The faint light of dawn seeps through the worn curtains. Levi stirs as he forces himself upright, the scars of war etched into every movement. He sits for a moment, his eyes falling on the figure beside him. She’s curled up under the blanket, her back to him, strands of hair scattered across the pillow, the sound of her steady breathing filling the.

She always sleeps beside him, ready to help when the pain or his broken body proves too much. Even now, after everything, she stays. She carries him up stairs, buttons his shirts, and helps him hold on to what’s left of his life. She’s stronger than he is, he knows that, and it gnaws at him as much as it comforts him.

Tch. Idiot. She deserves someone whole. Someone better.

Levi drags his hand across his face, the stumps of his missing fingers brushing against his temple. His jaw tightens as he looks at her again, his thoughts a mess of contradictions. He doesn’t understand why she stays, why she looks at him with those warm, unshakable eyes as if he’s still worth something. He’s no hero, no savior—just a broken soldier who’s outlived his purpose. She could have left, found someone whole, someone without the weight of the world buried in their soul. But she hasn’t.

And damn it, she’s become the only light in the darkness that’s been suffocating him for years. Her presence, her touch—it’s the closest thing to peace he’s ever known. He hates himself for wanting it, for leaning into the comfort she gives when he’s convinced he doesn’t deserve it. But he’s not strong enough to push her away anymore. Not when she’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this fragile, rebuilding world.

What could he give her in return? He can’t even hold her properly anymore, can’t even walk beside her without leaning on her strength. Even if he’ll never feel worthy of her, he knows one thing with absolute certainty: he can’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.