyes. He’s lived this long on duty and survival, that’s enough, right? 

No it isn’t, the thought comes again. It hasn’t been enough for years. You want her. You want to believe you aren’t cursed to lose everything you touch.

Again, Levi finds himself at a crossroad. He promised himself he wouldn’t live with regrets. He thinks of Erwin, of Hange, of every name carved into the back of his skull. Every chance not taken. Every word left unsaid. 

He loves you. He knows it, even if he’s never said it. So leap, idiot. Before you lose her.

He exhales, long and ragged. 

Or pull back now, before you make things worse for the both of you.

The voices grind against each other, tearing him in two.

Levi doesn’t know which side of himself will win.

Despite this he goes to you.

There’s a loud knock on the door to your room. You hesitate, but go to open the door, eyes widening when you find Levi standing there. His silver eyes are wide and frantic as he leans in, filling the door frame. You’ve never seen him so uncomposed. 

You step back, uncertain. For a long moment he just stands there, staring. 

“Look, I freaked out, okay?” The words spill out sharp and pained as he grips the doorframe.

You don’t move, regarding him steadily, giving him the chance to speak.

“Seeing you hurt has been destroying me. All I can see when I close my eyes is you bleeding out. I, I—“

The words split something in you. Your anger and accusations against him suddenly feel silly and immature. How stupid you’ve been, not to see it sooner. 

Of course, you think, How many times has he been here before? Countless of his loved ones have been ripped away. 

“I love you, Levi.”

His eyes snap to yours, silver blown wide open. A breath passes, then he’s moving, closing the distance like a man starved. His mouth crashes into yours, hard and desperate. His hands find your waist then your back, greedy, frantic.

You respond in kind, clutching at him, pulling him closer. The kiss burns with urgency and need, overcoming all your senses until you shift wrong and a white-hot sting rips through your injured arm. You flinch, hissing against his lips.

He jerks back instantly, hands dropping to his sides. “Fuck. Your arm.” His voice cracks on the words. 

“It’s fine,” you whisper, desperate for his touch. “It’s fine, Levi.”

His eyes are stricken, already retreating. “I hurt you—”

You silence him by kissing him again, softly this time. He yields, gentler now, and you savor the tender press of his mouth against yours. 

You finally part, pressing your foreheads together. “You can tell me when you’re feeling anxious, Levi. I get anxious too.”

He pulls away and nods once, eyes locked onto yours. 

You tug him toward the bed, coaxing him down beside you. The sheets rustle as you ease yourself back, careful of your arm. He lies stiff for a moment, then shifts closer, not quite touching.

You turn on your side to look at him, and he does the same. You give him a small smile, reaching for his hand and bringing it to your lips, he closes his eyes at the touch, but his breathing is still uneven and restless. 

At last he whispers, “There was a point when I didn’t think you were going to make it. I’m sorry for lying to you, I was just overwhelmed.” 

You hum quietly, searching for something to say. Something to draw him out of the darkness he’s fallen into. 

“My parents had a lot to go through, when they got together.”

He opens his eyes, searching yours, waiting for you to continue. 

“They wrote letters to each other too, actually,” you continue softly. “When they met, my mom was living in Hizuru and my dad traveled around for his research.”

Levi draws your hand closer, thumb brushing along your knuckles. “Did your mother always know your father was Eldian?”

You shake your head. “Not at first. He told her before they got married, of course. She loved him though. She wanted to be with him, no matter the cost.”

He nods at that, silent, considering.

Quiet stretches between you and you watch the way his eyes lower, pain filling them when they fall on your cast. 

“What would you think,” you ask gently, “when you read my letters?”

He’s quiet for a while, ease and amusement slowly creeping onto his features. “So many things.”

You click your tongue at him, “Honestly, I was surprised you wrote back to me.”

“Hm, you must have had a really low opinion of me.” 

You roll your eyes. “You know what the biggest surprise was? You sending me coffee beans for my birthday.” 

He clicks his tongue, gaze drifting as he remembers—

Rain falls with light pitter patter as he makes his way up the sidewalk to his apartment. The endless bureaucracy of the day weighs on him, and the weather only worsens the dull ache in his joints.

He stops at the small mailbox outside his door, flipping it open. An envelope with familiar handwriting greets him, a small smile tugs at his lips.

He unlocks the door quickly, leaving his cane and umbrella by the entry before moving straight to the kitchen. The kettle goes on, the letter opener slides cleanly through the flap.

His eyes widen as he reads.

It was her birthday.

Levi has never been one to celebrate birthdays, but something in him says brushing this aside would be a mistake. He’s no good at gifts, never has been. Still…maybe a trip to that coffee vendor would be worth it.

You smile at him. “That was my favorite birthday gift that year.”

“You don’t have to lie,” he scoffs. 

“I’m not,” you sigh. 

He squeezes your hand and plants a kiss on the top of your head. 

“I’m sorry for lying to you,” he whispers. 

“It’s okay, I understand, just don’t do it again.” 

He shifts closer, and you instinctively fold into him, finding your place within the circle of his arms.

“I always get so sleepy around you,” you yawn. 

“Is that a bad thing?” he whispers. 

You hum, already drifting. “No, you’re so warm.” 

You feel him chuckle against you, holding you tighter in response. 

It’s not long before sleep takes you both, his arm curled protectively around you. 

Levi feels no fear, but the nightmares take him anyway. 

There’s a body, face down in a pool of blood. 

Shouting. So much shouting. 

Footsteps lumbering and heavy, that could only mean one thing. 

Regretfully Levi has to leave the body, hurling his ODM wires into a nearby tree. The Titan arrives moments later, snatching the body, revealing a familiar face. His eyes widen. 

“Levi!” 

No, no, no, he thinks. 

“Levi!”

He wakes with a strangled gasp, chest heaving. His vision clears and the nightmare dissolves into the room—the dark ceiling, the soft lamplight, your face hovering above him. You’re sitting up, running a soothing hand along his arm.

“You’re crying,” you whisper, grazing his cheek.

He jerks away, eyes wide, raw panic filling him.

You reach for him again, but he’s already moving, 

“Levi—”

He doesn’t answer. He can’t. If he speaks, his voice will break, and you’ll know just how close he is to shattering.

The door shuts behind him, leaving you confused and frozen in the silence.

“I don’t think he’s going to come back with us,” you tell Ellery the next day in her room. You’re perched cross-legged on her bed while she folds clothes, packing her suitcase for the trip back to Hizuru the day after tomorrow.

“What?” she asks, pausing. 

“Levi. He’s not going to come back with us. I can feel it.”

Ellery frowns, crossing the room to sit by you. “That makes no sense. Levi is in love with you.”

You eye her. “He hasn’t exactly said those words.”

“Love, everyone can see that that man has one priority, and it’s you. Why are you doubting him?” 

You sigh and shrug. “He stopped by yesterday, then he left in the middle of the night out of nowhere.”

“Did you two have an argument?”

“Well, sort of, but we worked things out, I thought.”

“Hm,” she says, considering. “Maybe you’re learning what it means to be truly patient with him.”

You frown but nod, letting her continue. 

“We’ve all had our share of hell, but for anyone from Paradis it was twice as bad. That sort of past doesn’t disappear when you’re trying to love someone.”

“I know,” you whisper, leaning your head on her shoulder. 

“You’ll work it out,” she says, folding you into a hug. 

“I don’t want to go backwards. I don’t want to leave here wondering what this is…if he doesn’t come with me, how do we move forward?”

You feel her nod. 

“Do we go back to writing? Is he expecting me to eventually move to Marley? I don’t think I can do that…”

“Then you need to be clear,” she says. 

You sigh, humming a soft acknowledgment.

You return to your room alone, still thinking about Levi. 

What do I do now? 

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen the fractures in him. You know he has old wounds that haven’t completely healed. You don’t fault him for them, and you never will. They are part of the man you love.

And you understand, to love him is to accept him for who he is. You’ve known this, in theory, but the practice is harder than you realized. Especially when you are not completely whole yourself. 

You recall your parents and the simplicity and beauty of the love they shared. A love that was not without its hardships. A love strong enough to transcend prejudice and hate.

You sigh, reaching further inward. 

Love, in practice, is patience when he pushes you away.

Love, in action, is returning when he flees out of instinct or fear.

Love, in truth, is stubborn and ordinary in its defiance to surrender to rust and ruin.

Another memory comes to you. White walls, an infinite expanse, your parent’s presence and one word whispered by the man you love. 

He has been strong for you, and in turn, you will have to be strong for him. You gather your courage, determined not to let the past claim him.

Once again, you find yourself at Levi’s door without warning. You knock and wait until the lock clicks and the door swings open.

He stares at you stiffly, then sighs, resigned.

“Come in.”

You step inside, pausing just past the threshold, your eyes never leaving his.

“Why did you leave?”

He looks away, arms crossing tight over his chest. “Is that really a question you need answered?”

“What the fuck, Levi?” 

“Look, I overestimated how much I can handle. I don’t think this,” he gestures between you two, “is a good idea anymore.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. 

“We’ve both been through hell, Levi. I thought there was an understanding that we’d bear each other’s burdens. Yours don’t scare me.” You step closer, “I’m not afraid.”

“But I am. I can’t trust myself,” he says, voice rising as he sticks his arms out to keep you away. “Can’t you see what you being hurt did to me? I’m losing my mind.” 

Silence fills the room. You stare at him, throat tight, at a loss for words. 

“Then why would you ask me to stay?” you whisper. 

“What?” 

“You asked me to stay. When I was asleep…in a coma.”

His eyes grow wide. “You heard that?” His voice is quieter than before. 

“Yes, and I chose to stay.” 

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry…”

You take a step closer, “What is this, Levi?”

He holds you at arms length. “I’m sorry…I overestimated how much I can handle.”

“No. You don’t get to run away from this without giving me answers.”

His jaw clenches. “You know the answers. I’m sorry, that’s going to have to be good enough for you.” 

“No. It’s not good enough.” You push closer. 

“Stay back.” he hisses, “I can’t think rationally when you’re near me.” 

An incredulous laugh escapes you. “You’re being ridiculous,” you accuse. 

He only shakes his head at you, eyes bright with panic. 

“Fine,” you snap. “You’re not the only one who gets to be irrational. If you want to end this you have to tell me you don’t love me.”

He stares at you, stunned into silence, utterly at a loss. 

You draw in a trembling breath, your heart pounding. “I love you, Levi. I’m not afraid of death or loss if it means I get to be with you. I love you. I don’t want to be apart.” 

“Please,” he begs. 

“I don’t want to go backwards. I can’t live in limbo again, I don’t want to live a life separate from you. But if you do, you have to tell me that you don’t love me.”

“Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be…”

You shake your head, tears burning your eyes. “No. Say it. Say you don’t love me.” 

“Stop.”

“I love you so much that I will do this for you. I will leave, if that’s what you truly want, but I need to hear it. Or I’ll never…I’ll never be able to move on.” 

He’s shaking his head. “I’m not—“

“You have to say to my face that what we have isn’t worth it to you. That you would rather rot away and spend the rest of your days in bitterness and alone.” 

“I—I can’t,” he whispers.

The tears escape, you can’t help them. “If this is how it ends, I’m going to need to hear you say that it is your intention to abandon me to this life, alone.”

“Stop.” 

“No, I will not be giving you an easy way out of this.” 

He grasps your arms tightly. “No.”

“Levi—“

“I love you, goddamn it.” The words are ripped from him.

His whole body trembles and you freeze. 

His breath is ragged, your name tumbling from his lips. “How could you think that I don’t? How could you demand I say such a thing?”

The world has stopped spinning, but Levi continues. 

“I don’t remember what it’s like to not love you. You are…everything, but can’t you understand? I can’t ignore what’s coming. I can’t forget that one day, you will be gone. That one day, I will lose you too.”

“Levi—”

His hands tighten on your arms. “Don’t you get it? That is my future. That is what I see when I look at you. And I—I am nowhere near ready.”

His head bows, forehead dropping to your shoulder. 

“That is the only certainty I have in this life.”

His words land heavy, crushing the air from your lungs. But you are not ready to surrender to the terrible finality of his words. 

“Levi…I should have died, but I chose to stay because I heard your voice.”

“Don’t put that on me,” he says sharply.  

You smile sadly, shaking your head at yourself. You cannot take away his fear, but you can offer your hope, your faith that a life with him is worth choosing.

You pull back, reaching to cup his face in your hands. “My love, someone always leaves first. That is a story as old as time.”

He’s shaking his head, but his eyes are fixed on yours.

“I can’t promise you that I won’t abandon you in death. I wish I could promise you’d be the one to go first, but I can’t. Please don’t punish me for that.”

“I’m not trying to,” he whispers. 

“I will give you all my love, for as long as I live you will have it.”

He doesn’t respond. 

You let your hands fall from his face, the silence between you deafening. You wait, hoping he’ll say something, but he doesn’t. 

At last, you turn away, leaving him in the silence he has chosen.

He is an idiot for letting you go. Giving in has never been in his nature, so why now? Why choose fear when it is you standing before him?

He leans against the front door, head bowed in resignation. For a moment, he nearly lets it win, nearly allows the weight of the past to dictate the rest of his life.

Then his eyes catch on something across the room. The edge of an envelope, just visible where it has been tucked into a book on his desk.

His heart jolts. The letter.

He holds his breath as he crosses the room, fingers hovering in the air for a moment, then closing firmly around the envelope. He tears it open with a sharp motion, scanning the words he already knows. Nothing has changed since he wrote them, but now there is more demanding to be said.

You have to know.

He blinks against the haze of fear that has kept him silent, that has smothered everything he has not allowed himself to accept. He reaches for a pen, hand slightly trembling as he scrawls quick words.

When it is done, he folds the page, slides it into a fresh envelope, and seals it.

This is it. He will no longer surrender to the past.

He pulls on his coat, opens the door, and steps out, leaving his apartment behind.

It’s late. You’re in bed, trying not to cry your eyes out as Ellery sits beside you, running a soothing hand through your hair. 

A sudden pounding rattles the door. 

You and Ellery exchange a look. She rises, hesitant, and opens it a crack.

“Please, let me speak to her.” 

Your eyes widen, recognizing the voice. Levi?

Ellery glares at him, but looks back at you for an answer. 

You give her a nod, slowly getting up from the bed.

“I’ll be in my room.” she tells you, with a concerned look. 

You nod and she pushes past Levi. 

He steps inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

“You’re right,” he says quietly.

You blink at him, uncertain. “What?”

“You’re right.” His eyes meet yours, steady now though his hands flex at his sides. “I want to be with you, I don’t want to spend another four years apart. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

Your jaw drops. “Levi—”

“It’s worth it,” he cuts in, the words rough but certain. “All of it.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding. “How do I know you won’t run the next time it gets hard?”

He reaches into his coat and presses something into your hands. A letter. “This has everything you need to know.”

You look down. “Is this…from the day—”

“The day you got here, yes,” he interrupts, “and a little more.”

You stare at the envelope. Then, slowly, you set it aside on the table. You can read it later.

What you need right now is him.

You step forward and kiss him, lips meeting his tenderly, desperately. 

“I love you,” you breathe against his mouth.

“I won’t leave you,” he whispers back, voice breaking into the kiss.

You hum against him, clinging tighter.

“I’ll follow you,” he vows, kissing you again, “to the ends of the earth. I’ll follow you.”

Chapter Text

You wake the next morning next to your beloved. 

The morning is quiet and the sun presses through the curtains in softened ribbons as though it, too, knows to be gentle with him. 

You could lie here for a thousand years. All you yearn for is to trap time in this stillness. 

Time. 

It has carried you both through countless trials, and now, side by side, you rest in a radiance only lovers know. 

You reach to comb through his raven hair before trailing down to trace circles on his back, hoping that the nightmares let him be for a night. 

The envelope still sits on the table beside you, unopened. 

Slowly you sit up and reach for it. With one hand you break the seal and pull out the letter. You glance over the words quickly before looking back at Levi. His breathing remains steady, undisturbed by your movement. 

Your eyes fall to the letter and you start to read.

Dear Melody,

You asked if I would recognize you. It’s just like you to always ask questions with obvious answers. I think I would know you anywhere, in any form. Even if you looked different, or didn’t say a word. Even if the whole world changed around you.

And yes, you are insufferable…for so many reasons. I feel like an idiot writing this and I don’t really know how to put it into words because there is nothing to compare it to. 

You drive me mad with the way you see through me, with the way you refuse to abandon me, even to distance. Despite this…or maybe because of it, everything has softened. My thoughts, fears, grief, all of it. 

I’ve been waiting a long time for you to come home.

Always, 

Levi

You asked if I would leave you to face this life alone. The answer is no. I will never abandon you, at any cost to myself.

Most days it is difficult to sort the sorrow from the joy, but you are constant through it all. 

I have never been a coward, but you are a mystery I am still trying not to fear. 

Still, I love you. 

I love you intentionally and helplessly. I will love you if I never see you again. I will love you if we spend every day together. And I do not understand how you could love someone as ruined as me, but I thank you for it. 

I don’t know what I expected life after the war to look like. I only know that I never expected you. Every day I’ve spent with you, every letter you’ve sent these past years has saved me. Who knew I could be saved by something so spectacularly ordinary as love? 

Though you are anything but ordinary. I am constantly in awe of you. Your brilliance, beauty, strength, tenderness, openness. It is a gift to know you. 

You are the rest of my life.

Tears fall as you absorb the words he has written. There is no longer room in your heart for uncertainty. 

You smile as you trace the final sentence. You are the rest of my life. 

Your hearts move in tandem, it seems. 

Finally, you wipe your eyes and exhale shakily. You place the letter on your night stand and lean over to kiss Levi’s cheek, burying your face in his neck. 

He hums, eyes still closed but acknowledging your closeness. 

“I read your letter,” you whisper. 

His lashes lift, silver eyes meeting yours after a quiet pause. He shifts, adjusting just enough to cradle you against his chest as you lean into him.

“Thank you,” you say, lifting to place a delicate kiss on his forehead. 

“Do you understand, now?” he whispers tentatively.

“Yes, Levi,” you kiss the tip of his nose before meeting his eye. 

He looks away for a moment. “I wish I was better with words.”

Your mouth falls open. “Levi—“

“There’s still so much I want you to know,” he whispers. 

“Levi, I think…” you place a kiss on his lips, “you’ve said it all.”

His gaze holds yours, intent and searching, and you offer him the whole of yourself in return.

He pulls you in for a kiss. His lips move slowly and you sigh into him, your hand sliding to cup his jaw, tilting his face closer. 

"I'm going to hold you to those words," you murmur against his mouth.

"Good," he whispers back, a vow, a promise. 

His hand traces down your spine over your nightgown, sending a shiver through you. You shift, angling to press closer. The kiss deepens, tongues brushing, breath mingling in the small space between you. His other hand finds your waist and you move with him, adjusting to straddle his hips, your body aligning naturally against his. A soft sound escapes you as you roll your hips down, the friction sparking heat through your center. His breath catches, the quietest groan vibrating against your lips.

“We shouldn’t…” he murmurs, his hands hover at your waist, holding you but not pulling you closer. “Your arm.”

“It’ll be fine,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his jaw.

His grip tightens, still hesitant. “I don’t want to risk hurting you.”

You lean back just enough to meet his eyes, a sly smile tugging at your lips. “I’ve never thought of you as clumsy.”

That draws a quiet huff of laughter from him, though his gaze stays stormy, conflicted.

“Brat,” he mutters, but he doesn’t move you away. Instead, his thumb strokes absently at your hip, betraying the way he wants you.

Then he shakes his head. “Not when you’re injured.”

“My arm’s going to be in a cast for another month,” you counter playfully. “Do you really think you can keep your hands off me that long?”

His eyes flicker, wary but affectionate. “If I have to, yes.”

You scoff, leaning in until your breath mingles with his. “Alright, Captain, that’s a challenge.” Your lips find his in a teasing kiss, hips rolling against him again.

“Don’t call me that,” he exhales, your mouth tracing lower, grazing the line of his throat.

“Hmm, then what should I call you?” you murmur, lips brushing his skin.

“Levi,” he answers flatly, though his hands betray him, sliding slowly and deliberate down your sides, fingertips skating over the dip of your waist and the swell of your hips, trailing down to play with the hem of lace wrapped around your hips. 

Your breath hitches, your body arching faintly into his palms. He drags his thumbs along the ridges of your hipbones, teasing you where your skin meets lace. His touch makes you restless, heat curling low in your stomach as he toys with the edge of the fabric, dipping just enough to make you ache for more.

“Not sweetheart? My love?” you push, voice thinner now, though you manage a coy smile.

His throat works as though he wants to shut you down, but his eyes widen, softening his features.

“Or maybe—” 

Your words break off in a sharp gasp as his hand slips lower, fingers pressing firmly between your thighs.

He hums at your reaction, eyes locked on yours as he begins to stroke you, pulling you down to lay on your back with his other hand. “Mhm, you were saying?”

A strangled moan spills from your lips, your gaze flashing back at him, defiant.

Another hum rumbles in his chest, pleased and intent, as his fingers move to dip inside you. Steadily, carefully, relentlessly he begins to work you.

Your mouth parts, a broken sound escaping as his thumb brushes over your core. 

His breath brushes your ear, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “I can wait. I just want you to feel loved.” His fingers curl, coaxing a shiver from you. “That’s all I want.”

You arch into his hand, helpless under him. His eyes never leaving yours, watching as you come undone in his arms.

“That’s it, love,” he murmurs, his voice threaded with desire and devotion. 

Love. 

Gasps and moans escape you as his mouth finds your neck, lips dragging slow kisses that match the pace of his touch. The combination is unbearable, intoxicating.

“There you go,” he coaxes, “You have me, always.”

The pleasure crests hard, breaking over you in waves. You cry his name, shaking apart in his arms, undone by the tenderness of his touch and the rasp of his voice in your ear.

You collapse against him, breathless and blushing. When you find the courage to look up, he looks undone himself. His eyes are glassy and lips parted, but there’s no smugness, no arrogance. 

Only devotion, only love.

You both lay there silently for a while, lost in thought. 

“What are you going to do with your place here?” you ask, breaking the silence. 

He shrugs, “Well, it’s mine. May as well keep it for when we visit.”

You nod. “What do you want to take with you?”

“Not much, clothes and books. Do you want to go over there with me today?”

You nod, “I do, but I need to write a letter to the judge for the trial. I should give it to Armin before we leave.”

He hums, “The trial isn’t for another month, I can help you with it while we travel and you can send it when we get to Hizuru, if you want.”

“Okay,” you agree with a small nod. 

He caresses your arm and plants a kiss to your forehead. 

“How is your head feeling today?” 

“It’s fine right now,” you whisper. 

He clicks his tongue, face filled with worry. 

“I’m okay,” you say, giving him another kiss before moving to get out of bed. 

He sighs, but follows you. 

You and Levi dress unhurriedly, sharing kisses and teasing remarks. There’s not much to do today but get his things and pack up the rest of your stuff. Later that night you’ll be having dinner with all your friends at Pieck’s home. 

Levi goes downstairs to get some tea while you slip into Ellery’s room. 

“Well?” she asks eagerly as she lets you in. 

“You were right, he’s coming with us,” you say, breaking into a smile. 

She beams at you. “I knew it.”

You laugh as she reaches to fold you into a hug. 

“I’m going to go with him to pack some of his stuff, but I’ll see you tonight at dinner?”

“Uh, when do I get the details?” she asks, giving you a disappointed pout. 

“Ellery, we’ll be stuck on a ship together for three days.”

“So you promise not to be holed up in your room with Levi the entire time?”

“Ellery!” 

She smirks at you. 

“Yes, I promise,” you say, giving her an exasperated huff.

You look fondly around Levi’s apartment when you arrive, pausing before hanging up your jacket and moving further inward. 

Your eyes linger on the photographs above his desk, each one chosen and kept close to his heart. 

I’ll have to find some frames for them when we get to Hizuru, you think. 

You turn away and a soft sigh escapes you as you toe off your shoes. You feel a familiar weight settling at the base of your skull, the creeping ache of a migraine stirring again. You press your fingertips briefly to your temple. 

“Go lie down. I’ve got this,” Levi says instantly.

You shake your head. “No, I’m okay, really. I think I’m just going through coffee withdrawals.”

He clicks his tongue while shaking his head. “It’ll only be a few months before you can have caffeine again, and Dr. Mahr said you’re supposed to rest when you’re tired.”

You sigh, but nod, too drained to argue. He rests a hand at your lower back, firm and insistent, guiding you down the hall.

“I’ll bring you some painkillers,” he mutters.

“I didn’t bring them with me,” you admit sheepishly.

He rolls his eyes. “Tch. I grabbed them. Lie down.”

You sigh softly as you flop onto the bed. “Thank you.”

Levi returns shortly with the pills and a steaming mug. 

“What’s this?” you ask as he passes it to you. 

“Hot water with lemon and honey. Drink.”

“So bossy,” you tut, though you can’t hide your smile.

He exhales, long-suffering, before speaking. “Just rest, alright? You’ll be upset if you’re too tired for dinner tonight.”

You nod, eyes lowering as you take a sip. 

He bends, brushing a kiss across your forehead before pulling the curtains closed. The room softens into shadow as he slips out quietly.

You sink back, finally surrendering to the throbbing in your head. Warmth lingers where his lips touched your skin, and you let it carry you into sleep.

You wake some time later, stirring beneath the blanket Levi must have draped over you. He’s there now, sitting on the bed beside you, pen moving swiftly across a stack of papers.

You open your eyes lazily, lifting your hand to rest on his knee, letting him know you’re awake. 

“Hey there,” he whispers, eyes meeting yours just for a second. 

“What are you working on?” you murmur, lazily tracing circles against his knee with your thumb.

“Paperwork for Armin and notes for the orphanage so Onyankopon and Pieck know what to do.”

You hum, eyes still heavy with sleep. “I guess you are leaving kind of suddenly,” you whisper. 

“It’s okay,” he assures you quietly. “If they need anything, they can write.”

You nod against the pillow. “Are you finished packing already?”

“Mhm.”

Your lips curve into a small smile, content just to watch him, the steady scratch of his pen soothing as you drift closer to sleep again.

The rest of the day slips past in a blur, and before you realize it, dinner has already come and gone. Warm night air drifts through Pieck’s backyard as you all sit close together around the table. The surface flickers with candlelight as you all enjoy the tart Pieck proudly set out for dessert.

“I think it’s our turn to visit you,” Onyankopon says, turning to you.  

“I’m not going to disagree,” you respond. 

“So, Levi, what do you think? Should we all visit Hizuru in a few months?” Onyankopon’s eyes are twinkling. 

All eyes fall on the captain. He rolls his eyes at Onyankopon and huffs, placing an arm around the back of your chair. “You shits do whatever you want, I’ll already be there.”

Onyankopon’s smile grows and he claps his hands with a loud laugh. 

Armin’s mouth falls open, looking back and forth between you and Levi. 

You smile at them, stifling a laugh. 

“Wait, what do you mean?” Connie asks, sharing a look with Jean. 

“I think the captain is moving to Hizuru,” Pieck tells him with a satisfied smile. 

“Wait, seriously?” Connie says, expression matching Armin’s. 

Levi doesn’t dignify that with an answer, only giving him a flat, unimpressed look.

“Holy shit—” Connie mutters, leaning across the table, eyes darting between you and Levi, grin spreading.

“Don’t,” Levi says sharply, but Connie’s already laughing.

Pieck lifts her glass to you with a knowing smile. “I thought so. I didn’t think he’d expect you to make the trip back and forth again.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and you try to cover your face with your hand, but Levi presses his palm gently over yours under the table, tugging it down with a subtle glance your way.

Onyankopon chuckles again, raising his glass. “Well, that settles it, Hizuru it is. A proper reunion, all of us together.”

“To Hizuru,” Armin repeats, smiling at you and clinking his glass against Onyankopon’s.

Connie lifts his own drink clumsily. “To the captain finally growing a heart!”

Jean groans. “Connie, shut up.”

Laughter ripples around the table. Levi only exhales in exasperation, but you catch the faint curve tugging at his mouth, the smallest concession.

The noise swells once more into clinking porcelain and laughter. You glance sideways at Levi, meeting silver eyes softened by the flickering candlelight. 

There are no walls between you.

You smile, as your heart blooms, unguarded.

The air carries the soft fragrance of spring as your friends join you on your way back to the inn with Levi and Ellery. Levi slips away upstairs to get ready for bed while the rest of you linger in the lounge. Laughter fills the air as your friends order more drinks from the bar.

Pieck walks over to where you sit, passing you a mug of herbal tea. “Didn’t want you to feel left out,” she says.

You smile at her in thanks, “This whole no caffeine and alcohol thing really sucks.” 

She gives you a sympathetic look. “Thanks for coming to dinner tonight. I know the headaches haven’t been easy.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.” 

Connie and Jean appear, dropping in across from you and Pieck. 

“Wait, so why aren’t you drinking tonight?” Connie asks, clearly eavesdropping. 

“Because of—“ 

“You aren’t, you know…” he interrupts, pointing to his stomach. 

Your mouth falls open while Pieck breaks out in laughter. 

“Connie no, it’s because of my concussion,” you grit out, blushing furiously. 

“Ohh, that makes way more sense. I couldn’t imagine Captain Levi—“

“Connie!” you, Pieck, and Jean interrupt in unison. 

Pieck leans over to smack him over the head. He shoots you a smirk and you roll your eyes playfully. 

“What’s going on over here?” Onyankopon asks, joining you four. 

“Nothing, nothing!” you answer quickly. 

He chuckles as the rest of your friends settle in around you. 

“Oh by the way, I ran into Michael today, he asked about you,” Onyankopon tells you. 

You groan, giving him a tired look. 

He laughs, “Well, I told him he’s fresh out of luck since you’re with Levi.”

“Onyankopon! You didn’t know that for sure,” you gasp, exasperated. 

He shrugs, “The guy couldn’t take a hint.”

He has a point, you think.

“Hmm, it was kind of funny watching the captain give him so many dirty looks these last few weeks,” Pieck laughs. 

You roll your eyes again, hoping they’ll let it go. 

When the conversation finally ebbs and goodbyes are said, the hour is late, though you find you aren’t tired. The night’s exhilaration and the promise of tomorrow’s departure carry you past the dull, insistent pounding in your head.

You emerge from your shower to find Levi in a chair, book open on his lap as he leans against the armrest. You smile, realizing this is the sight that will greet you for…well, forever. 

You make your way over to the vanity to grab your hairbrush. The satin nightgown you’ve chosen rides up as you sit, the slit easing open to reveal your thigh. You smirk, catching sight of yourself in the vanity mirror. The day has restored some color to your cheeks at last…and your choice of sleepwear is no coincidence. 

Levi’s eyes are still on his book, and for a moment you wonder if he’s going to ignore your little ploy.  

“What are you wearing?” he says, finally looking up at you. 

You watch through the mirror as his gaze traces the deep cut of your neckline down to the opening at your thigh, soft satin glinting faintly beneath a lace trim.

Gotcha, you laugh to yourself. 

“Hm?” you ask, turning to him, innocently running the brush through your hair. 

He fixes you with a glare. 

“Oh this?” you ask with a coy smile. “It’s my night gown.”

“I’ve never seen you wear that.”

“Hm, I don’t recall the nights we’ve spent together involving much clothes,” you tease. 

He blinks at you, expression flat. “You’ve worn dresses to bed but not like that.” 

Dresses, cute, you think. Men. 

“Get used to it, Ackerman,” you say, rifling through your bag for your oils. 

You feel his eyes on you, but you ignore him, hiding your smile as you prepare your next lure. 

“Can you open this for me?” you ask sweetly, setting down your hair brush and standing to pass him a bottle of your rose oil. 

He continues to glare at you as he takes the bottle, fingers lingering over yours, eyes never leaving you for a second. They are dark and his face is set as he twists the cap and hands the bottle back to you. 

You smile your thanks and head back to the vanity. 

Levi doesn’t move, arms crossed, eyes locked on you as you smooth oil into your skin and comb the rest through your hair. 

And you still feel the heat of his stare as you sit on the bed with your back to him. You turn your head over your shoulder to meet his eye. 

“Yes, Levi?”

“Change,” he says. 

You smother your laughter with a tilt of your chin. You smile innocently, standing to lift the sheets. 

“Why?” you ask sweetly. 

He says your name, “Change, now.”

“Mm, I don’t think so, Captain.” 

You lean forward to lift the sheets, your gown loosening just enough to give him a full view of what lies beneath.

“You’re not going to win,” he says flatly. 

You straighten before getting in bed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

He huffs, looking away, arms crossed tightly. 

“Hmm, oh, that. What, I thought you said you could wait?”

His mouth parts slightly at you. “Quit acting like a dumbass.”

You give him a wide eyed look, smirking before looking away. 

“You’re playing dirty,” he says. 

“Mhm.” 

He rolls his eyes at you before going back to his book. 

“Levi,” you coo, “come to bed.”

“No.”

You pout at him again. 

“You’re impossible,” he says, but he puts down his book and crosses the room to lay down beside you. 

You give him a look of innocence, doing nothing more than placing a quick peck on his lips before settling in. 

But he says your name, and you look up as he rises to claim your lips, kissing you again. Deeper. 

You respond in kind, tongue swiping at his bottom lip begging for entry. 

“Insufferable, relentless, bratty woman,” he says between kisses. 

You giggle into him, feeling his fingers brush the hem of your nightgown. A shiver runs down your spine. 

He groans, shaking his head as he pulls away from your lips, “We’ll stop if I bump your arm or if your head starts hurting.”

You nod, eyes wide and alight with victory. 

That was easier than I thought it’d be, you think. 

Then he’s on you again, kissing you, devouring you. 

He gently turns you on your side before lifting the hem of your dress, revealing bare skin. He clicks his tongue at you, “Manipulative woman.” 

Your response turns into a gasp as his fingers trail down, feeling the wetness pooling at your center. 

He places kisses on the back of your neck as the obscene sounds of him toying with your arousal fill the room. 

You release a shaky breath as he pulls his fingers away, and you turn your head to watch as he hitches the hem of your night gown further up. 

His eyes don’t leave yours as he frees himself. Then he’s sliding into you, inch by deliberate inch, filling you. You moan as your body stretches around him, breaking eye contact and clutching the sheets as you lean your head back into him.

His jaw is tight, head falling into your shoulder, his breath breaking on a groan as he bottoms out, holding himself still to let you adjust. Only when he feels the tension in your body melt into him does he finally draw back and thrust forward again.

A whimper escapes you. 

He starts gentle, hips rolling as an arm comes under to cup your breasts, pulling you closer still. His other wraps protectively around you, careful not to jostle your injured arm. 

You stifle a moan and he clicks his tongue. “Let me hear you.” 

He keeps a steady pace. Still, it isn’t long before you shift from your side to press your lower stomach into the bed, feeling his weight shift on top of you. 

Every thrust drives deeper, pulling broken moans from your throat, your body clenching around him. He groans at the sensation, burying his face against your neck. His lips trail upward, kissing gently before nipping your ear just enough to make you gasp.

But he never forgets to be mindful. He moves one hand to brace above your head, careful not to jostle your injured arm. His other hand still cups your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers until you’re keening for him.

“Let me hear you,” he demands again, his voice fraying with need.

Your body arches into him, giving him everything. The pleasure builds unbearably, heat coiling low until it’s impossible to hold back. “Levi—please—”

He pulls out suddenly, leaving you gasping, and flips you onto your back. You barely have time to register before he’s sliding back into you, pressing your knees apart, his pace rougher now, urgency filling every movement. 

You’re drunk on the sight of him above you with sweat at his temple and his jaw clenched. His molten silver eyes shift, locking onto yours. 

And you don’t look away. 

Your bodies, your souls knead into one shape. 

You clutch at his shoulders as you look up at him, nails dragging down his back as you take his thrusts, still desperate for more. 

The air is gold as lightning sears through you. 

Love, this is love, your soul sings. 

He leans down, catching your mouth with his, swallowing your cries as his hips roll into you. The kiss is bruising, hungry, his tongue sweeping against yours until you’re lightheaded.

He moans against your lips, thrusting deep, his hand sliding between your bodies to circle your clit. 

It doesn’t take long for the sensation to overpower you and your body seizes around him, climax crashing over you in a wave so strong it steals the air from your lungs. You sob his name, every muscle trembling, every nerve alight with pressure and deforming gravity—

And Levi is not immune to it. 

The tight flutter of your body around him drags him under. He buries his face against your neck, teeth catching your skin as a broken groan tears from him as he thrusts one last time, spilling deep inside you. His whole body shudders with the force of it, his breath ragged, his hold on you iron-tight.

For a long moment, neither of you move, bodies locked together, hearts pounding in unison. His weight presses you into the mattress, heavy and grounding, and you welcome it. 

When his breathing finally steadies, he kisses the damp hollow of your throat, softer now. 

“Brat,” he murmurs, though his arms tighten around you. 

“Mhm,” you hum, snuggling into him, content.

The morning air is crisp as you and Levi make your way to the ship bound for Hizuru.

Salt taints the breeze as gulls sing and the swell rocks the deck beneath your boots. Passengers jostle past, their voices overlapping in a chorus that reminds you of the day you arrived in Marley. 

On deck, you thread your hand through Levi’s, surveying the chaos. You remain there in silence for a long time, eventually watching the shoreline of Marley fade into the distance as the ship begins to move.

The shifting, shimmering waves usher you back in time to a moment years before, to a moment where you sat collapsed beneath a blackened sky. Your mind finds those distant ruins where he pushed back the darkness…

A moment that you would perhaps have perished, without. 

Now, at last, it is your turn.

It is time for you to guide him forward, away from the dreadful past—

Away.

Across the sea to tender marvels and the purest treasure. 

Chapter Text

Spring

Sun, fish, boats, flowers, water moving—

All dance slowly across Levi’s vision as he steps off the ship in Hizuru.

Oh, he thinks, immediately noticing the air. 

It smells sweeter than Marley. Feels warmer than Paradis. 

He finds himself liking it immediately. Though maybe it’s not really the air he finds himself liking, but the reason for his being there. 

For a man who’s spent his life in dirt, barracks, and battlefields, the loveliness of it is surprising. Strange, too, yet he feels…excited. Hizuru holds no ghosts for him. No crumbling walls, no blood in the soil—

Maybe, finally, the past will begin to feel far away.

Maybe

Maybe—

The luster that died long, long ago will return and

on earth tonight, astonish at the beginning 

of a second life.

Night has already draped itself over the city by the time you reach your front door. The international port had been hours away, and the train ride from there to your part of the city left you weary. 

Thankfully, Yumi met you at the train station to drive the three of you back, dropping you and Levi at your apartment first.

“I cleaned your place and filled the kitchen with fresh groceries so you don’t have to worry about anything for a few days at least,” she mentioned on the drive. 

Now, the familiar scent of your apartment wraps around you, filling your head and easing the tension in your shoulders. After the chaos of the past month you’ve wanted nothing more than the comfort of these four walls.

“Well…welcome home,” you murmur to Levi, hanging your jacket by the door before sinking into the familiar cushions of your sofa with a sigh.

He drops your bags by the door and remains standing, taking in your space. 

You peek up at him, suddenly shy under his inspection. “It’s not much,” you say. 

You hear him chuckle slightly as he turns back to you. 

“It’s every bit as lovely as you are,” he says, coming to sit next to you. 

You make a face at him, “And you said you aren’t good with words.”

He huffs, playfully rolling his eyes at you. 

“Has the nausea settled?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “It feels like the room’s moving when I close my eyes.”

The motion sickness Dr. Mahr warned you about was worse than you expected. You had spent nearly the entirety of the three day voyage in your room with a pulsing headache and overwhelming nausea.

Ellery dropped by your room periodically, perching in an armchair with a look that told you she was desperate to bring up what happened between you and Levi after she left your room a few nights prior.

“So,” she’d start, eyes roving between you and Levi, “do you want to go sit on the deck and talk about—”

“Please, not now,” you had pleaded, too busy fighting your stomach to indulge her curiosity. All of your waking energy went to simply not being sick.

Safe to say, you’re overwhelmingly relieved to be back on solid ground. 

“Let’s get ready for bed,” Levi says, pushing himself up from the sofa.

You nod but sink deeper into the cushions. “I’m so tired.”

Levi looks at you for several moments, then he clicks his tongue and reaches for your hand. “I’ll help you, just show me where everything is.”

You stare at him blankly. 

“Come on,” he prompts, giving your hand a gentle tug.

You nod, feeling a little shy. “Alright. Let me show you around.”

You lead him through the kitchen first, pointing out the kettle and the shelf where you keep your teas. Then to the bathroom and linen closet stocked with fresh towels and sheets. Finally, your room.

Yumi must have drawn the curtains earlier. Moonlight pours through the window in cool ribbons, washing the branches of the flowering tree outside in pale silver.

You move to turn on a lamp, casting the space in a soft glow, before trudging back toward the bathroom.

Levi’s already there preparing a bath, steam curls into the air as hot water fills the tub.

“Get in,” he says simply, jerking his chin toward the rising water.

You give him another shy nod.

“I’ll put new sheets on your bed,” he adds. “Call me if you need anything.”

You nod again as he steps out, leaving the bathroom door cracked,

You strip off your clothes and slip into the tub, bubbles rising to greet you as you sink beneath the surface, careful to keep your cast dry. You close your eyes and breathe in deeply, allowing the warmth to soothe you. Several minutes pass before you reach for the washcloth to scrub yourself clean.

When you finish, you sink back again, steeling yourself for the effort of washing your hair.

After a few minutes of deliberation you decide to call for Levi. 

You hear him enter, smelling the scent of tea. You look up to see him holding a teacup. 

“Chamomile?” you ask, lazily.

He gives you a small, shy nod. 

You hum, smiling at the thought of him making himself at home in your kitchen. 

It’s our kitchen now, you think. 

“I was wondering…”

“Hm?”

“Will you help me wash my hair?”

He stares at you for a moment, then, “Of course.” 

You give him a tired nod of thanks. “There’s a stool in the linen closet you can sit on.”

He nods, returning in no time and setting the stool behind the tub. You sink deeper beneath the bubbles, watching as he rolls up his sleeves. He holds his hand out to you and you pass him the bottles of shampoo and conditioner, your fingers brushing his as your eyes meet briefly. Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away, suddenly aware of how vulnerable you feel.

“Lean back,” he murmurs. 

You obey, closing your eyes as his hand cups the back of your head. His touch is gentle and firm, releasing the pent up tension that has gathered at the base of your skull and wrapped around your head. Your eyes flutter shut, a sigh slipping past your lips.

He works slowly, methodically, the silence between you filled only by the ripple of water and the hiss of bubbles breaking. Each gentle movement draws you further into stillness, further into the safety of his hands.

After a few minutes he rinses the shampoo and works conditioner into the end of your hair, guiding your head back again with care. 

At last, he squeezes the water from your hair and sets a towel within reach. “Alright,” he says quietly. “All done.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He clears his throat, patting the top of your head in an awkward gesture before slipping out of the room to give you privacy.

You dry off and pull on the nightgown he’s set out for you, too tired to do more than brush your teeth.

“Better?” Levi asks softly when you emerge.

“Yes,” you say, stepping into him. His arms come around you without hesitation.

“Please come to bed,” you murmur.

“Let me get clean first,” he says, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face.

You nod, slipping beneath the fresh sheets. Sleep pulls at you quickly, and you drift as you hear the faint sounds of him moving about.

The mattress dips at last and you register his warmth as he draws you closer.

We’re finally home, you think, sinking into him.

You wake late the next morning to Levi holding you, brushing your hair gently with his fingers. 

You look up hazily. 

“You were shivering,” he murmurs when you shift against him.

“Never a good idea to sleep with wet hair,” you whisper back, your voice still thick with sleep.

He hums in response. You tilt your chin, and he bends easily to meet you, his lips brushing yours in a kiss.

Sweet morning greetings that you will simply have to get used to. 

Oh whatever will I do, you laugh inwardly. 

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” you whisper between kisses. 

“Honestly, me too,” he says. 

You smile faintly, though your body is still heavy with fatigue. “I know you need to settle in and I need to show you around the neighborhood, but I’m so tired.”

“There’s no rush.” He kisses you again, slower this time, his hands tracing absent lines up and down your back

You hum in response, eyes fluttering shut as you settle against him. The morning stretches on, unmarked and unhurried. There is no rush when you’ve promised each other forever.

Later, the two of you busy yourselves with the simple work of unpacking. What had once been yours alone begins to transform as you make room for him to settle into your space. 

“You didn’t bring many books,” you observe, turning to him momentarily before going back to clearing space on your shelf for him. 

He shrugs, “Not attached to much.” 

You think about his statement for a bit. Moving to sit cross-legged, leaning against the shelf as he slides a handful of books in next to yours.

“So, why these?” you ask, leaning your head back to look up at him. 

His brow furrows as he considers his answer. “These were all given to me.” 

Softie, you think with a hidden smile. 

“I see the ones I sent you, thankfully,” you tease. 

He rolls his eyes, sighing as he slides down to sit next to you. 

You tilt your head toward him. “So?”

“What?”

“Who gave you the others?” 

“Hange, Armin…” he trails off. His brow furrows further as he frowns. 

It takes a few minutes, but eventually recognition blooms within you. You’ve only seen it a handful of times, but there it is. That far away look that appears on his face only whenever he comes up. 

“Erwin?” you whisper tentatively. 

He looks at you, eyes widening slightly before dipping his head slightly in confirmation. 

You consider how to respond. You’ve heard a handful of stories about Erwin, so you know his significance to both Paradis and to your friends. And you know Levi was his right hand man, that the two shared a bond that went deeper than commander and soldier. 

And though you’ve never asked about who might have claimed his heart before the Rumbling, you sometimes wonder where those old affections belong, or if he had them for anyone—man or woman. You wonder whether the pained and guarded look that crosses his face at the mere mention of his name should be answer enough. 

The silence stretches until you can no longer bear it and your curiosity wins out. 

“What was he to you?” 

He takes a deep breath, leaning his head back.  

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, but it’s still hard to put into words.”

You hum, waiting. 

He takes his time before answering.

“You’ll look at me differently.”

“I won’t,” you say without missing a beat. 

He turns to you, studying your eyes a moment before looking up at the ceiling. 

“Well, you know he brought me to the surface from the Underground. When he arrived…it wasn’t luck or chance. It didn’t feel like luck or chance.” 

He pauses, then, “Erwin, he always just knew what to do. Being noticed by someone like that, I guess it felt like being noticed by a god…in a way.” 

A god, you think, grimacing at the pang of jealousy that washes over you. How can I compare?

Still, you nod, willing him to continue. 

But he stops there. 

“Tell me more, Levi,” you whisper. 

He looks at you again. “I think with the life I was born into, it was different…being recognized by someone from the surface. Not just anyone, he was someone with conviction, with so much vision. He needed me, at least that’s what he said. Maybe it wasn’t true at first, but somewhere along the way I think it became true. And I needed him. It’s as simple as that.”

You nod, eyes never leaving him. 

He sighs, falling silent. 

“With your injury he’s been a little more present, it seems.” 

You quirk your eyebrow at him. Oh? You think, unsure of how to feel about that statement. 

He rolls his eyes. “I think he and Hange would kick my ass if I had let you leave Marley alone.” 

Ah, well then, thank you, Erwin…Hange too. 

“I never took you as one to believe in ghosts,” you say. 

He shrugs, looking away.

You look down at your hands for a few minutes. It’s answer enough, you think. He’s chosen to be here with me, regardless of past affections or pain. 

You move closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Thank you for sharing,” you whisper. 

He nods slightly, head tilting to rest on yours as he breathes deeply in and out.

A week of life in Hizuru has gone by and Levi is beginning to find his bearings. He’s been venturing out on his own, first through the neighborhood streets, then farther into the fields and gardens that sit on the outskirts of the city.

You had wanted to keep him company, to explore this land you love through his eyes, but your body has been slow to recover from the journey from Marley. Still, it takes no small effort on his part to convince you to rest. 

“You don’t need to feel bad about staying in. I’m perfectly fine going out and about on my own,” 

“Mm, I know. I just feel bad. You moved here for me and I feel like I’m leaving you to fend for yourself.”

He clicks his tongue, saying your name gently, “Stop with the guilt. It’s not like I came here as a favor to you, I want to be here.” 

You scowl, ready to argue. 

“Enough. Rest, don’t worry about me.” 

“Is that an order, Captain?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Thankfully, you had relented. 

And so, while you rest, he rides the train back out to the gardens that border the city. Each holds a curated facet of nature for the public to enjoy.

So far, he’s walked through the rose garden, the redwood grove (which reminded him all too much of Paradis), the stone garden, and the moon-viewing path, though that last one was meant to be explored at night. 

The tea garden he saved for last, and predictably, it is his favorite. The paths wind through pockets of greenery and ponds bright with darting fish, all leading toward a small tea shop at the center. To his delight, the tea does not disappoint. It is strong, fragrant, and clean on the tongue, better than anything he’s had previously. Signs posted around the shop proudly note that the leaves have been grown and sourced on the island of Mizuhara, a few miles off the coast of the mainland.

It gets him thinking. 

He brings it up later that night, at home while you lay in bed together. 

“Have you ever been to Mizuhara?”

“Mhm. My uncle had a farm there before the Rumbling. Why?”

“I see. I had some tea from there today.”

“Ah. Did you like it? The tea leaves from Mizuhara used to be well known…though I don’t know how many of the old farmers survived.”

He hums, considering, before answering simply. “I liked it.”

You smile at that, nodding once before turning back to your journal.

A few minutes pass before he clears his throat, glancing your way. You smile to yourself. He wants to talk, you can tell. A man so blunt in most things, yet shy when it comes to naming his own wants. You lift your gaze and set down your pen, prompting him without words to go on.

“What if we grow our own tea leaves, instead of opening a teashop?”

You tap your chin with your finger, thinking about it. 

“I can’t really picture either of us managing a shop where we have to talk to people all day,” he adds. 

You laugh, “I can.”

He sighs at you, unimpressed.

“Alright, grumpy. I’m not shooting down your idea. It does sound nice, and significantly less chaotic, which I think is your point.”

He gives you a half shrug and nod. 

You think for a moment. 

“Mizuhara is not far. Before, people would take the ferry there from the mainland or other islands to work. I think people still do.”

He nods, listening. 

“I’m sure there’s space,” you continue. “Last I heard, the government was even offering incentives for people to take care of the land there. We should go check it out tomorrow.”

So, the next day, you and Levi find yourselves on another boat, speeding away from mainland Hizuru. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you ask as you disembark, hoping he hasn’t noticed how nauseous you are.

“Well, you’re the one with motion sickness. You tell me.”

You bump his arm lightly, forcing a smile. “I’m okay. Besides, I needed to get out of the house.”

He hums at that, placing a steadying hand against your lower back as you make your way toward the train that will take you deeper into the farmlands.

The train is little more than a wooden cable car, open on both sides so the air rushes freely through. It isn’t crowded, only a scattering of field workers and farmers returning from lunch or beginning their shifts. The train moves slowly, making frequent stops as it circles the island. Thankfully, it isn’t nearly as nauseating as the ferry ride. 

Shades of color shift and overlap as the fields roll past in patches of farm growth and wild greenery. You draw in a deep breath, soothed by the scent of earth mingling with the air.

“It’s really beautiful out here,” you say softly, eyes fixed on the fields as Levi leans beside you to look through the open frame of the car. You see him nod in response.

“So, how do we get started?” he asks calmly. 

You smile, biting back a laugh. His tone may be flat, but you know him well enough to know that he’s practically bouncing in his seat. 

“Let me talk to Lady Kiyomi, but I’m guessing we can just write a letter to the agricultural department and they’ll send us a map of what’s available. Then we pick a spot and set up.”

“That’s it?”

“I know there’s more bureaucracy in Marley, but the end of the world kind of brought all that to an end here,” you joke. 

“We don’t need to buy the land?” he asks with a curious look. 

You shake your head. “The government has been trying to get this land off their hands since the Rumbling, and it’s a pretty big island.”

He nods, thoughtful. 

Later that night, you and Levi stop by a small neighborhood bookstore back on the mainland. It doesn’t take long before you both have a few books on growing tea leaves in hand, and to your delight, Levi slips a manual on growing coffee beans into the stack as well.

You arrive home satisfied with how the past few days have unfolded.

The two of you sink into the couch, you stretching out while he takes up the other end, flipping through one of the books you picked out earlier. You take a chance and bring your feet to settle comfortably in his lap. He makes a face at you, but you only stick your tongue out at him before leaning back and closing your eyes. With a sigh, he lets it go.

“We could buy the land if we need to, by the way.” Levi says after a while. 

“Hmm?” you ask, looking up at him. 

He clears his throat. “I get a pension from Paradis. So we could buy the land, if we need to.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head, curious. 

Money has never seemed to matter much to Levi, not that money mattered all that much in a post-Rumbling world anyway. 

“Mhm. I don’t use much of it. Most of it’s just been sitting in a bank on Paradis.”

He pauses, turning a page.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you that anyway. You don’t have to rush back to teaching or working at the archives until you’re ready.”

Your eyes widen, warmth flooding your chest as you sit up and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Levi.”

He hums in reply, eyes dropping back to his book, but you don’t miss the blush blooming on his face.

Ellery & Yumi 

“Are you sure about this? What if she’s home and this ruins the surprise?” Yumi asks, fidgeting with the strap of her bag as she walks beside Ellery toward your apartment.

“Whatever, it’s not going to be much of a surprise anyway. I don’t think those two keep secrets from each other.” Ellery says. 

Yumi frowns, “Still, I don’t know how I feel about barging in on them like this. I barely know Levi.”

“Would you relax? He’s nice enough. Besides, her birthday is in a few days so we have to do this now.”

Yumi sighs, unconvinced, as they reach your apartment door. 

Ellery knocks loudly. 

Silence. 

She knocks again, louder. 

Still no answer. 

“Come on, you two. Open up!” Ellery calls, rapping on the door again.

A sharp click of the lock precedes the door swinging open.

“Will you keep it down? She’s asleep,” Levi snaps in greeting, eyes narrowing at them both.

“Hello, guard dog,” Ellery says, undeterred, “Come out here and talk to us then.”

Levi eyes her for a moment before looking suspiciously at Yumi. 

“Hi,” she says with a tentative wave. 

He gives her the briefest nod before turning back to Ellery. “What do you want?”

She leans in, lowering her voice in an exaggerated whisper. “Do you have anything planned for her birthday?”

He exhales, shutting the door quietly behind him and stepping out.

“Yes, but not with you two.” 

“Uh huh, well we’re doing something with her that day whether you like it or not, so let’s talk about what to do,” she says, clasping her hands together.

“Ellery and Yumi want to join us at the beach for your birthday,” Levi tells you a few days after your trip to Mizuhara. 

Ugh, you think, though you manage a smile as you glance at him across the dining table. “I was hoping they’d let it slide this year. Guess that was wishful thinking.”

“They didn’t want you to know they’d be there, but I know you don’t like surprises.” 

You hum in response, thinking for a moment. “Well, that’ll be nice, I guess.”

“I’ll tell them to get lost if you really don’t want them there.” 

You smirk at him, but shake your head, “No, it’s fine, I know you three won’t let me spend the day sulking anyway.”

“Mhm,” he smirks at you.

You smile, looking away. Maybe this birthday won’t be so bad. 

And it really isn’t. 

You awake on the day to an empty bed, sleepily wandering to the kitchen, looking for a cup of herbal tea (and Levi). Both are waiting for you at the dining table…alongside a large bouquet of wildflowers and a wrapped box. 

“Where were you hiding these?” you gasp, staring at him. 

“None of your business,” he snarks, crossing the room to press a gentle kiss on your lips before handing you the cup of tea. 

“Levi, how many people have you wooed before me?” you ask, eyes narrowed with teasing suspicion. 

“What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“You’re suspiciously good at picking out flowers.”

“I feel like any dumbass could figure that out,” he says, pinching your hip. 

You open the box next, smiling at what you find inside. He’s gifted you with a new journal and…colored pencils. 

“How did you know I wanted these?” you laugh, unable to conceal your delight. 

“Ellery,” he shrugs. 

You shake your head, leaning in for another kiss. “Thank you.” 

Later that day, Ellery and Yumi “surprise” you with a cake at your favorite beach overlook. 

You all sit at a picnic table on a hill overlooking the sand and water, the crash of the waves underscoring Ellery’s chatter and Yumi’s laughter. The air is warm with the approach of summer, even as the horizon is stained with the last light of day.

Eventually, Ellery brings out a candle, urging you to make a wish before cutting the cake. For a moment, you watch the flame flicker in the ocean breeze, catching Levi’s gaze out of the corner of your eye. Smiling, you close your eyes and blow it out.

Ellery and Yumi cheer and clap like children across from you. Even Levi allows himself the smallest of smiles, leaning in to whisper, “Happy birthday, my love,” when Ellery and Yumi aren’t looking.

“Oh! Yumi, get the camera!” Ellery yells.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I almost forgot!”

“You brought that thing?” you laugh, confused.

“Yes! It’s in the trunk of the car. Yumi, hurry! The lighting is perfect.”

“Levi, come help me!” Yumi calls, struggling with the tripod from the back of her car.

Levi gives you a long suffering look before trudging over to her.

Within a few minutes the camera is assembled. Ellery herds you into place while Yumi adjusts the lens and tripod.

“What did you do with the portrait from last year?” she asks, arranging your hair over your shoulders.

“Oh, Levi has it,” you admit, cheeks warming.

Ellery smirks, stepping aside so Yumi can snap the photo of you alone.

“Okay, now one with Levi!” she says, shoving him toward you from where he’d been standing off to the side, observing.

“Uh…”

“It would be nice to have one together…” you trail off, seeing his hesitation.

His face tenses up, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head.

“I’ve never…” he mutters, awkwardly looking away. 

“Oh! Of course. Don’t worry, it’s easy.” You tug him closer, reaching to fuss with his hair. “All you do is hold still for a second, maybe even smile?”

He rolls his eyes at you, smirking as you straighten the fabric of his shirt. 

You’re still turned toward each other when the shutter clicks.

“Hey!” you laugh, turning to Yumi. “We weren’t ready!”

“No, trust me, that was perfect. Your kids are gonna love that one.”

Levi chokes on air, coughing as he turns away, color creeping up his neck. 

“Yumi!” you groan, cheeks blazing. “Take another one.”

“Fine, fine.”

This time you pull Levi in without hesitation, wrapping your arms around his and resting your head against his. You smile softly at the camera as Yumi takes the shot.

The laughter and teasing fade into softer conversation as the evening winds down. Not long after, you part ways at your apartment, Yumi and Ellery making you promise to stop by the archives to visit them at work soon.

You move through your living room, closing the curtains and switching on lamps as Levi hangs up your jackets. 

You quietly approach him, taking his hand, “Thank you for today.”

“Of course,” he says softly. 

You lean in to kiss him, tension leaving your shoulders as you breathe him in, hands sliding up to wrap around his neck.

You pull away briefly, your next words leaving you shyly. “Will you shower with me?”

His eyes lift to meet yours, widening slightly. 

He stays silent, but he follows without protest as you take his hand and lead him toward the bathroom. 

Steam fills the small room as the water runs hot, fogging the mirror. You strip and wrap your cast before slipping beneath the spray first, tilting your head back to let the heat sink into your skin. Levi steps in behind you, his hands finding your waist before sliding up to brush your ribs.

The kiss continues there, and it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself in him again. 

You melt beneath his hands, his mouth moving against yours as hot water cascades down your bodies. You shiver as his fingers trace deliberate lines down your spine, and you arch into him, feeling his desire harden against you. Every nerve is alive as he presses you lightly against the tiled wall, one hand drifting down to squeeze your ass and the other sliding up to palm your breast. 

The kiss deepens, heat and water clouding your mind until you can’t tell where you end and he begins.

You reach down, taking his length in your hand, hearing him gasp as you stroke him, leaving bites and kisses along his neck and collar bone. 

He groans, catching the hand stroking him and pinning it to the wall. His other hand comes under your chin, tilting your face up before he brings himself to you.

You gasp as he pushes in, teasing, his gaze locked on yours. You bite your lip as he sinks deeper, kissing you as he finds his home inside you, pressing you harder into the wall. His hands fall, gripping your ass as you hook a leg around his hip.

He places both hands on your waist keeping you in place as he rolls his hips, moving slowly at first, then setting a pace that has you mewling for him quickly. The lewd sounds of your bodies meeting echo off the bathroom walls as he leans to your ear, voice low and tender as he moans your name.

He threads a hand through your hair, tugging gently to bare the crook of your neck. His lips bruise the tender flesh as your whimpers rise, your leg tightening around his hips, knees trembling.

Time blurs there. The shower running, steam thick around you, his touch everywhere and all consuming. 

When you finally break, you do so with breathtaking intensity. Your body arching into his, his own quiet rasp of your name nearly lost to the water as he fills you. 

You gasp for air, kissing him like you can’t get enough. He answers in kind, dragging you closer still, meeting you just as hungrily. 

The fever of desire eventually softens into tenderness, though you linger in each other’s arms for a moment, reluctant to let go. You place soft kisses to his shoulder as you rest against him, gathering your energy to begin the simple work of bathing.

With a sigh you peel away, and he watches you shyly, eyes tracing your face as you begin to work shampoo into his hair. His lashes lower when your fingers work into his undercut, and a quiet sigh escapes him as tension ebbs from him, melting under the simple comfort of your touch.

You rinse the last of the suds from his hair, fingertips drifting down to his neck before you finally let him go. He takes the soap from your hand without a word, washing your shoulders, the slope of your back, the skin of your arm above your cast. You remain quiet together, the rush of the water filling the silence.

When you both finish, Levi steps out first, wrapping a towel carefully around you before pulling one low across his hips.

The glow of the day lingers as you dry off and prepare for bed, though sleep evades you, leaving you restless as usual.

You turn over on your side, noticing that sleep has evaded Levi, too. 

“Levi,” you whisper next to him in bed.

“Hmm.” He hums, rolling onto his side to look at you.

A smile tugs at your lips, your eyes shining. “Let’s go out and look at the stars.”

A small huff of laughter escapes him as he studies your face. 

You tilt your chin, eyes wide. 

He sits up after a moment, eyes still on you. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

You smile, following him out of bed to grab your jacket and shoes, lightness and excitement diffusing in your heart. 

Together you settle on the front step, shoulders brushing. Stars wink at you in a sapphire sky as the faint outline of rustling trees tremble in the wind, carrying the fragrance of jasmine and hibiscus through the air toward you. 

You lean your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. He shifts ever so slightly, bringing an arm to rest behind you and looking down to meet your eyes. 

Your lips find each other again—unhurried and inevitable.

Summer 

Before you know it, the wonder of spring has given way to the blaze of summer. 

Despite his grumbling about the sand, you’ve noticed that Levi really does love the beach. The two of you take every chance to walk the even path where the sand meets the road, and sometimes you even coax him down to the tide itself, where you stumble and splash each other like children.

Though the darkness of the past still lingers amidst the light of the summer sun, its shadows never fully disappearing. On some nights, Levi’s dreams turn dark, keeping you both up well into the night and early hours of the morning. When they do, you are there to hold him, wrapping him in your arms, soothing his fears with the gentle press of your lips.

And other days are marked by the damage left in your body from the explosion. More often than not, you remain in bed, surrendering to the pain that still throbs through your head. Levi watches with a furrowed brow, his worry growing deeper until at last he insists on writing the letter to the judge in Marley on your behalf, intent to see the perpetrators of your pain punished. 

Unfortunately, upsetting news arrives from Armin and Onyankopon—the trial has been delayed, again. Levi has half a mind to go back to Marley just to kick some faces in. 

Even so, you refuse to let the darkness consume you, and the days are mostly spent in rest and love. You’ve never known bliss like this, and Levi seems just as powerless in the face of it. After years of being denied any sort of lightness or goodness, he can no longer withhold himself from the simple pleasures fate has brought his way.

Levi spends his days with his books, researching tea plants and cultivation methods, and it isn’t long before he begins collecting packets of seeds from a plant nursery down the street. 

And since you live together now, you find yourself with a front row seat to his routines. Sometimes you catch yourself staring as he moves through his morning exercises, his strength revealed in the simplest of movements. So that’s how he stays so strong, you think, watching him with a secret smile.

Your own days drift elsewhere. You still take on the occasional piano lesson, but your heart is in your writing at the moment. What were once scattered scribbles have become full stories accompanied by small drawings in the margins.

“It’s like that book you gave me,” he remarks one afternoon, leaning over your shoulder to peer at the page. “The one with the fox.”

You hum in agreement, smiling up at him, cheeks warming at the realization that he’s been watching you work.

So, just as before, time carries you both forward…life stitching itself together around you.

You return home from one of your evening walks to find two envelopes in your mailbox. One from the agricultural branch of Hizuru’s government addressed to you, and the other from their military addressed to Levi.

You both exchange curious looks before sinking down on your sofa to open the letters. 

It’s quiet for a few moments before you let out an excited squeal. 

“There’s land available on Mizuhara not far from the beach! This says we can take several acres!”

He looks up at you, eyes softening, “That’s good news.” 

“What does that say?” you ask, pointing to his letter. 

He sighs, “They’re inviting me to be an advisor for their military.”

“Oh…” you say, thoughtful. 

“How’d they even know where to find me?” 

You consider for a moment, realization dawning slowly. 

“It must’ve been Kiyomi,” you say, grimacing. 

He sighs again before scoffing, “She’s still an opportunist I see.”

You don’t reply, you love the woman but you know he’s right. 

“Can I see the letter?” you ask after a moment.

He passes it to you and your eyes rove the page. “Wow, that’s a generous offer,” you say, eyes catching on the sum of money they’re offering him. 

He shrugs. 

“So, are you going to do it?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to fill some of the time, they’re only asking me to make an appearance at their headquarters in the capital twice a month.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, considering. 

“Well, guess you couldn’t stay out of action for long, huh?” you tease. 

He rolls his eyes at you, but you think he’s pleased. 

“They’re asking if I can come meet them in a week, but that’s the day you get your cast off.”

“Levi, I told you I want to go to that appointment by myself.”

He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “Brat.”

“Go, I’ll be fine.”

Your dread regarding your future as a pianist has been steadily growing in the back of your mind. Your physician in Hizuru has been nothing but kind to you, but she warned you that the severity of the fracture may have long term impacts on your mobility.

So, you feel some trepidation the morning of your appointment. Still, you insist that you’re fine and that Levi should go to his meeting with the Hizuran military officials. 

Now, the cast is finally off…and you’re completely nauseous. Your arm looks strange, and it feels unfamiliar too. 

You begin to hyperventilate. 

“Breathe,” Dr. Marlowe soothes. “This is normal after so many weeks in a cast.”

She takes your wrist. “Close your eyes, I’m going to test the feeling in your hand.”

You obey, holding your breath involuntarily. Her fingertip runs lightly across your thumb.

“Feel that?”

“Yes.”

She moves to the base of your palm.

You hesitate. “Not as much.”

You hear her scratch something on her notepad. “Alright, you can open your eyes. Let’s test your grip. Squeeze my hand.”

You try. The pressure you manage is feeble, nothing compared to your other hand. Your throat tightens.

“Now reflexes.” She taps your wrist with a small hammer. Your response is sluggish, barely there.

“Hmm, could be better,” she mumbles, making another note 

“What does that mean?”

She takes off her glasses and sets down her notepad.

“It most likely means your nerves took some damage when the bone broke.” Her tone is professional, calm. “Nerves regenerate slowly. Some may recover, some may not, but we can work with what you have.”

Her words fill you with dread. I…may not recover?

She reaches for a notepad again, “I’m going to assign you exercises. Nothing complicated. Open and close your hand, ten times, every hour you’re awake. Practice touching your thumb to each finger…”

She continues speaking, but you barely hear her, staring at your hand like it’s a stranger’s.

“Do them every day. Be consistent. If you don’t, stiffness will set in and recovery will be worse.”

You nod numbly, trying to swallow the rising panic.

Dr. Marlowe sets her pen down and meets your eyes. “I won’t lie to you. Your recovery will continue to be slow. Some sensation may never return fully, but you will regain function if you stay diligent with the exercises. Do you understand?”

You nod again, though your vision has already blurred.

The question tumbles out before you can stop it.

“What about playing the piano?”

Dr. Marlowe looks up. For a long moment she studies you, then sets her pen down. “Not yet, you’ll play again in time, but if you force it now, you’ll only hurt yourself. You need to give your body the patience it needs.”

You breathe in deeply, processing.

Her tone softens, catching the devastation on your face. “A few weeks from now, if you keep at your exercises, you can try something simple.”

You swallow hard, but you don’t object. 

She pats your shoulder gently before rising. “I’ll check on you in two weeks.”

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving you staring down at your arm. 

You leave her office with a heavy heart, heading straight to bed when you get home. Levi isn’t back from the capital yet, so you’re left with more time to process, which you’re thankful for. 

You want to pull yourself together before he gets back, but it doesn’t happen. He finds you lying on your back, hours later, staring up at the ceiling. 

“You okay?” He asks in greeting, leaning against the door frame. 

A hum is all you can manage, your thoughts still far away.

“So, what did Dr. Marlowe say?” 

You avoid answering. “How was the meeting?”

He says your name. “I asked you first.”

You sigh, not answering, but his gaze pins you in place until you relent.

“She said my nerves are damaged…” your voice cracks. “She doesn’t know if feeling will ever come back completely in my hand.”

Silence stretches. The ceiling blurs above you, tears sliding hot down the side of your face and into your hair.

“I might not ever play the same again, Levi.”

Your chest rises and falls unevenly as you cry, hating how small and frightened you sound. You risk a glance at the doorway. He hasn’t moved, still leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. His face gives nothing away, but his eyes stay fixed on you.

“I feel really helpless right now,” you whisper. 

For a long time, he doesn’t answer. 

Finally, with a deep breath, he says, “It feels like a part of you has been stolen, and you can’t get it back?”

You nod. 

“I know the feeling.”

You sigh, nodding. Of course he knows, who would know this feeling more than him? 

He crosses the room and gently sits down on the bed next to you. “It’s temporary, you have to keep reminding yourself of that.”

You nod again, still staring at the ceiling. 

“Look at me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut before obeying. 

“I don’t think there’s anything I could say to make it better.” He searches your eyes, then quietly adds, “but I’m here for you.”

You take in his words before letting out another heavy sigh. 

“Sometimes I worry that you think I’m weak,” you eventually whisper. 

He frowns. It takes a moment, but he remembers the conversation you had at the hospital. 

You’re not exactly lenient with the people in your life…that was the sentiment you had thrown at him. 

“I don’t think you’re weak,” he says. 

You chew on your lip. “I just…remember how you saw me when we first met. I’m not like the people you’ve spent most of your life around. I’m not a soldier. I’m not strong in the way you and the rest of our friends are. Sometimes, I just feel…less than. Like I don’t measure up, and with my head and my arm being the way they are now, like you’ll see my weaknesses more clearly.”

He stares at you, unsure of how to respond. 

You take another deep breath, looking back up at the ceiling. “I worry that I’m too much for you. That you’ll see me and you won’t want this anymore. That you won’t want me.” 

He says your name softly. “I didn’t understand you when we first met, but I know you now, yes?”

You look at him, giving him a small nod, the anxiety in your eyes tugging at his heart. 

“I have never wished for you to change. I don’t want to be with another soldier. It’s different.”

You look at him, clinging to his words.

“I want you, as you are. Please, trust me.”

Trust, you think. It wasn’t too long ago you begged him to trust you. To take the leap of faith and leave his past behind to join you here. 

“I trust you,” you whisper. 

“Good,” he responds, taking your hand. “I know you need time to yourself to process, but you can do that later. Come join me in the living room. I’ll make us dinner.”

You nod, following him out of the room and out of the heaviness.

Chapter Text

Summer's End

Home.

You love the feeling of the word on your tongue. 

Only a month has passed in the new house you and Levi have moved to. It’s not far from your old place. Still close enough to walk to Ellery’s or Yumi’s, but closer to the archives and ferry dock. 

It sits on a hill next to one of the city’s long green lawns, stretching idyllically between the metropolitan tangle of shops and homes. 

And it’s a house, not an apartment. It has more space to breathe with tall windows spilling light, a room with a balcony upstairs, and a small garden out back. 

You were hesitant about expressing your love for the place at first, worried that the stairs would become a problem for Levi’s knee. Though since moving to Hizuru, Levi’s cane has been spending more and more time near the door. The warm, humid air in Hizuru seems to ease the stiffness in his joints, as you’d hoped it might. Still, you had to be sure the second floor wouldn’t become a burden.

“What do you think of the stairs?” 

“They’re not bad. I’ll be okay, if that’s why you’re asking.” 

“Okay but—”

“I know you like the upstairs balcony. I do too.” 

And that had been the end of it. 

So, the room with the balcony overlooking the clustered rooftops to the glitter of the sea had become your bedroom. 

It feels like the heart of your home, filled with the light of the sun and the warmth of your shared days. 

Most mornings you wake before Levi, light from the large window above your bed filtering through the curtains and throwing slivers of gold and orange around the room. And more often than not, you wake to the warmth of him pressed against you and the weight of his arm slung around your waist. Of course, you never mind the closeness.

Sleep doesn’t come any easier for Levi now than it did before, but with you beside him he finds other ways to bear it. He pulls you close, soothed by the weight of you against him. He’s content to let his fingers drift through softened hair, tracing down to the warm hollow where your neck meets your shoulder. The time passes quickly this way. The smallest details of you have yet to lose their hold on him. Each time he looks, he finds something new to love.

He’s always heard that familiarity breeds contempt. How blessedly false that is proving to be.

The sun sets as you sit on the front step of your home, savoring the warmth in the air and the teacup in your hands. Your eyes rest upwards, admiring the tangle of violet and gold in the sky, when a flicker of movement catches at the corner of your eye.

Startled, you look around, studying the bushes to your right. After a few moments, the stillness returns, and you decide it must have been nothing. You exhale, settling back with a small shrug.

After a few minutes, a rasping meow cuts through the silence. 

You’re on your feet before you know it, turning towards the bushes. You kneel, searching for the source of the noise. Quietly and gently, you part the thorny branches of the bush, searching. 

A black shape with large, sparkling eyes locks onto you. 

You gasp. “Oh, your poor thing.”

The kitten struggles against the thorns, frantic. You reach for her and flinch when her claws catch your sleeve, but you keep going, easing her free.

It takes a few minutes, but at last she’s loose. Thorns cling to her paw and along her cheek. Her fur is matted with dirt, black all over save for a single white freckle between her eyes.

Adorable, you think. 

You scoop her up, and she folds into your chest with another helpless meow. 

“It’s okay,” you murmur and head inside. 

In the kitchen, you pause, unsure of what to do next. You want to clean her up, but honestly, you don’t know the first thing about helping a wounded animal.

I should wait for Levi, you think. Maybe he’ll know what to do…Isabel used to bring home strays all the time, right? 

You wrap the wounded kitten in a blanket and set her gently on the kitchen counter, pulling up a chair to keep watch. You know better than to place her on the sofa or your bed…Levi would actually kill you for that.

He arrives home from Mizuhara about an hour later, finding you in the kitchen, hunched over and scribbling in your journal next to the rumpled blanket on the counter. He pauses, taking in the scene with slight puzzlement. 

You look up, eyes lighting up at the sight of him. You get up and cross the room to plant a welcoming kiss on his lips.

Just then, the bundle on the counter moves…then meows. 

“What—” 

“Okay, please hear me out!” you blurt. “She was stuck in a bush and her paw is hurt!” 

His eyes widen as the kitten peeks out from the blankets to regard him. 

He groans your name in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. 

You can’t help the small, guilty laugh that bubbles up, looking at him nervously.

He stares at you, unamused. 

“Levi, she’s hurt,” you say, frowning. 

He sighs, crossing over to the counter and peeling back the blanket to examine the kitten. She shies away as he gently examines her wounds. 

You hover behind him, anxious. 

After a few minutes he turns, giving you a flat look before disappearing down the hall. 

You bite your lip, twisting your hands together, unsure of what to do. You walk back over to the counter, bringing your hand up to brush the white spot on the kitten’s head. She meows at you, insistent. 

You sigh, contemplating what to do next. 

Just then, Levi returns with some soap, a towel, and a pair of tweezers. 

“Bring her over here,” he says, reaching beneath the counter for a large bowl. 

Your shoulders ease in relief. You lift her from the blanket, holding her tight as she squirms. 

Levi places the soap and bowl in the sink before turning to you. 

“You’ll have to hold her,” he whispers. “Pulling those thorns out might hurt.”

You hum in response, sitting down and firmly holding her as Levi pulls up another chair to sit across from you. 

The next hour slips by quickly. Levi works patiently, easing the thorns free one by one. You observe quietly, helping when he asks and whispering to the kitten when she meows in pain or fear. 

She’s too weak to put up much of a fight, and between the two of you, she’s soon bathed and free of thorns.

Levi drains the bowl and dries his hands while you fetch a clean towel from the linen closet. Together, you wrap the kitten in its softness, leaving only her small face exposed. She blinks up at you, dazed and blinking. 

You carry her to an armchair in the living room and settle her there. Within minutes, her eyes flutter closed.

Back in the kitchen, you help Levi with dinner. You both slip easily into routine, chatting about your day and plans for the next. Every so often, you step away to check on the kitten.

“It might take a while for her to heal,” you muse as you sit down to eat.

He chews on his lip, nodding. 

“So, what are you going to call her?” he asks after a while. 

“You really don’t mind?” you ask, eyes wide. 

“You really thought I would?” He furrows his brow. 

“Well…” you trail off. 

He clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes at you. “Just, can we please keep her—“

“Off the bed, yes, don’t worry,” you interrupt. “I’ve already thought about that.” 

You notice his shoulders relax and you bite back a smile. 

“So?” he asks again. 

“How about Star?”

“Because of the white patch?” He asks, leaning forward to tap the space between your eyes. 

You giggle, nodding. 

He leans back in his chair with a hum of acknowledgement, eyes softening as they find the sleeping bundle across the room.

The night is hot, and once again sleep evades Levi.

He eases out of bed and makes his way down the stairs to where Star rests in the sitting room. In the week she’s been in residence, he’s taken to checking on her in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep.

He finds her curled in the armchair she’s claimed for herself, the spot where she naps in the afternoon sun and nestles down each night.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear Isabel scolding him for leaving the kitten downstairs.

She likes this chair, and she’s still too small and wounded to climb the stairs on her own, he tells Isabel’s voice.

He crouches down to scratch between her ears, fingers trailing to the white patch between her eyes as she purrs back at him. He’s soothed, but only for a moment. Restlessness creeps in again, and he finds himself drifting toward the kitchen, searching for something to calm his anxiety. 

This week’s insomnia is not of the usual fare—

It’s been four years. 

Four years ago to the moment he was in an airplane hangar, watching the Hizuran engineers frantically ready the aircraft. Four years since that hellish stretch of days trying to deny the pain burning in his hand and across his face.

Four years ago, at this hour, he had no idea that his last remaining confidant would soon be walking towards death. That by morning, the Titans would be upon them, and he would stand helpless as yet another comrade laid down their life so the world might have a greater chance of a tomorrow. 

Grief. 

It still stings. 

Even after four years…

It’s only been four years…

Even after, only been, even after, only been. 

The winning sentiment depends on the day.

Lately, it’s been the latter. The anguish he keeps buried insists on being acknowledged, finding its way to the surface, as it usually does this time of year.

He finishes brewing his tea and cracks a window, searching for a breath of fresh air. But the air that greets him is warm and heavy, no different from what fills the room.

He sighs and lowers himself to the floor in front of Star. She sleeps without fear, unbothered by what came before or what might come next. He wonders what that must feel like.

She opens her eyes a sliver, stretching out and opening her jaws in a wide feline yawn before curling back up in sleep. 

Levi huffs to himself in amusement, shaking his head. It seems even bitter, grumpy men like him aren’t immune to the spell of a small, sleeping creature.

He looks back to the window, back to the moon. What did the moon look like that night? Was it full? Or was it hidden behind clouds and smoke? He can’t remember…

The cycle of reckoning is endless…

He’s never sought company in his grief, yet this year he finds himself grateful for the sweet distractions that surround him.

He pats Star’s head one more time before rising to wash his teacup and returning to bed. 

He finds you awake when he returns. 

“Why are you up?” he asks gently. 

You shrug, sitting up. 

“Did I wake you?”

You shake your head, pulling him down into the circle of your arms. His head comes to rest in the crook of your shoulder, arms falling over your stomach, legs tangling in yours. You feel him exhale and notice the crease in his brow soothing. 

“It’s always hard to sleep during the anniversary,” you whisper. 

He nods. 

You sense more heaviness in him than before, recognizing the familiar sorrow. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” you say after a few moments. 

He’s silent for a while, thinking. 

“Just thinking about that time. Hange, Zeke, Eren.”

You nod, reaching up to brush the stray threads of hair from his forehead.

“It’s hard not to think about all of it. All the bullshit that took place before we even knew about Marley.”

A breeze slips through the open window, stirring the curtains as he pauses.

“There were several times Eren had to make choices that no one should ever have to make. I always encouraged him to make the choice he would regret the least. That was years before all the shit with him and Zeke in Marley.”

You hum in response. 

“I keep looking back to find the moment that led to him reuniting with his brother, that led us to all this.”

You wait for him to continue, still running your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe. 

“There were many points when I told him to just make a decision and live with it. I kept thinking he’d make the right call if I gave him the freedom to. I thought he’d grow into the responsibility, but he was still just a kid. I’m not sure what I expected. There was never an ideal outcome, and there were many times that things didn’t work out the way he had hoped and people died.”

He pauses again. 

“He pushed me away long before the Rumbling, but it still feels like my advice led him there.”

“Oh, Levi…”

“He was our hope within the walls. It was too much pressure for a kid. I put too much pressure on him.”

You sense his meaning, heart breaking.

“Levi,” you whisper, cupping his face. “I didn’t know Eren, but it’s not your fault.” 

His brow furrows and he doesn’t respond. 

“It’s not your fault,” you say again, “it’s not your fault.” 

“Some days I know it’s not,” he murmurs. “Other days…it feels questionable.”

“Hmm,” you hum, “Well, on the days it isn’t clear, come to me and I’ll remind you.”

He exhales again, and you pull him closer, hoping your presence will ease the weight he carries tonight.

You wake as dawn breaks, nestling closer to Levi in a last attempt to steal a few more minutes of rest before the day begins.

This day. 

Four years to the day the Rumbling ended. Now the official anniversary of the disaster. 

Today you will return to the island where you were born, as you do every year on this date.

Today you will bring Levi there. 

You shift beneath his arm, heart quickening, wishing the day would pass swiftly.

Levi steps off the ferry behind you, carrying a small iron lantern in one hand, his other resting at the small of your back. Today is one of those blessedly rare days he feels whole enough to walk without the cane…ironic, when he thinks about it. 

You lean into him, reaching for the lantern, but he clicks his tongue at you, tugging it away. 

Earlier that year, the government had commissioned small iron lanterns to be made and given freely to the people of Hizuru. The tokens were meant to serve as markers of remembrance, placed wherever the Colossal Titans had taken lives.  

The gesture had been far reaching, and one by one, lanterns began appearing across the islands, placed in fields, on shorelines, doorsteps…wherever life was taken. Now, what had once been scattered grief has taken on the shape of collective mourning.

You and Levi arrive at your family’s small memorial past noon, the cab rattling to a stop on a narrow street. 

The neighborhood has been reshaped by time, but the new residents have been careful to preserve the small patch of grass you had marked with a small gravestone when you first moved to Hizuru. Memorials like this one dot the streets all around the island. 

The hum of daily life drifts to you from open windows as you step out of the car. You catch the sound of children’s laughter and music being played somewhere nearby. The air is warm and humid, heavy with the scent of flowering hibiscus trees. The sweetness threads through the heaviness, neither overtaking the other. 

You approach the memorial with fresh flowers in hand, chosen yesterday while Levi was away in the capital. You place the flowers, then the lantern, brushing wilted petals and leaves from the headstone before striking a match to light the small candle inside.

You kneel there for a while, silently greeting your family. You have no tears today, only the dull ache that always accompanies you, brought forward. 

It’s time to accept that another year has passed, distancing you further from your parents' memory. Another year to reckon with the bitterness over what is. 

There are still days when you’re struck by the horror of it all. Despite the gentleness you shared with Levi the night before, there are still days where you struggle to reconcile everything lost at Eren’s hands.

You breathe in deeply, sensing Levi behind you, allowing his nearness to ground you and draw you away from the bitterness. 

“I think they would have loved you,” you say eventually, softly. 

You feel him shift behind you as he hums in question. 

“My parents,” you repeat, a little louder. “They would’ve loved you.”

He huffs skeptically, “And why’s that?”

You look up at him over your shoulder. “Oh, Levi, you’re far more likeable than you make yourself out to be.”

He rolls his eyes but offers his hand to help you up. 

“But there’s another reason,” you say, standing and brushing the dirt from your skirt. 

He gives you that same skeptical look.

“I love you,” you tell him. “They would have no choice.” 

He studies you for a moment, then scoffs. 

You hum at him, reaching to pinch his arm before settling at his side. 

Neither of you voices the truth you both know…that without the Rumbling, you might never have met, that you might have always lived on opposite sides of an endless war. Maybe you would have caught glimpses of one another…maybe, but it’s hard to imagine a version of the world where Levi meets your parents.

I guess bringing him to me was the universe's way of making amends, you muse.

You both stand quietly for a while, watching the lantern flame flicker.

“Well,” Levi says, breaking the silence. “Regardless of whether or not they’d like me, I have them to thank for you.”

“See? Sweetly honest—”

“Sweet?”

“—They’d love that about you.” 

He clicks his tongue at you, teasing, relieved to see some lightness return to you on such a heavy day.

You loop your arm through his in response, turning to lead him back toward the main road. You leave the lantern behind, entrusting the lantern’s flame to the inhabitants of the neighborhood. 

A letter bringing news from Marley arrives a few weeks later. 

You scan Armin’s familiar handwriting, eyes landing on a large paragraph in the middle. 

I have good news regarding the trial. Keith and the others have been sentenced and punished with exile to a remote island up north. The judge was sure to add that they are all banned from traveling to Hizuru and Paradis, so you should feel free and safe to go about your days with ease. The politician who was backing the Marleyan supremacist movement has also been removed from office and his assets seized. The recreation center will be rebuilt and refurnished with new instruments and art supplies using some of those funds. I hope you’ll both be happy to hear that construction is already underway.

You might also mention to Captain Levi that I received his letter of threats to Keith, and was sure to personally pass on the sentiments. Though, I don’t think the captain will ever need to make good on those threats.

The court has also awarded you restitution from the seized assets since you were listed as the sole victim of the attack. The sum will be waiting for you here in Marley when you’re ready to return. 

You stop there, looking up at Levi. 

He meets your gaze, leaning against the mantle of the fireplace with tea cooling in his hand and little Star curled up on the cushion you’ve set out for her at his feet. 

“What exactly did you write in those letters you sent to Marley a few months back?” you ask curiously. 

He narrows his eyes then scoffs with a wave of his hand. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

You eye him, waiting.

He sighs. “I simply reminded Keith of our encounter in the interrogation room.” 

It’s your turn to sigh, but truthfully your heart flutters a little at the idea of him all riled up over your safety. 

“Oh, Levi,” you sing, “all those stories of humanity’s strongest soldier…now my personal body guard. As if I didn’t already have a big ego.”

He clicks his tongue. “Well, lucky you. It’s proving to be far more interesting an endeavor than hunting giant monkeys turned out to be.”

You feign shock, peering up at him with widened eyes. “Levi Ackerman, you have gone soft.”

“Mm, alright enough of that,” he groans, but you catch the faintest smirk blooming on his features as he bends to scratch Star in between her ears.

Mhm, I’m right, you smile to yourself.

August, 858

Dearest Armin,

Thank you for the news. There’s not much I have to say on the matter of the trial, but if you write to Levi I’m sure he’ll give you an earful (or eye-full?)...though I am glad the recreation center is being rebuilt, and at no further cost to the community. 

All is well in Hizuru. 

I haven’t had the strength to play much piano, but I’ve found other ways to occupy my time and have slowly returned to my work at the archive with Ellery and Yumi. I’ve been considering adding a new section devoted to Paradis. Our work now includes documenting the histories of our time (not just art), and the record would be incomplete without contributions from the island…Let me know your thoughts. 

Also, a small stray kitten has found her way into our lives. She was hurt when we (ahem, I) found her, but she’s mending quickly. Levi pretends not to care for her presence, though I constantly catch him fussing over her. She’s forbidden from our room, of course, and I wouldn’t dream of pushing the ever-patient captain’s limits when it comes to that (especially since he’s been quite tame when cleaning these days, as far as I can tell). Little Star spends her days dozing near my desk or following Levi from room to room…the latter is a sight I’ll never tire of. I think she reminds him of an old friend from the Underground.

I mentioned previously that we’ve explored the idea of growing tea plants on Mizuhara. Well, I’m happy to report that we’ve been granted some land. What’s more, Kiyomi pulled some strings and the agricultural department extended an offer to set up a greenhouse for us there. The construction has finished up, and just in time for the fall season. Kiyomi also used her connections to find some cuttings from preserved tea plants for us to care for. I’m sitting in the greenhouse watching Levi tend to them as I write. By spring they will be mature enough to plant in the ground (…hopefully). 

I miss you and am so excited for you all to visit for the Autumn Festival of Lights in a few months. Ellery and Yumi are already planning where to take you all. Though, between us, I think Yumi is simply looking forward to some new faces around here. Perhaps we should set her up with someone? Afterall, your intuition for matchmaking has yet to be proven wrong. 

With love,

Melody (and Levi)

Autumn

The first leaves have begun to turn. They drift through the air in shades of amber and crimson like tiny embers set ablaze. The light of the sun is more distant now, slower to rise and quicker to fade.

As time has passed Levi has become intimately reacquainted with your habits.

And he’s learned some new ones too. 

Like how you enjoy kicking your feet into his lap after a long day. How you’ll whine if he stops combing his fingers through your hair for even a second as you lay in bed together at night. How your fingers tighten around his shirt when he holds you as you sleep. How you burst from the bedroom each morning like a gust of wind, scattering dresses and shoes everywhere before dashing off to the archives.

Despite his discipline and love of order, he somehow cannot find it in himself to mind that last one in the slightest.

It’s truly as if his heart recognizes that these days his biggest complaint is picking up after a beautiful, scatter-brained woman. Once, a life like this would’ve been impossible to imagine.

So, no, Levi can’t bring himself to be annoyed when he’s sorting through another heap of discarded outfits, or tripping over yet another pair of abandoned shoes…it’s hard to curse the mess when it all smells faintly of your perfume.

Yet, among all the quirks Levi was unprepared for, it is your love for the cat that has surprised him the most. 

Every day he catches you moving through the house together, your steps shadowed by her smaller ones. 

He’s gone soft, and he knows it. The sight of that silly little creature beside you is enough to make his heart feel like it might burst. He feels it when she curls against your side while you write on the couch, or follows you out onto the balcony to watch the sunset. 

And though he was very clear about not letting the cat in the bed, he can’t bring himself to complain the few times he’s found you both napping there. He only stands in the doorway, listening to Star’s tiny snores, before quietly slipping out so you don’t wake and start tripping over yourself in apologies.

Star always reminds him of Isabel, and maybe that’s why the trail of fur she leaves on the cushions and on the rug hasn’t driven him insane.

He even finds himself returning home from the greenhouse in Mizuhara early just to catch you two playing with a ball of yarn or napping…the greenhouse can wait. 

Sentimental fool, Levi grumbles to himself. Though it’s with amusement, rather than ire. 

And the greenhouse…

Well, he loves the greenhouse. It’s a pocket of peace in a weary world. A place for him to tend to small things brought to life by his own hands. Hands that, for so long, knew only violence. 

A place that is completely his own.

Of course, you’re there often, but you have your own work, your own interests. 

Still, you couldn’t resist adding a few things to make it feel a little more like home. As soon as construction ended you had dragged him to a marketplace on the mainland to pick out armchairs, rugs, and of course, a small bookshelf.

“How are we going to get all this shit there?” Levi had complained. 

“We’ll have it delivered, duh,” you’d shot back, to which he had very pointedly clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

“What, you expect me to stand the whole time I’m there? Or are you expecting me to sit on the floor?” you had asked, smacking his arm. 

Bratty woman. Of course, that last point made sense, and he would definitely have made the same argument if he were in your shoes. And if he’s being honest with himself, he found your insistence to make the space cozy, well, adorable.  

“I just know you’re going to want to take a break and have a place to relax for a second,” you had insisted. You even had the foresight to buy some picture frames. Now, a portrait of you sits on the shelf next to the candid photo of you both on your birthday and the photo of his squad. 

He’s on his way to the greenhouse now. Sitting on the train in Mizuhara, breathing in the fresh, green air. Air that is cleaner than any he has ever known. 

The countryside slides past in a blur until the train passes by a scene that pulls him from his thoughts—

A house with the door left wide open, despite the chill.

He notices and huffs to himself. I seem to be doing that a lot lately too…leaving doors open. 

The house slips from view as the train curves along the base of a hill.

Have I changed? 

For so long he has kept every door to himself shut in anyway he could. Not out of desire, but out of survival. 

But survival is no longer the point, Levi thinks. There is no danger, nothing to fear wandering in through open doors. 

His primal urge to survive has loosened its hold, and in its place, humility has wandered in.

Humility, no longer born of defeat, but of gentleness and acceptance of his place in this world.

Though he has realizes that even his humility is an inheritance. The trace of a love that once taught him how to care for small things.

What remains within is the heart his mother left him. 

He doesn’t remember much about her, but he thinks she’d be at peace knowing he found his way here.

To a life in the sunlight. To a home above ground, untouched by Titans. To a woman who sees past the soldier he was, past the sum of his scars. To a love that takes his breath away in tandem with his sanity—a love that proves he was meant to make it this far all along.

Now when sorrow surfaces, he no longer drives it back. He is whole enough to bring it out, to give it attention. And in giving it attention he finds release, learning that all his demons ever wanted was, to be on occasion, acknowledged. 

Levi arrives at the greenhouse, clicking his tongue to himself, observing the work of his hands and the spiral of his thoughts. 

Who would have thought? Me, of all people?

A month has passed since you began your work at the archives. 

The change of pace has been nice, though melancholy colors each passing day as you learn to live without the piano. 

It’s just for now, you promise yourself.

Your arm has grown stronger, though the nerve damage remains, limiting how long you can play. And while your focus has improved, reading still demands patience. So reading music, which was once as easy as breathing, well—

Forget about it, you think to yourself, shutting the piano lid with frustration, startling Levi and little Star (who just happened to be cuddled up next to Levi on the sofa). 

“I guess this is a midlife crisis?” you groan, head falling down to rest on the lid of the piano. 

It’s silent for a while, then Levi calls your name softly, “Look at me.” 

You hum, furrowing your brow and twisting on the piano bench to look at him. He eyes you with his usual blank expression, though you know him well enough to spot the spark of concern in his eyes. 

“Talk to me,” he says. 

“I’m frustrated,” you shrug. “And I’ve had to cancel so many performances…I feel guilty over that.”

“Those people understand,” he says, trying to comfort you. “It’s not your fault that you can’t play like you used to.” 

You sigh again, but nod. 

“What else?”

“Well…I miss it. It helps me sort through my thoughts.” 

“Hasn’t your journal been helping?” 

“It’s not the same,” you say softly. 

He pauses, eyes on you. 

“You’ve lost your work. There’s grief in that, it makes sense that you feel off,” he tries again. 

You frown, contemplating silently for a while. 

“Is that why you pushed yourself so hard to clear the rubble and work with us in the fields? Back then?”

He furrows his brow and looks away, hand idly scratching at the white patch on Star’s head. “I guess so,” he responds eventually.

Every year the Autumn Festival of Lights marks the turning of the season, but this is only the second year since the Rumbling that Hizuru has had the resources to hold it again.

The last time you attended the festival was in your early girlhood, right before your family moved to Marley. 

And it’s every bit as wonderful as you remember. 

People move slowly through the streets shimmering with lantern light. The air is crisp, laced with the scents of roasted chestnuts, sugar, and woodsmoke rising from charcoal braziers. Children dart to and fro with sparklers in their hands, laughter ringing through the square. Stalls line the road offering various steaming cups of sweet tea, grilled meat on skewers, candied persimmons—

“We have to bring Sasha here,” Connie tells Jean as you hand him a meat skewer.

A few feet away, Ellery plays her violin with a small ensemble, attracting a small crowd of admirers—including Reiner. You catch sight of Armin and Pieck trying to nudge a shy Yumi toward Onyankopon, who is deep in conversation with Levi across the square near the water.

Guess Armin took that matchmaking joke seriously, you muse, catching Levi’s eyes from across the crowd. You offer him a small smile before following Jean and Connie toward the next vendor for something warm and sweet to eat.

“Hizuru looks good on you, my friend,” Onyankopon says, his eyes following the lanterns as they float across the water. 

“Hmm, well I’m finally out of the shitty air in Marley.”

Onyankopon chuckles, “Of course. I’m sure it has nothing to do with a certain woman.” 

Levi clicks his tongue, but Onyankopon catches the look he sneaks at you over where you stand with Jean and Connie. 

A comfortable silence settles for a few minutes, both men tuning to the sound of violin music and the chatter of families wandering by. A nearby photographer has set up, capturing portraits against the lanterned water. 

“Company aside, I can see why you like it here,” Onyankopon says thoughtfully after a while. 

Levi gives him a sideways glance, nodding. 

Before either can say more, the call of a nearby vendor rises above the hum of the crowd. A man pushes a cart fitted with two steel canisters, steam curling upward as the scent of caramelized sugar threads through the cool air.

You appear at Levi’s side, waving the vendor down. Jean and Connie tag along, falling into conversation with Onyankopon. 

“This was one of my favorites as a child,” you tell him. “You have to try it.”

You hand him a small cup topped with dark syrup and glistening pale pearls.

“What is it?” he asks, trying to be polite.

“It’s kind of like pudding? It’s warm and not too sweet.”

He hesitates, but takes a small spoonful.

“Well?” you ask, eyes wide with anticipation. 

He nods, giving into your enthusiasm. 

“I knew you’d like it. Now can I have a bite?”

“Seriously?” he asks. 

“Well, I’ve eaten too much, I can’t finish one on my own,” you pout. 

He sighs, taking another bite before handing it to you. 

You smile, bouncing as you take a bite and hand the cup back to him.

He waves you off with a shake of his head. 

You give him a confused look, then it hits you.

“Oh, come on, Levi,” you laugh, the light catching your eyes. “We’ve done much worse than sharing a spoon.”

He clicks his tongue, giving you a flat look, but you don’t miss the faint pull of amusement at his lips.

“Here,” you try again. 

He shakes his head, “Not hungry.”

You’re not ready to give in, but Yumi interrupts you, tugging your arm. 

“Let’s go take a picture! Ellery just finished playing, and the photographer has one of those fancy new cameras that prints the picture for you.”

You glance up to see Ellery running to join your friends who are already gathering in front of the camera. You nod to Yumi before grabbing Levi’s hand and hauling him toward the chaos.

“Here’s enough money for three pictures,” you hear Yumi telling the photographer.

The photographer waves the group closer, adjusting his tripod and the boxy camera balanced on top. 

“Everyone in!” Connie shouts, throwing his arms around Jean and Reiner. 

“Alright,” the photographer says, ducking behind the camera. “First one! Three, two, one!”

You lean in to kiss Levi’s cheek just before the flash goes off.

Dear Melody and Captain Levi,

I miss you both so much. I was so sad I couldn’t visit you with everyone last month, but my parents said I couldn’t miss school.  Connie kept rubbing it in my face which made me feel horrible, but Onyan was nice enough to share the tea leaves Captain Levi gave to him from Mizuhara. 

Reiner told me all about the Autumn Festival of Lights, and it sounded a lot like the festival he took us to with Udo and Zofia. Maybe Falco and I can come next year, or the year after?

Anyway, Melody, I saw all the piano music you sent over for the new recreation center. It all looks so beautiful and exciting, it makes me want to take piano lessons too. The teachers here were all so happy when Onyan and I brought the music over. They have plans to send you a gift of their own as thanks very soon. But as happy as the music made everyone else, it made me a little sad to remember the reason you sent so much of your personal collection. Have you really not played since returning to Hizuru? Falco thinks you just need time, and he doesn’t think you should give all your sheet music away. You’ll hopefully be happy to know that I reminded him that you have an excellent memory and probably have several copies written by your own hand anyway. I know you’ll play again when you’re healed.

Well, anyway, I’m guessing Captain Levi’s eyes probably bulged out of his head when he saw the length of this letter. I wanted to ask you both something…Captain, please think about it before saying no! 

As you both know, Falco and I will be finishing our primary school studies in the spring, and, well, we are both considering attending university…

We spent so much time training to be warriors growing up that we both missed out on so much learning. Is it weird that I’m not ready for school to be over? 

The old university faculty in Odiha has been meeting up again and they’ve sent out letters to all of this year’s primary school graduates in Marley inviting us to attend their newfound (or refound) university in Odiha. It’s all very exciting, but I’m ready to get out of Marley. Hearing about Onyan’s travels and of course stories from Armin, Jean, Connie, Reiner and Pieck has made me want to see the world…Besides, I’m tired of Connie teasing me for being a bumpkin who hasn’t seen anything! Can you imagine? Connie calling me a bumpkin? Who does he think he is?!

So I’ve been considering attending the university in Hizuru. I think it’s the best option considering it wasn’t effected as badly as the university in Odiha… 

I wrote to Lady Kiyomi and she sent me a brochure. It seems like they have established programs for diplomacy, agriculture, education and even art. I’m not sure what I’m interested in studying specifically…perhaps all four? 

Back to my question. The university invites all prospective students to tour the campus and sit in on classes to meet the professors and such…So how would you feel about Falco and I visiting Hizuru sometime in the next few months? The only way my mom and dad will let me go is if you agree to let Falco and I stay with you…of course, you don’t have to say yes (but Captain please?) It would be so fun to see Hizuru, and it would be a huge help in deciding what to do with the next three or four years of my life. 

Now Captain, go away, this part of the letter isn’t for your eyes. 

Melody, please convince him to say yes? I miss you guys so much and I really want to see the greenhouse on Mizuhara and meet Star. I love you! Write back soon.

Love, 

Gabi

Winter

Is it absurd to marry? 

In a world that has shown, again and again, how easily everything can be snatched away?

Yes. 

But is it still a desire, despite it all? 

Also…yes. 

Truth be told, the idea has been on Levi’s mind for some time now. 

I really have changed, he thinks, recalling that once upon a time he scoffed at those foolish enough to bind themselves to another. 

It’s not the concept that feels foolish now, but the fact that he wants it. He knows that what you share isn’t temporary. He isn’t going anywhere, and he trusts you won’t either.

Still, the possessive part of him likes the thought of a ring on your finger. He tells himself it’s just a symbol, but he likes the idea of that symbol telling the rest of the world to fuck off. 

Especially when some fool lingers too long at the market, trying his luck with a smile or an offer of free fruit and the freshest flowers.

The same thought always goes through his head—Back off jackass, she’s my—

Well, his what, exactly? 

Girlfriend feels too juvenile, partner too cold…maybe wife? 

He keeps turning the word over in his head and damn it, he likes the way it sounds.

And marriage to him is more than just the urge to claim you as his, but a way to show you the depth of his devotion. The idea feels right—to kneel before you and offer what remains of his life in return for your presence.

He just needs to be certain you feel the same.

That certainty arrives not long after the first snow of the season. 

“It’s hard to believe it’s been over six months since you moved in. It feels like forever, but also like no time at all.”

“And, are you eager to be rid of me?” 

“Well, are you eager to get rid of me?” 

“You know the answer, don’t be stupid.”

“Then, likewise.” 

So, now, he’s rummaging through your jewelry box like a creep, trying to figure out what sort of ring you’d like.

He picks one to bring to the jeweler for size, hoping you won’t notice it missing before he can slip it back into place.

Snow drifts gently through the air as you make your way home from the archives. You walk quickly, guarding yourself from the cold with your scarf, hoping that Levi will already be home from his meeting in the capital when you arrive. All you want is a long bath to thaw your frozen limbs before curling up with him (and Star) by the fire.

Your house comes into view as you round the final corner, light spilling from the windows and smoke curling lazily from the chimney.

He’s home, you think with a smile. 

You’re greeted by a rush of warmth accompanied by the scent of rose oil and chamomile tea.

“Levi!” you call, your voice carrying down the hall.

He appears a moment later, meeting you by the door to help with your coat.

“There’s a bath waiting for you. I’ll make you tea when you’re done,” he says, reopening the door to shake the snow from your coat before hanging it up.

You kiss him quickly in thanks before greeting Star with a kiss of her own, and disappear down the hall.  

You eventually emerge from a luxuriously long bath, warm in your robe, toweling off your hair in search of Levi and tea. 

You find him sitting at your dining table, looking pensively out the window, chin resting in his hand. Steam curls from your favorite teacup as it waits for you on the table. 

Beside it sits a small black velvet box. 

You plop yourself down in front of him, thanking him for the tea. 

“What’s this?” you ask, pointing to the box.  

He doesn’t meet your eyes, his gaze fixed intently on the snow drifting beyond the window. If you didn’t know better you’d say he looks…nervous? 

Still looking away, he slides the box to you. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, reaching for the box, opening it curiously. 

You’ve barely cracked it open when you spot what’s glittering inside. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp, putting it down, eyes widening, leaning forward to look at him. 

His eyes swivel to yours, lips pressed together nervously. 

“No!” you laugh. 

“No?” he responds, alarmed. 

“No—I mean, yes!” You face palm yourself. 

He looks at you dubiously. 

“Of course it’s a yes, silly! I was just surprised.”

He studies you before rising without a word. He leans into your space to grab the box, causing your heart to stutter at the intensity in his silver eyes and the sudden nearness of him.

What he does next absolutely melts your heart. 

He grabs your hand, and gets down on one knee. 

“Levi, oh my god, you don’t have to—“

“Tch. Shut up idiot and let me do this.”

You cover your mouth with your free hand, stifling your giggle. The sight of humanity’s strongest soldier kneeling on one knee before you is…absurd. You can’t help but laugh at the fact that you could bring one as great as him to his knees.

He says your name softly. “Will you marry me?”

Still holding his hand, you slide off your chair to your knees, meeting him (as always) where he’s at.

“Yes, Levi Ackerman, I’ll marry you.”

His eyes widen and he exhales in relief. He pulls the ring out of the box and with trembling hands, slides it onto your finger. 

Your smile grows wider as you catch his shirt in your hands and pull him into a kiss, warm and certain. 

A thought echoes through Levi’s mind as he cups your face in his hands, deepening the kiss. 

Who could imagine goodness like this? And for me, of all people. 

Chapter Text

February 859

Dear Melody, 

I hope this letter finds you well, and congratulations to you and Captain Levi on your engagement. 

I’m reaching out because Armin has shared that you are interested in adding a section about Paradis to the archive in Hizuru. I want to let you know that I am touched by the idea, and would love to help you in this endeavor in any way I can.

Included with this letter is an invitation. This May marks nine years since my coronation, and I would be delighted if you and Captain Levi could come for the celebration. It would be the perfect time for you to gather any stories and artifacts you think would enrich the archive. Truly, I would be honored to speak with you about the island's history.

Of course, if you are unable to come, I will bring what I can when I come for your wedding at the end of the summer. Though it would be better, I think, for you to document things yourself. 

Please consider it. I know journeying to Paradis is complicated, especially for Levi. Even so, I hope you’ll both consider it. Everyone will be there, and it would mean a great deal to see him among us.

Sincerely,

Historia

May 859

It doesn’t take long for Levi to realize that he is wholly at the mercy of the cardinal demand you have awakened in him.

His fervor shocks him a little. For a while he believed his intensity had to do with his Ackerman blood, and that all those primal instincts had vanished with the end of the age of Titans. But these days he wonders…

Maybe those feral instincts to devote and protect existed not because of his blood, but because of who he is. 

The token that now rests on your finger only sharpens it, stirring in him a heat, a hunger, a possessiveness—the simple need to worship what he loves.

His first instinct was to shove it all down, afraid he might smother you with his attention or frighten you with the intensity of his regard for your safety. But he can’t push it down. He is a man shaped by vigilance, by war, and, more recently, by the memory of nearly losing you. 

How can he help the hand that finds the small of your back in a crowd, or the way his eyes follow you when you drift from him at the market, or the held breath he releases when you arrive home after him? 

Then there’s the other thing—

The sweet words and tender offerings that leave his mouth these days make him feel like an idiot, but the way you blush and smile in response never fails to loosen his tongue. Sweet words of affection still feel foreign to him, but he’d find the words a thousand times just to see that beautiful flush rise to your cheeks. Something primal in him purrs at the knowledge that it’s him, and him alone, who can unravel you so.

Hasn’t it always been that way? 

Wasn’t there a time when he’d let his gaze linger too long, or his hand brush yours just enough to make you blush? Hasn’t there always been proof that he could reach a part of you no one else could?

When did affection start feeling easy? When did the space between you become something safe to be foolish in?

Levi doesn’t know, but he’s happy to play the fool for you.  

In fact, he’s deliberate about it. It becomes his new, quiet mission. And ever resourceful, he carves a clear path to victory.

That’s why he often finds himself wandering through the bookstore, secretly drawn to aisles where he can collect tender confessions and honey-sweet compliments, all for the chance to see that hint of rose bloom on your cheeks. 

He whispers them in your ear while he makes his home inside you, fills you, devours you, silver eyes glowing light as starlight as you gasp and whisper his name…and if he’s extra lucky he will hear an I love you tumble from those exquisite lips in response. 

Yes, Levi is only too eager to play the fool for you. 

Who knew that ring on your finger, that symbol of forever, could awaken even more passion in you both? 

Now, stepping off the ship in Paradis, Levi attunes his compass to you, unwavering.

He’s met at once by the scent of foliage, horses, dust, train smoke—scents of his past. But the weight they once carried feels lighter today, softened by your presence beside him. He sneaks a glance your way, both amused and a little shy at the way your eyes widen as you take it all in.

Through your wonder he remembers his own. 

Isabel’s. 

Furlan’s. 

The curiosity that marked that first spring above ground. 

Back then, the sight of these vast fields had felt like deliverance.

Maybe Paradis still holds some beauty, even after everything.

Yet beneath the peace of the moment, lies a trace of trepidation.

His mind drifts to the conversation you shared when Historia’s invitation first arrived.

Levi eyes Historia’s handwriting before quickly perusing the gold-leaf invitation. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, noticing his jaw tighten as he tosses the letter and invitation onto the coffee table. Without a word, he disappears into the kitchen.  

It doesn’t take long for you to follow. He ignores you as you lean against the counter, barely acknowledging Star as she trails in after you both. 

He keeps his eyes on his hands as he readies the kettle. 

You open your mouth and he stiffens, expecting a scolding, but he’s met with disarming gentleness in your voice.

“Make a cup for me too, please?”

He nods, still not meeting your eyes. 

The gentle hiss of the kettle mingles with the faint rustle of tea leaves as he pours the hot water and passes you a cup. You thank him with a small smile, your fingertips brushing his. The scent of roasted jasmine fills the air, and his shoulders ease just a little.

You share your tea in silence, watching Star stretch out at your feet and roll onto her back for attention.

You smile and bend down to oblige, sitting cross legged on the floor. 

“I’m going to accept Historia’s invitation,” you say after a while. 

Levi clicks his tongue and crosses his arms. 

“I understand why you might not want to go, but I’d love to meet Historia, Mikasa, and Sasha before our wedding, you know?” You catch his eye, but he looks away just as quickly. “And you know how important I think it is to add Paradis’s history to the archive here, this is the perfect opportunity.”

He sighs, pondering. 

“There’s only so much I can learn from Historia’s letters. I want to speak with her and Mikasa about what happened. You know this is important, not just for the sake of history, but it’s important to me too.”

He doesn’t answer, so you continue. 

You look up at him, “You can stay here or you can come with me. I respect your decision either way, no questions asked.”

Levi’s face remains stony, and you falter under the intensity of it. 

“Is this about me seeing where you came from? I promise I—“

“No, it’s not that.” Levi snaps. 

“Well, okay.” You frown, “I don’t think I’m being unfair…” 

He knows this, and guilt tugs at him for his reluctance. You’re not asking for much, and after everything you've been through, how can he bring himself to deny you this? 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “There’s no way you’re going there without me. Who knows what could happen.”

“Levi—“

“It’s fine. You’re right. It’s fine, we’ll go.”

You look at him, catching the shadows in his eyes. You press your lips into a thin line, thoughtful, as he sets his tea down and leaves the room.

You hadn’t asked him to explain his reluctance, and for that, Levi was grateful.

The weeks that followed gave him plenty of chances to speak, but he never found the words, to his shame. Because how could he explain what he really feared? That what he feared was what they might tell you…

The women who grew up under his care. 

The women he forced to make impossible decisions. 

The women who were the witnesses, and sometimes the recipients, of his brutality. 

His relationship with Historia had settled into mutual respect many years ago, thankfully. 

Mikasa, well…their interactions have been brief over the past five years. 

Sasha, at least, he can think of no reason for her to resent him. 

All seemed well now, but would all three tell you to run for the hills? Would Historia bring up those tense days before she became queen? Would the way Mikasa looks at him, with her reservations and sadness, be all the sign you need to distance yourself from him? 

His heart thumps painfully at the thought. 

But just then, you lift your left hand to brush hair away from your face, and his eye catches sight of the jewel on your finger. 

He releases a held breath. 

He has to trust that you’ll meet those crueler, meaner parts of his past with the same grace you’ve always given him.

You’re not sure what you expected. You only knew that this trip would carry weight. After all, you’re setting foot not only on the land that raised the man you love, but on the land that has shaped the course of history itself.

But the weight holds excitement as well. You can’t help but feel joy at the sight of how beautifully the land has begun to heal from the Rumbling, though a pang runs through you when you spot a preserved footprint that could have only been made by a Colossal Titan. 

You breathe in deeply, and with force you turn your attention back to the bustle of the dock. 

The hum of car engines mingle with the shrill call of a nearby train. People race by on bicycles and a food vendor tends to his customers, handing out frozen treats from a rolling icebox. 

Paradis, it seems, has caught up with the rest of the world. 

“Our driver should be here soon,” Levi murmurs, though you suspect the words are meant more for himself than for you. His gaze moves over the bustle around you both, and you catch the growing apprehension on his face.

To your amusement, it doesn’t take long for people to start staring and for the whispers to start. Now and then, someone meets your gaze before looking quickly away, the awe in their faces giving way to hurried whispers. You watch Levi’s expression darken, but he still gives a curt nod whenever a brave passerby offers a tip of the hat or an awestruck, “Captain Levi!”

You notice the small groups of women loitering nearby, whispering not nearly as quietly as they think, their eyes darting between you and the man beside you.

Sorry ladies, he’s all mine. 

The whole thing tickles you. 

You look over at him, affection swelling. You feel a deep tenderness for what he’s entrusted to you in traveling here with you. You know what it costs him to return, and though he hasn’t said the words aloud, you can feel his simmering worry beneath his calm exterior, the fear that you might see him differently now.

You reach for his arm and gently squeeze. I’m here, your eyes say, and it is with relief you see his features soften. 

Before long, the palace driver finds you both and ushers you toward a waiting car.

The city thins into open fields, then rises again into towns and villages as the car winds inland. You watch the landscape unfold from your window. The clusters of houses and stretches of farmland look young, still finding their shape, and you can’t help but picture your friends riding out from the walls on horseback the first time they traveled to the sea. These lands would have been empty then. The giant redwoods Levi once told you about are nowhere to be seen, crushed during the Rumbling.

As you travel inland toward Mitras, flowers and decorations begin to appear in celebration of Historia’s coronation anniversary. Along the road, carts bearing the royal crest roll through the crowds offering food, books, coats, and paper to anyone who approaches.

“Do you know what those are, Levi?” you ask, pointing to a cart with a particularly long line.

He shakes his head.

You catch your driver’s eye in the rearview mirror. He clears his throat.

“Those are gifts for the people from the palace,” he explains. “At Queen Historia’s request.”

You nod and thank him, noticing the satisfied, almost proud look that settles on Levi’s face at the driver’s answer. You smile to yourself.

“Things on the island have been peaceful lately,” the driver continues. “It’s easier to set aside our differences when food, drink, and gifts flow freely from the palace.”

You hum at that, thoughtful.

Historia’s letter to you said nothing of unrest, but you know that’s what kept Levi from letting you come alone. There would always be worry that the Jaegerists or some other zealots might stir chaos. 

You chew your lower lip. It was foolish to suggest coming here alone. You can only imagine how worried Levi would have been, especially after everything that happened in Marley a year ago. A familiar pang of guilt and anxiety washes over you. Did you force him to bring you here before he was ready?

The rest of the ride passes in silence, and soon you arrive at the hotel where you and your friends will stay for the duration of your trip.

The next few hours pass quickly as you settle into the hotel and ready yourself for the evening’s celebration at the palace.

Your mind, however, is still stuck on your thoughts from the car ride. 

“Levi?” You say hesitantly as you unpack. 

“Hmm.”

“Now’s probably not the right time to be asking this. Maybe I should have asked sooner. Or…apologized?”

He looks at you, confused. 

“I shouldn’t have forced us to come here, if you weren’t ready.”

He looks at you blankly, your anxiety rises and you chew your lip, looking away. 

“I don’t think I would have ever been ready,” he says with a small shrug. 

You hum. “Well, I just feel bad now. I don’t know…now that we’re here.”

He exhales. “Don’t feel bad, like I said, I don’t know if I would have ever felt ready to bring you here.”

You furrow your brow, but nod. 

“Look at me,” he says softly, coming over to stand in front of you. He gently tilts your chin to meet his gaze. “We should talk about it, I want to. I just don’t know how.”

You nod, you understand, sense his apprehension. “Well, what I wanted to say is, you know that no matter what I see or hear here, my opinion of you will never change, right?”

He sighs, eyes dropping. 

I knew it, you think sadly, but there’s relief too. Relief that the bond you share transcends words, that you were reading him correctly all along. 

“Let’s talk about it later, yeah?” you whisper. 

He looks back at you and nods before gathering you into his arms. 

The sun has begun to set, and the air has cooled by the time your driver arrives to take you to Historia’s celebration.

Levi notices you fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve as you approach the palace steps. He nudges your arm and rests a hand at your lower back as a gentle reminder that he’s here. Though the touch is for your benefit, it steadies him as well. His anxieties can wait, for you are the stranger in this place.

Your nervous eyes find his, and you nod.

You enter the palace together, his hand falling away only when you reach the crowded hall that’s alive with sound and color. 

You take in the scene of evening wear swishing in soft waves amongst candlelight and marble. Music drifts from a small orchestra near the far wall, weaving through laughter and conversation. 

Gorgeous, you think, forgetting your nerves. 

Levi spots Historia standing with Armin, Onyankopon, and the rest at the front of the hall. He catches your eye and gives a small nod in their direction. But before either of you can move, a swell of military men and government officials surround you, all eager to shake his hand and catch his ear.

“We heard you’re consulting for the Hizuran military now?”

“Are you advising Queen Historia directly these days?”

“Do you think you’ll ever return to live here in Paradis?”

You hide a smile at the faint scowl on his face, but there’s no escaping the crowd.

Poor Levi, he’s trying so hard to be civil, you think.

Suddenly, you feel a foreign hand on your arm. “And who’s your pretty friend, Captain?” The stranger leers at you. 

You pull your arm back, startled by the intrusion, but Levi’s already there. 

He glares at the man, knocking his hand away before nudging you forward gently with a hand on your back.

Enough of this, he thinks. 

“She’s my wife,” he snaps. 

You, Levi, and the stranger freeze. 

Your eyes widen, flitting back and forth from the man to Levi. Wife, huh? 

Color creeps up his neck to the tips of his ears, and he nudges you forward more insistently. His lips press into a thin line, eyes begging, don’t start.

You bite back a smile. You’ll save the teasing for later.

“Have you ever seen Captain Levi look so relaxed?” Sasha muses from across the room.

Everyone’s heads turn to where you and Levi stand, heads tilted toward each in conversation. 

“His face looks softer too,” Mikasa says, tilting her head.

Onyankopon chuckles. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen him.”

“He’s always been that way around her,” Armin adds with a laugh. “I told you all at Sasha and Niccolo’s wedding, remember? 

“Well, it’s not so easy to believe,” Mikasa grumbles. 

“You three really missed out on watching it all happen,” Connie chimes in. “He was so hopeless about her for years.”

“It was kind of pathetic,” Jean says, shaking his head. “But of course we couldn’t say anything to him about it.”

“Look, shut up. They’re coming over,” Historia hisses, swatting at Jean. 

Everyone scrambles to look casual, all poorly feigning conversation as you and Levi approach.

“Captain! You guys look great!” Connie blurts once you’re in earshot. 

Levi shoots him a warning look, but the moment is quickly lost as Onyankopon, Armin, and Pieck beckon you forward. Pieck slips her arm through yours, pulling you into a warm hug.

Levi’s hand falls from your back, letting you be gathered into the circle of your friends.

“How are you? How are the migraines?” Pieck asks, her voice soft but bright.

“They’re okay,” you reply with a small smile. “I’m alright right now.”

You peek over her shoulder to find three pairs of wide eyes staring back at you.

Before you can say anything, one of them (who you’re fairly certain is Sasha) bounces forward, accidentally stepping on what you assume is her husband’s foot.

“Sasha,” he hisses under his breath.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she says, saying your name with pure excitement.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sasha?” 

“Mhm, and this is Mikasa and Historia.”

Mikasa gives a small wave, and you offer her one in return.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Historia says to you, approaching and taking your hand in hers. “I have to run, but I wanted to make sure that you’re still coming by tomorrow to go over everything you need for the Hizuran archive?” 

“Oh, yes, Your Majesty,” you say politely. 

“Please, call me Historia,” she insists with a warm smile.

You smile and nod, “Thank you, and yes, I’m looking forward to it.”

“We’re still welcome, right?” Sasha asks you, looping her arm through Mikasa’s. 

“Of course,” you laugh. 

Connie and Jean insert themselves just then, both throwing their arms around you. You relax, grateful for the familiarity.

Levi stands a few steps away, pretending to listen to Onyankopon, Pieck, and Reiner, though his attention keeps drifting toward you. The music swells in the background, and he exhales, feeling a rare contentment at the sound of laughter spilling from the kids as they surround you.

The celebration stretches long into the night, and you lose track of time. Your heart feels impossibly full, surrounded by faces that have carried so much history and somehow still found a way to smile.

By the time you and Levi finally step outside, the stars are high and Mitras has grown quiet around you.

The palace lights feel miles away in your cozy hotel room. The space is warm, still, and soothing after such a long day.

Levi steps out of the shower and hears you groan from where you’re seated at the vanity, rifling through a bag.

“What is it?” He asks, sitting down behind you on the bed. 

You don’t respond, but he sees you press your lips into a line through the mirror. 

He tilts his head, waiting. 

“I forgot my pills,” you groan, dramatically dropping your chin into your hand. 

He shoots you a confused look, “Your painkillers? You took some before dinner.” 

You shake your head, “No, not those.”

The realization hits, and he blinks once, twice. The words leave his mouth before he can remind himself to think first.

“Oh. That doesn’t bother me.”

Your chin falls out of your hand in surprise as you turn back to look at him. 

“It’s more than just this trip. If I miss even one day there’s a chance that I—that we—uh…it’s just we run the risk for a while…”

Levi raises a brow at your stuttering.

Yeah, I know, he thinks, faintly insulted you’d assume otherwise.

But maybe your hesitation isn’t coming from a place of worrying about him, but of an aversion that’s wholly your own. 

After all, it’s your body that would bear it all.

“Well, do you want to talk about it?” he offers. 

Your jaw goes slack. Levi rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. You can’t help it, laughter spills out of you, loud and uncontrollable.

“Okay…fuck you too then,” grumbles, face burning. 

Laughter hardly seems appropriate. 

“Oi. Alright enough. What are you laughing for,” he barks. 

“Sorry,” you say, wiping your eyes. “It’s just, of the two of us, I never thought it’d be you initiating this conversation. And so straightforward about it, too.”

He gives you a flat stare, crossing his arms. 

“Please don’t be mad,” you say, still laughing. 

He sighs, “Well, come on, what are your thoughts?”

Your eyes widen, laughter dying when you realize he’s completely serious.

“Okay, wait. Is this something you’ve actually thought about, or are you just saying it because I ran out of my birth—” You stop mid-sentence at the withering look he gives you.

Do you really think so little of me? His eyes seem to say. 

“Okay, okay, I know. You don’t say things unless you mean them, and apparently tonight’s no exception, so what you’re telling me is—”

“Yes,” he interrupts, unable to stop himself. 

You stare at him. 

“What I’m saying is, if you don’t want to take those pills anymore, that I’m completely, absolutely fine with the possible outcome.”

Your lips part, eyes wide. “I am too,” you say quickly. 

Now it’s his turn for his eyes to widen. He falls silent, recalling a moment after your performance in Marley.

“Have you ever thought about having a family?” 

Levi hadn’t known what to say, so he had taken the easy way out. 

“It’s not something I think about often, no.”

“I never really wanted to bring a child into this world before. Or even…fall in love.”

“And now?”

“I suppose, with the right person I wouldn’t mind.”

Even after everything, even with the ring on your finger, Levi had remained unsure if he was the right person. The gravity of your answer isn’t lost on him. 

“Okay,” he whispers carefully.

“Okay,” you whisper back, blushing and smiling as you turn back around to brush oil through the ends of your hair.

You wake to soft kisses planted on your shoulder and the squeeze of Levi’s arm around your waist. You hum and sigh, acknowledging his morning greeting, moving your hand to rest on his. 

“How’d you sleep?” He murmurs into the back of your neck, pressing soft kisses to exposed skin. 

You hum again, voice still heavy with sleep, not entirely ready to leave the sweetness of the twilight state you’ve found yourself in. 

You turn toward him, noses brushing as his hair slips against your cheek and your lips meet, sleep-warm and searching as you trade slow, drowsy kisses. 

Light, tender, sugar-sweet, ambrosian. You have yet to tire of these lips. 

And it doesn’t take long for your fingers to wander, gliding down his ribs in a languid descent toward his lower back where you trace the dimples there in small, teasing circles. His body answers through the soft drag of his breath and the insistent press of his hands as he pinches your hip and pulls you closer.

Your head falls back as he moves to kiss your throat, shivering as his tongue licks slowly over the tender, silkiness of your flesh. 

His hand slides upward, and your breath stumbles as his fingers greedily find your breast and begin toying with the tender peak, dragging his thumb in slow circles until a moan melts from you. He hums in approval, lowering to replace his fingers with his mouth, playfully nibbling and suckling, tongue swiping deftly, pulling sweet desperation from your lips.

He drags himself up to catch the sound with his mouth, deepening his hold on you, hand sliding from your chest down to your thigh and inward to feel the arousal pooling there for him. The pressure of his fingers at your center urges your body closer and closer, until instinct takes over and you shift, straddling him. Your knees sink into the mattress on either side of his hips.

The heart of you beats between your legs and you grow hot with the need to possess him as you grind into him, the most delicate parts of you separated only by the thin fabric settled on both your hips. 

“What’s gotten into you?” He teases, eyes flashing and only too prepared to give into your sweet torture.  

“Please,” you kiss him again, rocking your hips and bringing another groan from his parted lips. “Isn’t this what a wife does?” 

Levi pinches your hip in response, “Was hoping you’d let that slide.”

“Mmm, I loved it,” you admit. 

The teasing dissolves into more kisses. Every breath, every touch builds towards something both infinite and fragile as you cling to him, heartbeat against heartbeat, the air thick with warmth and promise. 

He pulls lace off you as you tug at his own waistband and in an instant sink down until he is completely sheathed within you.

You let out a small, broken sound as you lean forward, catching his mouth in a kiss as he groans from pure relief at finally filling you. 

Your hips begin to roll and he tugs your nightgown up over your head. His eyes trace your form as his hands wander tenderly from your ass to your stomach to your breasts as you ride him. Unable to resist, you dip forward, capturing his lips with yours, and he pulls you closer. 

The warmth between you blooms, steady and bright as spring after a long winter.

You breathe his name against his lips, receiving an answer in the low sound that trembles through you both as he clings to you.

You rock against him faster, desperate and needy, but he is intent on making this last. Intent on commanding time to yield to him, to this moment, to his love for you. 

Levi takes control. The movement between you changes in one breath, sudden and fluid and inevitable, until he has you beneath him. 

Your eyes find each other as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, his fingers threading through yours against the sheets.

He drinks in the sight of you beneath him. His gaze following the shimmer of your hair where it catches the morning light, luminous in its halo across the sheets, before finding your eyes, now glassy, wide, and dark with longing. You meet his look, blushed, breathless, radiant, beautiful in a way that can only be described as his.

Forever his. 

You cling to him as your other hand falls to tangle in the sheets and the world dissolves into light and movement. He begins to move within you with deep, drawn out strokes as he knowingly stokes your ever rising desire, deliberately enjoying the sweetness of his place between your legs. 

His pace stays measured and patient, guided by warmth and the vision of you rather than urgency.

Your heart is full to the brim, overflowing with love as memories of your shared days pass before your eyes. You think of the courage it took for him to bring you to this island, to the soil that holds his past, and the unspoken fear that you might see him through different eyes. You feel tenderness for the parts of himself he’s revealed in silence, and gratitude for the trust it took to let you see him at all. 

You smile at the memory of his slip of tongue at the palace, the blush that followed, and the shy conversation that unfolded after—the quiet talk about what the future might bring.

Glimmering, glistening, your heart is so full it hurts. 

And it only grows as he lowers your leg so he can bend forward to whisper in your ear, to suckle and nip at the tender column of your throat. 

He releases your hand to grip your hip and you wrap both arms around him in tandem with your legs, drawing him deeper, closer in an attempt to fuse your souls together. To collapse so deeply into each other that pieces of him will always be with you and pieces of you with him. That no one would be able to look at you without knowing a piece of you resides elsewhere, with this man, with your love. 

“Tell me you love me,” you gasp into him, pulling his silver eyes back to yours.

He answers, nose brushing yours as he whispers against your lips, “I love you.”

You hum in satisfaction, eyes closed as you float away on a cloud of pleasure and the wonderful union of your bodies. 

His fingers trail down, deftly working you at your pulsing core, intent on fulfilling your desire first. 

When you finally break he intensifies his own quest for fulfillment, his passion releasing within you as you cling to him. 

After, you lay together, sweetly tangled amidst crumpled sheets and exhausted limbs for what feels like an eternity. 

The morning sun continues to rise, blazing its glory through the window, gold and boundless, wrapping you both in its quiet blessing. Its orange rays are as triumphant as Levi’s silver eyes and as warm as his boyish smile resting in the crook of your neck.

The rest of the morning drifts lazily by, and it’s noon by the time Levi drops you off at the palace to meet Historia and the others. 

He watches you disappear behind the palace doors, a flicker of unease stirring within him as the car turns away. This isn’t Hizuru, where you feel completely at home and Levi trusts that you’re safe from danger. But even though he hates leaving you, he refuses to hover. You’ll be surrounded by guards, diplomats, and the most protected woman on the island…

She’ll be okay. 

He also made you promise to wait for him to return before heading back to the hotel. Peace be damned, there’s no way he would be letting you wander the streets of Paradis alone. 

Nothing bad is going to happen, he tells himself. 

The driver interrupts his thoughts just then, “Where to next, sir?”

Levi looks up, meeting the man’s eye in the rearview mirror. He answers before he can think better of it. “North, to the Sina preserve.”

The driver nods and pulls away from the palace grounds.

Levi sighs, turning to stare out the window. 

He hadn’t left Mitras the last time he was here. That had been his first visit back since then, and he’d had no trouble finding excuses to avoid the rest of the island. The diplomatic meetings and the unrest among the people were reason enough to remain within the palace walls.

But things are settled…at least for now. 

It would be nice to see the trees. 

Levi settles back into his thoughts as the driver takes them out of Mitras towards the forest just outside the Orvud district. His eyes wander over new buildings built on old foundations, banners proclaiming peace where gallows once stood, and even a few scattered Colossal footprints enshrined and solidified for eternity by a layer of concrete. 

Eventually, the houses and buildings fade into green flatlands and the towering redwoods appear in the distance. 

These trees are now the oldest on the island. Tall things that belong to a different age. It is only by some miracle they weren’t trampled in the chaos of the Rumbling. They survived by sheer chance, sitting so far north they were spared when the rest of the island’s forests fell to ruin. 

They are survivors, like him. They bear the memory of this land just as much as he. They understand just how much he has gone through, for they were there.

The road winds through a final stretch of open field before giving way to shade. Levi leans closer to the window, spotting a clean path winding through the trees. At its entrance stands a large sign that reads: The Sina Forest Preserve.

He pauses before stepping out of the car. “I’ll be an hour, maybe,” he says.

The driver nods, “I’m going to drive into town. Would you like me to bring you anything? Tea?”

Levi blinks, caught off guard by the man’s sudden warmth. There’s no reproach in his eyes, no pity, only earnestness.

“Okay, sure. Thanks,” he says. 

The man nods once, eyes returning to the road. 

Without another word Levi gets out of the car and faces the forest. 

Familiar air immediately greets him. 

Cool, still, wet earth that is the breath of trees. 

Resin, trapped rain, wood, moss—

Mineral damp, sweet rot, stone and shadow. 

Familiar. 

He feels frozen in time for a moment. 

An echo of voices start to sound and build in his head. 

Levi exhales, looking down at the cane in his hand before turning his gaze upward at the sound of a bluejay’s call. 

A memory rushes in then.

Hange rushing off, intent on capturing a wayward titan. 

Erwin ordering him to follow them. His fury at Hange endangering his squad. 

Levi shakes his head and begins his trek through the trees. 

The forest deepens around him. Shafts of sunlight spill through the canopy, and the air continues to hum with the whisper of wings and a bird’s call. 

The bluejay again…

The rush of wind, the sharp pull of cables, the freedom found in falling.

Levi tenses as his body remembers gravity’s pull.

He blinks away the memory and continues on. 

It isn’t long before the trail breaks open to a cliff at the forest’s edge. Below, the plains roll endlessly north toward what used to be Wall Sina.

He stands there for a while, listening to the wind weave through the grass. It stirs something deep within him until realizes he's been here before.

Not here exactly—but close enough. 

And just like that, the memory begins to unfold.

Horses move, their hooves thudding against the hard-packed earth as they press far and fast from the safety of Wall Rose.

The wind smells clean out here, untouched by the scent of animals or smoke. Every few minutes the horizon flashes gold where the light catches the grass, as if the world itself is catching fire.

Erwin rides ahead, the back of his coat snapping in the wind. He never looks over his shoulder to see if Levi is keeping up…he doesn’t have to. Levi always is.

They ride together like this for miles. 

Eventually, Erwin slows down to a trot and Levi comes up beside him.

“You really used to come out here alone?” Levi asks, voice cutting through the open air.

“I know, unwise.”

“Idiotic. I should leave you for Titan food.”

Erwin chuckles, “You’re right, but you know I’ve never been one to play things safe.” 

“Hm. Dumbass.” 

Erwin glances at him. “And yet you follow.”

“Someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Erwin laughs softly, the sound caught by the wind. 

They continue in silence for a while without speaking, the rhythm of the horses settling into a trot. There are no scouts, no orders, no maps to pour over. Just two men and the endless stretch of grass beneath a sky that still feels too large to Levi.

When they stop, it’s at the crest of a hill overlooking the plains. From here, Levi can see the faint trace of the forest south, and the shimmer of riverlight between the trees. Beyond that lies the brokenness of Wall Maria, then nothing but the unknown.

Levi looks out at the vastness. “I get why.” 

“Hm?”

He gestures forward with his chin. “This. It’s nice.”

Blue eyes meet silver before drifting back toward the horizon. 

“One day,” Erwin says, “if we’re lucky, the next generation will come here without thinking twice.” He looks back to Levi, “They’ll take it for granted.”

The wind rises, rippling the grass around them. Levi watches as Erwin closes his eyes briefly, face tilted toward the light. A brief, impossible, perfect moment.

He memorizes it. The smell of the grass, the warmth and wonder of the setting sun, the rare beauty of peace on Erwin’s face.

The wind shifts, and the sound of hooves dissolves into the hush of the forest behind him until all that remains is birdsong and the low rustle of leaves.

Levi blinks against the light. For a moment, it feels as though Erwin is still there with him, still waiting at the edge of the world.

This. This is the world they imagined. 

The Survey Corp. Hange. Erwin. 

It still feels wrong that he gets to enjoy it, but they don’t. 

But he has to enjoy it. For them. And now, for the living. For you. 

I came here, without thinking twice, he thinks with a huff. 

“It happened, Erwin,” he murmurs.

The wind answers in a whisper through the trees, and Levi stands there for a while longer, letting gratitude settle where grief used to live.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Levi says to the driver as they leave the towering redwoods behind. 

“Elias, Captain.” 

Levi nods before looking back out the window. Then something catches his eye.

“Were you wearing that before?” Levi asks. 

Elias glances down to the rope threaded through an emblem on his chest, then he chuckles. “Just today. My wife convinced me to,” he shrugs. 

Levi furrows his brow, taking in the profile of the man from where he sits in the back seat. Salt and pepper hair, weathered hands, smile lines and crows feet. 

“I don’t recognize you,” Levi says eventually.

Elias chuckles, “No, you wouldn’t. I was an engineer. Helped maintain our weapons on the wall and ODM gear. Officially was part of the Garrison.”

Levi nods and hums. “When did you get your medal?” 

It wasn’t common for soldiers from the Garrison to be honored with a medal of valor.

“I was wounded trying to protect civilians when Wall Maria fell.” 

Levi hums again. 

Elias keeps talking, “Felt useless after that. When Her Majesty became queen my wife and I were a part of the unit that went into hiding with her. I couldn’t do much protecting, we were there mostly to keep her company. Now Her Majesty takes care of us. She gives me small jobs to fill my time, like this,” he gestures to the wheel.  

Levi nods, never being much for conversation. Still, he feels the need to thank the man for…something. 

“Thanks for the tea,” he says. 

Elias nods and they fall into a comfortable silence. 

“You know, Captain Levi, I don’t want to overstep.” He pauses, eyes fixed on the road. 

Levi tenses. 

“But I’m an old man, it’s my right,” he chuckles, “My leg was mauled by a titan in Shiganshina. I was in bad shape. There’s doctors now, though, who can fix that. I’m as good as new.”

Levi remains tense. 

“I had my surgeries done shortly after those Marleyans came and brought modern medicine to us. It’s taken a while for the doctors to find their footing after the Rumbling, you know, but, I’m sure they would be more than happy to help you.” 

Levi feels like he should be angry at this intrusion, but all he feels is exhaustion. 

“Well, I don’t live here, so.” 

Elias snorts, “Well, I’m sure they’d be happy to do something for you in Hizuru too.” 

Levi stares him down through the mirror, eyes flat.

Elias continues, “And I hear that you’re marrying that lovely lady who traveled here with you. You’ll want that leg of yours strong if you plan to keep up with whatever life brings the two of you. God knows I’ve been thankful for it. Don’t know how I’d keep up with my grandchildren otherwise.”

Levi looks away, jaw tightening. He knows the man means well, but he’s still annoyed.  

“You’re nosy, old man.” He says at last.  

Elias barks out a genuine laugh, shaking his head. 

The two veterans settle into a comfortable silence as the car makes its way back to the heart of Mitras.

Earlier that day

“This way, Miss. Queen Historia is waiting for you in the library.”

“Thank you,” you tell the palace official as they lead you up the marble stairs and through a series of winding corridors.

The moment you step inside the library you’re met with warm smiles and the cheerful call of your name.

“Would you like some tea?” Historia asks.

“Sure, thank you,” you say with a shy smile.

“It’s from Hizuru,” she adds. “A gift from Lady Kiyomi.”

You brighten at that. 

“Is Captain Levi really growing his own leaves now?” Sasha asks curiously, gesturing for you to sit in the chair across from her.

“Whoever told you such a thing?” you tease, giving Mikasa a small smile as you take your seat.

She returns it before standing to help Historia carry a tray of teacups and biscuits to the coffee table.

“Can I help?” you offer.

Mikasa and Historia wave you off.

Sasha leans forward with a grin. “Onyankopon told us,” she says playfully. “Is it true?”

“It’s true,” you laugh. “We’ve got a greenhouse and a small plot of land. We just harvested our first batch of leaves, so we’ll see if they’re any good.”

“And a house together?” Sasha presses, eyes gleaming.

“How much did Onyankopon tell you?” you ask, equally playful.

Sasha folds her arms in mock defense. “Well, it’s hard not to be curious! Captain Levi doesn’t share much about himself.”

Mikasa and Historia rejoin you with the tray. Historia sets a cup before you and you murmur your thanks. The four of you settle in, the air filling with the gentle clinking of porcelain and the fragrant scent of brewed tea.

Mikasa places her cup down and adds, “We had a hard time believing Armin when he told us about you.”

“Oh?” you laugh lightly.

“Captain Levi is just, you know. Him. That’s all,” she says.

“Well, uh…” you laugh and shrug awkwardly.

“Mikasa doesn’t mean that,” Historia scolds, “There was never much time for relationships during the war anyway.” 

“You and Eren were a handful,” Sasha says with a nod. 

Historia rolls her eyes at Sasha before turning back to you. 

“It’s nice to know he found you, that’s all,” she says, reaching to pat your hand. “Right, Mikasa?”

Mikasa nods. “Mhm.”

“Now, let’s talk about what brought you here,” Historia says after a light pause.

“Oh, perfect.” You smile. “I’ve been really eager to get this project started.”

“So, is this for a…museum?” Sasha asks.

“Of a sort,” you say. “It started out as an archive. My friends and I wanted to preserve art that survived the Rumbling, and that’s what we’ve done. Artists from everywhere have added to the collection, and we get a good number of visitors from the public as well.”

You notice Mikasa’s features twist at the mention of the Rumbling. A pang of sadness flows through you, but you decide to hold off the questions for now. 

“We’ve begun documenting history, too,” you continue. “My friend Yumi has spent the past few months collecting stories from survivors in Hizuru. We’ve also been in contact with Yelena in Marley. She’s agreed to conduct interviews for us there.”

“And now, here,” Mikasa adds quietly.

“Mhm.” You give her a small smile.

Historia nods. “Well, I gathered some history books for you. There’s an old edition and a new one. Maybe it would be interesting to compare and contrast? You can see exactly how our people were taught to think for a century…”

You nod eagerly, “That’s perfect.” 

“That box over there has some old ODM gear for you to take back as well,” Historia adds. “We haven’t done much in the way of preservation, so I’m thankful you’re helping us begin.”

“Really, thank you. I know dredging up history isn’t easy.”

Historia gives you a small smile and nod.

“Did you all have a chance to look over the discussion topics I sent?” you ask hesitantly.

All three women nod solemnly.

“Alright,” you say carefully. “Are you ready to begin?”

They share a look before Sasha answers. “Ready or not, we’re here now. Right, Mikasa? Historia?”

They nod at her, then at you.

“Okay.” You pull out your notebook and a small tape recorder. “Let’s start with something all three of you can tell me about.”

You press record. 

“What do you remember most vividly about life before Reiner and Bertholdt broke through the Walls?”

Many hours and pots of tea later, you feel as though you’ve truly come to know these women.

Their pain, their joy, their strength. Each a rare jewel in her own right. 

These young women were not immune to facing their responsibility. They all had to bear the ugliness of the world so someone else wouldn’t have to, each in her own way.

You’ve learned more about Levi, too.  

How they viewed him during the early days on his squad. 

How, as time passed, respect and reconciliation surfaced instead of resentment. 

“I don’t resent Captain Levi anymore, but you have to understand. I was a teenager, and he was such a prick,” Mikasa says, which sends you all into a round of laughter. 

“I have one more question for you all,” you say at last. “And this can be off the record, it’s a personal curiosity.”

Three pairs of eyes lift toward you.

“Tell me about Eren?”

The room grows quiet. Sasha and Historia glance at Mikasa. 

“His memory is all mixed up,” she says eventually, looking down at her hands.

“I don’t know if he can ever be remembered the way I remember him,” she continues. “To me…he was the boy who saved me. Over and over again. But it’s all mixed up, even in my head.” 

You hum, eyes full of sympathy, and the room grows quiet again. 

“He was a dummy,” Historia says after a while. 

Your eyes widen, but you relax as Sasha bursts out laughing and Mikasa clicks her tongue and crosses her arms. 

That gets a laugh out of you. Guess it’s an Ackerman thing, you think.  

“Mikasa, you have to admit it. He really was,” Sasha says, grinning.

“He always overestimated his own abilities,” Historia adds, shaking her head.

Mikasa sighs, but relents with a small shrug.

You smile, content to fade into the background as the girls wind back time for you. 

Content and willing to find humanity waiting in the most painful, and shameful parts of this island’s past.

You were quiet on the drive back to the hotel, regrettably a little oblivious to the anxious looks Levi was throwing your way. 

He still doesn’t know how to ask for reassurance. Truthfully, he isn’t accustomed to needing it. 

So instead, he asks about the girls and how they treated you. 

And you ask about his day and he tells you about the forest and the memories, a little too lost in your head to notice something’s off until much later that evening. 

You walk over to where he sits near the window, catching his attention by running your fingers through his undercut. You smile a little as he involuntarily melts into your touch. 

“Those girls are filled with so much love and care,” you say. 

He hums, eyes still closed. 

“They love you, you know.”

At that, he tenses, the faintest crease forming between his brows.

“Even when they talk about the worst days, it’s very clear to me how much you mean to them.”

You still see his hesitance, and you know him well enough to understand that what sits behind his stony expression is guilt. 

“Love is so much more than what’s said in words, Levi,” you murmur. “Besides, they’re excited for our wedding.”

He exhales at that, a little amused. He leans further into your touch, grateful for the soft and gentle ways you always lead him to clarity.