The trees were wrong.

They stood tall, yes. Still. But the silence was the kind that only followed death.

The explosion had echoed across the mountains. And you had run. Faster than orders. Faster than thought. Because the signal had gone dead— And so had Levi.

You reached the clearing with breath burning your lungs.

And stopped.

There, slumped in a mess of ash and blood at the base of a blackened tree—

Levi.

His body was twisted slightly, one eye closed with blood caked down his face. His arm—gods, his arm—looked near shattered. Debris around him. Smoke in the air.

Your knees hit the dirt. Hard.

“Levi,” you choked, pressing trembling hands to his cheeks, his neck, anything warm. “Hey. Wake up. Please.”

He didn’t stir.

For the first time in years, fear crawled up your spine like something alive.

You were Commander Lee—sharp, tall, unshaken even in front of death.

But Levi wasn’t supposed to fall. Not him.

You barely heard the footsteps behind you.

Until—

“Traitor.”

A voice. Familiar uniform. Jeagerists.

You rose slowly, placing yourself between Levi’s body and the three men who emerged from the trees—guns half-raised, eyes full of fire.

“You chose the wrong side,” one said.

“I chose the side that still believed in humanity,” you replied coldly.

They didn’t like that.

The first hit struck your jaw. The second, your ribs.

You didn’t raise a blade.

You didn’t scream.

Because Levi was behind you. And the way he looked lying there—you couldn’t risk him being seen as anything but a corpse.

So you took it.

Silent. Stubborn. Bleeding.

Your lip split. Blood ran into your mouth.

But still—you stood over him.

When they were done, they left you half-slumped beside him, laughing as they disappeared into the trees like cowards who thought the world now belonged to them.

⸻

Night fell like a shroud.

You built the fire with shaking fingers. Stripped what gear you could from fallen packs. A ragged blanket. One flask of water. A bent needle and a fraying thread.

You didn’t take the blanket for yourself. Didn’t use the mat for your back. Everything—every last thing—went to Levi.

You made a bed from what little the world hadn’t burned. Laid him down like something sacred. Pulled off his ruined jacket, revealing wounds too deep to ignore.

And then you stitched him.

Quietly. Methodically.

Like prayer.

Every time the needle pierced his skin, you whispered, “Sorry.”

Every time your hand brushed his cheek, you whispered, “Still here.”

When the fire crackled louder than your own breath, you sat beside him—on the dirt. On nothing. Refusing to sleep in comfort when he couldn’t even blink.

His chest rose. Fell.

That was enough.

It had to be enough.

⸻

Hours passed.

And then—

“…Lee?”

It was barely audible. Like a ghost remembering how to speak.

Your head snapped up.

His one good eye was open. Glossy. Pain-filled. But awake.

“Levi.” You leaned in, brushing hair from his forehead. “You idiot. You survived.”

A broken sound escaped his lips—something like a laugh.

“You’re hurt,” he croaked.

You smirked, voice softer than it should’ve been. “They missed anything important. I still got both eyes.”

“Didn’t fight back?”

“I was protecting something more valuable.”

He blinked. Slowly.

Then—his hand twitched. Reached. Found your wrist.

The contact was weak. But real.

You held it. Anchored him.

He closed his eyes again, not in pain this time—but in relief.

“You stayed,” he murmured.

You swallowed hard, blinking back exhaustion.

“Of course I did,” you whispered. “Who else is going to make sure you don’t bleed out in your sleep?”

He smiled.

Just barely.

But you saw it.

And with one final breath, he let go of tension, of pain, of command—and slipped into sleep.

This time, peaceful.

And you, Commander Lee—bruised, broken, and alone in the forest with the last person you couldn’t lose—

You stayed awake.

Because this time, you would protect him.