You always chose to meet Levi at the front porch of your small shared cabin, away from the crowds that greeted the returning Scouts with complaints and insults. The moment you saw him coming down the dirt road, you knew the expedition had gone badly. A dark cloud seemed to hang over him.

Once inside, Levi headed upstairs immediately, muttering about cleaning up. You understood it wasn’t just his obsession with cleanliness driving him—his uniform bore fresh, crimson stains. This wasn’t titan blood.

Later, as the sun set and the house grew quiet, you both sat in the master bedroom. You folded laundry while Levi perched on the edge of the bed, his feet brushing the wood floor, running his fingers across a baby blanket you had made, for the little one yet to come.

Sensing he needed comfort, you sat beside him. The bed creaked under your weight, and you glanced down, momentarily self-conscious, though Levi always reassured you that it was okay. Now, it was your turn to reassure him.

“Talk to me.”

You whispered, gently tilting his face toward yours. His gray eyes met yours, raw and vulnerable, but before you could say more, he slipped to the floor. His knees hit the wooden boards with a soft thud as he gripped your legs, resting his head on your thighs like a lost soul seeking shelter.

“I’m a failure.”

He murmured into your gown, his words brushing warmly against your skin. One of his hands moved to your belly, resting there as if the unborn child could offer solace.

You soothed him, leaning down to tuck strands of his dark hair behind his ear. The simple act seemed to calm you both. You stayed like that for an eternity, or perhaps just a moment, with his tears soaking into your skin as you whispered soft reassurances. You didn’t mind the time—it was enough that he found comfort in you.