Chapter Text
Levi Ackerman sat in the dim light of his quarters, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as though he could wring the emotions from his palms. His sharp eyes were cast downward, but his thoughts were anywhere but here. They were with her—Hange Zoe.
He had always known.
It wasn't something that snuck up on him or took him by surprise. No, Levi had felt it long before he could name it, long before the weight of his feelings became suffocating. In the quiet moments between battles, when the chaos subsided and the world offered them a reprieve, he would find himself watching her—those untamed locks, the way her face lit up with excitement over things that never made sense to him. The way she would talk, unrelenting, a chaotic storm of words and ideas that never failed to draw him in, even when he tried to resist.
His chest tightened.
He had never wanted to love anyone. Not like this. Not with the world so unpredictable, and not with someone as reckless as Hange. But his heart had betrayed him, and now he was caught in this mess—trapped between wanting her and knowing he could never have her. Not the way he wanted.
He could handle it, or at least he told himself he could. After all, he was Levi Ackerman. Strong, disciplined, unshakable. Love was weakness, and he couldn't afford that, not when there was so much left to be done. Not when Hange deserved someone better. Someone who wasn't as damaged, as hardened by the horrors of the world as he was.
But then why did the weight in his chest feel heavier every time she laughed? Why did the ache grow sharper when she smiled in his direction?
A sharp cough broke the stillness. Levi winced, pressing his fist against his mouth as he swallowed down the irritation in his throat. It had been happening more often lately, the feeling of something lodged deep within his chest, as though his body was punishing him for the feelings he refused to acknowledge.
He stood up abruptly, trying to shake off the heaviness in his limbs, but the moment he moved, a single petal—delicate, pale, and damning—floated down from his lips to the floor. Levi stared at it, his pulse quickening. It was the third one this week.
The first time, he had dismissed it as something he'd inhaled from the gardens outside. The second time, he knew better but refused to acknowledge it. Now, the truth stared back at him in the form of a fragile petal that had no business being here.
Hanahaki disease.
Levi had heard the stories. His mother would tell him stories before he slept. He knew the symptoms, the outcome. Love unreturned turned deadly. The flowers bloomed in the chest, filling the lungs, suffocating the person until they either confessed their love or had the disease cut from their body—along with all feelings for the person they loved. Since he can't afford that sort of surgery, Neither option appealed to him. Even if he could the chances of him coming out alive are beyond slim.
He bent down, picking up the petal between his fingers and staring at it as though he could will it to disappear. How ridiculous. The great Levi Ackerman brought down by some lovesick curse. But no matter how much he cursed himself, the truth remained: he loved Hange. He always had.
But he would never tell her.
Because how could he? How could he risk everything they had? How could he risk losing her, even if it wasn't the way he wanted her? Friendship was all they had, and if she rejected him, even that would crumble. Not to mention the guilt he would burden her with for not being able to return his affections.
Another cough wracked his body, and Levi clenched his jaw, swallowing down the blood-tinged petal that tried to rise. He couldn't let her see this. She had too much on her plate already—too many battles to fight, too many people relying on her. He would not add to her burdens with his own selfish emotions.
Levi stood straighter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He stared at the spot where the petal had fallen, as though he could erase its existence from the world. His feelings could stay buried. He would endure it, like he had always endured everything else.
He wasn't going to let this kill him.
Not yet.