Chapter Text
"Will flowers grow in the saddest parts of me?"
“Eat.”, he says, though it’s more of an order than anything else. He’s leaning against the door-frame, with his arms crossed and his lips pursed.
Hanji looks at him, then at the plate he’s put in front of them, right there on their desk. A thread of steam climbs up from the food and to their nostrils, but they’re not hungry whatsoever. They have to finish organizing their first meeting with Historia, and they have a ton of papers to fill up for that. They can’t give themselves the luxury of rest, or even grabbing a bite. They have to work, work, work. Work to feel useful. Work to numb the lack of feeling.
“I will when I’m done with this.”
Levi’s jaw tenses.
“Bullshit.”, he calls. He’d been in the kitchen for about two hours, trying to cook something tasty and of substance. He’d sent Eren to the markets to buy meat, then had Sasha and Armin help him come up with a recipe. “We need that big-ass brain of yours to stay sharp.”
Hanji doesn’t respond. They’re too full of rage, too filled with guilt. They don’t deserve this, — a warm ration of food, someone to cook and care for them. They wish they didn’t take up any space at all. That they could become small, tiny, to the point they could just disappear. Turn light, weightless as a tree leaf that dwindles in the air. The world would be much better if they were just that; — if they weren’t there to mess it all up.
They also wish Levi didn’t even bother.
“It’s okay, I promise.”, they reassure him, and their mouth tilts into a half-smile. “I’ll just do one more of these”, they point to the pile of documents. “And then—”
He takes the quill off their hand.
“Cut the crap.”
It’d been like that for weeks, — six, to be more precise— before he could see their bones, back there in the tub, at last. It was the reason why they’d lost so much fat and muscle, and all that quick. He’d bring them dinner after everyone else had eaten, then come back to their room, just to find out their plate was the same.
Now, he can’t allow himself to repeat such a mistake. He won’t. He’ll never.
“You heard me”, he insists. “I’m not letting up until you eat.”
Hanji sighs. They know, Levi won’t put it to rest, and so they take the plate and place it on their lap. He’s made them stew, — some of their favourite— with roast beef, and green beans and baby carrots. Looking at it, their stomach can only but twist into a tight-up knot. This is too good for them. Too precious for someone who’s doing a mediocre job, and can barely keep themselves together, at that.
They swallow, breathing slow and heavy. A voice, one that’s deep within their chest, tells them that they can’t do this on their own. That they should make it stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.
“Levi…”
He perks up at their calling, goes kneel next to the chair where they’re sitting at. They used to sound lightweight, carefree. As if they could float with no strings to bring them down. He thinks, it is completely different from what they sound like now. Suddenly, it’s like their wings have gone hefty, and they can’t roam and fly no more. As if asking for help became a burden, and they were willing to bite their tongue until it hurt too much.
“What is it?”, he whispers. There they are; broken all over, fallen just as fast as he’s yearning to mend them back together. “I told you…”, he exhales. “I’m not leaving.”
Hanji nods. They’re not worthy of Levi, — his unwavering kindness. He’s a wandering soul, someone who’s just as cracked-up as they are. But his heart is soft, — even when buried deep beneath the walls he’s built—, and it aches to give, and give, and give. All they’d done in turn was take, and suck at their role as a commanding officer, instead.
“Would you have a meal with me?”
He glances up at them for a moment. Warm-toned shadows dance in the hollows of their cheeks, — their one eye glassy, ever-so-full of tears. They look defeated, warn-out. As if they’d been fighting this inner monster, and the gashes from the battle were finally starting to bleed sprung. He hates to see them like this; rather frail than they’re strong, more concave than they’re convex. There’s, truly, nothing in this world he’d not give to swallow their blue, then carry it with him on their behalf.
“Sure.”, he says, because he can never say otherwise. He wants to pet every demon that's woke inside of them. To tame every shattered piece from where sadness leaks.
Hanji stares at him, almost a second too long, and blinks into the dim light coming off the lamp. They realize, as their pupils meet, that Levi is blisteringly grateful. That he stings with more poignant, burning love than they’d ever thought possible to live within one person.
"Okay.", they smile. A shy, wonderful thing that doesn't quite reach their eyes, yet. Levi nods again, then gets up from the floor and to the kitchen. He wishes he could see happiness bloom on their face once more. That, next time they laugh, it's for real, and raw, and makes them release all those weird little noises that they usually make.
"Okay."
The next five minutes after that, he's out of the room and into the diner, then back into the room again. He holds a loaf of bread that's been left after dinner, and that he feared he’d have to fight Sasha to get his hands on.
“Now eat.”, he repeats, as he sits by the edge of the bed. The mattress sinks under his weight, and Hanji turns to him. “Or I can throw this at your face.”, he points at the piece of bread. “It’s gotten hard enough.”
They smile at him again, wider this time. Their one eye crinkles slightly, dazzling at the sight of him. Levi’s like a little kid, on occasion; cranky, and demanding, and with a stare that’s broad and naive. They have no idea how he does it; keep his cool like that. They’re brittle, and just as the wildest of fires, they’re never meant to be caged. Their emotions run free, and ebb like the river flows, and so they can’t control their pain, their anger. But with him’s different. He’s the steely calm in frozen lakes. The pale blue moonshine; a light that doesn’t set your skin ablaze.
“Hey.”, they talk again, merely above a whisper. The air smells of chill October nights, and meat damped in warm herbs. They hadn’t taken their first bite yet, their stomach’s still spinning. But they can sense it in the mist that rises from the plate. Pepper, and the sugary scent of paprika. They pull the spoon closer up their nose. “Did Sasha help you do this?”
Levi huffs. He’d rather Hanji have their mouth full and busy, instead of putting him on the spot like that— ever so evidently.
“Shut up.”, he says, as he rips the crust off the bread with his teeth. His face feels hot, and red, and searing all of a sudden, though he tries to blame it on the heat coming off of Hanji’s food, anyways. “I told you; starvation must have affected that shitty mind of yours.”
The tender rays prompt their eyes wide open, at last. They’re huddled in bedsheets, basked in a pallet of golds, and reds, and warm tones.
Next to them, Levi breathes slowly; his hair an ink smash that spills against the pillow. They had slept together the night before, more so in the strict sense of the word. He was about to go after they’d had dinner, but then they’d stopped him halfway through.
“Please.”, they’d held his hand. They didn’t even have to ask it straight out. Levi knew, just from looking at how their fingers entwined; — his cheeks glimmering under the oil lamp.
“Alright.”, he’d said, as he kicked off his shoes, and sat back on the bed. He stared at Hanji’s meal, that was still left unfinished on their chair, then at them again. “But let me go do the dishes first.”
Now, they’re the one staring at him, for a change, — watching him sound in his slumber. His face looks more delicate when he’s peaceful like this, — not scowling at the world. The sun makes his long, long lashes glitter, and there’s an angelic aura to him. Like he’s a fallen star that they’ve dared hold precious, cupped inside their once bare palms.
“Oh, Levi…”
Only a couple hours earlier, he’d tried to take their eyepatch off; his fingers soft on calloused skin. They’d been adamant on it at first, not really sure of showing such a wound out in the open. But then it happened; slow, and cautious, and tender, — like sugar melting on the stove. He’d inched close to them, stroked their hair as he slid off the fabric.
“Are you gonna teach the cadets the first-aid course this year?”, he’d asked. His hands lingered on their face for a moment, tracing the marks that the eyepatch had left. “Wouldn’t trust you to do it if you can’t even let the skin breathe properly.”
Hanji leaned into the touch.
“Scatterbrain.”, they’d huffed, though they were smiling, even if the tiniest of smiles. Levi was so gentle, so caring and warm with them, how could they not? He made them feel pretty— for once— safe, at home. As if none of the red flesh, and the white iris, and the sinking nightmares were really visible, and it was just them. The passionate nerd. The reckless scientist. No injuries. No reasons to hide from people.
“We’ll have to set the recruitment campaign first.”
They scoot over to him now, flip a thread of black behind his ear. He’s so beautiful, their fingers burn at the spots where they meet him. Levi Ackerman; a fragile soul that life had been too bleak to. The timid gold peaking from under a cracked-up surface. All they wish for, is to protect him from disaster. To cradle him in their arms, and never let anything hurt him ever again.
“Hi.”, he greets them, as if he knew they’d been staring all along. His voice is rough and low; a single dimple drawn at the corners of his lips.
Hanji kisses him in the space between his eyes.
“Sleepyhead.”, they giggle, and their thumb and index pit-pat at his temples, making him laugh a bit, as well. “Hi, good morning.”
On any other day, Levi Ackerman would be completely against anyone eating in the bathroom. Today, however, seems to be the exception to the rule. He’s styling Hanji’s hair before their meeting with Historia, and he’s let them have breakfast as he does so. It is mandatory that they get some food into their system, after all. He doesn’t quite care about how or where.
“Can I look already?”, they insist, for what seems like the tenth time that morning. Their mouth is full of the oat cookies the kids have made, and a few crumbs rapidly fall to their lap.
Levi takes a step back to better study his doing. The brown tips are fresh-cut and uneven, just the way they’d like it. Their waves, now shorter, remain wet but frame their face like their features have been sculpted.
“Jesus Christ, Four Eyes.”, he cusses out. He hovers over them, all of a sudden, not even thinking about the effects it may have on him. His hand is on their chin, his thumb almost brushing on their bottom lip. Their pupils meet, he tilts their head up, Hanji says nothing. They don’t mind him touching them like that; — smooth, silky, yet the tiniest bit of rough, though. There, with his palms folded to their jawline, they swear, they can get lost in the thrill of it all. They could catch every stroke, every stare of his, make time go froze.
“Can I look now?”, they ask again. They can feel the hitch on his breath, close as they are to him. Can see the rose pinch in his cheeks, even under the morning sun. “We’re gonna be late!”
“We’re not.”, Levi raises a brow at them. His eyes go from theirs, to their lips, back to their eyes once more. Then, he pulls away. “Don’t be stupid.”
Hanji takes another bite at their cookie.
“Move your ass out of the way, then!”, they shout at him, waving so that he stops blocking the mirror. It is a picturesque scene, sure enough— them being in the bathroom. There are two cups of tea on the boudoir; the air smells of herbs, and soap, and vanilla oats. Add a round, fluffy dog and a newspaper, and they could very much become one of those married couples they see in magazines, Levi figures. Add a mini-Hanji, with big brown eyes, and a smile with missing-tooth, and they could be the typical family they run into at the markets, sometimes.
He scoffs, then removes the towel off their shoulders. His fingers comb through the thick strands, undoing every knot and tangle, and Hanji shrieks at him, complaining that he’s made their scalp hurt.
“Serves you right for bitching like a fool all morning.”, he says, though there’s quite the sweetness to his tone.
It makes them burst out laughing.
“Levi…!”
They take a peek at what he’s done, just after he goes to stand behind them. Their bangs have changed shape, with a few brown locks falling over their eye-patch. Their mane’s now not as thick as it used to, either, but rather tamer and more polished, instead.
They love every second of it.
For a moment, even if fleeting, they feel like themselves again. Not too masculine, never that feminine. It had been a while since emotions built up inside of them like this— a bright neon effervescent. They had lost themselves being Commander, scheduling up meetings, tucked away too far from their lab and research. It’s why it hits them now, hard as a punch to the stomach, to see their reflection. The way their hair falls, shaggy and untamed— it reminds them of older times, when the world hadn’t robbed them of their happiness. They’d roll in the mud, rag the knees of their overalls, then ask dad to style their braids into a bowl-cut.
“Well…”, they sniff, almost as if they’re trying to hide the one tear that falls. Levi’s still there, with both hands on their shoulders; his eyes meeting theirs in the mirror, ever so full of fondness. “How do I look?”
He gives them a light squeeze.
“Not bad.”
The first thing that catches Levi’s attention, is how meticulously clean Historia’s castle is. The floors are covered by a long, red carpet with golden flicks on its edges. The windows are so tall, so crystal-cleared, it makes him wonder if there’s even glass panels to hold them together.
“Hm, what cleaning products do they use?” , he thinks, before he can stop himself in time. He wants to ask Hanji, who walks besides him, but they are all too concentrated in the historic flags and banners that hang from the walls. Besides, they know nothing about cleaning, either way.
“We’re here for a military meeting, not a museum visit, Four Eyes.”, he tells them, instead. They’d been pointing at a door they’d just passed by, which appeared to be the library. Now, they’re rambling about the kinds of books and papers that might be found inside.
“But Levi—!”, they whine, as if to complain that he rains on their parade. It had been months since they had last been to one, actually. They had been trying to read about the outside world, then reflect on what they’d found. He was there, locked up with them, as he usually was. They recall, they had fallen asleep on the desk, somewhere past three in the morning, then woke up with his jacket draped around their shoulders. “Isn’t it exciting to be here?”
He looks at them for a moment. The midday sun paints golden streaks on their brown hair, sets like honey on their one iris. They are gorgeous like this, when relaxed, and pumped-up about anything once again. He realizes, it hasn’t been long since they got back into eating, but their face’s gained some color already. Their cheeks turn a flushed pink when they talk; their skin soft and plump, — it’s kind of rewarding to see.
“Sure.”, he shrugs, and Hanji elbows him, making him flinch. “Fuck you.”
“Aye!”, they shush him, with their eyes wide-opened. They have arrived to the last room in the hallway; the one where Historia awaits. The door’s closed before them, and everyone gathers around in unison. “Not in front of the kids!”
Levi huffs. Oh well, they’re finally here.
A lot is an understatement to all there is left to do. Levi and Hanji are excited about it, though— and it’s the first time in a long time that they are.
The meeting with Historia had gone well— or better, actually. It was just them; no Military Police, no higher-ups to screw things over. For a moment, it even felt like nothing had changed. Like they had all travelled years back, and were just discussing strategy over lunchboxes and juice.
Levi had made sure Hanji ate their share, certainly so. Historia had prepared tomato-and-cheese sandwiches with walnut cookies and fresh tea. So, he’d peak at them through the corner of his eye, then fill their plate with one more bite right when they weren’t looking. They wouldn’t say a word about it, either way, but they’d let the tiniest of smiles escape. Pull at Levi’s coat as if to thank him. Their stomach still felt closed and tied-up in knots, and it was hard for them to chew in front of everyone else. It was him— him being there— that somehow made it easier for them, though. As if his sole presence was enough of a saving grace.
“We need to start making lists!”, they tell him, almost out of the blue. They had agreed on building an orphanage, to foster every child both from the surface and the Underground city. It was an ambitious project to begin with, — a high bet. Hanji’s head went overload just thinking about it. “Aren’t you excited?”, they prod at him; their elbow on his ribs.
Levi grunts. Truth is, he is, after all. He’d just rather Hanji not put his emotions out to show like that.
“You’re more excited than I am.”, he lies. They’re at one of the castle’s balconies, watching the kids play on the yard. They’re all running after each other, rolling through the fields. Eren’s the only one who sits alone, distant, to the side. Almost like he’s too lost in the moment to even participate. “I wouldn’t wanna hear these ones”, he points at Sasha and Connie, who’re pushing Jean down the hill. “Complain like little rats on construction day.”
Hanji laughs a bit. The early-afternoon paints the skyline a mix of light orange and gold. It’s a sunny, peaceful day out, here in the open. The air is warm, and they lowkey wish they could freeze each second. That they could guard this view inside a bottle; the kids’ laughing, Levi’s side profile under the soft rays.
“You’re too hard on them.”, they say.
He shrugs. He knows Hanji all too well, — has them all figured out already.
“And you’re too easy-going.”
At that, they can’t really fight back at him. Instead, though, they put an arm around his shoulder, ruffle his hair like it’s no one’s business.
“Because—!", they whine. They can sense how rigid his muscles get when being this close. Can see the slightest tinge of red that spreads across his temples, the bridge of his nose. “They’re just children, right?!”, they smile again. Further upfront, Jean limps towards Connie and Sasha, cussing them out as they both burst out screeching. “I feel like we kinda forget about it sometimes.”
Levi puffs his cheeks, but nods in agreement, at last. The sun now hits him on the face just the right way, — makes sweat-beads gather by the edge of his brow. It’s moments like these, — where he can breathe, and the air smells clean, — that he wishes someone would have said that about him before. That he had a Hanji, a generous queen, back when his uncle had left, that would build him a shelter. Someone that would hug him from behind and tell him it’s okay.
“Hm.”, he hums, and it’s almost like the smallest of laughs is about to slip through. He remembers the day the kids were brought on to him. Armin had a bowl cut that made his head look gigantic, — Mikasa glared at others with such sharpness, it was borderline dreary.
Hanji’s eyes go narrow.
“What?”
“Nothing.” he says, then, with his arms crossed over his chest. The orphanage isn’t the only plan they’ve got going on. If they want to solve things the diplomatic route, seeking peace and allies in other nations, they have to receive governors from all over the world. It’s why Hanji had proposed building more titan weaponry; a tool so efficient, they could make Paradis safe without any casualties. The kids had all been on board. “It’s just that they’ve grown quite fast, I guess.”
Their arm on his shoulder squeezes tighter, brings him in closer. There’s a smile, followed by shrieks and chuckles. It instantly becomes Levi’s favourite sound.
“You say that ‘cuz they’re all taller than you, don’t you?!”
He huffs. Back in the meeting, he’d had time to peer at each and every one. Armin, who used to be the smallest one of the boys, was now at least two inches bigger than he was. Jean had fostered somewhat of a beard, even— his jaw sharper, more defined. It seemed, all of a sudden, that it was only yesterday that he’d taken them under his wing. That they were merely fifteen, looking at the world through big, wide gazes.
“Oh, shut up.”, he rolls his eyes. He has to say, all in all, he’s proud of them, at last. They had once been scared, all but gathered in the corners of the room while Erwin gave instructions. It was rewarding to see that it was a different story now, most certainly. Historia sat front and center, offering food and drinks to everybody, Armin backed Hanji up on doing all the talking.
Eren was the only one that didn’t speak much, after all. He would nod and hum to some of the things that were said, but wouldn’t actively participate like he once used to. Hanji had made a comment on it, after they were dismissed and allowed to roam the castle as much as they wanted to.
“Something’s up with him.”, they’d figured. The kids were running down the halls, half-shouting and half-laughing, racing each other towards the gardens. Eren was the remaining one, set apart from the group. He walked behind, all but kept to himself. “It’s not much like him to do this.”
Levi looked at him for a moment.
“Lay off, Hanji.”, he’d told them; his voice soft in spite of the harsh words. He could see, they were worried about this, though, as much as they tried to hide it. It was evident in the way they’d struggle sleeping, or eating, still. It was there, too, in how their smiles would never quite reach their irises. “He’s probably just going through a phase, you know.”
He turns to them again now. The afternoon light drips on their hair like it’s gold, makes the smallest of freckles pop up on their cheekbones. He’s worried, as well, not so much about Eren— he had been closed off, just like him, back in the day— but more so about them, his Commander, instead. They sure had been happier lately, and that was something, at least. It was that it just wasn’t like before. Never like before. As if they were cracked-up porcelain already, and there was a shadow leaking from beneath the surface.
How could he let it all come down to this?
“We should get going.”, he says, then, and he lets go of Hanji’s arm around his shoulder. A sinking feeling has settled in the pit of his stomach, and it almost makes him want to be sick.
They let their head down, as a response; their freshly-cut bangs cast upon their eyes.
“Well, yeah, right?”, they sigh, with a sheen, tiny smile. They have to buy construction material for the orphanage, and also start planning on how they will eradicate titans from the island. They know, it is gonna be hard work, and it will take them months— if not years— to get it all done. But they are excited, just as much as they’re scared and tired.
“Those titan traps won’t build themselves alone.”
They would have recognized this place, even if returning a hundred years later. The slight drizzle turns the dusty roads into thick mud. The grey fog falls like a curtain, covering the vine-trees that lead back into the city.
For a moment, a singular figment of time, it feels like they’re twelve years old again. Like they’re dazed and confused, and all they can do is watch their world crumble into nothingness. A carriage, one sent by the King himself, rattles up into the distance, as if it’s fading in the clouds of mist and rain. David, their dear David, is there, all tied-up and beaten, looking at them right through the back-window. His brow’s sliced and bloody, his eye’s bruised with the color of a violet’s open petals.
He's going to die.
They can see it in his stare, sense it in each bone and fiber in their body. His one pupil is wide; his mouth trying to form words through the rag that’s over it.
He’s asking for help. He’s desperate. He’s going to die.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
If they don’t do anything to stop this, he’s going to die.
They take a deep breath. Lucky for them, they’re not twelve years old anymore. Now, they’re not broken, or scared, or unsure. They can fix this, make things right once more. They’re a scientist, just like David wanted them to be, after all! They can run faster, and scream louder, and be all the brave, and smart, and fearless that they couldn’t be back then.
“Hey!”, they try shouting, but to no avail, at last. Their voice is hushed, and it hurts their throat, and, in the end, no sound ever comes out.
“Hey!”, they go again, more frantic this time. They can see their dad, their mom, just as broken as David is, all three looking at them through the carriage window. They can still remember this day, just like it was yesterday, or the day before that. They had gone to the city with their grandpa, in one of their many silly little adventures, and then something happened. The police officers, the forced arrest, their father paying bail to get them out of jail.
It had been their fault— all of this. Not mom or dad’s, who were never around. Not David’s, who had woken their interest for discovery. It was them— being locked up in the castle’s dependencies, — for as far as they could say. Being so lonely, for so long, had made them hungry to understand that of which they had no explanation for. Had made them thirsty to go further and cross the limits.
They weren’t a bad kid, though, rebellious as they had grown to be. They would play with bugs and frogs, — would ask dad to study plants under a microscope whenever he finished working. Mom was loving, too. She would invent the most epic bedtime stories for them to hear. Would cook sweet vanilla cookies for them to have after dinner.
It was David— the one with whom things were different. He had always been like them, deep down inside, — or maybe too evidently, out there in the surface. He had been a biologist, someone with a love too huge for uncovering the mysteries of nature. It was fun being around him, — planning how they would, one day, leave the castle and travel further than the Walls. They should have known, back then, that it would all end up in this, — this disaster. That the world was not kind towards people who asked one too many questions.
“Hey!”, they run. And run. And run. The castle shrinks behind them, as they race, and trip, and fall after the moving carriage. It seems, like they’re never gonna get to it now, that it rattles further and further away from their sight. All they can do, is drop to their knees, just like when they were twelve, — let the rain drip like silver blades crashing over their shoulders.
“Mom, dad, David...!”
They were their family, — the only thing they’d ever known. It had been so long since they had last seen them! That day, — that one fatidic day at the castle— had been the final one. They have no idea what has brought them here again, all these years later. What magical force has made them think that the ending would be different, and that they could save them, if only this time around.
Stupid Hanji.
They picture mom, dad, grandpa David once more. In their mind, they’re not on that carriage, going somewhere far, but home, with them, instead. It’s a Sunday, — one of those rare times where neither Eve or Frank had to work extra hours, — and the first few hints of spring start creeping through the window. Mom makes tea for four, dad hums as he turns the pages of a book. Everything’s neat, and quiet, and for a moment it feels like life should always be like this. The smell of herbs and honey filling in the air, Frank’s feet up on the coffee table— like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.
“What are you doing?”, they go ask grandpa. He’s on the diner, trying to fix some broken pottery. The afternoon sun bleeds through the open curtains, and it basks the entire room in all kinds of beautiful warm tones— a hue of pinks, and goldens, and yellows.
David ruffles their hair, messes up the fresh new bowl-cut that dad has given them. He looks gentle under these soft rays. The light, though rather timid at this time in the day, makes it seem like his eyes are melting candy.
“Kintsugi.”, he says, then; short and sweet, and Hanji frowns, not really understanding. Mom’s cracked-up sugar bowl rests upon the table, right in front of their very eyes, and he takes one of the pieces in hand. “You put something that once broke back together.”
Hanji observes as he does so, then. First, he spreads a layer of gluing-cement along the porcelain’s edges, and after that he sticks the pieces one against the other. Their favourite part, though, is what comes right after, when grandpa draws a streak of gold paint where the crack once used to be.
“And what’s that for?”, they jump on top of the table, not really caring that their shorts are now full of dusty, dry cement, — or that mom has told them a million times not to do it, for that matter.
David smiles at them. After all, Hanji does remind him a lot of himself when he was younger.
“It’s an old tradition”, he shrugs. “So, the meaning might have gotten lost along the way. But I like to think that it comes to show us how beautiful imperfections can be, even when we might not see it that way whatsoever.”
They bite their lip now, still kneeling in the rain. Oh, how they wish they could bring back those simpler times, — when the kitchen was full and being with David felt like joy. They tell themselves; they should have never tried to investigate beyond the castle’s dependencies. Should have never been curious, or wide-eyed, or clever. Back then, when they had just joined the Corps and everything else was new, they never even questioned it. Now, however, with enemies pointing at them from every other direction, they weren’t so sure about their old ways anymore.
“Mom, dad, David...!”
Their tears mix in with the droplets that pit-pat on their legs, their hands, their shoulders. Beneath them, earth is damp, sprinkled by the sweet essence of a summer storm, — and they take a fistful of it, feeling its softness underneath their fingers, then throwing it right ahead.
Stupid Hanji. Stupid, stupid, stupid Hanji.
It had been just like this— back when they were twelve. They couldn’t say goodbye to their one little family, and were just as angry at the world for ripping it off too soon, too harsh, too mercilessly. Now, there’s nothing left of them to do to keep them safe. No amount of golden paint to trace over their brokenness and make it look pretty.
“AAAAAAAAAA!”, they scream into the distance. Their voice, which wouldn’t come out earlier, is ragged, and raw, and shattered into a shrieking echo that comes back to them, much quite like thunder. Breathing, speaking, staying there with nothing but earth in their hands, — it all hurts, and it stings, and it’s a pain so deep it threatens to swallow them whole.
“Hanji.”
It’s Eren.
They look up, all tears and snot, and clean up their face with the fabric of their shirt. Down the dusty road, they can’t see the carriage anymore, but there’s a stark silhouette instead. A shadow that’s blurry and dark, and that they would have recognized anywhere else in the world.
Eren.
They open up their mouth to talk, then close it again.
“Hanji.”, he repeats, right when he sees that they’re not gonna answer. His hair's grown longer, and is tied in a half-up ponytail. He's also gotten taller, so much so that his usual shirt looks like it's gonna burst from under his muscles. For a moment, they're stunned by his presence— scared, even. The look in his eyes, everlasting teal, is sharp, and cold, and like his irises have turned to steel.
It takes them a minute or two to regain their composure.
"What are you doing here?"
Eren puts a hand on their shoulder, then squeezes it tightly.
“I want you to take a look at something.”
Hanji nods, and gets up from the floor right away. Eren’s being soft with them, — almost too soft—, it sets the alarms off in their head. Makes them wanna crawl out of their skin and shrink into themselves. They fear him, still. Their brain, a voice from deep within, tells them to run. To go after their family and leave it all behind. Their body, however, obeys him, and does the other way around.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
Their knees buckle again, all of their joints too weak— buzzing and aching at once. Behind them, right where the castle should be, there’s fire— steam coming off the ground. There are no more flowers, or waterfalls, or white picket-fences. Instead, the gardens have been flattened down to ashes. The rainy skies of grey turned to clouds of red smoke.
The Rumbling. That’s it. The Rumbling. They’ve heard about it, but never in ten lifetimes did they imagine it would be this— this vivid depiction of horror and anger. They can also feel it in their bones straight away, as well. The image, — violent, and bloody, and cruel—, makes it seem like their heart is gonna crush out of their ribcage. Like their emotions have been put out on display, and the titans’ feet are stomping up on them, as if they didn’t matter at all, anyways.
“Make it stop.”, they plea. Their voice has once again turned whispery; a gust of wind that’s lost amidst the shaking of the grounds. “Please. Make it stop now.”
Eren says nothing at first. His semblance’s hard to read, if only this time around. He’s no longer that kid who’d use to express himself like that was the last thing he’d ever do. Now, his jaw is tense, and there’s no sparkle behind his pupils. Like that fifteen-year-old boy he once was, had gotten buried underneath a mask he wears to appear stronger— more distant.
Hanji’s broken just looking at him.
“It’s up to you.”, he tells them, then. Behind him, merely meters away from where the titans come from, there are familiar faces that start to pop up, appearing off from the clouds of steam and flames. They can see Miche, Nanaba, Moblit, Erwin, but also mom, dad, David. They are all heavily injured— their eyes bloody, their bodies missing vital parts. It makes their pulse quicken, their stomach churn uncomfortably.
Eren continues.
“If you keep things how they are now.”, he goes. “This is how it’ll all end up in.”
Hanji gets up from the floor again, and begins running up towards their friends, their family. Tears blur their line of sight, their muscles caving in to pain, but they continue to go and go. They are determined; if Eren doesn’t put an end to The Rumbling, to all of this, then they will. They had failed in saving Erwin, Moblit had died because of them, they couldn’t rescue David, either…— at least they had to get this one thing right.
“Let me move forward”, they can hear Eren in their head; his words piercing right through them. “Let me do this, and everyone you love will be safe…”
They close their eyes. Every inch of them; their arms, their legs, their skin, weights on them as they race, up there towards the titans, the fire, the chaos. They can’t help but be unable to shake off this feeling, — that this is all their fault. That this is the price to pay for being Commander, but also for spending a life-time asking one too many questions. Didn’t Pastor Nick die the same way…? For knowing too much?
Maybe, if I can save them now…
Then the hole in my chest will no longer be there…
Mom, dad, David… if I get to you…
Will flowers grow in the saddest parts of me…?
“Hanji.”, Eren repeats, and they put their hands upon their ears to drown him out. They have no idea how he does this; — he’s already been left behind, and yet his voice is in their head, still, ringing loud and clear from inside their skull. “It’s time for you to run away.”
No.
“No!”
Their stomach twists and turns once more. Air seems to have been squashed out of their lungs, but they keep going and going, even in spite of it all.
No.
Their stomach hurts. It hurts, and it hurts, and everything hurts.
No. No. No.
Maybe, if I can save them now…
Then the stinging in my eyes will be forgotten…
Erwin, Miche, Moblit… if I get to you…
Tell me, will flowers grow in the saddest parts of me…?
“NO!”
They wake up to Levi holding up their hair, rubbing circles up and down their back.
“Hey”, he asks, with his voice full of something sounding similar to worry. “Are you okay?”
Hanji blinks the tears away. They are in a Royal carriage, one Historia’s specifically sent to bring them back to Headquarters. The door’s open, since they’ve arrived safely, but they’re leaning over the pebble street, throwing up over the shiny stones.
“I guess so.”, they say, cleaning up their mouth with the back of their hand. Truth is, though, their entire body hurts. Like a horse’s run them over and has left them scattered on the floor, terribly tired and aching.
Levi strokes their back once more.
“C’mon.”, he says. With a hand behind their knees, he hoists them up and carries them towards the bathroom, — no questions asked. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Hanji closes their eyes. They want to protest, — to kick their feet up in the air until Levi puts them down, — but, overall, they know better than to do that. If anything, he’s too stubborn to ever let it be, and, right now, they’re too weak to even pick up a fight.
They decide to give it up, and nuzzle against the crook of his neck, instead. They think, it’s nice of Levi to do this— to care for them like this. Being the clean-freak that he is, he doesn’t mind that there’s vomit all over their military coat. That they smell rancid, — of spoiled food, and of cold sweat. He holds them dearly against his chest, anyways. Like they’re made of glass, and he’s scared they’ll shatter if he ever were to drop them.
The fact that they’re nasty, and a worn-out mess, gives him all the more merit, at that.
“Tch, sorry.”, he grunts under his breath, as he jolts them upstairs, all the way towards their room. He doesn’t really seem to give it a thought, — if one of the kids just so happens to watch. Right now, all he wants is to get them out of their clothes and run them a hot bath. To spray some herbs in the water, maybe put some tea out on the stove. “No more walnut cookies for you, huh.”
Hanji half-smiles at him, then rests their head upon his shoulder. The gesture’s shy, — a small, beautiful thing that makes Levi’s earlobes burn. They know, he must be feeling guilty, — though he doesn’t say it, — for giving them extra food, earlier on in the meeting. His heart’s just that good, but it isn’t his fault— not in the slightest. They should have told him that they weren’t ready to eat that much yet, or that they were already full.
“No worries”, they say, and their voice is nothing but a whisper. “’t was a nightmare.”
At that, Levi doesn’t reply. Instead, he makes a non-committal sound and hurries all that his feet make him able to. The next five minutes, he spends putting Hanji down on their desk’s chair, and letting the bathroom door open as the faucet runs on. He goes over through the drawers, looking for leaves and scents, and finally stops when he finds some that suit his liking.
“We should probably burn this.”, he jokes, as he points to Hanji’s stained coat with a tilt of his head. The boudoir’s mirror is clouded by steam, indicating that the bath is ready, and so he lets them further inside.
They don’t argue, though. They just peel the fabric off, and throw it far in their opposite corner.
“Levi…”
He raises a brow at them, then takes a step forward. They’re looking at him with their eyes wide open, and he can only know what that type of look actually means. He had bathed them one too many times in the past to have it all figured out already.
“Would you undress me…?”
There’s a beat of silence, but he nods, at last. Hanji’s sitting by the edge of the tub, staring up at him with a sparkle in their iris, and he swallows hard. Puts a loose strand of hair behind their ear with utmost care.
“It was my family.”, they tell him, almost out of the blue. His hands go from their nape to their neck, and from their neck to the collar of their shirt. One by one, he lets the buttons come undone, — his fingers stroking each scrap of skin left exposed for him. It is a gift, really, he thinks, then, — to have Hanji just like this, as they are, — imperfectly perfect. He finds, that he can count the moles in their chest, almost as if they’re stars. That each scar that hugs them is a lightning bolt, — the filaments on a butterfly’s wings.
“You never spoke to me about them.”, he says.
Hanji sighs, and stares at him as he kneels down to take off their shoes and pants. He's beautiful like this, — the sunset rifts through the windows and makes his eyes twinkle. They figure, now, as they look at him, that they wish they could let him know, — how gorgeous he is when the light hits him right. How they tremble when he touches them skin on skin, afire love, — and slides the fabric off their body. If they weren't Commander, if he wasn't their Captain, they would have told him. Oh, yes, they would have. For now, however, this is all that they have. The longing glances as they show themselves bare. The softness, the trembling hands.
“My dad saved the King.”, they start, then, as they get into the water. “He was a well-known doctor in Trost, who was called in to find a cure to one of the many epidemics that hit the island.”
Levi hums, and rises to his feet once more. Hanji’s sitting naked before him, — both in flesh and soul—, and he can’t help but be grateful that only he gets to see this side of them.
They keep on talking.
“He was living there, in the castle’s dependencies, when he met my mom, a young royal servant who worked in the kitchen. They did love each other, though they did in quiet ways. Dad at the breakfast table, kicked up with a newspaper and reading glasses. Mom bustling around, joyful at having a light-filled space to stir around in…”
Levi tries to get the picture, stays quiet as he unzips his uniform boots. He imagines an ashy-blonde woman with big brown eyes, tending— always tending— to the tiny plants in her garden. A hooked-nose man with a passion for books.
He thinks, Hanji’s lucky— they truly are. Now that he’s about the same age as his mother when she passed, all he can recall about her is her bright, bright smile, and that one pretty tea-set she used to own.
Hanji continues.
“They would work a lot…”, they say, sinking in the bath-water. “So, naturally, I guess, I would roam around the gardens to explore. You know…? My favourite thing was pretending I was an explorer, going on adventures…”
Levi huffs.
“Sounds much quite like you.”, he teases, and they laugh a little bit. He comprehends, then, as he takes off his jacket, that he and Hanji could not have been raised more different. He’s closed-off, a perfectionist, and they’re a libertine, — the kind of person his mom would’ve side-eyed the first few couple times.
He slides off his dress-shirt.
“Wha— woah there!”
It seems, they’re taken aback for a moment, though his gesture is not fully unwelcome. Around them, the air’s scented of wet flowers and the cleaning shampoo Levi’s made for them, and so they realize, they don’t need to check in twice to know that he’s blushing.
“Are you— are you coming in?”, they point at the tub.
He raises a brow.
“What?”, he goes, trying to keep a straight face. “I smelt like shit too.”
Hanji crosses their arms over their chest.
“Oh, so you’re implying I smelt like shit?”
Levi rolls his eyes.
“You did.”
At that, Hanji can’t really argue with.
“Yeah, you’re right”, they smile at him. “I did.”
They watch over at him as he gets into the tub with them. Now that they’re facing each other completely, their legs entangle and their skins rub, — and Levi can’t help but notice how delicate Hanji is.
No, he corrects himself. Kuchel would have loved them. They are a hot mess, a force as reckless as an autumn chill — that much is true. But they are also a sensible being. Someone who's poised and somewhat graceful, — like flowers painted on a porcelain vase.
"As I was saying!", they lift up a finger, then, suddenly interrupting his train of thought. There is something about bathing together that unnerves him. It’s their laughter, erupting as freely as the soap-bubbles. The conversation, always good, always flowing, — until water has run cold and their fingers are wrinkled.
"When I was about eight, grandpa got sick and moved in with us, granted by a special permission from the King."
He tries too hard not to smile.
"Ah, I see..."
A moment of silence passes before anyone even dares speak again.
Surprisingly enough, though, the first one to do so, is Levi.
"We don't have to talk about it if you don't wanna.", he rushes to say. His arms rest against the edges of the tub. The prickling of the herbs against the waters, the only sound that there's left to listen.
Hanji looks away for a moment, then back at him again. His eyes meet theirs, there under the sunset light, and they're sure, right at that second; his pupils are full of fondness. A flash of emotion that runs so deep, it shakes them to the core. They don't deserve him at all, they tell themselves, as they let out a sigh. They don't deserve the kind, ground-shattering soul that is Levi Ackerman.
The night he'd told them about his own past, it had been raining. They had just fought Kenny, and had been locked away in a cabin, waiting for news from Erwin and the rest of the crew. It had been heavy on him, they could tell— opening up like that. They could hear it in the rasp in his voice. Sense it, in how he never glanced their way, — not even once.
"Do you want me to stay in later?" , they'd asked, as if to give him comfort. They figured, a hug or anything of sorts would be too much. Besides, they were already used to crashing at each other's bedrooms at that point.
He had barely nodded.
"I'll go make us tea first."
Now, they tilt their head as they stare, — his lips, the tip of his nose. It could only be fair of them to open up, as well, much quite like he had done, all those years back. He had been so good to them! So, so good! The least they could do, was trust him with the darkest parts of themselves and hope he wouldn't run away.
"It's okay, Levi.", they scoot close to him, stroke his hair with their fingers. They have no idea why they'd done it, just that they felt like it. That there's no need to hide when they're together, just the two of them alone. "I do wanna talk to you about it."
He stays still for a second, then makes a home out of their touch. Hanji's hands are soft, cup his face with a warmth he's never been held with, — it makes him feel like he could melt. Like he's a broken pottery piece they're putting together with raw, sheer delicacy.
"Whenever you're ready, then."
Hanji nods.
“Grandpa was amazing.”, they start. “He was a biologist, and would take me on these incredible trips around the palace...! We would stare at birds or insects for hours on end, until mom would drag us back inside because it was too late and we’d lost track of time…”
In Levi’s mind, he can see the picture almost too vivid. There’s a tiny version of Hanji, — with missing tooth, the frames of their glasses bigger than their face, — that’s pumped up for the world. A mini, curious Hanji who doesn’t go to bed without a single question left unanswered.
His heart jumps and flips at the mere image.
“He was my friend, my best friend…”, they continue to talk. “Since my parents weren’t around much, it was mostly just the two of us. He made me feel so much less alone…! Like it was okay to ask a million different things per minute...”
At this, their eyes go narrow. Like there’s a crack that’s opened somewhere in the heart, and there was space for melancholy to slip right through. They lift up a hand, much quite absent-mindedly, and stare as foam slides its way down. They still remember the time David had captured a firefly just for them to see. How mom and dad would always tell him how dangerous it was, to show them things about the outside, and how he would do it, either way, right when they weren’t looking.
“Isn’t it fascinating?” he’d cupped his hand so that they could watch the little bug inside. It was a damp august night, and they had gone walk through the gardens, as neither one of them could sleep. “It lights up!”
Thinking about it now, maybe it was then, right there— the moment something shifted, they realize. They were up on their house’s roof, and it seemed, stars had fallen to the very ground. That you could lift up a finger, and catch one to keep, — one of your own. Just like grandpa had done.
They exhale.
“We had so many plans together…”, they say, and their voice is merely a rasp. They recall, they would go sail the rivers wide, and climb up a mountain, and read every book that there was in the royal library. “But then I had to have this stupid idea. This one stupid, stupid idea…”
“You wanted to go outside…”
Levi gets it. He does. He had wanted the same, too, back when he was living underground. He finds, all of a sudden, that both him and Hanji were trapped, though each in their own ways. That the skies, seeping up the walls of the castle, were to them what the hole in the ceiling was to him.
“Ah…”, they sigh. A smile twitches in corners of their lips, but, in the end, it doesn’t fully reach their irises. “You know me…”
Levi nods. He’s sure of whenever Hanji’s bored, or cold, or hungry. And though they’re usually an open book, he’s taken his time to study them— their micro expressions. Now, he can tell what it means when their brow furrows just the tiniest bit. Can pinpoint their scars, and remember how they’ve gotten each and every one of them.
“The day we finally did it,” they speak again. “The sun was up early. Mom and dad were busy, like they usually were, and so we swore no one else would notice.”
They can see it in their head once more. Grandpa’s hand, leading them inside the barns as they sneaked in to steal a horse. The smell of fresh pine and freedom as they finally left.
“It was so much fun, at first!”, they keep going, still. “We went to the street markets, and he bought me candy that I’d never even had before… Then he took me to meet some of his old friends…!”
Levi stares at them as they talk, listens with utter carefulness.
“But what caught my attention the most, though,” they say, then. “Were the walls.”, their words float in the spaces that there’s between them, and Levi can make up the scene inside his mind. A much smaller Hanji running around, tugging at their grandpa’s sleeves, asking a million different questions per minute. “You know…?”, they add. “What were they made of? Why were they so tall? What were they protecting us from...? I had to figure it all out.”
He exhales. They are covered in droplets, — wrapped up in a sheen layer of wetness that the sunset makes sparkle. As if their entire body was shielded in stardust, and he was hypnotized, — unable to look any other way.
“That’s why you got so worked up when Pastor Nick…”, he says.
Hanji drops their head down.
“Yeah…”
Back then, they had been mortified, — seeing him like that. They still are, just at the thought of it. Nick’s bruised face, his missing fingernails, — it reminded them too much of mom, dad, David, that one fatidic day in the rain.
“I was too curious, so I asked grandpa if we could go near the wall…”, they continue, bringing their knees closer to their chest so that they can hug themselves from a sudden rush of cold. “I started digging a hole with my bare hands, I just wanted to see how deep did they go…! And then…”, they pause, swallowing harshly. “We got arrested by the Military Police.”
Levi can only bring himself to imagine so far. Suddenly, he’s filled with doubts he’s too ashamed, or scared, or enraged to even bring light to. Did they ever hurt Hanji and their grandpa? Did they torture them, like they had Pastor Nick? Did they touch Hanji inappropriately? If they had, he thinks, those disgusting pigs were gonna pay. He would find them and make sure of such a thing.
“Four eyes…”
They say nothing for a moment. They can only look away, then back at him. They feel embarrassed, now that the truth is out, and he knows that they’ve put their own family in danger. Before him, they’re naked, both in skin and spirits— bare to the bone, with all that they are.
“Levi…”
He looks back at them, with a lifetime worth of yearning trapped inside his pupils. To tell them that he’ll never judge, that he understands, takes everything out of him. So, instead, though, he puts a hand on their chin, lets his thumb brush over their bottom lip. Hanji closes their eyes, allows for him to tilt their head up, to cup their face. Levi’s fingers are warm, trace them up like they’re a precious being, even in spite of their darkness, — it makes them feel safe. As if they were a very comet he’d just caught inside his palms.
“My dad paid to get us out of jail, and then… three days after…”, their voice breaks. “They took them from me, Levi. The King had ordered to kill my family.”
They have no idea of when exactly they’d started crying, just that they simply are. Their tears mingle with the bath-water, but they don’t even bother to wipe them at all. Good thing, though, Levi’s there to do it for them. He always is. His thumb goes from their chin to their cheek, undoes the track that the drop has drawn as it fell.
Oh, how blisteringly loyal he is.
“It’s okay…”, he lulls them. His words, his tone, are soft, sweet. Hanji’s never heard him speak to anyone else this way. “You’re okay…”
They smile at him. This time for real. Then, they spill it out. They tell him everything about their nightmare, about that one day in the rain. They tell him about the weather, grey and somber as their spirits. Tell him about the bruises in their knees, and in their heart, as well.
Levi listens through all of it, holds them as close as he can as they set free of their deepest secrets. They’re forehead to forehead, his hand still on their cheek. Hanji’s so strong, he figures, as he catches another tear that rolls over their skin. If it had been him, losing his family that way, he probably wouldn’t have been able to live with himself.
“it’s okay.”, he repeats, as he strokes their face, their arm, their shoulder. He finds, touching them like this, that their clavicles are not as prominent. That, even though he can still feel bones under his palm, it’s simply not as bad as it used to. “You’re okay.”
Hanji nods, then nestles further into the cup of his hand.
“You’re right”, they say. “I am.”
After bathing, he lays them down on the bed.
He carries them there, as if it's no big deal, from the bathroom to the bedroom, bridal-style and all. Hanji has their arms around his neck, even after he's put them down on the mattress, — doesn't really want to let him go.
"Stay.", they plea, barely above a whisper, pulling him in closer.
Levi stares at them for a minute, then nods slightly. They are wrapped up in a towel, — him wearing nothing but a pair of loose, sleeping-pants. Their hair is wet, and falls over like a curtain that covers up their eyes. Their skin still warm from the water.
Truth is, he can never say no to them.
"Alright.", his lips twitch in just the tiniest of smiles, — the bridge of his nose tinged of a sheen, rosy pinch. He could very much use some rest, as well. It'd been a long day, after all.
Hanji smiles back at him. They're tucked near each other now, — so much so, they can see the smallest specs of blue that spot over his irises. Breathe each scrap of him, — chamomile and autumn leaves.
"You're so good, Levi.", they tell him, — lips brushing his ear, fingers on his undercut. "So, so good to me."
He cups their face. His palms burn at the spots where he meets them, but he doesn't dare pull away. Matter of fact, there's a part of him that doesn't wanna believe them, really. That patiently waits for them to push him off. He never saw himself as good, — not in the way that they have. Quite the opposite, actually. He's closed off, and awkward, and, he's sure, they'll one day get tired of him— his emotional constipation. But they're wild, and reckless as the winds, and smart— so smart! He could never compare.
He doesn't deserve them at all.
"You're tired.", he dismisses them, and Hanji kisses him— one small peck on the cheek.
"I am.", another one, placed right on the corner of his mouth. "But still—", and then one more.
Levi hums. He feels as though his soul was made of sugar— a sweet. sweet substance that melts under the sun. He figures, no one'd ever treated him this soft, — this warm, and nice and careful. Like he could break and disarm, unshielded of all shining armor.
Not a single soul had talked about him as if he was precious, delicate, something that was ever worth to keep.
Back when he was younger, he recalls, he'd had this idea that he was hard to love. It had been after he’d lost his mother, — right when Kenny had left. He thought, if he had become all the strong he was told to, and was alone, still, then being strong was not good enough. But then— then there came Hanji. Goddamned Four-Eyes, crazy Hanji Zoe. They'd stormed into his life like it was no one's business, loved him as easy as it was to breathe.
He doesn't deserve them. Doesn't deserve them at all.
"Hey", he tells them.
And then they kiss him. This time on the lips.
At first, it’s chaste. A shy, wonderful touch of the mouths. But then, right before they realize, it turns to more. It grows, and it climbs, and it burns, — until it’s their tongues dancing, getting used to one another’s rhythms. It’s chests heavying, and numb fingers, and hands on wet hair.
Levi can’t get enough of it.
“Hanji…”, he pants against their lips. They are naked beneath him, there; underneath the towel, — and it makes him feel hot, impatient. Like his entire body’s been set on fire and it stings from inside out.
It isn’t something that he’s proud of, most definitely.
“Levi…”, they pull apart, right when he was leaning in closer. Their breath is ragged, their bangs messy, cast to the sides of their face.
He kisses them again. Harder, deeper. Their hands roam through the fresh trims of his undercut, — his rest upon their cheek. He had no clue that a kiss could awaken all of this in him, — this achingly unyielding desire. All of a sudden, it’s as if every emotion he’d repressed over the years, had come rushing to the surface, leaving him a wreck. As if a cannonball had hit him on the chest, and all the love he’d been guarding had overflown, — no chance of him making it stop.
“Levi.”, Hanji moans his name once more. If he wanted to, he could take this whole thing further, really. Spread their legs open and sink himself right into them. Still, he decides, for now, he better not do it. They’re weak, and exhausted, and it just wouldn’t be right of him.
“Yeah.”, he agrees, at last. “Gotta quit it.”
Hanji nods, and pulls over the covers for him to get in bed with them. It’s not that they don’t want this, not at all. They just know Levi’s heart too well to be sure that, to him, this isn’t how he would have wished for things to go.
“There will be a better time.”, they say, their head on the crook of his neck.
Levi makes no sound, at first. As soldiers, they live in a vacuum of “what ifs”. Their future’s uncertain, — they can’t take anything for granted, ever. He can’t guarantee that the world won’t crumble in and on itself, as Hanji fears it’ll happen. That the sun won’t swallow the only Earth they’d ever known, and crisp them all into oblivion.
He tells himself, then, that outside, — in the Capital, overseas, — humanity’s raging. Building bridges based on anger. Meanwhile, for now, they do have this, — this little moment of peace. A tiny scrap of heaven they've found, here, where it's just Levi, just Hanji— no strings to tie them down.
“Guess so”, he shrugs, and Hanji plants a trail of kisses; from his shoulder to his temple, — from his temple down. Truth is, they can’t be sure, either, — whether they’ll get another chance like this or not. The kids are making dinner, their room is full of sun, and everything else seems quiet. Life stands still.
“It’s okay.”, they say, more so to reassure themselves than him. If they weren’t Commander, if he wasn’t their Captain, they would have let him— pin them down, do whatever he pleased to their body. Oh, yes, they would have. But for now, this is all that they have. The long caresses, their legs entangled under the wrinkled bedsheets.
And, for now, as well, this is enough.
Yeah, it’s enough.
“We’re okay, Levi.”
The next morning, they wake up together.
"Hm.", Levi lets out a tiny sound, — something between a hum and a grunt. Hanji lays right next to him, their noses nudged to one another.
"Hm.", they reply, in somewhat of a similar tone; soft, tired, lazy.
Levi half-smiles at them.
"Hm."
Outside, the sun covers up the skies in a patch of neon-orange paint-strokes. The light barely peering in through the sheer, white curtains. It's a nice autumn morning, after all. The air's chilly, but both him and Hanji are warm next to each other, huddled and tucked under the bedsheets.
"Get up.", he tells them, almost unable to hold back a yawn.
Hanji wraps an arm around his middle, brushes stardust off his hair.
"Just five more minutes", they whine, puckering their lips at him. Their voice is ragged and raspy, deeper than the usual, — and Levi thinks, then, it might as well be his brand-new favourite sound.
"We should get goin'.", he says, as he stretches out his legs, his toes. Truth is, actually, he doesn't wanna wake up, either. He's shirtless, Hanji's naked, the day's sunny. It felt good being skin on skin like that; as close as humanly possible. Matter-of-fact, he'd never even known how much he'd craved that kind of intimacy until now, that he's had it.
"Well, what's our agenda for the day?"
He reflects about it for a moment, then pulls them in tighter to his side. His hand on the smalls of their back, drawing patterns between moles and flesh. He's not Hanji's assistant, — far from it, whatsoever. Still, they make up a pretty good team, if he's fair. They're creative, — a full-on risk-taker. He's the voice of reason when he needs to be.
He huffs, though he doesn't really mean it. At least, not fully.
"Cleaning up your room.", he starts, and Hanji makes a face. "Then cleaning up the yard."
"What about shopping?"
"Shopping?"
"Yeah, for the titan traps."
"Have you thought of anything yet?"
Hanji nods. Suddenly, they're propped up on one elbow, their face resting on their palms. They'd spent the entire night making up ideas in their head, as per usual. Rolling in bed, picturing the chances. It had been too long since they'd last done it, though— gone restless like that. All in all, it was comforting to be excited about anything ever again, for a change.
"We know titans die by their napes, right...?", they go, first, and Levi makes a non-committal sound at them, after. If anything, he's ready to listen to the half-hour rant that they're about to splurge him with. Part of him is happy that this all appears to be just like the old times, too.
"Got ya."
Hanji continues.
"And we've used that tactic before... What was it called...? Ah!", they scratch their chin, as if they're searching for the right words. "Where we've used soldiers as titan-bait, right...?"
Levi has a vague image of where this all might end up in. He remembers the strategy, that one time they fought the Female Titan in the forest. The kids had to stand upon tree branches to attract other regular titans over there. Then their Squad Leaders would kill the titans if they had to.
“Aren’t you suggesting that…?”
“We use soldiers as bait to bring the titans closer up the wall, and once they’re here, BOOM!”, they make a noise. “We chop their heads off?”
Levi rolls his eyes.
“Basically.”, he says. Hanji’s hair’s wild, untamable as the river tides. He thinks, — there, as he stares at them—, had he seen the ocean, then they’d be exactly that. A soul as free as the sea-foam. A spirit loose, uncontrollable, much quite like the beach waves. “Like a guillotine, huh.”
They hum, then scratch their chin once more. If there was a way to build a guillotine within the walls, then they could put the machine to use with the single pull of a lever. They would attract the titans as they’d already done in the past, but kill them without the need to get closer. There would be no injuries. No need to waste blades, or the ODM-gear’s gas.
No casualties.
“Leviiii!”, they squash his cheeks together, kiss him on the pout that’d formed within his lips. They’re straddled to his lap now, — so quick he couldn’t pull away, — plant sweet little pecks on his cheek, his nose, all over his face. “A titan-guillotine! That’s right!”, another kiss, this time on his mouth again. “You’re a genius!”
He says nothing, but watches them as they get up from bed, instead. The sun contours their body in delicate charcoal traces. Turns each scar into golden figments gluing a broken porcelain piece. They are a firecracker, — their one eye filled with excitement. A tornado that’s come unexpected, as if to put his world on its axis. Truth is, there’s not a thing he loves more than to see them like this; happy, vivid, joyful, — as much as he won’t say. All of a sudden, he realizes, it’s as if the mad scientist had come back, — poking from underneath the cracks that held them hostage.
It hits him like a truck, — how much he’d missed it. How much he’d missed them.
“Let’s go wake the kids.”, he says, as he gets up from bed, too. There’s the tiniest of smiles twitching in the corners of his lips. “We’ve got quite a few things to shop.”
He looks at himself in the mirror. Hanji's already up and busy, working and kept inside their lab. They do have some things to do, being frank. They have to design the very first few prototypes for the guillotine, then call in Pixis and the rest for a meeting.
He brushes his teeth, combs his hair. He has no idea how much it'll all probably cost, — or if the higher-ups will take approve of their budget. But he's hopeful for it, regardless. For the first time in forever, he feels like they finally stand a chance. If they can prove that this new method can bring no casualties, then there's no reason why Nile or Zackly would say no.
He washes his face. For a moment, it's almost as if he can see Erwin, Mike, Petra, standing there, staring back at him from inside the mirror. They are calm, at peace, it seems. As clouds suspended in the breeze. He can very much quite hear their voices, Erwin telling him that he's proud, — that he's done well.
They're still clear as day, — the memories of the times he'd lost them. He can still remember Petra's eyes, — lifeless, glassy. How his knees went weak the exact moment Moblit told him of Mike's death, as well. It had been all too incredibly painful, — having to endure grief like that. It never got any easier, even as comrades came and went. Hanji was right at that. They faced humans' own, futile fragility every single day, — and yet, it was impossible to get used to it. It never hurt any less.
He sighs. There's a pull that's settled in his chest, — a lump that makes it hard for him to breathe. For years on end, he'd had the impression of having this crack in there, right where the heart was supposed to be. Like he was made of porcelain instead of flesh and muscles, and he was ever so fragile, — all beat-up and broken.
He finds that he resembles that a lot, — loose shards of pottery that someone's glued together. Loss, absence, had once shattered him in half. At first, it ached so, so bad, he'd have no idea he'd survive it. But then something happened, — something magically beautiful. It bloomed; slow, and tender, and cautious, like flowers pushing through the concrete. He could think of his comrades without his soul sinking into two. His broken edges had been smoothed out with liquid gold.
It was a relief knowing that their deaths wouldn't be in vain, now. Not if they could eradicate the titans without anyone else having to perish anymore.
He smiles at his reflection. That was what they’d always wanted, — what he always wanted; — for no one to suffer. The world had taken too much from him, — way more than he had asked for. And yet, he still ached for it with every inch and fiver of himself. For the longest of times, faces of the fallen had chased him in his sleep. They were inside the titans’ mouths, killed in the streets, — their eyes missing, the smell of blood filling in the air. Now, it was all changing. It was a marvelous thing, really. To be able to give meaning to that you can’t explain, at last. To be able to recall simpler, older times with the fallen, and for the walls to not come crumbling down in the process.
Now, nobody else would have to hurt no more. Not like before. Not pointlessly.
It all made sense.
“H—Heichou!”, he hears Armin call from outside. The sun filters through the window, — paints the room in a kaleidoscope of goldens and yellows. “Hanji-san has been looking for you.”
He smiles again. Truth is, his heart jumps at the mention of their name. It flips, and it dances, too, — like it could float inside his chest. It is nice having the kids here, as well, he figures, as he finishes pinning up his shirt. After Shiganshina, headquarters are still quite empty, but they’re all tight-knitted together. Like a big family of misfits that somehow fit with one another.
“Oi, tell them I’m coming.”
The lab is empty by the time he opens up the door. He can see the messy piles of paper on the desk, like a windchill has brushed over its surface. Recognize Hanji’s handwriting and tiny drawings that they made upon the yellow pages.
He takes another look around, if only for a single moment. It’s a sight to behold, if he’s honest, — this tiny scrap of joy they’d found. Truth be told, he holds this space just as dear as Hanji does. It makes him happy to know that they’re back. That the part of them that’s curious has seemed to return.
In the last six weeks they’d been Commander, they’d been like the crescent moon, — their shadows their one full visible side. It had been new to him, — seeing them like that, ever so dimmed of their shine. To him, Hanji had always been like the sun; bright, warm, beautiful. It was nice to know that, now, light was creeping back upon their edges. That, though slow and cautious, he could now look at more than just their dark corners.
He hums to himself, gets further in the lab and goes straight up to the desk. The sudden urge to organize books and papers takes over him, but he lets it slide, just for the sake of it. The last night he’s been in here with Hanji, it seemed like it was a lifetime ago. They had stolen a bottle of liquor up from Moblit’s cabinet, then gone look for him at the diner.
“Commander!”, they’d laughed, almost slurring the words together. Their eyes were already shot red; a drop of alcohol dripping from the corners of their mouth. “He wants me to be Commander!”
Levi had sighed, then taken the bottle far off their reach. They had drunk enough already.
“Nothing will happen.”, he’d said. They were leaving for Shiganshina in a couple hours, since it was safer to do it at night, when the titans were still inactive. “Doesn’t matter if we get our asses kicked. We’ll all return in one piece and you’ll still get to work on this shithole.”
Hanji had laughed harder. They needed water, lots of it. And a cold-ass bath, preferably.
“Shithole.”, they’d repeated, almost as if testing the words on their tongue. Then, they’d burst out into a fit of shrieks and giggles, once more. Levi had no idea what was so funny. “You love this place just as much as I do, short stack.”
He nods at the memory, now. Hanji was right, back then. They always were. He remembers long conversations, stretching late into the a.m. Shared cups of tea gone cold. Hanji falling asleep over their notebook, — then him tucking them in into his jacket, after. These walls had seen all shades of them. Had witnessed every season. The shelves were packed and unorganized. The floors weren’t particularly cut-clean. But it was impossible to not have grown fond of every trace and tiny corner. He doesn’t realize until now how much he’d missed this, too.
“Heichou!”, Sasha interrupts his one little moment of quiet. She’s stopped by the entrance and has one fist to her chest, saluting him, — her face smothered with white specs of sugar.
Oh well, he thinks, as he watches her standing there; — he sure must have forgotten to close the door again.
“Hanji-san is in the kitchen; in case you were looking for them.”
He can only hope she’s not watched him get all nostalgic like this.
“Sure”, he says, and he starts walking off towards the diner. Sasha follows suit, walking right behind him. “Thanks.”
Five minutes later, and then they’re there, at last. The sun, filtered through the window railings, draws stripes and patterns on the walls. The air smells of lime and sweet vanilla pie. Hanji is cooking.
He stops in his tracks.
Hanji. Is. Cooking.
He almost has to pinch himself to see if it’s real.
Hanji, who six weeks ago, would skip all four meals. Hanji, who’d feel so guilty, they’d vomit after finishing up a dish. Hanji, who’d dropped so much weight and so fast, their bones were visible through the flesh. Hanji, who'd once been so busy, they'd forgotten about how to take care of themselves.
They were cooking. Licking off the dough from the tip of the spoon. Humming a happy tune. Cooking.
It made his chest burst up with joy. Their hair is in its usual half-tied pony, their nose powdered-up with flour. They're so gorgeous there, singing off-key, silly lullabies! For a moment, he doesn't even care about their stained clothes, — or that they're not wearing an apron, either. He's just filled with a suffocating emotion, — the deepest kind of yearn— simply watching them be.
Oh Hanji. His Hanji. Hanji Zoe. They're back. Clumsy, and fierce. Dorky and fun. Raw, and wild, and pretty as the day he's met them.
"You're all gonna clean this up, I guess, huh?", he raises a brow at them; arms crossed over his chest. He's leaning over the door-frame, — his pants and shirt way too neat in contrast to how the rest of the place is.
They wave at him, then tuck a strand of brown behind their ear. A wide grin stretches out their features, their cheeks burnt with the lightest, most sheen of blushes.
"Oh, Levi!", they say, as they keep on mixing the dough. They'd been so focused elsewhere; they didn't even notice he'd been standing there. "Hi, welcome! Sorry, I didn't see you were here already!"
He rolls his eyes at them.
"Yeah, I figured. What did you need?"
Hanji smiles at him a second too long. The sun makes their irises twinkle, a dimple carved-out on their chin. They look healthier than how they did six weeks ago, that's for sure. Their face is full of color, their eyebags much less visible now that they’re rested. Levi can't help but want to kiss them, right there and then. He would if the kids weren't present to see, he tells himself. Were he braver, bolder, he would walk right up to them, not an ounce of hesitation. Put a hand on their nape and pull them close to him.
“Heichou”, Sasha taps him on the shoulder. Armin’s handing him a spoon and an apron, Jean helping Hanji decorate the pie that’s on the counter. “Are you okay?”
He nods. The image that unfolds right in front of him, is one he wants to guard inside his heart forever. Outside, beyond the walls, enemies hold them at gunpoint. Here, however, inside Headquarters, time stands still again. Like hope had bloomed, at last, and they were all too stubborn to ever let it go.
Soon enough, he thinks, they would have to get to work. To plan out the titan traps and build up the orphanage. Meanwhile, before putting themselves to it, they do have this. A flickering instant he wishes could be kept eternal. The kitchen smells of sugar, the kids’ laughter bump against the tiled-walls. It all feels normal. It feels like home.
He stares over at Hanji once more. They’re dancing now, spinning around as they throw multi-colored sprinkles on the pie. All of a sudden, there, with the light hitting their every angle, they’re not a half-moon anymore, but the everlasting sun again. They’re not cracks on porcelain, but the liquid gold that shines as it holds things back together.
He sighs, lets the smallest of smiles slip right through. He just can’t help it. Truth is, he’s never had this before, back when he was little— this family that is his pride and joy. Out of all the lives he’s lived, he figures, then, this one’s his favourite. The one where Hanji’s his Commander, and he’s their Captain, and it’s just the two of them against the tides.
“Yeah.”, he says, finally, as he grabs the apron and spoon off of Armin’s hands. Sasha enters the kitchen behind him, rambling about how hungry she’s been, — it almost makes him laugh.
“I guess I am.”