Levi had never been one for displays—not of grief, not of guilt, and certainly not of affection. But as he knelt on the blood-soaked forest floor, your broken body cradled tightly in his arms, all three bled from him at once.

He hadn’t meant to scream your name the way he did. It wasn’t tactical. It wasn’t composed. It was desperate, raw, ripped straight from the gut of a man who’d already lost everything once and couldn’t survive losing it again.

You were the only one who could match him—blade for blade, instinct for instinct. You didn’t trail behind him. You fought beside him. Where his squad had looked to him as a leader, you looked at him as an equal. The only one who challenged him, who endured his silence and gave it back when words failed. The one he allowed closest. In battle. In private. In the quiet, guarded spaces he never shared with anyone else.

And now, you were crumpled in his arms—your body limp, your side crushed from a devastating blow, ribs cracked and struggling to lift with every breath. Blood seeped from your mouth, painting his cravat red. Your gear hung in tatters. Your skin was pale. Fading.

And he couldn’t stop shaking.

You hadn’t gotten sloppy. Levi knew that. You weren’t weak. Hell, you were the strongest soldier under his command. Maybe even stronger than him, in some ways. But today… just once… you’d hesitated.

You looked up.

You saw them—Petra, Oluo, Eld, Gunther—hanging from the trees like gutted puppets. And something inside you cracked. A fraction of a second, a breath’s worth of time—and the Female Titan had struck.

“I told them to move as a unit,” Levi muttered, barely aware of his own voice. “Told them to stay close. Stay sharp…”

His gloved hand slid beneath your head, cradling it gently, careful not to jostle your neck. His other hand rested over your ribs, warm and shaking. He could feel how broken you were beneath his palm. And it wrecked him.

“I should’ve seen it coming,” he breathed. “I knew she was targeting us. I knew it the moment she changed course. I should’ve—” His voice splintered. “I should’ve been watching you.”

You were so still.

Too still.

He lowered his forehead to yours, copper and sweat clinging to your skin. “I shouldn’t have kept you near them. You don’t need backup. You never have. I slowed you down by putting you with them. I knew she was hunting individuals, and I still—” His words cut off with a sharp breath. “You don’t fall behind. I made you fall behind.”

Your lips parted slightly, a shallow gasp escaping, but no words. Still, it was enough.

You were alive.

“Lee…” he whispered, his voice barely audible. It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t a curse. It was your name, and in it was all the ruin and rage and guilt inside him.

His arms tightened around you, just enough to feel your chest rise against his. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry.”

And this time, it wasn’t Levi the Captain speaking. It wasn’t the hardened soldier, or the unshakable strategist. It was Levi, the man who had let himself care—who had dared to love.

“I failed,” he said, every syllable like glass in his throat. “I failed them. I failed you. You almost died because of me.”

Your trembling fingers brushed weakly at his shoulder. Barely there. But he felt it.

Your touch—still warm, still reaching.

You hadn’t let go.

And neither would he.

Levi closed his eyes, resting his brow against yours, trying to memorize your breath. The forest was silent now. But between you, there was still something left. A bond deeper than orders and ranks—something unspoken. Forged in blood, in years of watching each other’s backs, in the rare quiet moments shared between missions, between sheets. It wasn’t fragile. It wasn’t soft.

It was steel.

And Levi would not let it break.

Not here.

Not now.

Not ever