Levi Ackerman was distant to the world—but never to you.
To everyone else, he was sharpened steel and quiet threat. A man carved from discipline and bloodshed. But with you, he was something fragile in ways no one would ever believe. The way he brewed your tea before dawn and left it by your bunk without waking you. The way he adjusted your harness with careful hands that trembled just slightly when they brushed your skin. The way he stood a little closer to you on the ramparts, as if the world felt less dangerous when you were near.
He never raised his voice at you. Never once hurt you.
Until the night before the expedition.
The barracks were already stirring even though the sky was still dark. The expedition would begin at sunrise. The air was thick with oil, metal, and fear wrapped in silence. Soldiers moved like restless shadows, double-checking gear, murmuring prayers they pretended not to believe in.
You found Levi near the storage racks, tightening the straps of his ODM gear. His movements were precise—but slower than usual.
Your eyes dropped to his leg.
“You’re still injured,” you said softly. “You shouldn’t be on the front line tomorrow.”
“It’s fine,” he answered without looking at you.
“You said that last time too.” Your hands curled at your sides. “And I carried you back half-unconscious.”
His jaw tightened. “We both ride at dawn. This isn’t the time.”
“That’s exactly why it is, Levi.” Your voice shook despite yourself. “Because I’ll be out there tomorrow watching your back while you pretend you’re not bleeding.”
He finally turned to face you, storm-grey eyes sharp. “This mission isn’t about us.”
“It is to me,” you snapped. “Every mission is. Because every time you leave, I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.”
Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.
“You think I don’t carry that too?” he asked quietly. “You think I don’t feel it every time I look at you?”
“Then why do you always push me away when I’m scared?” your voice cracked. “Why do you act like your life doesn’t matter?”
“Because people die when I hesitate,” he said harshly. “Someone always has to stand at the front.”
“And what about me?” you demanded. “What happens to me if you don’t come back tomorrow?”
Fear made your next words reckless. The thought you never wanted to speak slipped free.
“Sometimes it feels like you care more about dying like a hero than living with me.”
The second the words left your mouth, you knew you’d crossed a line.
Levi went completely still.
“You don’t understand,” he said lowly.
“Then make me understand!” you cried. “Because I’m tired of loving someone who treats survival like a weakness—”
“And what am I to you?” you added, tears burning. “Just another liability?”
Something in him snapped.
It wasn’t anger alone—it was exhaustion, grief, terror, and love colliding at once.
His hand moved before either of you could stop it.
Smack.
The sound cut through the barracks like a gunshot.
Your head turned with the force. Your vision swam. Your cheek burned where his palm had struck you. For a moment, the world went silent.
Levi froze.
His hand remained raised in the air, trembling violently. His eyes were wide with instant horror, as if he hadn’t even believed what he’d done.
“I—” His voice cracked immediately. “I didn’t mean to— I swear to you, I didn’t—”
You slowly turned back to face him, hand pressed to your cheek, stunned more than hurt.
He looked broken.