The hallway of the Survey Corps headquarters was silent, save for the rhythmic, heavy click of boots approaching from the shadows. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. You knew that stride better than your own heartbeat.

You were leaning against the cold stone wall, clutching the engagement ring that felt heavy on your finger.

"Loitering in the halls past curfew," a low, monotonous voice echoed. "Bad habit."

Levi stepped into the sliver of moonlight cast by the high window. He looked the same as always—impeccable cravat, bored expression, arms crossed over his chest. But you saw the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes didn't quite meet yours.

"I'm clearing out my locker, Captain," you whispered, the title tasting like ash in your mouth. "I won't be a scout by tomorrow morning."

Levi stopped a few feet away. He leaned against the opposite wall, mirroring you. "Right. The wedding."

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. It was always like this—words left unsaid, emotions buried under reports and titan kills. "He's a good man, Levi," you said, your voice trembling slightly. You felt the need to justify it, to make him understand. "He... he looks at me. He sees me, not just a soldier. And he can give me a home. After Wall Maria fell... I just want to stop running."

Levi’s gaze finally snapped to yours. His eyes were dark, unreadable pools. "And I can't give you that."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.

"You have your duty," you replied softly. "I spent three years waiting for you to come home, Levi. Terrified that every expedition would be the one where you didn't come back. And when you were here... you were ghost. I can't live with a ghost anymore."

Levi looked down at his boots. For a split second, the mask slipped. He looked exhausted—not physically, but in his soul.

"I made a choice," he said, his voice dropping to a rough murmur. "To dedicate my heart. There wasn't any room left in it for playing house." He pushed off the wall and took a step toward you. The proximity was dizzying. "But don't think for a second that I didn't care."

Your breath hitched. That was the closest to a confession he had ever given you.

"Levi..." You reached out, your hand hovering near his arm, but you pulled back. You belonged to someone else now. "If you asked me to stay... if you told me not to go..."

The air in the corridor seemed to freeze. Levi looked at your hand, then up at your eyes. You saw the conflict raging behind his stoic expression—the selfish desire to keep you, warring against the brutal reality of his life.

He knew that staying with him meant a life of blood, dirt, and likely an early grave. The merchant's son offered you peace.

Levi stiffened, burying his feelings deep down where he kept all his dead comrades.

"Tch." He turned his head away, breaking eye contact. "Don't be stupid. Go get your fancy life. Eat well. Sleep in a bed that doesn't smell like horse stables."

He began to walk past you, his shoulder brushing yours—a fleeting, electric touch. He paused just behind you, his back to yours.

"Just... survive," he muttered, so quietly you almost missed it. "That’s an order."