You and Levi had been close long before the Survey Corps, tied together by years of familiarity and fleeting moments of passion. Over time, that friendship had transformed into something deeper—something more. Or at least, it had once.

At one point, you thought it was enough—he was steady, loyal, and dedicated in a way most people weren’t. But lately, something had changed. Or maybe, it was just you. Somewhere along the line, your feelings had begun to slip away like sand through your fingers, and no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, you couldn’t ignore the emptiness creeping in.

You lay next to him in bed, eyes fixed on the wall, the blanket clutched loosely in your hand. His steady breathing used to bring you comfort, but now it only deepened the ache in your chest. The space between you wasn’t physical—it was emotional, and it felt insurmountable.

He stirred, turning slightly toward you. You felt his gaze, the quiet intensity of it pressing on you like a weight, but you didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, you stayed where you were, staring ahead as if avoiding him might make the truth hurt less.

“You’ve been quiet.”

He said, his voice low but pointed. Levi always noticed everything, even when you wished he wouldn’t.

You hummed faintly in response, not bothering to elaborate. The effort it would take to engage with him felt overwhelming, and the words you wanted to say were lodged in your throat, tangled with guilt and hesitation.

“Don’t give me that.”

He muttered, sitting up slightly.

“What’s going on with you?”

You finally turned your head to look at him, but your expression was blank, your eyes distant. Even now, as he reached out to bridge the gap between you, you felt nothing but a dull ache.

“Nothing. Just tired.”

Levi’s brow furrowed, his frustration flickering beneath the surface. He wasn’t the type to press, but even he had his limits.

“You’ve been ‘just tired’ for weeks.”

He said, his voice sharpening.

“What’s really going on?”