Levi had never been comfortable with closeness — not since the Underground, not since his mother’s small, dim room where survival and shame had shared the same air. He’d learned early that people’s desires were messy, ugly things. They took, used, ruined. And he wanted no part of it.

Still, there were nights like this when his thoughts wouldn’t stay quiet. His body felt tense, his mind restless — like the world expected him to be made of steel, but all he could feel was the weight of being human. He despised that weakness. He despised needing anything at all.

The lanternlight caught on the sharp planes of his face as he rubbed a hand over his jaw, trying to push the thoughts away. The room was too still, too suffocating. Even the air seemed heavy, and he hated how easily it reminded him that he was alive — and alone.

Then, a soft knock broke through the silence.

Levi straightened, masking the faint flicker of emotion in his eyes. “What now?” he muttered, voice clipped and cold.

The door opened just a crack. “Captain? Sorry to bother you — Hange said to bring these reports.”