Silent Vows • LevixReader

Chapter 8

The days that followed were tense, the air between us thick with the weight of what had almost happened. Neither of us mentioned it, but it lingered between us in every glance, every moment our hands brushed too long over a shared task.

Levi became quieter, more distant, slipping back into the walls he had so carefully built. He arrived at the infirmary on time each day, his expression unreadable, and worked with his usual precision, but the easy rhythm we had found before now felt offbeat—like we were moving to a song we both knew but couldn't find the courage to sing.

I caught myself wondering if I had pushed too far, too soon. Maybe I should have left his house that night without letting things get so close. Maybe I'd crossed a line neither of us knew how to step back from. But then, there were the moments—small, fleeting moments—that made me second-guess everything.

Like when Levi's gaze would linger on me just a second too long, his expression softening in a way that made my heart ache. Or when I'd catch him glancing my way during a quiet moment, his features flickering with something that looked like regret—or maybe longing.

We were caught in a slow, uncertain dance, circling each other, both afraid to take the next step. I wanted to reach out to him, to bridge the distance between us, but every time I got close, he'd pull back, retreating into his silence. And yet, he never really let me go.

One evening, after the last patient had left and the infirmary was quiet, we sat side by side by the hearth, the low fire crackling in the stillness. It had become a kind of ritual for us—these moments at the end of the day when we didn't have to say anything, just share the quiet together.

Levi sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands loosely clasped. His eyes were fixed on the flames, the orange glow casting soft shadows across his face. I watched him from the corner of my eye, wondering—hoping—if tonight might be different, if maybe we could find a way through the tension that had been building between us.

The fire crackled softly, filling the silence with a kind of peace I hadn't realized I needed. I shifted slightly, brushing my knee against Levi's, and felt him go still beside me.

"You've been quiet," I said gently, testing the waters.

Levi's lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't pull away. "I'm always quiet."

I smiled softly, the familiar gruffness in his voice easing some of the tension in my chest. "True. But this feels... different."

He didn't respond right away, his gaze still fixed on the fire. For a moment, I thought he might shut me out completely, as he had so many times before. But then he spoke, his voice low and rough.

"I don't want to make things harder for you."

The words caught me off guard, cutting through the silence like a knife. I stared at him, my heart thudding painfully in my chest.

"Levi..." I whispered, feeling a knot of emotion rise in my throat. "You don't make things harder for me."

He turned his head slightly, meeting my gaze. His eyes were dark and serious, filled with emotions he didn't know how to express. "You say that now."

I reached out, my hand brushing lightly against his. His fingers twitched under mine, but he didn't pull away. The warmth of his skin against mine was grounding, and I held onto that small connection, hoping it would be enough to keep him from slipping away.

"You don't have to carry everything on your own," I whispered. "I'm here, Levi. I want to be here."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might push me away again. But instead, he exhaled a slow, shaky breath, as if releasing a weight he'd been holding onto for far too long.

"I don't know how to do this," he admitted quietly, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through me like a blade.

"You don't have to figure it all out right now," I said softly. "We can go slow."

For a moment, he didn't say anything. But then, slowly, he shifted, turning just enough that our knees pressed together, solid and warm. His gaze flickered to my hand, still resting against his, and then back to my face.

The tension between us was thick, electric, and I felt my breath catch as his fingers curled slightly under mine—tentative, as if testing the waters.

"We've already gone slow," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

A small laugh escaped me, surprising both of us. The corner of Levi's mouth twitched—just the barest hint of a smile, but it was there. And in that moment, the tension between us eased, just a little.

I could feel the weight of the almost-kiss still lingering in the space between us, like a question waiting to be answered. My heart pounded in my chest, every nerve in my body attuned to the warmth of Levi's hand under mine, the subtle shift in his expression as he looked at me.

I leaned in, just a fraction, giving him the space to decide. His breath hitched, his gaze flickering to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my eyes again.

It was such a small movement, but it felt monumental. A step toward something neither of us fully understood, but both of us wanted.

And then, just as before, Levi pulled back—only this time, it wasn't with fear or hesitation. It was careful, deliberate, as if he were trying to pace himself, trying not to run from what was unfolding between us.

"I'm not good at this," he muttered, his voice low and filled with frustration—though whether it was directed at himself or the situation, I couldn't tell.

I gave his hand a gentle squeeze, offering a small, reassuring smile. "That's okay. We don't have to be good at it."

He huffed a soft, almost amused breath, shaking his head slightly. "You're stubborn, Y/N."

I grinned. "I've been told that before."

For a moment, the air between us felt lighter, the weight of the past few days easing just a little. Levi's hand stayed under mine, warm and steady, and the fire crackled softly beside us, filling the quiet with its gentle glow.
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