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there are only two things in this godforsaken world that terrify levi ackermann.
number one are the nightmares. the rumbling fear in his bones that he will wake up to see nothing above him except blue, blue sky and look down and see nothing below his torso except raggedy flesh;
the deep-rooted horror that he will one day be slowly shoved, slowly savored in a titan’s jaws until his feelings go numb and his mind goes blank.
he no longer fears death, but every night he wakes up thrashing in his own sweaty covers, eyes burning with evaporated tears and dirty blood streaming out of the cuts decorating his body.
number two is something he couldn’t—and cannot—ever explain. it is a fear set so deeply in his soul that it becomes part of his being, part of his breath and his movements and his mind.
it brings him to knock on erwin’s door until he kicks it down out of sheer frustration only to see erwin peacefully sleeping through the noise.
how can you sleep through this; he rages, fumes, paces the room running hands through sweaty hair until erwin wakes up and mumbles unintelligibly. how can you sleep like a baby when at any moment, something could attack us, pop out of the ground and snap you up in your jaws and—
it is a fear that sticks a fist down levi’s throat until it grabs a hold of his beating heart and wrenches it out.
erwin, always, wakes up to see levi splayed on the wooden chair in his room, sleeping with his eyes barely closed so as to get up and run at a moment’s notice.
-
bloodstains, especially on erwin’s porcelain skin, are rather beautiful.
he swats levi’s hand off, laughs hollowly that he’s getting old, that the wrinkles are setting in, but levi stares with a ferocity that never truly goes away, his hands roughly wiping the blood off the corners of erwin’s mouth and the scrapes on erwin’s chin. “you look like shit,” he mutters, “you’re so fucking reckless.”
“you don’t look so hot yourself,” erwin replies, tilting levi’s chin up to get a better view of the cuts on his throat. “i'm general for a reason.”
“you almost died,” levi snaps, swiping at a bloodstain so hard erwin flinches, “you’ll make a pretty shit general if you’re a pile of bones in the ground. if we even find your damn bones.”
“that’s what i swore to do, levi,” he says gently, “death doesn’t scare me.”
whatever response levi has for that is muted.
later that night, erwin finds his room unbearablywarm, to the point where he strips his shirt off and lies above the sheets covered in a sheen of sweat.
it is now that he has the strangest urge to get up and knock at levi’s door. the urge to, just for a moment, watch levi sleep—if he does at all—and sync their breathing so they are simply parts of a whole.
a whole that thrives off of blood and sweat and unbreakably, scorching pain, but craves nothing but sweet simplicity.
he craves levi in the wildest ways and forms, from hot tears to slippery fingers to the only night terrors erwin ever experiences—vivid dreams of levi slipping from his grasp and falling, falling, falling with his blood outlined on erwin’s face, streaming down his eyes like clown makeup.
the rap at levi’s door is feather-light, but levi opens it almost immediately, revealing his thin frame in full military-attire, swords and all.
“why…are you dressed like that?” is erwin’s first question.
levi seems to have shut down completely, and erwin abruptly remembers that he is very shirtless.
“why are you dressed…like that?” levi is averting his gaze, but erwin stands staring despite the embarrassment rising in his cheeks.
“i asked first.” the question is teasing in a way erwin has never asked before, perhaps a fitting result for the deliriousness of early morning. he leans forward ever so slightly.
“nightmares,” levi barely mumbles, avoiding erwin’s gaze. “helps me stay put together.”
“ah,” erwin replies, suddenly feeling awfully shallow, “i was just really hot.”
levi turns and goes back inside his room, “what do you want?”
what does erwin want? it’s still thoroughly unclear; he wants to hold levi, touch levi but—obviously—he can’t outright say that to levi himself without sounding like a pervert. “uh—just—you didn’t come to my room tonight. i was wondering where you were.”
the uncomfortable expression on levi’s face grows worse by the second and erwin wants to run backwards back into his room and pretend nothing ever happened. he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. “i'll be right back,” he concludes, and then he is running off to the dining hall and sprinting past a few sleepy-looking, younger scouts who stare at him the whole way.
he remembers again that he is painfully shirtless, and that jean and armin most likely think he’s finally whacked in the head. mind set on his goal, however, he skids into the kitchen to make levi a cup of tea.
“ commander…? what are you doing?” armin hesitantly walks into the kitchen, looking slightly perturbed. “do you need any help?”
“ah, armin,” erwin says, somewhat relieved, because if there’s anyone that knows what kind of tea to make it’s this strangely intelligent child, “do you know what captain levi’s favorite tea is?”
his heart sinks when armin shakes his head. “no…but—” erwin perks back up— I see him drinking chamomile a lot. it’s safe to assume he enjoys it. why are you asking—”
he doesn’t even get to the question mark before erwin ducks behind him and wrenches a cabinet open, riffling through bags of tea before he lands on chamomile and slaps his forehead in realization that oh hell, chamomile is for sleep, of course levi drinks it. “thank you, armin,” he gives armin what he hopes is a winning smile—but is probably more of a half-asleep grimace— and armin weakly cringes back and awkwardly steps out of the kitchen.
erwin tries a sip of the chamomile before giving it to levi; it tastes like a titan’s innards but he assumes levi must enjoy it for some godawful reason.
he knocks again; this time, levi opens the door having shed some of the clanky weapons and wearing only his uniform. “what—?” he trails off as erwin shoves the cup in his hands.
“here. i made you tea. to help you sleep.”
levi glances down at the tea, then back up at erwin, then back down at the tea, then back up for a few unbearable moments until he finally speaks. “thank you,” and his voice is strangely thick with some unspeakable emotion that erwin cannot put a name to.
the sound of his voice, so tired with sheer exhaustion, so full of emotions only reserved for erwin, sticks a hand into erwin’s chest and makes his heart lurch.
levi’s hands are quivering and the cup is shaking on its saucer; he stops abruptly when he notices erwin staring and clutches the cup around the rim with his entire palm, gingerly holding the saucer with the other hand.
he swallows, eyes fixated on erwin’s. i'm scared , his eyes whisper— of what erwin doesn’t know—but the fear in his eyes is brimming over.
the second thing that terrifies levi is losing the one thing that keeps him grounded.
the mass of warmth and smiles and golden energy that never leaves, even when blood drips down the sides like filthy tears.
the thing that is standing in front of him gazing at him with an expression full of pain and concern and god, levi shakes in his boots every time he thinks of the possibility of losing erwin.
“levi…? are you okay?” it’s barely a whisper, and levi realizes he is shuddering despite the warmth of the room.
he lurches forward, drops the drained cup and saucer, grabs erwin by the front of the shirt, and clings on for dear life. “don’t go,” he mutters. just—fuck. stay here, won’t you?”
“oh, levi,” erwin says, pushing the two of them into the room and gingerly closing the door. “i’m not going anywhere.”
levi feels utterly, utterly humiliated for whining and clutching erwin like a baby, but he cannot bring himself to let go until erwin gently pries his fingers away and they both perch on the edge of his unused bed. still, levi buries his sweaty face in erwin’s shirt, inhaling the scent of sweat and congealed blood and the vague lingering of chamomile and lavender still on him.
“oh, levi,” erwin repeats, and hugs him closer, closer to his chest until they are pressed together and levi’s arms are wrapped around erwin’s middle and erwin’s hands are carding gently through levi’s hair.
levi squeezes his eyes tightly shut, forgets about the nightmares, forgets about seeing erwin’s lifeless body, and only focuses on his heart beating and beating and beating. “oh, levi, it’s going to be okay, breathe, it’s fine, levi, you’ll be fine, i’m here, they’re not here.”
neither levi nor erwin remember when erwin’s continued whispers of “levi, levi, levi,” turn into something else.
when did his name, two syllables, levi , turn into one syllable, love?
“i know, love, it’s fine, you’ll be fine, they’re not here, it’s gone, they’re gone, i’m here, love, i’m here.”
levi’s name turns into many more syllables, spilling out of erwin’s mouth so easily and so smoothly he doesn’t notice the difference until he does.
continued whispers of levi turn into my angel, my heart, my love, and before he can stop himself levi is hiccuping into erwin’s shoulder and there are hot tears forcing their way out of his eyes and spilling everywhere.
“i’m no angel,” he mutters.
“you’re my angel, love.”
they stay curled up in each other long after levi’s tears are dry and the cup still lays, shattered, on the ground.
-
in the morning, levi wakes up to bare air and nothing below or above or within him.
he stares blankly at the wall until his heart aches and aches and aches and aches until he can no longer feel anything.
“erwin? ERWIN ?” he screams, knowing there will be no response and no avail.
he sinks, sinks, sinks until his back is to the wall and he openly sobs raw, racking sobs because his worst fear has come true.
it consumes every part of him, every damn thing he sees or hears and everything he can think about is erwin and erwin’s smile and his laugh and his soft whispers consume every single part of levi whole until he is just a being existent in the universe.
“no, no, no,” he whispers; he saw erwin last night and felt him hug him close and pull them together, saw and heard and felt him just like every other night since he died.
levi’s nightmares have been replaced by delusions that he knows he can never get rid of.
it’s euphoric at night, touching and feeling his visions of erwin and clinging to him for dear life but he always dreads the mornings when erwin disappears forever and never returns.
the door creaks open and armin nervously enters; “captain levi, are you okay,” only to get a shard of teacup thrown at him and levi goes back to sinking.
“my angel,” but now erwin is levi’s angel and can be nothing else.