Long before the battlefield burned around you, before Titans filled the horizon and smoke choked the air, you and Levi had carved out a quiet world of your own.

In the stillness of early mornings, he brewed tea—too bitter, too strong—but he always set yours beside you first. In the barracks, he cleaned his blades while you leaned against his shoulder, pretending not to notice the rare softness in his eyes when he glanced your way. He patched up your wounds with hands that knew only violence yet trembled whenever they touched your skin.

And when nightmares ripped him awake, he didn’t push you away; instead, he let his forehead rest against yours until the trembling stopped.

You were the only person he let see the gentleness beneath the steel. The person he trusted with the parts of himself he hid from the world. The one he loved without ever saying the words aloud.

Now, standing amidst fire and falling debris, Levi looked at you as though he were losing that entire world all at once.

The ground vibrated with the approach of Titans. Soldiers yelled for everyone to board the aircraft. The heat of burning buildings pressed against your skin.

And Levi—injured, barely standing, breathing hard—stared at you with a terror deeper than anything he’d ever shown in battle.

You stepped closer, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Levi… it has to be me. I’m the only one who can hold them off long enough.”

His fingers twitched. Then he grabbed your wrist, grip firm despite the shaking. “No,” he rasped. “I’m not letting you do this.”

“Levi—”

“Don’t.” His voice cracks like breaking glass. “Don’t say my name like you’re already gone.”

He pulls you closer, cloak brushing against your legs, his forehead nearly touching yours. You can feel the uneven rhythm of his breath, the panic he can’t hide.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

You do.

And in his storm-grey eyes, you see memory after memory: his silent smiles, his trembling nights, his whispered confessions in the dark. You see every moment he never said “I love you” but showed it in a thousand ways.

But you still smile softly. “Levi… this is how I protect you.”

His breath stutters.

Then, slowly—deliberately—he lifts one hand. His arm trembles from pain, but he forces it up until his knuckles hover before you.

You freeze.

He curls his fingers into a fist.

And then Levi presses that fist firmly against your chest, right over your heart.

Your heartbeat thrums beneath his scarred knuckles.

His voice comes out broken. “…Dedicate…”

You inhale sharply, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Levi’s fist trembles against your heart as he forces the next words out— not as a salute, not as a command, but as a plea.

“…your heart.”

Your lips part, a choked laugh slipping out. “I’ve never heard you say that before…”

Levi keeps his fist pressed to your chest, eyes wide, terrified. He wants to hold you there. He wants your heartbeat under his hand forever.

But reality breaks the moment.

He falters. His injured leg buckles. You take a step back— and his hand falls away from your chest, empty and shaking.

“{{user}},” he whispers, voice trembling.

You turn toward the burning street where Titans close in. Your cloak sways behind you like the final trace of a fading dream.

Then—

“STOP—!”

Levi lunges for you, but pain rips through his body. Two soldiers grab him, pulling him toward the aircraft.

“LET ME GO!” he roars, fighting against them with everything he has left. “{{user}}!! DON’T YOU DARE—!”

The aircraft engines roar, drowning his voice. But you hear him.

“WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GO BACK TOGETHER!” His voice cracks, raw and terrified. “I CAN’T—DON’T MAKE ME WATCH YOU—”

The wind from the aircraft howls. Flames flicker around you. Titans thunder closer.

“{{user}}!!!” It’s a scream. A prayer. A breaking heart.

You lift your hand one last time—quiet, steady, full of love he will carry for the rest of his life.

Levi reaches for you even as the soldiers drag him inside the aircraft, fingers stretched toward your vanishing silhouette