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The Survey Corps knew its fair share of pain and loss. Each expedition, each journey outside of the walls, all ended in bloodshed. This wasn’t a surprise. It was never a shock to bring back only a limb of a once dear friend. But somehow, Levi couldn’t understand it. His squad had some of the strongest, smartest soldiers the scouts had ever seen- but they were still taken just like that. As if they were simply new recruits, or fodder taken by a predator.
For now, he was a Captain without a squad. Once they had all gotten back to the castle base, all he did was leave to the showers without a word. He now sat on his thin mattress, loose sleep shirt clinging to parts of his skin that he hadn’t fully dried. His elbows sat on his knees, his gaze on the old floor.
Levi’s gaze flicked to the door as it creaked open, a tall figure stepping inside. He scowled. He was in absolutely no mood to deal with four-eyes, not at a time like this. The sound of heavy boots filled the silence of the room, as a new weight sunk the mattress down. Levi had expected them to start talking, to go into a rant, anything. But all Hange did was sit there.
It was too dark to make out any details, but he could feel their eyes looking at him. As if they expected him of all people to talk. Once it was evident that no words would be spoken between them, Hange leaned back and settled on the bed. They reached out a hand that landed on his hair, as their fingers slowly started stroking his head in a move to calm him.
He closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. The furrow in his brow started to diminish as he felt their fingers work their way through his scalp, scratching his head then pulling their fingers through his hair and doing it all over again.
Levi did everything in his power to focus on the feeling of Hange’s fingers in his hair, but all he could hear was screams. Screams of his squad. Screams of his friends. Screams of his companions. His comrades. His brothers and sisters in arms. The people he was meant to protect humanity with, all reduced to blood and ash.
After a few minutes, he started to lay back on the bed with them, his head settled on their chest, Hange’s arms wrapping around him.
He felt them hum softly, a tune he could barely recognize. Maybe he heard it in a tavern during a night of them out drinking. The world around him started to fade, the screaming echoing into the foggy distance; The red of blood in his vision going to a cool warm orange of the candlelight, the harsh pricks and force of the winds into warmth and comfort of his companions arms.
Hange’s arms eventually stilled around him as they themselves fell into slumber, the dreams of the two warriors filled with strife and bloodshed. But, at the end of it, a warm embrace. A hearth in a cabin, lit up during a cold winter's night. Lanky, tan arms and pale scarred one's hand in hand.