At this point, there were bound to be more losses and deaths than wins. Even little wins. Their world, cursed with Titans, left little to no room for blissful domesticity. Those who indulge in and entertain the thought of a merry life following the uncertain victory over the Titan-riddled world were deluded and annoyingly optimistic, and yet, Levi found himself holding some degree of respect for them. It was not easy maintaining hope in these kind of conditions.
The expedition was a failure. A horrible one, at that. The amount of blood shed was truly atrocious. Petra, Gunter, Eld, Oluo, all gone in the blink of a fucking eye. Levi was devastated, to say the absolute least. No amount of consoling and blame could fill the void in his heart at the moment. And yet he was still tasked with carrying the mission through to the end. He was a soldier, the Commander's right hand man, there was no room for mistakes, even if the margin for error was rather vast.
"Commander, what are all these deaths even for?!
Disgusting. He leads all these people into battle with no real objective. We're paying our taxes for this miserable dump of 'soldiers'?
Give me my son, Smith! I want my son back, you bastard! His blood is on your hands, now pay for your sins!
You're killing us, Erwin. You're killing us! This is on you! This will always be on you!"
The door closed behind him. Levi slumped against the heavy oak, drawing a heavy sigh as he gently tugged at the cravat that was no longer white. Stained red, instead, with the death of many soldiers. His soldiers. He wandered aimlessly around his quarters, peeling off layers and unbuckling old metal. Levi reaches down to pull his boots off when his ankle suddenly screams at him to stop whatever he was doing. Pain jolts up his leg and into his hip as he moves to try to settle around the injury. After the troops were brought back into the walls, Levi had disappeared into his room to think before anyone else could try to talk to him, or worse, coax him into getting his ankle checked.
He scowled, stumbling to sit on the edge of his bed. He heaved a breath and attempted once more, only for it to bitch at him again.
Trouble.
Levi was near cutting off the leg as a means to get the boot off so long as it meant he could lay the fuck down without dirtying his bed. Bloodied sheets wouldn't matter, anyway. Not when your heart was so numb it no longer did what it was supposed to do.
His mind began spiralling again, delving into its deepest, darkest pits. The images of death raced through his mind again. Petra, slumped against a tree. Gunter, hanging like a freshly slaughtered pig. Eld, bitten in half as if he were a vegetable someone tried to eat but couldn't bring themselves to stomach the bitter taste. Oluo, bright eyes dead and devoid of any life. Disgusting, it was disgusting. Filthy, so fucking filthy. So much blood, so much death. Gone, gone, they're gone. You can't bring them back. You failed them again. You failed, you failed, you f-
There's a hand on his shoulder. His mind snapped back to reality, eyes refocusing as if his soul re enters his body after dissociating via astral projection. Levi looks up somberly, gray eyes meeting numb blue ones.
The commander reaches down and angles the mangled boot to where it can slip off without causing any pain. It goes willingly. So does the other one, and the buttons on his shirt, too. He lets Erwin take care of him, surprisingly enough, and not a single word is spoken. It doesn't have to be, and that's the thing. The company is enough. Erwin is enough, but no one seems to think it.
His mind flashes to a minor interaction they had before.
"Levi, replenish you blades and your gas."
"Why? It won't be long before we get back."
"That's a direct order."
Levi glances back up at him, only slightly irked that he pulled rank. "I'll trust your judgement, Erwin."
A small part of him wishes Erwin wouldn't pull rank like that anymore. He should know by now, that he'd follow him to the ends of the earth, whether or not he was Commander. To most people, Levi's attitude towards Erwin would be questionable. Never calling him "Commander Erwin" and just "Erwin", dropping curse words in his presence, sometimes talking back and making crude jokes, Levi could see how that would come off to other people. To him, however, it was rather transparent where his loyalties lied. He placed all his eggs in one basket, yet never once regretted it. Hell, Erwin could be a beet farmer, and he'd participate in a stupid beet cleanse if he said it'd be good for them.
Before he knows it, Levi is clad in a loose white v-neck and loose gym shorts. The captain glances at the taller man, who is now seen following the same routine. So, Levi pays him back the best way he knows how. He pops open the first button. Then the next, and the next, until a familiar white tank is revealed underneath. The fabric hugs Erwin's frame; every inch is roped with muscle but soaked with stress. Levi thinks for a moment that Erwin would be much softer if stress hadn't tensed his entire body up. He's heard from Hanji before of the adorable fat in Erwin's cheek that once took residence there long before the weight of Commander was slammed onto his shoulders. Looking at him now, his face was sunken in. Tired eyes accompanied the wrinkles between his eyebrows that Levi somehow had grown fond of.
He finds himself reaching out to poke there with two fingers, barely smiling to himself when Erwin catches himself frowning.
His bolo tie is hastily removed and placed on the dresser next to Levi's bed, next to the empty teacup that was disappointingly cold that morning. Had he known about how the day was about to go, he might have appreciated it a little more.
"It's my fault."
Erwin finally speaks when they get to a particularly infuriating buckle on his thigh. Levi glances up, and says nothing; nimble, calloused fingers just go back to work until he's folding both of their clothes as Erwin just helps himself to Levi's bed. He leans back on the pillows, a knee coming up to act as an armrest. His head knocks back on the wall behind him. Levi is still silent as he places the clothes in a drawer.
He moves around the room and organizes his things where he didn't notice were out of place before. Levi pushes in his chair, straightens the paper on his desk, even adjusts the tea cup to where the handle was exactly parallel to the table's edge and the circumference of the porcelain plate beneath it fits perfectly into the corner. Levi pushes the books on the shelf back until their pages are pressed against the wood, finding some kind of odd satisfaction as his room starts looking like that of a dollhouse.
Cleaning is his way of coping, he knows. It's a futile attempt to clean the blood off his hands. The evening begins to settle through the window, pulling the sun and it's warmth with it down into the horizon, should they be alive to see it. The room's getting cold, and Erwin's getting restless.
"Levi," he croaks when he still hasn't settled in next to him. "I'm sorry."
The said man freezes.
"Your squad, they all… I'm sorry, Levi. It's my fault."
Levi feels an entire monologue coming up his throat. He shifts quietly on his feet and glances at the sad commander. And it's easy, it's so easy, to turn around and start yelling, "Of course it's your fault, you fucking numbskull. You led us too far into this battle. The only reason you want to reclaim Maria is for your own sick satisfaction, so stop saying it's about humanity," he could simply- so easily- bite out, "you are the reason Petra died. You are the reason I'm left with barely anything again-"
But it's not right. Of course it isn't, and Levi's stronger than that, anyway. The thought barely crosses his mind before it's dismissed and gone forever. So instead, he climbs over to him. They sit so that Levi is next to Erwin's monstrous legs, left hand placed underneath the blond's raised knee. The raven-haired man reaches his other hand out to grip Erwin's. Significantly smaller, but perfect for the latter's. He rubs his thumb across calloused knuckles to urge him to go on.
"It feels… empty." Erwin points to his chest, and Levi's never related to anything else more. "We need- we need to take back what's ours but I just- I just can't seem to fucking figure it out without sending thousands off to a pointless death and I'm. Delusional. I'm delusional."
It's the most he's said in the last couple of hours, but Levi knows it's been there since he was announced commander. It's hard to dance with a devil on your back, he thinks. Levi looks at him with pity in his eyes; this is the man he's supposed to lay his life down for. This massive, probably insane, borderline suicidal bastard who wants nothing more than to be free. Fuck it, he'll do it.
"Hey." He finally responds, "None of that, Erwin. Not now." It's so easy to hate yourself; to point the blame to everyone and everything instead of accepting the truth. It's easy, but it's not right. The right choice is never an easy choice. But you, you were the one who told me, to make the choice I'll regret the least.
The words don't leave his mouth.
"My squad died because they chose to. In the moment where their lives were on a thread, they made the decision to fight and die for the greater good. It wasn't my choice to make, and neither was it yours." It sounds more like he's trying to convince himself than anything, "Everyone that died today died bravely. I'll make sure it doesn't go in vain."
Erwin gives him a look. "You cannot possibly put that much on your shoulders."
"Then why do you put so much on yours?" Levi is quick to point out his hypocrisy.
He scoots closer regardless. Levi takes the hand he's holding and wraps it around his waist, reaching forward until his left arm is wrapped around the other man's neck while his other hugs Erwin's arm, and the commander just melts. If the circumstances were different, maybe he'd make a comment about how a guy as large as Erwin can turn into putty at such a simple gesture, but it was hardly the time. If that doesn't scream touch starvation, Levi doesn't know what will.
Erwin drops his head into Levi's neck. His arm comes around to enclose his petite frame completely and pull him snug against him. He's mindful of his injury, however, and makes sure not to jostle the ankle too much. Levi's sitting sideways in his lap now, not that he's complaining. He cards his finger underneath the blond's undercut, gently tugging as he coaxes the man down from a breakdown. Levi gently rocks them back and forth. He turns his head and presses his lips to Erwin's temple. A simple gesture of comfort, but seemingly all they need. His hand trails up and down the latter's muscular back, fingertips drawing lazy circles into his shoulder blades.
Nothing could be done about the situation. Death is something that is tragically inevitable, but that doesn't make it any easier to cope with. Levi feels his eyes sting as a pain finally weighs in on his chest. Being with his commander seems to lift the numbness from off his breastbone, the absence of its weight allowing the pain and regret to rapidly seep into his very being. And suddenly, tears are falling into Erwin's hair. He refuses to entertain this feeling, though. So he drops his head to nuzzle his jaw before pressing a kiss there, and finally resting his cheek against his shoulder. They could fall asleep like that.
It would be easy to nod off and forget about the world around them, to stay wrapped around each other as the fire burns around their bodies. It would be effortless to turn their backs on their duties, turn a blind eye to the death and tragedy that has become their lives.
But alas, the day's not over yet.
A/N: I've been re-watching AOT with my sister and we both forgot how badass Erwin actually is lol. I have so much respect for that man, I miss him. I wanted to write this to kind of get into Levi's head and project a lot of my feelings onto the both of them and see how it turned out, and I'm happy with how it's looking. I hope somewhere, someone can relate to this and find some solace in the fact that they're not alone. Thank you for reading, leave me some love~