Back on Paradis, Eren's physical chains have been replaced by the wary, watchful eyes of the Corps. Hanji can barely manage to look in his direction, and even Mikasa and Armin keep him at a distance, a divide which Eren does not appear to be trying to cross. He eats alone in the mess hall, and retreats to his room, adjacent to Levi's. The room is meant to be used as an office, but now is the next step in Eren's reform plan. They don't want him in the dungeon with Zeke.
"I turned a blind eye before," Hanji had said the first night they'd arrived back at Paradis. "You know I can't anymore."
"There's nothing for you to fucking see," Levi had replied. Not anymore.
Tonight, he stares up at the ceiling, Eren's sobs keeping him awake. As far as Levi can tell, he hasn't cried since the airship.
He tries to ignore it, but can't.
Levi unlocks the door between their rooms and goes to Eren's side. He shakes him once, twice, harder when he sees tears sliding down Eren's cheeks. His eyes are glazed over, a look Levi is all too familiar with. Now, though, Eren is alone. No Mikasa gripping his hand, no Armin to help him make sense of the memories flooding his mind. Levi pities him the way you might a stray dog that's bitten you. It's nothing more than that.
Shiny, glazed eyes unblinking, Eren looks straight at Levi without seeing him at all. Levi puts a knee on either side of Eren's torso, looming over him like a twisted shadow of the past and grips his shoulders. "Eren," he says. Then tries again louder, "Eren."
"The Warhammer Titan," Eren says suddenly, eyes still clouded.
Of their own accord, Levi's hands fist Eren's shirt. "I hope it was fucking worth it."
Except it doesn't matter if it was worth it. The point wasn't if Eren was right to go gallivanting off on his own, doing whatever he saw fit. It was that he'd done it in the first place and broken trust that had taken many years to build.
Another tear slides down Eren's cheek. "I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't."
And Levi knows. He knows what Eren means because they'd had this talk before on a night that Eren had slipped into his bed and made Levi believe that he'd found some missing part of himself.
Rage erupts again, and his body shakes. Eren has made him lose control of his body, the one thing Levi can always rely on. His fists tighten, pulling the cloth taught.
"You're being a fucking idiot. That was different," Levi snarls down at Eren, leaning into the anger instead of the sorrow. "Back then, you chose to trust in your squad, in me."
Eren won't stop crying, and Levi feels he might start too. Since Eren left, he hasn't cried once, even though a fragile part of himself he'd left unguarded had broken. Now he thinks he might lose it.
"And we still lost them all. At least this time I made the right choice. Even if it meant…" Eren chokes on the words. "Even if it meant casualties…Sasha."
Levi shakes his head, the wound of losing Sasha still raw. "You don't get to decide that for all of us."
"I'm trying to save you," Eren pleads. "How can you not understand that?"
Levi ignores the stupid, foolish remark. "You know I was fighting for you, don't you? But you couldn't wait. You just fucking left."
He still hasn't let go of Eren. Their faces are the barest of breaths apart from one another, eyes locked. Somehow Eren is still the most beautiful, awful thing he has ever seen.
He knows how Eren likes to be kissed, knows how he feels inside, knows the sounds he makes when he's close to the edge, but he doesn't know the man beneath him anymore. If he leaned forward, would Eren pull him close or push him away? Which would Levi want?
He pulls himself off Eren and heads for the door, breathing hard.
"Did it mean nothing to you?" Eren asks, voice a quiet gun shot. The words pierce through Levi's heart.
Levi pauses at the door between their rooms, fingers frozen on a half-turned knob. He turns to Eren, aghast. "I should be asking you that."
"Of everyone, after everything, I thought you'd be the one to trust in me."
"Zeke's alive, isn't he?"
Eren only shakes his head, already removed from the conversation. Fury clouds Levi's vision because Eren was the one who'd thrown around dangerous promises like I love you.
"Cut your fucking hair tomorrow," Levi snaps. "If I wanted to see a rat's nest, I'd go to the sewers." He slams the door shut.
Levi doesn't lock the door behind him.
For the rest of the night, as he tosses and turns, he wonders if Eren will come to him. If he would fold Levi in his arms, nuzzle his hair and whisper apologies. If he'd try to convince Levi that things could go back to the way they were.
But eventually the pink streaks of dawn are visible through the window, and Eren hasn't come.
There is not enough time left to repair what is broken between them. But Levi will leave the door unlocked again tonight.