It hurts.
It hurts.
Everything hurts.
Hange realizes she might be dying.
The feeling starts from the epicenter of the bite, from the left side of her stomach, curving into a semicircle at her hip bone, then reaching the apex at her inner thigh and curving downwards again, right to her left calf. There's a horrible, aching, throbbing that seems to penetrate from somewhere deep inside her. Her heart pumps frantically inside her chest, seemingly wanting to deposit more blood onto the rough wagon surface.
She can't believe it. Even with the overpowering stench of blood, she can't believe it at all. Hange Zoe, dead? No. She must live.
Hange's fingers find the power to grip onto something small and warm. All her strength is leaving her, seeping out into the bloody mess on the wagon.
I must live, she thinks over and over and over, and the pain nearly makes her double over, except she can't. It seems half of her is already gone, swallowed whole down a titan's throat.
I must live, she thinks again to herself, trying to believe it although it is impossible. She is dying. She is dying. The whole reality of it sinks in, and her eyelids squeeze shut. Hange doesn't dare to open them, lest the sky turns red and the ground loses its solidity. She squeezes them shut in hopes she can grab hold of her lifeline and jerk it back, reeling it all in until she did not go on this mission and did not damage her 3dmg and did not get half of her body chomped off by a titan.
"Oi. Shitty glasses."
Hange can't help it – her eyes fly open, wet with tears, and in her blurry vision she sees Levi crouching next to her, slotting himself in the small space between her bloodied half-body and the side of the wagon.
"Corporal?"
"It's Levi to you," he mutters, head bowed down. It is then she realizes the 'small and warm' thing she is so desperately holding on to is Levi's pinky.
Hange opens her mouth to reply, but Levi interrupts.
"Fuck, Hange, your blood is all over my shoes."
"I'm sorry," she whispers, not meaning it , because she is dying, but then again meaning it after all because she knows that once her blood is on his shoes he will never ever scrub them again, despite his neat-freak personality, and he will rest them in a corner where he keeps all things that are bloodied-and-will-stay-bloodied.
Levi never touches them again. They just sit and stare back at him, like a gruesome reminder of what was lost and what cannot be lost again.
Hange can't do that to him, but it is too late. She is dying.
So she lets go of his finger, strength failing her already. Erwin keeps shouting from the front of the wagon that they are "approaching the walls soon" and Moblit says that she must "stay strong", but none of them seem to grasp the fact that she is not strong enough to stay alive after a titan takes half of her away – not even Humanity's strongest warrior is.
"Your glasses are filthy," Levi says.
Levi knows just what to say.
"I know," Hange replies. "It's my blood, after all."
"As expected," says Levi. She manages to evict a half-choked laugh from the lance corporal. He takes out a handkerchief with one hand, polishes the corner of her glasses until it is shiny and clean, until the light fractures over the edge and splits into a million tiny rays of the burning sun. It's almost gentle, the way he does it, but his eyes are cast downward and his expression is unreadable.
Hange coughs, tries to come up with a witty reply, but her mind is blank. She can't even talk now – her breathing is erratic, she can't seem to get enough oxygen into her lungs. The dratted bumpiness of the wagon does nothing to help that.
There is a brief silence as Hange fights for breath and Levi sits there, still as a statue, coiled up and tense.
"Oi! Reply me! Or I'm going to think you're dead," Levi says with quiet desperation. His hands find her shoulders, and he shakes her, fingers too-tight around her stained shirt. Hange looks up to find that his eyes are wide, pupils dilated, mouth parted and lips chapped. Levi shakes so hard that she cries out in pain, before he seemingly regains his senses and sits straight, his expression morbidly anxious.
"I-I can't – there's something sticky..something sticky in my throat…"
"Disgusting," Levi murmmers. "I didn't need to hear that."
"I'm dying, you can't… can't just sit t-there and– and-"
"What else am I supposed to do?" Levi retorts, too harsh and too gentle all at once. "You idiot."
Levi is falling apart. This is the strangest thing Hange has seen in a while. The corner of his lip trembles - his eyes water ever so slightly, his hand tightens around her shoulder.
And then Levi does something stranger. With his knees still on the ground, he moves over, until he is bowed over her and both his hands are on either side of her neck.
"You smell like shit," Levi says, his voice low and husky and trembling.
Hange can't reply. Her throat refuses to work, each breathe is harder than the last. She wonder what will happen after this, after she dies. A corpse is nothing more than a physical reminder, and even if you try to salvage it, it will only bloat in the summer's heat.
Levi, she thinks. Levi.
"Idiot," says Levi, his front tooth catching onto his lower lip, eyes squinted until they're barely slits - he's crying. It is unlike him to lose himself. In fact, in the five years of failures and death, Levi has never broken down. Not like this.
Hange opens her mouth, one last futile attempt to say something, but it is impossible. She struggles for breath.
Levi, she repeats, and even the effort of thinking is draining her. Levi, Levi, Levi.
"Shitty glasses," Levi goes on. Hange's heart falters in her chest, and a wheezing, choking sound erupts violently from her. She must look like a mess, but she can't help it. Even in her last moments she is a mess in front of Levi.
Hange can't reply anymore, and she hopes he knows that. So she repeats his name inside her head, over and over,her gaze flittering over his hooded eyes and the crease of his brow, hoping he understands…
"You stupid genius, Hange Zoe," Levi says once more. Her name passes through his mouth slowly, as if he's savoring it, the three syllables. His lips nudge at the side of her face, a tear splatters onto her cheek.
Hange notices that it is impeccably bright. She wonders if it's the slant of light against her newly-polished glasses or if she's transcending to heaven, hell, or somewhere else. Levi's face, his small pupils and dark eyes and that slightly upturned nose is fading – it is as if the light is shining so brightly everything is being obliterated in its presence. It spreads throughout her failing vision, this blank sheet of white, and Hange can't see, can't feel, can't –
The wagon stumbles over the rocky ground and a lock of his stark black hair swings in a delicate parabola, tickling the side of her forehead. It is barely visible, but she summons the last bit of strength, and catches it between her thumb and forefinger.
Levi.
They both inhale at the same time.
When Levi exhales, Hange's eyes are the lightest shade of brown - glazed over, gone.