Chapter Text
[. . .]
"I don't know what to do with my eyes when all they see is yours."
[. . .]
Chapter 1
The Singularity Basket
[. . .]
You are the wife of Humanity's Strongest Soldier, Levi.
It's an arranged marriage—quick and silent, unamorous and null.
As of eight years ago, before your husband had been known as Humanity's Strongest, when he'd just been a notorious, anonymous thief of the Underground arrested under the policy of the Winged Scouts of Freedom, your brother, Erwin, had asked you for the biggest favor of your life. He called you into his office on a late, somber Wednesday, taking you in with a kind smile you internally repented at, as the sight of him was too reminiscent of your late father.
The instant you stepped in, you knew this was not one of his frequent guilt-ridden reunions to see how you fared. The tense set of his shoulders, his rigid, upright posture, and the subtle droop of his eyes all betrayed the fact that he had found himself in another predicament—and this time, you knew he would need your help to extricate himself.
You would've been angry if the two of you had been in your teenage years. Furious. Inconsolable. But you had been a twenty-two-year-old woman then, who had since grown out of her anger and replaced it with grief.
He hadn't even said anything when you'd spoken, "What do you need?"
His shoulders relaxed somewhat. How your brother constantly anticipated rejection was beyond you, but it broke you just a little, every time. Because as much as you despise his recklessness and cruelty of prioritizing his goal over everything else—his ex-fiancé, Marie, his health, you—he is still your brother. And though his love for you is lesser, perhaps, your love makes up for it all the same.
Though consumed by an intense and persistent anger, you have weathered this emotional storm, allowing the flames to eventually subside into the charred remnants of sorrow. Yet, through it all, your loyalty and devotion to family have remained steadfast and unwavering.
A curse, you find. You cannot deny help for the only family you have left.
You reassured your brother, again. Firm words and encouraging steps, stopping just enough to sit on the chair on the other side of the desk he will soon replace with a shinier one.
He didn't waste time to tell you. About another one of his gambles, about his plan. He never gives enough details to incriminate you, but he gave enough that day. He spoke of a man who would lose it all soon, who would make him lose all the potential he could bring to this cattle-like world. He spoke of his strength, his motives. He spoke about the success it would bring if you agreed.
You questioned. You argued. Demure and yet not, furious and yet understanding.
In the end, you agreed.
And it wasn't long until he took into proceedings your answer, leading you down in a spiral until you came face to face with the man you would spend the rest of your pointless life with, sitting like he was awaiting death just behind the rusty bars of a dark cell.
(Your brother, contrary to popular belief, was merciful. He gave you a chance to change your mind, just in case, even though he already knew how things would turn out.
That's just who he was, you suppose.
The Growing Devil of Paradis.)
The flickering torch illuminated his gaunt, angular face. His parted hair framed his sunken features, unable to conceal his piercing, dangerous eyes. He sat with one knee propped up, the other leg spread out, his arm resting on the bent knee. His body was inclined back, head tilted upwards in a challenging manner, as if daring you to speak or remain silent. Though built, he appeared lean and reserved, yet there was an openness about him.
He was not unattractive, but neither was he the epitome of princely charm. The dark circles under his eyes gave him an intimidating air, but it was the grim, straight line of his lips that truly unsettled—completing a look of mere resignation.
You expected the sight of him to make you feel something. Perhaps regret for agreeing, or worse, hatred toward your brother for making you do this.
But nothing came about it.
You didn't feel pity.
You didn't feel anything.
"This is your wife," Erwin told the man. Levi, you memorized.
Levi looked at you with nothing.
You gazed at him, you remember, emptily. With nothing to want, nothing to yearn for. That is how you turned out to be. You longed for so much for too long just to want nothing at all, in the end.
You wanted this to be easy.
But nothing ever was.
Sympathy was for those who deserved it. As was rage. Cruelty. Merciful heart, ruthless mind. You didn't know Levi's full story. For that, until he told you, you would pass judgment. It was dumb to keep yourself in the dark and for not wanting to be curious. But this wasn't meant to be easy. Or maybe it was, for not probing at his past. The ignorant bliss of not knowing just what he did was too good to pass up. But the danger that lurked was what he could be capable of, to you.
How would you know if he wasn't abusive?
How would you know if he wasn't just a lost soul trying to do good, in a bad way?
There was no way of knowing.
Not now, at least.
So you decided not to judge him at all until you found out. A dangerous game to play for a woman in this shit society, but what else could you do? You couldn't judge the weird odor coming off of him. You couldn't judge the hate that developed in his eyes after your brother's sure announcement, nor of the disgust you saw after he eyed you up in down. You couldn't even judge him for his silence nor the unbearable sadness he carried plainly on his face.
You understand.
So you said nothing back, resuming to study him to quell your morbid curiosity.
You left with Erwin not even ten minutes later, asked by your brother what you thought.
So you answered honestly.
"Nothing."
Your brother hummed, cryptic. You hadn't bothered asking him why he was so calm marrying you off. You were already well aware that he cared so much that he buried it deep because if he acknowledged it, he'd become distracted from what truly mattered.
You stopped taking it personally.
To you, your brother remained that same little boy who had to take care of you, yearning for the love of a parent he hadn't meant to take away.
In his silly mind, he thought uncovering a far-fetched truth would stop his guilt from scaring him awake every night.
Let it pass.
You slept fitfully that night. Half asleep just to wake again, every few hours or so.
It went on that way for the next night.
And the next.
And the one right after that.
A few days later, when you and Levi stood beside each other in your brother's office—him in cuffs, you in a fresh, leather jacket made for such an occasion that adorned well with your brown, ironed skirt—the only thing you could think about was how much trouble this task would bring. Levi needed to remain married to you for at least five years, though the ideal was ten, according to the Noble Council that forced you into court to sign some official documentation that you so despised. Because he was known as a criminal, his annulled citizenship was waitlisted until it was true you married him for love and not... this.
Levi needed to put his work into the Scouts, too, you heard. He was sentenced to death. Not even Erwin's veto worked, so he needed to bring you in for additional approval.
To earn his keep, apparently.
It didn't make sense.
It just wasn't fair.
His life, quite literally, sat in your hands.
Your agreement, somehow, to be his lawfully wedded wife, to secretly keep an eye on him when your brother couldn't, saved him.
You prayed for nothing when the priest officiant stamped the papers. The stale, lifeless atmosphere of the office weighed heavily on your shoulders, a constant burden that permeated your very being. The stagnant air, bereft of any passionate energy or comfort, felt as if it was slowly constricting your lungs, robbing you of the vital oxygen you craved.
(Perhaps, you prayed for one thing.
Never to be thanked.)
Your brother then stepped around you, placing two tiny boxes on the small, white table where the laughable ceremonial wine glasses lay empty. The stain on the white cloth over it mocked you, but you forced yourself to look away and questionably to Erwin.
He smiled sadly. "I recall you had always wanted a ring."
He remembered, you thought dismally.
Your heart distorted into an agonizing rhythm.
Suddenly, you wanted to run away.
To scream.
Your stomach twisted into bloody knots, threatening to heave your breakfast of air and bile. Your vision swam, and so you gripped the fabric of your skirt tighter, trying to breathe through the suffocating needles in your lungs and hoping to the god who never answered your prayers to keep your eyes from burning and leaking unwanted tears.
Right then and there, you realized you were married to a man you didn't love. You were married just to appease your brother—married to keep his dreams in the sky and not in the ground, where your father's remains had long rotted away.
But this was your doing.
You wanted to do it.
So you would endure.
You went for the boxes with shaky hands. You opened Levi's first, ignoring the clicking of metal and the sound of chained thuds just at the soles of your booted feet. Your eyes honed on the shiny, immaculate ruby perched on a golden band nestled in between rough black fabric. Not too costly, and yet too expensive for words to describe.
You turned around, heart racing, hazed, gently reaching for Levi's calloused hand. His muscles tensed, and you could tell his immediate response was to pull away, but he resisted. He remained firm in his decision. He had no other choice. You swallowed thickly, nauseous at the implications of his reluctance and what you forced him into, unable to look into his eyes as you cradled his hand the softest way you could, delicately putting his ring finger through the ring your brother had so kindly bought for you.
You allowed Erwin to take the box and your arms to drop unceremoniously to your sides, gazing over Levi's head after successfully placing the ring.
Levi would need to do the same for you. You were unsure if you wanted him to touch you. Not because you were disgusted.
You just.
Didn't feel real.
Didn't want to... do anything.
You wanted nothing.
You wanted—
"Shitty fucking ring."
Your thoughts came to a halt as you snapped your head down at Levi, immediately tuning to his rough voice tickling your ears pretty. His eyes were thankfully not on you, but on the open box of your ring, looking down at it with a severe scowl on his face.
Something stroked the back of your ringing mind.
"Is it stupid ugly?" You blurted.
The room came to a pause.
You tried not to blush or throw up when everyone's eyes landed on you—including, very much, Levi's. His icy glare transferred to you, but you could tell there was something else within that intensity, though you couldn't name it. It was nothing like love, no. This marriage wouldn't be one of the fairytales. But there was something along the lines of shock, maybe, with just a hint of relief.
"If I may—" The priest started, but you ignored him because Levi hesitantly turned the box around to show you the ring.
It was plain. And dirty. So dirty.
Your eyebrow ticked. "Erwin," You murmured softly, and your older brother shifted from side to side very subtly.
"Yes?"
You grabbed the ring roughly from the box and held it up for him to see. "It's copper." Not just copper, you mentally added, narrowing your eyes on the green sludge sticking to your fingers. It smells like human waste and looks like it'd been fished out from moss water.
"What?"
He took it out of your prying fingers to check, and he sighed heavily.
"...The jeweler must have given me the wrong one."
"That is, perhaps, my mistake," The priest piped in finally, and you turned over, glaring at the sweat on his brow.
"Pardon?"
"I have two weddings scheduled for today. One in two hours at the capital, and another this evening, in Karanes District. The box must have gotten mixed in with the others, you see," The priest hastily walked over to a corner of the room and searched into the sack, murmuring to himself. When he returned, Erwin was gazing at him with serious annoyance hidden behind his usual blank facade, Levi looked like he still wanted to be anywhere but here, and you had put the ring back into the box, immensely worried that you might have infected your fingers with something.
"Ah, here is yours! I apologize—"
"Why the fuck does it smell like you shoved it up your ass?" Levi demanded, sneering.
At that, the priest blushed and looked away in shame.
You felt your stomach drop. "Please don't tell me..."
You didn't get to finish. The disgusting man swiped the box off your affected fingers and put the correct ring in its stead.
You don't remember much after that.
As the priest's footsteps faded down the hall, a sense of unease settled over the room. Erwin had quickly excused himself, hurrying off to report the incident to the authorities. You, however, remained behind, your mind racing with a mix of emotions—a combination of embarrassment, loneliness, and a desperate need for cleanliness.
Without any lookback at Levi, you made your way to the nearest water source. Reaching the basin after a torturous minute, you cupped your hands and plunged them into the cool, clear liquid, watching as the grime and residue from the earlier encounter slowly dissipated. But that was not enough. No, you needed more. You retrieved your most prized possession, a small, meticulously cared-for bar of soap stashed just in a small bag hidden in your dress pocket, and began to scrub at your fingers, working the lather into every crevice and crease.
The soothing scent of the soap filtered the nasty smell and you continued, driven by an almost compulsive need to rid yourself of any lingering traces of the repulsive visitor. Scrubbing raw until your skin reddened from the intensity of your actions, you refused to stop until you were certain that every last speck had been washed away, leaving your hands clean, pure, and free from the taint of the priest's presence.
After what felt like centuries, you pulled away your pruned hands, staring vacantly in realization at the soapy water left behind.
You had left an unknown in Erwin's office.
You quickly sprang up, heart leaping in your throat, and turned, just to stop with a startled inhale.
Levi stood at the door, watching you. Well. Not you.
At the bar of soap just by your feet.
"You can use it," You expressed unexpectedly, unable to suppress the sudden thought.
At that, he snapped his head up to fixate his permanent glare of distrust on you. He didn't reply, and you checked if he had anything in hand or incriminating but—there was nothing. He had done nothing but follow you and observe your uptight oddity like a normal passerby.
Something twinged and softened at the same time.
Why?
You knew why. He hadn't attacked you yet nor stolen as the stories said. And you judged him regardless, as humans tend to do.
You moved away from the used basin and toward a corner of the room, intending to stay because you didn't know what to do afterward. The two of you were married now and you didn't know anything about it. You just... existed now.
Levi watched you depart and it was only then that he made to do what you did—wash his hands with your precious soap.
Money was a tad scarce. It wouldn't be, soon, because your brother suspected to be promoted in the near future, but still. Unlike him, you could never be sure. You had tried to look for jobs. Any, at all. But most would not hire an unmarried woman nor did they want a woman as their worker. They wanted big, strong men. Not a woman.
Never a woman, it seemed.
In any case, you hoped your brother got promoted so you could buy more soap. You felt rotten, leeching off of him. But you maintained everything organized as best as you could, and filled in papers he couldn't finish nor wanted to. Not. Anything you shouldn't know, of course. But it was honest work that he allowed because he knew how uncomfortable you would be if you didn't do anything.
You did what most women did in this society.
Cook, clean, tend to.
You were just... educated. Your father had made sure of that, and your brother afterward.
Not many women had that luxury.
You became lost in thought. As usual. Like always.
By the time you coerced yourself back into reality, Levi was gone.
And all he left behind was the box, with your ring in it, and a puddle on the bricked floors from where he stood.
We didn't get to kiss, you thought emptily as you walked to it and picked it up.
You doubt the two of you would've wanted to, anyway.
At the end of the day, you slipped the ring into your finger yourself.
It was a precious sapphire, shaped in the form of a teardrop.
[. . .]
As you walk through the hallways of the Scout Building with a basket of goodies in your arms and a pep in your step present day, you ask yourself in your joy-riddled mind how you lack so much spacial awareness to the point that you hadn't noticed nor heard Erwin come in that day to take Levi back to wherever he was required to be. You're known to lose yourself in thought but never to that degree.
You run back to the same blame in the end. That you had been too distraught to think aptly that fateful wedding day.
From what your brother told you after you went after him to ask just where he'd gone, he'd tried to snap you out of it and get you to come with them to get used to each other. Embarrassingly, you hadn't, and your brother liked to tease you years later after that incident that you had drifted off because you were distracted by Levi's expressive eyes.
But it was more than that, and you both know.
He only makes that comment because you admitted you liked them not even two years ago. He hasn't let it go since. He thinks picking on you like the immature idiot he is is funny, but it isn't. There's nothing wrong with liking his eyes! It's only fair that you start to develop attraction to the man you married.
By force.
But still.
It's been eight years since you met him.
Five years since you've liked him.
And one year since you've started loving him.
Too profoundly for words alone.
There is no denying that you two share a bond, as rocky as your relationship has been. Because he is a tragic man, built on violent principles and grieving kindness. And you... you're just a girl. A 30-year-old woman, now. Existing to exist just because you can, because anything else is... is...
Regardless, Levi doesn't know. About your feelings, that is. You never told him. You might never tell him.
(Erwin knows because he's a smart idiot. He encourages you to express your feelings to the short man, but you deny it every time. Things are more complicated than that.)
As soft as he has become with you, you cannot risk this unbreakable bond you created with him by revealing your not-so-measly feelings. Levi both is and isn't a sentimental man. He doesn't know how to express himself and he won't do so unless you ask, and you... you're too much of a coward to confess to him. That is an emotional disaster waiting to happen, and you're too much of an opposite to your brother to do anything about it.
But that's okay.
You will do what you have done as of six years ago when the two of you finally began interacting properly with each other.
Show him kindness. Show him trust. Show him loyalty.
In actions, because they are more impactful than words.
Levi doesn't like small talk. He doesn't like needless conversations with empty words, or actions with no sincerity behind them.
He likes hovering from a distance, mostly. Watching, listening. He likes engaging in activities both of you consider fun, like playing chess and losing on purpose because the two of you never exactly learned how to play, or cleaning places that are clean but not really, because nothing is ever truly clean because things get dirty right after you clean them and he understands you perfectly on that, and—and Levi likes sitting with you, in the evenings.
When all is quiet and the stars shine upon you with belonging.
With itchy blankets and all, because he likes bringing them out to indulge in.
Levi doesn't like the cold.
But when you place your cold hands on his sweaty forehead during days of activity, he leans in, tolerating it.
(Or the night long ago when you asked for his hands to have, and he gave you them to hold.)
"Ah, Miss Wifey!"
You blink into coherency with your hand raised in a fist to knock, looking at Hange's smiling face bewilderingly where an oak door should be. The quietness of the hall pops your ears, erupting in the noise of birds and stonestepping.
"Came to visit the hubby, eh? Great timing! Levi was just talking about you!" They say, eagerly grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the room.
You clutch your sunhat protectively as you hear your husband mumble a 'No I wasn't. Shut up, lunatic', stumbling the contents of your basket as you allow the excited researcher to bring you toward Levi's desk, which he sits behind of, eyes already on you. He lets go of his quill, softening his glare slightly.
Your smile, like always, adorns your face automatically at the sight of him. "Hi Levi," You greet softly. You don't care to tone the intensity of your grin down.
His lips twitch, anticipatory for the smile you so cherish, but the action deceases immediately when Hange pushes you forward encouragingly, causing you to yelp when you collide with the desk and rattle the contents on it.
"What the hell, four-eyes?" Levi snaps, holding you by the arms.
You thank him quietly, fixing your posture to glare at Hange. They pat your head consolingly, "Whoops, heh! Hadn't meant to push you so hard, there. Just excited to see you, is all!"
You furrow your brows, watching them fix their glasses. "But I saw you five hours ago?" During breakfast.
"Oh. Did I say me? Silly me! I meant Levi here—"
"Don't you have to fuck off somewhere else?" Levi interrupts, gritting his teeth.
Hange's eyes become crescent moons, nodding. "You're so right about that! I completely forgot, thanks for reminding me, Levi—"
"Just leave."
They look at you, "—I'm told your brother has some more sterile equipment he wants me to take a look at. I hope the new collection has all I need. I still haven't tested all the preserved Titan parts we got."
You set the basket down in front of Levi, careful not to obstruct his paperwork. "Hadn't you mentioned you couldn't get any?" You inquire in confusion, lifting the small cloth to reveal the steaming bowls of meat broth you prepared for you and Levi to share during lunch hour. The smoke wafts the room, and Levi looks down promptly at what you brought, and you pretend you don't notice the subtle way his eyes light up.
"No!"
You pause and turn your head to look at them, baffled. Just yesterday they were complaining and rambling on about how difficult it was to get any Titan residue for research. How had they... "But—"
"Levi wants to tell you something, by the way."
"The fuck."
"Bye now!"
They slam the door on their way out before you can ask any questions, leaving you and Levi in an awkward silence.
You turn your head slowly to look at Levi expectantly.
Levi's blank expression gives nothing away. "Don't listen to them. A turd's stuck up their ass."
"Is there something you want to tell me?" You ask just to make sure because Levi has a bad habit of hiding what he wants to say. Oh, he has no trouble saying what he needs to, such as insults or funny blunt remarks that may or may not be the truth, but when it comes to something pertaining to what he wants... He says not a word of it until you figure it out.
You've told him time and time again that whatever he wants to say, he can. And he's gotten better at it, but there's only so much your reassurance can do to a man who spent most of his entire life hiding from the world.
He crosses his arms, glaring. "No."
It's your turn to cross your arms. "You're sure?"
"Yes," He states confidently.
You don't believe him. But you drop the matter for a later time because you're very hungry and the smell of the food is too hard to ignore. "Fine. Tell me later, then."
"I said there's nothing, woman."
"Just tell me later," You insist, reaching for the contents of the basket.
He sniffs disdainfully but doesn't oppose.
Hah! Knew it! You think, cringing as you take a look at the second bowl once you pick up the first and offer it to Levi. Ugh. The second bowl spilled a bit.
As Levi takes the bowl in his hands and the spoon wrapped in a clean cloth, you begin to dig into your leather purse dangling at the hip, searching for a serviette to clean the mess. You do so with gusto when you find several of them, scowling at the blotches of gravy that stain your wrist when you mistakenly wipe at the wrong angle.
"...You look okay today."
You stop furiously cleaning to lift your head. "Huh?"
Levi stays quiet for a moment, eyes narrowed. Then, "I said you look okay." He falters, rethinking, "Nice, I mean."
You blush a little. "Oh. Um. Thank you," You purse your lips, checking him out, "You got a haircut."
"So?" Is his quick response, but you understand Levi's language enough to know that he is expecting a compliment. This has been a recent development (after obsessing over Levi for an entire year, you memorized his mannerisms enough to know.)
You give him one. "It looks lovely."
His cheeks flood a little with color. "...Thanks." He looks down at the basket, looking grumpy. "You missed a spot."
"What?" You grumble, looking too. Right under the bowl. Son of a bitch. "I thought I cleaned there." You lift your uneaten bowl and clean the underside angrily, before discarding the last napkin and going for another just to find nothing.
You sigh as your entire body spasms with goosebumps of repugnance. "I'll just dunk the basket in some soapy water and clean it at home," You mumble, grabbing it and putting it on the floor.
Levi sets his bowl down and stands up from his chair, "I'll do it now."
"No," You scold, "We're eating first. I've been looking forward to eating with you today."
"We do this every day."
"So?" You goad. "I like it. And we're eating today too." And you are not disrupting the routine you have going on. You like it this way. Theres been too many times when things hadn’t gone the way you wanted them to and you hated it.
Levi walks around the table, toward the basket. "I'm cleaning it now."
You snatch the basket, glaring. "No. We're eating first."
"Stop being childish," He says, swiping for the basket.
"You stop being childish," You jab, trying to hide a smile as you shove the basket behind you. He's unfortunately funny when he's irritated and you're unfortunately an open book. If he sees your lips twitching, he's going to clean the basket for sure.
He steps closer. "Give it."
"No."
Another step.
"Don't be stupid. You're going to get annoyed later."
"I'm trying to enjoy some food with you," You huff, and he raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Please? I want to eat first. I won't get annoyed."
Levi stops, eyeing you with doubt.
Pleading lately has gotten you a lot of things. Such as that lovely apple tart the other day he called a shit tart because it looked questionable. Did you care that it looked like a mushed pile of garbage? No. You liked it very much and you had been so hungry. (In fact, you love tarts. They’re texture is just right. Warm tarts, that is. You refuse to eat a cold tart.)
Or the night a week ago you found he was still up because he hadn't come home yet, and he told you how stupid you were for walking alone at night, so in return, you told him how stupid he was for stressing himself out with work he could do tomorrow or ask you for help in. Which hadn't worked to offend him at all, so you pleaded with him to sleep in your shared little cottage just outside Trost, and he did, claiming that it was the only way to 'shut you up.'
Oh! And when you'd pleaded with him to join you with grocery shopping! He'd called everything terrible, and then you'd found this perfect wheel of cheese he said you'd do nothing with because you didn't even use cheese in half of your recipes, but you didn't care. So you bought it and then begged him to throw it out not even several days later because the smell was so bad that you didn't even want to go near it. Him, being quite the gentleman, had done as you asked and then talked shit to you for not listening to him.
So you bought him a bag of sugar for his tea as an apology, which he also said was shit. He still uses it to this day.
You almost laugh. Levi is just so damn grumpy.
"Fine," He relents after an intense stare-off that consists of several agonizing minutes meant to make you sweat on it and give in, but failing miserably because you're just as stubborn as he is, if not worse. Also because you'd been thinking of literally everything else. "I'm cleaning it right after."
You nod, preening. "We are."
He clicks his tongue but doesn't disagree. Like a wet cat, he goes back to his chair and scoots himself in, glowering at his food.
You drag the other chair as close as possible, incredibly giddy despite the mundane, usual routine of it all. You just can't help it. It's so cheesy of you, but being around Levi is just so nice. You want to live in his skin, sometimes, but those thoughts are for the dark abyss. For right now, thinking about eating with Levi in comfortable silence overpowers the world.
Not even six minutes in, after several spoonfuls, however, your bouncing leg stops. You put your bowl down and look at him in annoyance. "I can't do this. It's bothering me. Let's clean it now," You grunt, scowling at the basket as you quickly rise from your seat.
It’s just not clean. You always eat with a clean basket next to you. And it’s not fucking clean.
"I fucking told you," Levi grouches, doing the same.
"You can tell me more about it while we clean it," You respond blithely, grabbing the incriminating object off the floor.
"I will," He answers, petty.
"Good," You grouch.
"Good," He repeats.
Both of you stop to stare at each other.
For a moment, all is mum.
And then, you laugh at the irritation that softens quickly on his face, letting the burst of happiness engulf your heart in full.
Levi is just so funny when he doesn't intend to be. He has a certain precious quality about him that often shines through in the most unexpected moments, when he's completely unaware of the hilarious spirit of his words or actions. It comes with the irresistible charm of his true nature that his words don't align with—whenever he says things are bad, or shit usually, yet he goes along with whatever idea of yours you suggest or keeps things for himself and glares at you for if you ask him why he still has it around.
It brings a smile to your face and a warmth to your chest. It feels like when you eat a warm apple tart when you’re menstruating and craving sugar.
To everyone else, Levi is an untouchable. The savior of humanity. To comrades and coworkers, he's a stoic man with a mysterious past. To close friends, he's an intolerant man with a knack for putting things how they are. But to you, he's shy.
To you, he's a sweet man with a grumpy exterior and a tragic past.
To you, he's everything.
Levi being so delightfully, authentically himself deepens your affection for him with every passing day.
His brusque ways endear you far too much for it to be normal, and his habit of showing you how he truly feels makes it all the better.
The love blooming in your heart swells, growing stronger and more profound until you find yourself overwhelmed with the urge to vocalize these feelings. You want to tell him, to let him know just how much he means to you, how his very essence has the power to elevate your mood and fill your soul with bliss.
In those unguarded, unintentionally amusing instances, Levi's true spirit shines through, captivating you and making you fall for him all over again, leading you to the point where you simply can't keep it to yourself any longer—you have to let him know.
But you don't.
You know good and well how your words will be replied to: with a scoff of disbelief or another one of his cute glares.
Internally, you wilt slightly. Maybe you're stupid for knowing how he is, and yet questioning if he will ever feel the same way you do. But.
Being with him, like this, is enough.
It should be enough.
"Stop standing around like a headless chicken."
You stare at Levi with a deadpan. "I'm fine," You remark, because whenever he says that, he thinks you're in your little head again. Which you're not. Currently.
"Uh huh," He gives you a pensive side-eye before turning and stalking off to the door. "Let's go. Since your ass can't sit still."
"It can," You argue, walking briskly to catch up to him. Sitting counts as your ass sitting still no??
He holds the door open for you, scoffing. "It can't for shit. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it. If I asked a bird outside they'd chirp in agreement too."
You roll your eyes. "Why would you even ask a bird, anyway?" Birds don’t talk and Levi doesn’t have that damn skill.
"Because you don't stop feeding and talking to those little shits. For all I know, those turdmakers can talk and are trying to warn me every morning about how much of a maniac you are."
"As a matter of fact, they don't," You correct haughtily, fixing your hat. You let Levi snatch the basket out of your hands. "I can't help it if they're hungry, either. They need to eat too, like everyone else."
Levi makes a face at you. "They keep shitting on my windows."
"That means they like it."
"The hell it does."
"Just admit it. You're jealous I talk to birds."
"Do you even hear yourself?"
"Yes. I sound very pretty."
The two of you bicker for the rest of the time you two share together. When it's time for you to go home after your usual lunch not-date, you hand him a bag of sunflower seeds and tell him kindly to try reaching out to nature.
He takes them silently and watches you leave, with visceral eyes you feel burning your back.