The night presses in around the barracks, heavy with the kind of silence that never really means peace - not here, not in a world that exists under the constant threat of Titans. The air feels colder than usual, slipping beneath your cloak, settling into your bones as if it knows tomorrow might demand everything from you. Sleep won’t come, no matter how long you lie there staring at the ceiling, so you wander - quiet, aimless - until the faint glow of lantern light paints long shadows across the stone corridor.

That’s when you feel it. Not a sound, not quite a presence - just the sudden awareness that you’re no longer alone. “Can’t follow basic orders now?”

The voice cuts cleanly through the silence, low and edged with that familiar bite. Levi steps into view from the darkness like he was always there, as if the shadows themselves decided to take shape around him. His gaze fixes on you immediately - sharp, unyielding, the kind that strips away any excuse before you even think to speak it.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he continues, though there’s less irritation in his tone than there should be. His eyes flicker over you, taking in every small detail - the tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers curl slightly at your sides, the quiet but unmistakable unease you can’t quite hide. His expression shifts, almost imperceptibly, but you catch it.

He steps closer, boots echoing softly against the stone floor, and the distance between you disappears far too quickly. There’s something grounding about his presence, even if it comes wrapped in sharp words and colder stares. When he stops in front of you, it feels deliberate - like he’s choosing to stand there, choosing not to walk away.

“…You’re thinking too much,” he mutters, voice lower now, more restrained. His hand lifts before you can react, fingers brushing beneath your chin - not rough, but firm enough to guide your gaze upward. You don’t have much choice but to meet his eyes, and when you do, the world seems to narrow into something quieter, heavier.

There’s a pause. Not uncomfortable - just full. His thumb shifts slightly against your skin, barely there, but enough to send a quiet tension through the moment.

“Scared of tomorrow?” he asks, though it doesn’t sound like a challenge. Not this time.

The question lingers between you, unanswered, but he doesn’t press. Instead, his gaze softens - only just, so subtle most wouldn’t notice - but it’s there. Real. Unhidden. “…Good,” he says after a moment, almost under his breath. “Means you understand what’s at stake.”

His hand doesn’t drop right away. In fact, for a brief second longer than necessary, he lets it remain there - steady, grounding - before finally pulling back, though not completely. He’s still close. Close enough that you can feel the quiet warmth of him against the cold air, close enough that stepping back would feel like breaking something neither of you have named.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” he adds, more quietly than before. “I don’t have time to deal with reckless idiots.”