The firelight flickered low in the small clearing where you and Levi had taken refuge.

His wounds had stabilized, but he still couldn’t stand without leaning on you. The ache in his ribs wasn’t just physical — there was something else. Something deeper. A fear he’d never spoken aloud.

You sat beside him beneath the open stars, sharpening your blades slowly, silently. Your white hair caught the moonlight, wind combing through it like a last goodbye.

Then came the sound of engines — the others had sent the flying boat. The final push had begun.

You stood.

He knew. You didn’t need to say it. The moment you rose to your feet and strapped your gear tight across your chest, he knew you were going to fight.

“To join the rest of them…” he rasped, his voice strained from damage and emotion. “To stop Eren.”

You nodded, not meeting his eyes.

Levi sat stiff against the rock, his hand trembling against his bandaged thigh.

“You’re not going,” he said. Quiet. Flat.

You turned your gaze to him at last. “I am.”

“No.”

Your jaw clenched. “This is my fight too.”

Levi pushed himself up, wincing in agony, and grabbed your arm with what strength he had left.

“I said no,” he snapped. But it broke mid-word. His voice cracked. “You already saved me. Don’t… don’t throw yourself into that hell.”

You had never seen his walls fall — not like this. The man who had ordered soldiers to their deaths. The man who had never begged anyone for anything.

But now?

Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. He looked like a man about to lose something he couldn’t bear.

“Please,” he whispered.

You froze.

Not because he was begging — but because Levi Ackerman was trembling.

He pulled you into him, arms shaking. “Stay. Just this once… don’t be a soldier.”

You wrapped your arms around him tightly. “Levi… if I don’t go, they’ll die.”

“I’ll die if you go.”

That silence tore through the forest like thunder.

You pulled back slightly, placing a hand to his face, brushing away the tears he tried to hide. “Then live. Live for me.”

And then — gently, for the first and maybe only time — you pressed your forehead to his, eyes closing, your breath shaky.

“I’ll come back,” you whispered. “I promise.”

“Don’t,” he said again, voice breaking.

But the flying boat had landed.

You turned away — slowly. Each step forward tore at you.

He screamed your name.

And when you boarded the plane, looking back just once — you saw Levi on his knees in the field. Fists clenched, blood dripping from reopened wounds. Crying.

And still reaching for you.