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You push Levi's wheelchair outside his tent and towards the outskirts of the camp. You sighed. "No, I won't waste your time. It'll be nice."
"You always waste my time. I don't care anymore.", he said clearly.
In other words, you wasted his time so much that it blossomed into something meaningful.
After what seems to be an eternity, you now sit on a long stretch of grass before the sun, Levi in his wheelchair beside you. The view is absolutely gorgeous, life is good, always have been. Humans just like to start wars every now and then.
A little while after the battle between heaven and earth, you found a rare anomaly (considering where you guys were staying at the time) far beyond camp. Full, unaffected land of greenery stretched in until your eyes can't see it. A day after, you ought to bring Levi here before announcing it to everyone else. Thus here you are now, with him whom you pushed all the way here.
The weather was cool and breezy. Despite his objections, he had one blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and one folded neatly on his lap for you. He was the one who brought an extra, yet you didn't need it. A jacket warmed you off enough.
Levi spoke up first. "... There are a number of bodies lying around in camp. This can be a good place for a graveyard."
"You're right,", you brought your knees to your chest and rested your chin on top. "This place is beautiful and quiet. It's perfect."
You don't know how many minutes have taken place afterwards. But as he speaks again, the sun is about to set.
His voice is hollow yet the emotion echoes within it. "Furlan and Isabel would be fond of places like this."
You guys loved the light, the warmth, the grass and the trees, for it is what you lacked.
You look up towards Levi, who was squinting at the sun as wind blew through his hair, exposing his ragged skin. The wind blew through you too, and the trees whispered melodies in the air. It was very refreshing. "They'd roll around in the grass,", you chuckle.
They really would. You'd roll with them and get a bad splinter.
"It's really over, isn't it?" Levi asked. It was rare for him to be the one to ask questions, even more so, questions such as these. Albeit you think about what to answer carefully and honestly.
You blow away hair from your face. "It's over for now. It'll be over for a long time."
"Huh."
His full expression grew dark and his blanket fell off his frame to be never picked back up. You can't pinpoint the one emotion behind this one now, his being is swarmed with so much at once. From the grass, you crawl out to the front of the wheelchair and take his hands in yours.
"You're not okay.", you tell him.
He scoffs bitterly. "Thanks for being cheerful."
"It would piss you off even more if I asked you," you say. "We both know nobody is, this whole ordeal scarred us."
"There will be much more to come. I can't fight in those." His protective dam of guilt overflowed many years ago.
Everything was a reminder of everything.
Yet nothing can remind Levi of Furlan's voice, which he had forgotten. But never is it all lost, not truly. His time with Levi, his passing too, changes Levi's way of thoughts, actions, mannerisms, anything, even slightly. One day, if he lives long enough, he won't remember him or his friends at all. Nevertheless, they'll stay with him in that way. Forever embedded into his heart. Well, that's what you told him. And he believes you.
"You — We,", you corrected, "— fought this one. We can't fight in all that happens after, you know that."
He nods subtly then says, "What do you think?"
"What do I think?"
Still admiring the view, he replies, "About the future ones,"
"Right now, I'm not thinking about the future or anything." You said.
"The past?"
'The past?' The question held so many memories despite its brevity.
"Sometimes. A lot of times. But I'm still living in the present." You think about concluding your reply, but you pause and give yourself a moment. Levi's figure has turned a soft, bright, bronze illuminated by the setting sun, and the mountains that were so golden behind him appear as if they were on fire. Thank goodness they aren't. Enough destruction occurred. "...I'm just thankful whoever's alive is alive, you know?"
"Yes. You're right. I think so too. Everyone but me," He tells you, his throat sounding lodged by his heart. "I should be dead instead of them."
"I understand."
"Thank you." An average person would pour their heart into hundreds of words to thank someone because those two words were overused in whichever way it was. It affects their impression of its impact. You accept his thanks wholeheartedly and give his hands a light squeeze.
"Look," He let go of one hand and used it to point to the view.
You comply. You stood and turned your back on him, letting your fingers slip away from each other, and this time, not with the need to hope this won't be the last. You sat back on the hard packed earth. You feel a soft cloth drape over your shoulders then the sun slowly begins to descend in hues of molten gold, and its fiery rays paint the sky's canvas wide. The birds create silhouettes as if straight out of a painting. A symphony of colours unfolded before your eyes, the sky ablaze with hues of orange, pink, and purple, blending seamlessly.
It's something astonishingly remarkable that happens regularly, normally. No one can paint the world more beautiful than nature herself. Still, it is up to the viewer to perceive it, or disregard it altogether. One can become the artist themselves, stamp the art's connotation in the middle, and others will still object then say they see it differently. Perhaps they'll throw tomatoes flying, too. Perception is for each individual to assume.
For Levi's situation, you can never convince a butterfly of its beauty. They wouldn't even recognize themselves in the mirror because of how set they are on what they perceive to be.
"I'm not okay." He murmured from behind you.
"You aren't," You whisper. "But I'll be here for you. Always."
He says those two words another time. "Thank you."