You hadn’t meant to walk in on Levi having a breakdown, but it happened anyway. Late one night, you’d gone to his office after hearing faint sounds—whimpering, of all things—slipping past the door. Instead of a sharp reprimand, you found him hunched over, shoulders trembling, tears slipping silently down his face.

Of course you stayed. Of course you helped him calm down.

What you didn’t realize at the time was that you’d become the only person who had ever seen him that vulnerable. And after that night, something shifted.

Levi started coming to you more often. Not for words, not for explanations—just quiet contact. A hand brushing against yours in passing. An unannounced hug while you were in the middle of a conversation. You’d pat his head, offer a touch of comfort, and then he’d move on like nothing happened.

The rest of the regiment noticed, of course. Everyone noticed. They whispered, they speculated, they tried their luck at hugging him only to be shoved away with his usual coldness. No one knew what had happened in that office, and no one ever would.

Today, as you chatted casually with a friend, you felt familiar arms snake around your waist. You didn’t even flinch—you already knew who it was. Your hand rose automatically, fingers combing lightly through dark hair.

But when you glanced down at him, you froze. Levi’s eyes were heavy, his head drooping against you. He wasn’t just seeking comfort this time—he was on the edge of falling asleep, clinging to you like an anchor.