Chapter Text
The night had fallen heavy, the camp quiet save for the distant rustling of trees and the occasional crackle of the dying fire. The air was cool, crisp, and thick with silence, but beneath that, there was a hum—a tension that no one in camp could shake.
You slipped from your tent, the cold nipping at your skin as you made your way toward the makeshift kitchen. The routine had become familiar over the months, a shared moment in the stillness of night where the chaos of the outside world seemed far away, and it was just you and him. The flicker of candlelight from within the assigned mess hall spilled across the dark grass, and you knew that at the edges of the fire, he was there, nursing his drink, always with that quiet precision.
But tonight, something was different. Your steps felt heavier than usual, like the weight of your thoughts had anchored you to the ground. You didn’t know what to expect when you saw him—Levi, your captain, the one you’d trusted above all else. The same man who always kept you at arm’s length. Who held the space between you in a grip so tight, it left no room for anything else. But after that day’s conversation, the lost of your comrades, and the things left unsaid, you weren’t sure where exactly that left you two anymore.
Hange had taken the lead, the broken pieces left behind Erwin’s sacrifice, and crafted a Scouts Regiment that was stronger, better prepared.
You’d waged countless endeavors out on the field since, paving for humanity safer plains and homes beyond the Walls. The Titans had lost their appeal by then. No longer were your numbers as easily decimated, and no longer was the carefully zealous fear regarding them prevalent. The Titans fell as easily as humans now.
You paused just outside the perimeter marking the meeting area, listening for the sound of his voice, the rustle of fabric, the clink of metal. It was always quiet here, always just the two of you in this space. But tonight, the air between you felt thick, charged with the weight of everything that had happened. You exhaled slowly, bracing yourself for what came next.
As you stepped into the lonely arc of the fire, you saw him—Levi, sitting on a makeshift bench, his back to you. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but you didn’t move to announce yourself. You simply stood there, watching him, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that had been swirling inside you ever since that moment. With Team Levi technically defunct, you hardly worked on any missions with him anymore. Nevermind that you had seeked out Hange for this special favor; you couldn’t work with someone that would see you caged; that would have others fall just so you could live another day.
And if Levi noticed the change in soldier rotation? He never made note of it.
He glanced over his shoulder then, his sharp gaze finding yours almost immediately, like he had known you were coming. “Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was low, calm, but the edge was there, the same edge he always wore when something was bothering him.
You nodded, your throat tight. “Same,” you replied, your voice quieter than usual. You approached the wooden log and sat down, your eyes on him, trying to read the look in his eyes. There was something there—something softer than you were used to seeing. But it was gone before you could fully grasp it, replaced by that familiar, guarded look.
He turned back to his drink, his movements deliberate as he poured himself more tea, but his silence hung between you.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The air seemed heavier with each passing second, and the silence stretched on like a taut rope, threatening to snap.
Finally, you broke the quiet, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are we doing, Levi?” The question was out before you could stop it, the uncertainty of it hanging in the air like a delicate thread.
Levi’s hands stilled for a moment, then he set the kettle down and turned to face you. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—they were different tonight. There was a flicker of something, something raw and exposed, and for a moment, you wondered if he could feel it too. The way the space between you seemed to shrink with each passing breath.
“Nothing,” he said, his voice barely more than a murmur, his gaze never leaving yours. “We’re not doing anything. It’s not the time, Gerr.”
The words cut through you, but they weren’t a surprise. You had known, deep down, that this moment could never be anything more than a fleeting one—a moment of weakness, of closeness that couldn’t survive in the chaos of the world around you. But you still couldn’t ignore the pull, the way your heart seemed to beat faster every time he looked at you.
But you couldn’t let it happen. Not like this. Not when the weight of your duty still hung heavy between you, pulling you apart.
“I know,” you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. You stood, pushing away from your seat, the proximity, like you’d been scalded by the steam. You forced yourself to turn away, but you couldn’t stop the ache that settled in your chest, couldn’t stop the hurt that flared up at the realization that he was right.
“Then…then..why do you look at me like that?” The words slipped from your mouth before you could think, the rawness of them shocking you as much as it did him. You turned back toward him, unable to mask the vulnerability in your eyes, the confusion that had overtaken you in the wake of his silence. “Why does it feel like we’re always this close to something else?” In a different life, this bravado would be commonplace for you. But here? Where vulnerability was as commonplace and as shunned?
Levi’s gaze flickered to you, his eyes dark and intense.
“Because we’re not supposed to,” he said, his voice rougher than before, like the weight of the words was pressing against him too. “Because I’m your superior, and you’re my soldier. That’s all we can be. That’s all I can be.”
You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The distance between you seemed to disappear as he closed the space, his hand lifting as if to reach for you, but then pausing, hesitant. You saw the struggle in his eyes, the uncertainty that mirrored your own.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze. And before you could stop it, before you could think better of it, you found yourself leaning toward him, drawn by the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.
But as you did, he froze, his breath sharp as he stepped back, his face hardening, the walls he had built around himself slamming back into place. His gaze was steady, unwavering, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something that made your chest ache with the realization that this was never going to be simple.
“You can’t,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, thick with the weight of all the things neither of you could say.
You stepped back, swallowing hard, the heat in your chest suddenly cold. You had almost kissed him. Almost crossed that line you’d never dared to cross before. And now, in the silence that followed, you wondered if that moment had been enough—enough to remind you both of the strength you found in each other, even if it couldn’t be more.
But you both knew whatever was transpiring here had to end.
Levi stared at you, his expression unreadable, as if he were struggling with some internal battle. He exhaled slowly, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you.
For a long time, neither of you moved. The world outside seemed so distant, like it wasn’t even real. All that mattered was the space between the two of you, the silence that stretched on and on, thick with everything that hadn’t been said. ( Needed, to be said).
Finally, he broke the quiet, his voice more forceful than before. “If you ever need something, I’m here. But don’t expect more than that.”
Your breath caught in your throat. The offer was there, hanging in the air between you, but it was wrapped in a web of restrictions and walls.
“I won’t,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you were lying to him, or to yourself.
He gave you a final, unreadable look before stepping past you. You remained where you stood, staring at the space he’d left behind, feeling the ache in your chest grow even stronger.
There was nothing to do but accept it.
You would carry this with you—this moment, these feelings—and bury them deep, just as you had done with everything else in your life. You were soldiers, both of you. And soldiers didn’t have room for anything else.