Chapter Text
Evenings before an expedition always felt heavy. Even the air seemed thicker then, and the silence had a certain bite to it that everyone refused to acknowledge. One half of the soldiers stayed quiet most of the day because they knew what was coming, and the other half decided to be louder because silence made them think too much. Neither approach seemed to be the correct one. Erwin understood both.
He was reading a report he had meant to finish earlier, although his eyes never moved past the second sentence. The words made sense and yet, he struggled to register them. Reading about monthly food consumption and finances connected to it felt too ordinary compared to tomorrow. The thought that, for some, it might be the last expedition didn’t help him focus on the numbers on the page.
Erwin despised it. He despised counting possible losses and estimating who would survive and who would not. The world outside was more unpredictable than his pen, after all, and he liked to have faith in every Scout that had chosen their uniform. Still, someone had to worry about it, and it was a part of his burden. No matter how skilled one could be, the big unknown could always degrade it to nothing within moments – too many Titans, bad weather, terrain that made it harder to fight. Death didn’t hold talent in high regard, after all. Erwin had seen too many skilled soldiers get torn apart to believe otherwise.
The door opening snapped him out of his thoughts, and he didn’t have to look up to know who came. Levi considered knocking optional when his office was concerned, and Erwin had never corrected this behaviour because he didn’t mind it all that much. A part of him even liked it, as ridiculous as it was.
“I’m forced to work with idiots,” Levi started, closing the door behind him with more force than the wood deserved. “Franz and Johann started a brawl in the damn corridor. One of them ended up with a broken wrist. Fucking useless, those two.”
Erwin said nothing. He only watched Levi enter the room farther and drop in the chair opposite him.
“What?” he snapped, sharp as ever when people had been determined to ruin his day with their nonsense.
“Good evening to you, too, Levi.” Erwin leant back in his chair, leaving the documents alone because there was no use staring at them tonight. Levi scoffed, rolling his eyes and mirroring Erwin’s position in his own chair. He raised his hand, like it made his earlier point stronger.
“They were supposed to cover the right flank tomorrow. Now one of them can’t fight and the other got his nose broken. Serves him right, I guess, for all the trouble he caused me. The bastard left blood on the floor. Disgusting.”
Erwin kept on watching him in silence, patiently waiting for Levi’s anger to evaporate, as gradual as the process might be. Offering commentary too soon would only make it worse – he had learnt it the hard way. That was the thing with Levi, he cared deeply but hid all of it, and once his feelings surfaced, he had to burn through them until his head cleared enough to hear what was being said to him.
The corner of his lip still twitched before Erwin managed to stop it.
“It does make your anger seem reasonable.” He looked down at the desk, but his eyes focused on nothing there. “I’d like to request your official complaint about their conduct later, though. Preferably when I’m not drowning in financial reports.”
“Tch.” Levi turned his head sharply to the side, folding his arms across his chest. He did not remark on Erwin’s inability to organise the papers on his desk. That was probably merciful. “Compensating for them tomorrow’s gonna be pain in the ass. We’re already short on people.”
“Mm.” His eyes slid over the numbers on his desk. He didn’t reach for the pen, but his gaze lingered a bit too long on the expedition route they were going to take. “We’re going farther west. We don’t know much about the terrain there. Even with our long-distance formation, it’s a gamble.”
“Isn’t it always?” Levi muttered, glancing with mild disgust at the chaos all over the desk. “Those stinky bastards will appear whether we know the area or not.”
“I know. But still…” he trailed off, the heavy feeling returning in pieces. The silence seemed to hold it. Erwin felt its weight upon his own shoulders, although the grief of what was yet to come already formed in his heart, too.
Levi noticed, of course. He always noticed when Erwin stopped thinking about the current situation and drifted into the possible future. Of bodies and wounds, and people that would become just a name on the paper soon.
“Oi,” Levi spoke before his thoughts went there. Erwin’s chin lifted, and their eyes met. Levi held it without flinching and with this determined look in his eyes that steadied him more than he found comfortable admitting. “You’re already thinking in numbers.”
Erwin blinked, trying to remember just when exactly Levi had started perceiving him like this. Or perhaps it was just him letting his guard down. Either way, he wasn’t sure how it made him feel. Not many people bothered to see what Erwin tried to hide. Even fewer of them actually understood it. Somehow, Levi managed to read him better than anyone else, and Erwin wasn’t sure what to do with that knowledge.
“Am I?” he simply smiled, though it lacked joy and didn’t even reach his eyes. Levi continued to stare at him in this particular manner of his that asked not to disrespect him with lies spoken straight to his face. Erwin turned away as the first one. “Well, I suppose you’re quite right, Levi. With Franz and Johann gone, the right flank weakens more than I would like. Our new recruits won’t be able to hold it for long if things get out of control, and I can’t risk stretching our formation even more, it’s already strained as it is. I believe it’s only natural that I’m estimating.”
“No, you’re preparing. Two different things entirely.”
“Do you find it so strange?” he glanced up, locking his gaze on Levi’s once more. The other man’s expression remained serious, and it would probably scare a lesser man. Erwin was not one. “I’d be a fool if I believed in bloodless expeditions.”
Levi had no answer to that, apparently, so he just focused on the wall instead of Erwin’s face, or his desk, or the fingers that wanted to reach for the pen but never quite managed. The quiet stretched, swallowing both of them whole. The candlelight was dancing across the walls, and the world outside was surprisingly silent. As if it held its breath because it knew that not every Scout might come back alive tomorrow.
Levi’s teeth were gritted as he stared holes in the wall. He sat motionless, too, and Erwin studied him for a moment longer before finally deciding to be productive and reaching for the documents awaiting his signature. They stayed like that for a while, neither of them speaking because there was not much to be discussed. Erwin couldn’t stop thinking about possible casualties, and Levi couldn’t change the outcomes as much as he would like to believe.
“I’ll take the right flank.” His voice suddenly cut through the silence, shattering every gentle beat about it. Erwin lifted his head, frowning. Levi wasn’t looking at him. “I’ll hold it if there’s trouble. I’ll help the people there.”
Erwin leant closer, elbows resting against the desk. Levi focused back on him, and there was something in his eyes that just dared Erwin to question his decision. Which Erwin did, but not because of reasons Levi might think of.
“Levi—”
“No, Erwin, don’t.” He shook his head. “You know I have the best chance of surviving if shit goes down. Which it will. It always does.”
Erwin didn’t reply to it straightaway. He didn’t find the words. He knew Levi was right, of course, and putting him where he suggested was a sensible and logical decision when it came to command. It wouldn’t be the first time Levi had saved a situation that had seemed impossible to salvage. His strength was one of the reasons why Erwin had insisted on enlisting him so much. Still, the thought of putting him somewhere uncertain left him with this strange feeling of unease. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in Levi – if anything, he had more faith in him than he found comfortable to admit – but even the sharpest blade could break if given enough pressure. Sometimes, Erwin even wondered if he wasn’t relying on Levi’s skill too hard. Being Humanity’s Strongest came with enough responsibility on its own, after all. Then again, Levi was also stubborn, and arguing with him the day before an expedition was not something Erwin fancied.
At last, he sighed, shoulders dropping a fraction as he looked at his fingers near the edge of the desk.
“Technically, I know you’re right. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Levi shrugged, placing one leg over another, leaning farther into the chair until his back was fully against it, as if the matter was already settled, as if he was not willing to put his life at risk once again because that was what he was used to doing.
Erwin still accepted that answer, even though it still frustrated him. As a Commander, he was aware that it was the best choice. Levi’s reasoning was logical, tactical, and true. Yet, knowing that did not ease anything in him. A part of him wanted to refuse, to say that it was too dangerous and Erwin was not going to risk losing him. But doing so would only damage the expedition, and his private feelings about it became irrelevant when humanity’s future was concerned. Besides, Levi was more than capable of handling a few Titans when situation required it. He had proved it not once.
Perhaps it was why the thought unsettled Erwin in a way he couldn’t really define. The evidence of Levi’s strength made it so easy to forget he wasn’t indestructible. It made it easy to use him for the most dangerous tasks, putting him on the pedestal that only reinforced the belief that Humanity’s Strongest never faltered.
Erwin hated thinking of him as of another piece on the chessboard. He hated using him as such even more. What was even worse than both these thoughts, though, was the fact that Levi didn’t mind it. He let Erwin do it, with the utmost trust that felt so dear to him whenever he pondered on it too much.
“Do you ever consider yourself when you make these decisions?” he asked before he could stop himself, and the moment the question left his mouth, it felt so inadequate to the situation that it almost embarrassed him.
Levi looked up, candlelight swimming across his cheek as he turned. He swallowed, then flexed his hand once. Someone in the corridor passed by the door, and their footsteps echoed around until they disappeared. Outside, someone dropped keys and cursed. The office was silent for a few seconds that made something under Erwin’s skin crawl.
“I consider what’s better for us all,” Levi finally whispered. “I’m the only one who can raise their chance of survival.”
What about your survival?, Erwin wanted to ask but eventually didn’t because that would be inappropriate and certainly leading to a fight. Levi did seem to notice the shift in his face, though, and he lowered his voice even further, the defensive tone gone as he spoke again.
“If you want to be upset with someone, be upset with those idiots that’d forced these decisions tonight, not me.”
That, somehow, made Erwin soften, as well. He focused on Levi’s face, expressionless and pale as ever; on the rigid set of his shoulders, as if he was already prepared to fight; on the way his silences were longer tonight, heavier. He didn’t hide it nearly as well as he probably hoped, though anyone else would have been fooled.
“I’m not upset with you,” he told him quietly but firmly. “I admit you are right. I can go along with these changes. But I can let you take the right flank and still dislike it all the same, Levi. Don’t mistake my permission for the lack of reservations.”
Levi clicked his tongue but did not say anything more to that, and a part of Erwin was grateful. On evenings like this, conflict was the last thing on his agenda. Besides, once Levi made up his mind, there was little to do to change it. Not that Erwin should even try. He valued his peace.
“Whatever,” Levi scoffed, glancing briefly at the papers under Erwin’s hand he had not touched yet. He nodded at them. “You planning to finish these before winter?”
Erwin accepted the attempt at changing the subject and looked down, ignoring how Levi’s eyes lingered on his hands a bit too long before glancing back up.
“Probably,” Erwin responded calmly, letting out a tired sigh. The sky outside darkened as the proper night started slowly approaching. The moon decorated the familiar blackness. Some people saw it for the last time tonight – the thought was persistent enough that he couldn’t throw it away in spite of trying his best.
Levi looked like he considered it, too, judging by the grim look on his face, which was still enlightened by a single candle on the desk, the flame flickering every now and then.
“You should get some rest, Levi. You’ll be tired tomorrow.”
“Oh, spare me.” Levi rolled his eyes, grimacing like the thought of sleep was too appalling. His eyes flicked to Erwin’s face, then to the documents and back again. “I go and you stay here torturing these damn reports until dawn. Though, looking at your face, maybe it’s the other way around. You look like shit, has anyone ever told you that?”
Despite his better judgement, Erwin smiled, and the sudden amusement startled even him. Levi stared at him like this very action offended him personally.
“Yes,” he whispered, avoiding Levi’s glare. “There is someone telling me that frequently.”
A soft yet offended huff echoed around in the otherwise quiet office. The heaviness didn’t leave, not really, but there was something else in it now, too. Something clearer and slightly reassuring.
“You should listen to them more often, then.” Levi crossed his arms over his chest again and looked away. “You look like a damn hypocrite when you don’t.”
“I don’t think it’s a proper way to address your Commander, Levi.”
“Tough shit.”
Erwin would have smiled again but this time, his eyes stayed on the papers, on the predictions, on wondering how many faces he had seen today for the last time. Levi noticed it, of course, because Levi was more perceptive than people often gave him credit for, especially when matters concerned Erwin. Still, he didn’t offer empty promises, and Erwin didn’t expect to hear them. They both respected each other too much for it.
“You’ve led us so far that no matter what happens tomorrow, people will still have trust in you, Erwin.” Levi said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. It was gentle, but Erwin knew better than to assume it was a simple reassurance. There was more to it than that, and neither looked eager to discuss it further.
He gave a low hum instead, staring at the edge of the desk because it was better than facing the man opposite.
“You have too much faith in my command, Levi,” he whispered. His expression was softer than he probably would have liked, but he didn’t care much about it now. The warmth of the candle nearby caressed his fingers where they rested on the report.
“And you have too little of it,” Levi countered, and the tone was so firm and certain that something in Erwin’s heart settled. His lips curved upwards just an inch, but it was not enough to call it a proper smile. He didn’t say anything to it mainly because there were no good words to use.
Levi leant forwards in his chair so his shadow rested upon the desk. His hands hovered over the reports for a second, only for him to snatch them from Erwin’s palms, although the movement was gentler than expected. Their fingers brushed. It was barely a touch, it felt more like a featherlike caress than anything else, but both men froze right there. The silence stretched over the room, suddenly weighing more than it should.
Erwin wanted to move his hand closer, to hold onto Levi’s fingers, but the urge wasn’t allowed to surface more than it already had, so he cleared his throat and pulled away before Levi did it. He looked to the side, the flames dancing across half his face. He swallowed something heavy that had formed in his throat and focused on the shadows on the wall.
Levi stayed leaning over the desk, reports still in one hand, but he didn’t comment on the sudden retreat. Perhaps it was better that way. When he finally moved to set the papers aside, Erwin’s heart calmed down enough to look back at him. Levi’s face was half-lit. His eyes studied him closer than either found comfortable, but he said nothing. The serene look on Levi’s face would have fooled anyone but him, and Erwin gave him enough dignity to pretend nothing else was there.
This time it was Levi, who turned away as the first one.
“I should go now. I still must check some things before we ride out.” He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the wooden floor. He moved the reports far enough to be out of Erwin’s reach. “You’d better rest, or I’ll come back to knock you out myself.”
Erwin allowed himself a soft, very quiet chuckle because Levi would rather swallow his own tongue than admit he cared. He couldn’t really blame him. After all, care was dangerous with the life they led. When tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, one learnt to suppress it.
“And you would, wouldn’t you?” His voice came out softer this time, his expression changing with it, too.
Levi reached the door.
“Want to test it?”
“Not necessarily.”
The next few seconds thickened the silence, and they were staring at each other until Levi decided it was time to leave before either of them did or said something irreversibly stupid. He grabbed the handle and turned away.
“Levi,” Erwin stopped him, quiet but firm. Levi halted but spared him no single glance. His body seemed suddenly stiff. Erwin opened his mouth, closed it, thought of things he could say but shouldn’t, and eventually decided to go with the safest, “Come back alive.”
It was a foolish thing to say, of course. Erwin knew better than to ask any soldier to return in one piece. Yet, something in him needed to do it this time. He needed it heard and acknowledged, even if it meant nothing. Even if it turned out to be an empty promise they both hated and avoided making. He couldn’t tell why it was so important, or why the mere thought of Levi disappearing one day outside the Walls – becoming one of these names Erwin wrote down in the aftermath – made his heart ache. Levi had stayed alive for so long that it felt surreal to even imagine him in a position where he wouldn’t be coming back.
Levi was watching him for a few seconds in the tense quiet, fingers tightening their hold on the handle. The lit side of his face was flushed, lips pressed tightly together as thoughts spiralled inside his head. For a moment, Erwin thought he wouldn’t answer. Then Levi lifted his head and looked over his shoulder, meeting Erwin’s gaze.
“I always do,” he said quietly, opening the door. Chilly air from the dark corridor entered the office. “Worry about yourself, Commander.”
And with that, he stepped outside. Erwin watched him go, and the sound of the door shutting echoed too loudly in the dim room. Flames flickered once as draught moved against them, and he glanced at the desk, at the empty space where the reports had been, and ran a thumb over the finger Levi’s hand had brushed.
The silence was suddenly louder than the thoughts in his head.