The late afternoon sun was a rare luxury within the walls. Most days were gray, with clouds looming as though they, too, bore the weight of the titans on their backs. But today, beams of golden light sliced through the clouds, stretching over the cityscape and spilling into the barracks, where you sat, savoring a fleeting moment of warmth.
You leaned your head against the cold stone wall, letting yourself relax in the silence. But the reprieve didn’t last long—the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention, measured and precise. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Levi.
He stopped in the doorway, his figure casting a shadow over the room. "Slacking off again?" His tone was as flat as ever, that typical look of mild disdain on his face.
You sighed, too tired to put up a front. "Just taking a moment. Is that really such a crime?"
He scoffed, folding his arms. "Out there, taking a moment could get you killed. You’d think you’d know that by now."
You bit back a frustrated response, knowing that nothing would sway him. To Levi, discipline was survival; anything less was weakness. "I know that. But sometimes… sometimes it just feels like it’s too much," you said quietly, almost to yourself.
There was a flicker of something in his eyes, though he masked it quickly, his expression hardening. "You think it’s supposed to be easy?” he retorted coldly. “This isn’t a place for people looking for comfort.”
“Maybe not,” you replied, the exhaustion creeping into your voice. “But it’d be nice to know it’s worth it.”
He didn’t answer, his gaze hard and unreadable as he watched you in silence. After a moment, he shifted, leaning against the wall a few feet away, close enough that you could see the tension etched in his shoulders. You weren’t sure why he hadn’t already left with a dismissive look and cutting remark. Maybe he was as tired as you were.
Before you knew it, words slipped out that you hadn’t meant to say. "You make it look so easy, Levi. Like none of this gets to you.”
His face remained impassive, but he glanced away. "You don’t know what I feel," he muttered. His voice was low, as if the words had escaped without his permission.
It surprised you enough that you didn’t know what to say. You only watched him, searching for some hint of the man beneath the unbreakable exterior. And then, something unexpected happened.
His hand brushed against yours.
It was a brief touch—barely even a graze of his fingers against your skin—but it felt like the world had stopped. There was a strange warmth in that small gesture, a moment where his guard had slipped, like he was reaching out, if only for a second.
But then, as if realizing what he’d done, Levi’s expression shifted. His hand pulled back, his face closing off in an instant, every trace of vulnerability erased. He straightened, his usual stoic mask back in place, and the moment was over before it had even begun.
“Don’t look for comfort in people like me,” he said coldly, his voice detached and clipped. “It’ll only get you hurt.”
Without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall, leaving you behind with the memory of that fleeting, unexpected touch.
