Tea. Bluntness. Softness

“You’re so beautiful,” he says with a low voice. “Why are you here, wasting your time with me?”

He can’t believe you’re there with him. After all these years, enduring his angry outbursts, manic episodes and depressive states. He was trapped in a past haunted by ghosts while the younger generation raced ahead, becoming the storytellers of a new era.

Why would you be here, looking at him and touching him like an enamored woman? Did he ever deserve your attention, or was he delusional again in his agony?

You laugh then smile at his stupid question. Levi has yet to see something as charming as this. And the laugh, the laugh! He hasn’t heard it in weeks, maybe months. It sounds so marvelous it almost makes him forget the infuriating ringing in his ears.

“Captain Ackerman, if you ask such a question, then you may be more unbelievably naive than I initially thought.”

“Tch. What does that mean?” he asks. And why does he sound like a little boy asking for answers? He’s too tired to be having a discussion of the sort. Too weak.

“It means that I’m not leaving.”

And you keep touching his face with loving attention, not knowing you’re also caressing a heart that hasn’t beaten for anyone in a very long time.

✱ ✱ ✱

The doctor finally comes, and you have to move away against the wall to leave him space.

Levi was never at ease with people of their kind. He was never at ease with the way they always asked for his incredible body, the way they always touch in improper places — he only wants your touch, if that ever means something, someday. So you stayed with him, as he thought. To keep him company and be there when the diagnosis would be made. Armin and the other brats were too busy negotiating their stay at the fort with the Marleyan soldiers until further notice. It had to be you, then.

The doctor starts with the leg. The first aid already provided has been beneficial and saved it from amputation, but the diagnosis was pretty clear: another operation was necessary to ensure proper healing.

“Whatever,” he murmurs through gritted teeth. “As long as I can walk normally again,” he says, but as he looks at you to back up his claim, he doesn’t see the doctor’s frowning brows.

Then, the doctor moves on to the hand and cleans it properly again. Levi remains silent. There is nothing to say, as both of you know he will never be able to fight again.

Finally, the doctor finishes with his stiff head. Levi reaches out for your familiar face to help him go through with it. Not that he ever cared about his own: he never thought he was that good looking to begin with. He simply couldn’t bear the disgust his newly disfigured face would prompt. He had already seen some of it, reminding him of what it was like to be an underground rat on the mighty surface.

The doctor removes the bandages, and his face shows no reactions. What a professional, Levi thinks. He won’t show how ugly I’m now. So he looks at you again, beautiful as always. The sight helps with the pain and the sorrow.

But you look nauseous, face twisted in disgust with furrowed brows and crinkled nose like you just saw the most sickening thing ever. And it saddens him beyond imagination. If that look is what he’ll get from you from now on, then he might as well jump off the cliff… or just accept he’s a physically ugly bastard, like he always was a morally ugly one.

Yet you’re very much concerned about him. He just doesn’t understand that seeing his wounds makes you shudder in pain as if you could feel his ache in your own body, silently sharing the burden with him. You were always empathizing with people like that. Levi does the same, which is why he can’t fathom that you empathize with him.

The doctor eventually leaves and you’re now back at your place on his side.

You gaze at him in silence, touching him with gentle caresses that bring the warmth again on his pale cheeks. You look as radiant as always and your face is beaming with a smile that makes his stomach feel warm in a way he can’t get used to.

“Why are you still here? Don’t you have better things to do?” he asks bluntly. How could you be so disgusted by him and soon after, looking at him like that?

“Stop asking silly questions, Levi,” you simply answer.

Your eyes meet for a long moment lost in time.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur in the silence of the room. “This is where I want to be.”

✱ ✱ ✱

Many weeks later, and there’s a roof over his head in a place he is allowed to call home.

You’re keeping him company on the mattress that serves him as a bed, lying on your side and looking at him with that same gaze he fell for weeks ago. The summer dress you’re wearing is too big for you and reveals your left shoulder to his undeserving stare; it’s an erotic sight for him, almost obscene. He can’t stop glancing at it, thinking of how soft your skin would feel under his calloused hands and how your body would react if he could touch it.

Levi’s body reacts to the thought, yet as always the same thing comes creeping into his mind and destroy the few bits of confidence he has — that he’s an ugly bastard who isn’t worthy of your precious attention. Sometimes, when you look at him a bit longer, he turns away to keep his disgusting face away from you.

That’s what he does again, unable to face you any longer from fear of seeing his own repulsive reflection in your eyes.

He doesn’t deserve you. Alone he lives and alone he’ll die.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He sounds defeated.

“Like what?”

“Like I matter, or something.”

“You matter to me, Levi.”

“I’m fucking ugly and useless, how can I matter to you?”

You let out an audible sigh, as this relationship was punctuated by them. Levi remains silent, as he proved many times already to be a hopelessly reserved person.

You sit up, move closer to him and lean toward him, cupping his face with your free hand. Taken aback, he says nothing and lets you do whatever you have in mind. You’re too close to him and in an indecent position for him to think straight and fair.

You kiss his forehead where the scar begins, making his heart palpitate in reaction. It’s so intimate, something he’s not used to. Your mouth lowers softly, kiss his right thin eyebrow and he almost forgets how to breathe. You lower again and kiss his eye in a slow, careful way — he closes it instinctively and a wave of unidentified turmoil invades his stomach. Then you leave a trail of kisses along his cheek, your lips tasting the scar disfiguring his face and the soft skin around. By the time you reach his mouth, Levi knows deep inside that he loves you to the end of his life and beyond. You kiss him, so caring and loving, and he responds to it with a clumsy fervor he won’t hide.

It’s so strange to feel like an old man finally allowed to enjoy love and happiness after a life of loneliness and desolation. Whether or not he’s worthy of it, he takes it all like the most precious gift he has ever received. Does that mean that you love him? The answer remains uncertain. Yet everything else has disappeared — from the crippling pain in his leg to the sadness rotting his mind. Only remains the strong feeling he has developed for you, growing in his heart for years.

Your lips part way too soon and now he doesn’t know what to do anymore.

A bright smile blooms across your lovely face; the very expression of his heart that his fixed face cannot convey. As he’s left with no words, mouth open in a forced silence, you start caressing his scarred cheek again in gentle strokes with your thumb.

“I love you, Levi. You have no idea how much I do.”

His lips quiver as the words trying to break out from his mouth weigh a lot; when was the last time he actually said those?

“Oh, I love you too, so fucking much.” But it’s just a mere murmur, shy words carrying meaningful feelings.

Maybe it’s time to indulge in another sweet kiss, after all. Maybe it’s time for him to start loving himself, so he can love you even more.