"Erwin has passed away." (YOU BROUGHT THIS UPON YOURSELF)
He stands up from where he was sitting, eyebrows scrunching, those pale eyes narrowing, almost judging. It isn’t possible. Will never be possible. Erwin isn’t like that, he isn’t that easy…
Legs move on their own and it takes a moment for him to realize he’s pacing. It takes a moment for him to realize that he’s breathing hard, that his vision is going blurry and unfocused and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s crying, that he’s that fucking weak to cry over shit like this.
Then he sits down, back where he started, and thinks. Thinks about the good times— of the times where they cooperated, of the times when Erwin taught him how to walk, speak, bathe, eat, how to live.
Everything about him revolved around Erwin; when he awoke it was because of Erwin, when he ate it was because of Erwin, when he dressed it was because of Erwin, when he bathed it was because of Erwin, when he slept it was because of Erwin. Erwin was his world. Levi’s world revolved around him; Erwin was his sun, his reason.
And Levi does— did— love him. Not in the romantic sense, however. Levi wasn’t one for romance novels. But he cared for Erwin, worried over him, went to him when he was troubled even if he barely knew anything about him. And that was when his breath stopped.
He still didn’t know anything about Erwin.
Sure, he knew the small things; Erwin was an assassin, lost his wife in who knows which way, raised Levi from the bottom up, cared enough to at least buy him the food and items he enjoyed, to an extent. But Levi had yet to know the deep things, the things he’d always wondered, or even the small things..
Questions bounced around in his mind, too many at once for him to process and he forgot them all, everything he wanted to know about the man.
Now Levi was stuck. Where did he go from here? How would he wake up in the morning? Remember to eat? Brush his teeth? Bathe at night before bed? Sure, he remembered it himself, but the habit of waiting for Erwin to remind him to sleep, the warmth of his body next to him as they lay—
Those pale eyes began to sting, and he isn’t sure what the feeling is when his stomach twists, when it feels like his gut is in his throat. He doesn’t know why those tears build up and fall, why he’s making such ungodly noises, after all, hell, Erwin didn’t care, he wouldn’t cry if Levi died—
But he can’t stop himself and now he’s wailing, grief hitting him like a truck and it’s already sunken in. Erwin’s never coming home. He’ll never walk through the door and be greeted by a sudden hug, worrying scolding about how he was late and he should’ve let Levi know if he wasn’t going to come home on time; he could’ve died! Levi would never wake up in the middle of the night to hear him crying, over something he himself didn’t know but yet comforted him for, would never wake up in the morning with a glass of milk already prepared for him on the nightstand, would never feel those fingers in his hair as they cleaned.
His world— his life— it’s over, it’s crushed, it’s gone. He feels alone, more alone than he’s ever felt. More alone than when he sat in the room with the white walls and waited for the men in white coats to come back. More alone than when Erwin had once before been on the brink of death.
It takes a while, but Levi does calm down, save for his unhealthy gasping breaths, but he does manage a reply, voice strained, as though he scratched his throat with his screaming.
