Birdie (Levi x OC)

fifty-four

The following week, the headquarters mess hall was loud, filled with the clatter of porcelain and the low buzz of troop talk. I scanned the room and spotted Eren alone at a small wooden table, staring into a cup of tea. It was deliberate isolation.

I gathered my tray and limped toward him, shifting my weight.

"Eren," I called out, using his name softly as I neared. "Mind if I join you?"

Eren slowly raised his head, his brows furrowing in surprise. "Of course, Birdie," he replied, nodding to the seat across from him.

I set my tray down, letting my small, difficult smile drop. "How have you been? Levi not working you too hard, is he?"

"No," Eren said, shaking his head slightly, his eyes direct and challenging. "Are you here because of what happened with Mikasa?"

"I'm sorry," I said, my composure faltering. "Levi didn't tell me everything, just that there had been a problem. He's worried about you."

Eren gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. "He shouldn't be."

"He should," I countered gently, leaning forward. "You're distant, Eren. Mikasa sees it. We all see it. You're pushing away your people."

Eren looked down into his tea, his posture defensive. "I've got more important things to worry about. We need to focus on this war, not each other."

"And we need to trust you," I stated, placing my hand flat on the table. "Lashing out at your squad breaks that. Isolating yourself makes you a liability because we can't read you."

He finally looked up, his eyes flashing with raw anger. "I'm not endangering anything! I just don't have time for sentiment. Not anymore."

"Why?" I challenged, meeting his gaze steadily. "Are you afraid feeling something will make you weak? Eren, that isn't strength. That's self-destruction."

His breath hitched. He knew I was talking about more than just Mikasa.

"You don't understand," he mumbled, shaking his head vehemently. "You don't know what I've seen. What I've done."

"What do you mean, 'what you've done'?" I pressed, leaning closer, my eyes searching his. "Eren, you are not responsible for—"

He pulled back violently, cutting me off. "Don't. Just don't," he snapped, his voice rough. "You don't get to ask that."

I faltered, pulling my hand back, the sting of his rejection mirroring my own grief. "Eren—I—I'm sorry."

He stared at me, his rage momentarily melting into raw confusion. He saw the genuine, weary empathy in my eyes. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"Talk to us," I urged, resting my hand on his arm this time, not letting him flinch away. "Talk to Mikasa. Talk to Hange. Talk to Levi. He cares about you, even if he shows it like a drill sergeant. Don't let this mission, this war, consume the person we need."

Eren finally closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair, the tension momentarily draining from his shoulders. "I'll... I'll try, Birdie."

Before I had a chance to say thank you, Eren was getting up from his spot. He didn't meet my eyes. "I've got to go, Birdie. I'll catch you later."

"O-Okay, Eren," I managed, watching him leave.

As his rigid back disappeared from the mess hall entrance, the chair beside me scraped loudly along the floor.

"How'd that go?" Hange said, setting her tray down next to mine with a loud clatter.

I offered her a sad smile and shook my head. "Not great. He's terrified of needing anyone."