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Erwin wakes to sunlight warming his face. A warm breeze flows through the open bedroom window, billowing the curtains and flipping through the pages of books left open on the desk. He sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, squinting into the brilliant white of summer sun, already high in the mid-morning sky. The bed is empty next to him, but it’s no surprise given the hour. Levi has always been an early riser. There was a time when Erwin faithfully rose before dawn, when he always had more work than hours of daylight to finish it in, but that feels like a lifetime ago. These days, he allows himself the occasional indulgence of sleeping in. He had all the time in the world now, after all.
He climbs out of the bed and goes to the window, looking for Levi. The ocean is calm, lapping lazily at the shore. A gull cries overhead. Wind off the water rolls through the tall marram grass, mimicking the tides. There is no sign of Levi.
Erwin tugs on a shirt and pads through the cottage on bare feet, down the hall and into the modest kitchen. There’s a vase of fresh-cut wildflowers on the table, and a recipe book left open on the counter. The pages are yellow and worn, dog-eared in places to mark favorite dishes. The book is filled with Levi’s distinct, slanted handwriting. Yours is too messy, he tells Erwin, who was never left-handed until he had to be. The book is left open on a recipe for raspberry pie, and Erwin knows immediately where to look for Levi.
With summertime, came fruit, and with fruit, came treats.
Erwin slips on his shoes and grabs a basket. He steps out onto the porch, blinking into the blinding summer sunlight. The air is salty and welcoming, sea breeze tousling his hair and playfully tugging at his empty sleeve. The sky is endless, brilliant blue stretching into the horizon to meet the ocean at infinity. A fresh load of laundry hangs on the line, drying in the sun—large shirts and small ones, long trousers and shorter ones. Erwin walks across the dry grass and up the winding path that leads to the clearing. Songbirds flit about in vibrant flashes of color, their voices blending into a sweet chorus over the sound of the waves, as eager for ripened summer fruit as Erwin.
Levi is exactly where Erwin expected—amongst the clustered raspberry bushes. His sleeves are rolled up his forearms, a basket full of berries balanced in the crook of his elbow, hair tucked behind his ears. It has grown longer in front and on top, long enough to twine fingers in. Silver has begun to feather into the glossy black at his temples, which Erwin finds endearing. A few years ago, he would have never guessed either of them would live to see a gray hair that wasn’t stress-induced. He pauses to observe Levi. His concentration, his care, the wrinkle that forms between his brows and his focused frown. It’s clear that he is accustomed to this task, tending to his meticulously cultivated crops. He is careful to avoid the sharp thorns, to handle the berries gently and select only the best and ripest. Berry picking had become summer routine, the two of them making jams and pies together.
Sun-drenched and unhurried, Levi inspects a plump raspberry between his thumb and index finger before popping in into his mouth. He looks up then, and catches Erwin staring. His frown deepens as he straightens.
“You gonna stand there all day or are you gonna help?”
Erwin smiles. “Good morning, Levi.”
“It’s noon, old man,” Levi points out, a hand on his hip.
“Where would you like me to start?”
Levi rakes his hair back from his sweaty forehead, sighing and considering. He points. “Over there, I haven’t been there yet.”
Erwin slips into the bushes to fill his own basket. He places it on the ground at his feet and gets to work. It takes him longer to gather the berries, noticeably slower than Levi with his one-handed picking, returning to his basket a handful at a time. They work around in a circle until the sun changes positions, higher in the sky and hotter on their backs. Until their hands are stained and Erwin’s fingers are sore with clumsy thorn-pricks, until their shirts cling to their skin with sweat. Several baskets full of raspberries wait to be carried home and turned into sweet treats to share.
“That should be plenty.” Levi says. He wipes his hands on his shirt, smearing red, and the sudden shock of crimson drags Erwin into the tangle of his past. Bright red blood and horses’ screams, thundering footsteps and broken soldiers. Levi licks his thumb then, sucking the sticky sweet away, and the simple gesture grounds Erwin back in the present. It’s only juice staining Levi’s shirt, his lips. Proof of his hard work and his sampling. Humanity’s strongest is not here amongst the berry bushes. There is only Levi, Erwin’s lover. Softer now, with sharp gray eyes that crinkle at the corners when he laughs. There are still nightmares. Snapping teeth and wailing comrades, faces of the fallen. Horrible nights when Erwin wakes gasping and snatching at the limb that is no longer there. But Levi is always at his side, rolling over and lightly touching his face, his chest, whispering his name in the dark and soothing him with his presence. Levi has similar dreams, Erwin knows. He doesn’t speak of them, but sometimes in the middle of night he curls closer to Erwin’s side, clings to his shirt and buries his face in his neck to find comfort in his scent, his warmth.
“What are you looking at?” Levi gripes, picking up as many baskets as he can carry in his small hands.
“You.” Erwin steps in closer and leans down to kiss him. He licks the sticky sweetness from Levi’s lips, lingering at the corner of his mouth. Levi mutters and sighs, but he doesn’t protest. He returns the kiss with soft, unhurried lips.
“Do you want pie or not?” He asks finally, shoving at Erwin’s bulk with his sharp shoulder. “C’mon. Help me carry these back.”
Erwin does as he’s told, balancing 3 full baskets in the bend of his arm and following Levi back down the path. Back in the kitchen, they wash the berries, putting some away for later use while picking out the best and ripest for the pie. They prepare it together, and Erwin is unintentionally messy. Levi throws an exasperated glance at him, but doesn’t fuss. He cracks a smile when Erwin scatters flour, sending a cloud up into his face and hair, causing them both to sneeze. Later, they each have a slice, and Erwin notes it's the best one yet.
“You always say that.” Levi says, pointing with his fork.
“I think I forget what a skilled baker you are, Levi.” Erwin smiles. “Then you surprise me again.”
Levi huffs a laugh in response, his hair falling into his eyes. “You just ate field rations for too many years.”
“I think we all did.” Erwin stares down at his plate, thinks of what a delicacy homemade raspberry pie would have been back then. When nothing was certain and any heartbeat could have been their last. When Levi was hard-edged and quicksilver, and Erwin was weighed down by the gravity of duty, maddened by his own thoughts and longing for better days. A future where he could give Levi the life he deserved.
“Erwin.”
He looks up, finds Levi’s knowing gaze staring back. Pulling him home to the present.
“You want another slice?”
Erwin surrenders his empty plate. “Please.”
Sometimes they talk about the bloodstained past. The parts of their lives that feel like another life entirely. The what-ifs. The things they could have done differently. The guilt. For Erwin, there will always be guilt, but there will always be Levi, also.
Levi rises from his chair to grab Erwin another slice, and as he passes, he leans down to press a tender kiss to his mouth. He tastes sweet and familiar, raspberries and tea. He tastes like freedom and home and dreams come true. He tastes nothing like the old Levi—nothing like blood or iron or desperation. Erwin sighs into their shared breath, reaching with his single hand to hug Levi around the middle and tug him down into his lap. He presses his mouth back to Levi’s, languid and sweet.
There will always be grief, pain, and guilt. But there are no regrets. Not in the cottage by the sea. Not with raspberry jam, and pies, and dog-eared recipe books, lazy mornings and bodies pressed together, fingers twining into hair. Not with Levi, a soldier turned lover, who tastes like raspberries and everything Erwin could ever want.