Grab

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YOUR POV


The hours had delicately folded into the fabric of the day, each moment lingering on the edge of your consciousness as you navigated the complexities of life within the camp. The enigma of Levi Ackerman, a man whispered about, revered, and feared, had brushed against your world in a moment of shared, silent connectiin. His reputation, a shadow that loomed large over every whispered conversation and stolen glance, seemed incongruent with the man who existed in the quiet margins of your day.

Your deliberate avoidance of Gabi, not out of disdain but rather a self-preserving distance from Levi, had marked your days. It wasn't that his presence was overbearing in its physicality; rather, it was the intensity of his quiet existence that unsettled you. The narratives that clung to him, tales of valor and loss, painted a picture of a man wrestling with the specter of his former self. The camp's whispers spoke of his injuries, a testament to his vulnerability, a stark contrast to the invincible hero of yesteryear.

Yet, in the fleeting instances where your paths crossed, where his existence momentarily eclipsed your carefully curated distance, you found yourself captivated. It wasn't merely his appearance, though the scars and silver eyes spoke of battles both external and internal. It was the essence of his being, the quiet dignity with which he carried his scars, the softness with which he interacted with the world around him. Levi Ackerman, for all the myths that surrounded him, was profoundly human.

Your avoidance was not born of fear, per se, but of a deep-seated reverence for the complexity of his existence. To be near him was to be near the eye of a storm, calm yet utterly transformative. His was a beauty that did not beg to be observed but commanded attention through sheer presence, like a landscape that steals the breath or a melody that seizes the heart.

The day Jelena led you to his proximity during lunch, a silent protest died on your lips. The universe seemed intent on collapsing the spaces between you two, rendering your efforts to maintain distance futile.

As evening draped its velvet cloak over the camp, you sought solace in the river's embrace, a witness to the sun's final curtsy. The beauty of the sunset, a tapestry of light bidding farewell to the day, held you in a silent reverie. In these moments, the world seemed to pause, allowing you to breathe in the beauty unfettered by the constraints of canvas and paint.

The symphony of lavender and cinnamon that danced on the breeze was a sensory embrace, grounding you in the present. It was a reminder of the world's simple pleasures, the earth's soft carpet beneath your feet, the gentle sigh of the river's flow.

The crunch of grass underfoot shattered the evening's calm, a sudden intrusion into your solitary contemplation. You allowed yourself to turn around.

"Captain Levi."

In that moment, the distance you had so carefully maintained vanished, replaced by the immediate presence of a man who was, perhaps, just as adrift in the complexities of existence as you were. The river, the sunset, now shared witnesses to this unexpected encounter.

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