Sooo, there's blood, death, angst for those who are not good with it. Have fun!
The chill met him when he woke from tumultuous dreams, embraced him when he crawled into his bunk to attempt to sleep at least one meager hour, clung to him throughout the day that seemed to linger impossibly long. He didn't know when it had first started clinging to him. Perhaps it had always been there, merely well-masked by warm smiles and comforting touches and colors that lit up his world, made it different from this drab world of gray and black, pain and fear.
Farlan pressed his face into his hands as he gnawed on a bottom lip already too raw to take much more. Blood trickled into his mouth after a moment of worrying it. A familiar taste. One that made him slap a hand over his mouth as he fought to not throw up, fought to keep it together.
Five years.
Five years and he still couldn't stomach the stuff, no matter how much he saw or tasted in the wasteland he had been caged in. It was still there on his hands, his clothes, his face, his hair, dying everything a deep shade of crimson that would never come out, it was so dark and permanent. Rather, it had ingrained itself onto his very soul so that even when the physical residue was long gone, he could still feel it, see it, smell it. Remember it as though it still coated his skin, a veritable second skin.
He shuddered, every fiber of his being screaming out as he fought for darkness, for the kind without dreams, memories, recollections. The kind that wouldn't leave him a pathetic mess when he woke. Not that he would sleep. It would be a nice effort at the very least.
Farlan swung their hands between them, an easy smile tugging at his lips as he constantly snuck glances at Levi, the smaller man completely unaware. Or maybe he knew but just didn't acknowledge them, not openly anyway.
That was simply how Levi was, particularly in public. He absolutely detested public displays and never initiated them, leaving that for Farlan and reserving his affections for behind closed doors or with close friends. Sometimes it amazed him that he ever managed to get Levi to hold hands as they walked the streets, let alone share chaste kisses. Then again, life away from the filthy street of Trost had done them well. Changed them. For the better thankfully.
There was still an ache for Isabel, for the old haunts that they had ruled with iron fists and a terrifying reputation, but it was for the best. The slums had ripped one of their trio away, forever leaving an empty gap, and he wasn't sure either of them could handle losing the other. That would be losing everything that they had strove for, make their progress from shit city to a veritable paradise.
Two totally different areas, ones that shouldn't have been in the same city, let alone on the same continent, but they were only five minutes from each other. Well, at least they were where Farlan and Levi had relocated. Close enough to still catch a whiff of the shittier side of town on a day when the breeze was blowing just right. Sometimes they even saw it, desperate, filthy clawed hands reaching from the shadowy abyss to a place of brightness, warmth, happiness. One day they would relocate again, further away, deeper into the depths of Trost to depart from the memories of the dark side of the city. That would take time and money. At least we don't make minimum wage anymore.
Farlan swung their hands up higher, high enough that he could skim his lips across Levi's cool fingers, ones he refused to put gloves on. He might have hated hand holding in public but he hated it more when he couldn't feel Farlan's hand, so neither of them wore gloves, not unless it was too cold to do so without being foolish. Gray eyes flicked up, a question rising in those glittering depths as their feet carried them closer and closer to their apartment. "What?"
"Nothing," Farlan murmured against those cold digits, breathing over them to warm them up a little more.
Levi's nose crinkled, his eyes scrunching up and brow furrowing as he doubtlessly bit back a comment on how dirty doing something like that had to be, how easily he was spreading germs onto things they touched their faces with. He had stopped using that defense when Farlan had pointed out that it didn't really matter since they did things that were far more likely to spread germs and disease, kissing being a main culprit considering sex was a thing they rarely tangled with.
He reached up and tugged on Levi's hair, the soft strands sliding easily through his fingers. Most of it was hidden by his thick dark blue woolen cap, tugged low over his head but not enough to hide all his hair or cover his pierced ears. Truthfully, that was the main reason he wanted to hurry home. There was nothing better than tangling his fingers into that ridiculously down-like hair after an exhausting day of work and dealing with some idiot or another every five minutes.
Still, Levi made it all worth it - not just with his hair either - by cuddling up to him and tugging an old, well-worn, but extraordinarily comfortable afghan that just barely covered the two of them as Farlan held him close and they watched shitty shows or movies on an even shittier television. So close, it was impossible not to breath in the vanilla scent of his body wash, diluted from a day of hard work in the library but still there, still as relaxing as it was in the morning when he woke up with his face buried against Levi's head, the sweet scent filling his nose as hair tickled his nose.
Farlan chuckled and kissed his hand again and this time Levi didn't protest or question it. Rather, he merely spared a glance around before deeming that the streets were empty enough before he ducked in and pressed a chaste kiss to Farlan's fingers, one that made his insides warm and his heart with a level of giddiness that was unnecessary considering how simple of an action it was. Then again, it was from Levi, and things from Levi always meant the world, even if they were simple things like a kiss or even just a picture of a particularly beautiful thing he had seen that day at some point. Everything was a gift, something he never took lightly. Especially not after Isabel.
"Hey Levi."
"Yeah?"
Farlan gave Levi's fingers a gentle squeeze as they came to a stop at a traffic light, waiting patiently as cars rushed by and the light burned red, bright against the rippled gray backdrop of the sky and the buildings made of bricks whose colors had faded with time and taller ones of steel and glass.
There wasn't a lot of color in the city, not so close to the other side, but there was enough, if one searched hard enough. It was visible in the shop windows, those who were daring enough to display such eye-catching brightness. It was in the clothes of those less aware or more carefree, those who didn't really understand or care about the miasma of darkness and torment that sometimes was only a few feet away.
And most of all, it was visible in Levi.
In the faint blue flecks that dotted his eyes to the electric blue scarf he had a penchant for wearing - a gift from Farlan as of two birthdays ago - and in the way his touches seemed to ignite colors as well. Soft pinks for those loving caresses that traced the planes of his face, poignant blues whenever sorrow dragged at his bones and pushed him into another's arms, lively golds when excitement had him grabbing at Farlan's hand as he gushed about something, a true rarity. Truly, there was color. One just had to find it, catch it, and never let it go.
"We should go to the beach. When it gets warmer of course. I mean, we won't be able to stay long, but it's close enough that we could spend a day or two there."
Silence met his words, then a soft hum as the colors changed, red flicking to green as pink fading to yellow and green. "The beach, huh? Well… We do have a bit of money and the Yeagers did say we could use their place… I've seen pictures of it and it looks like a nice place. Pretty easy to clean from what Carla said." Those cool gray eyes swept back up, lighting up with budding excitement. "We should do it. We could use the break."
It went unspoken, the date did. How it was just a week until her birthday, and just a day later, the day of her death. She had always wanted to go to the beach, just the three of them, but there had never been enough money, especially when they were handing off drugs, beating people up, or stealing things to scrape by. They had the money now, but it would never be the same. Still, they could make the most of it.
"We could. I'll talk to my boss about it, see if I can get Friday off next week. We'll come back Sunday night, or maybe Monday."
"Monday. Definitely Monday. I want two days there, dammit."
Farlan chuckled and nodded in agreement, accompanied by another squeeze. "Monday it is. I'll fight tooth and nail for it."
"Me too."
"Oh, I know."
They descended into comfortable silence, their only communication through the random squeezes and sweeps of fingers from hand to hand as they strode through the streets, their pace brisk as they sought to escape the cold. Gunshots froze their feet on the frosty, filthy pavement as their heads snapped up, bodies going rigid. The dry pops weren't unusual, not so close to the "border", but they were close, too fucking close.
Levi moved first, lurching into movement as the people on the street scattered, screams and wails punctuating the silence, the only sounds for a moment before the gunfire started up again. Farlan let him lead, throwing all his trust into Levi's judgement and senses as they darted down the street, turned the corner when they couldn't cross, darted on, turned again, slid to a stop.
A bruiser stood in the way, tall, intimidating, lethal as his meaty palms clutched a sleek black gun - a Glock. He had been waiting, probably for targets that escaped the main group of executioners. That gun instantly rose, zeroing in on them, caught in the middle but certainly able to pick a target and pull off a few slugs before they could make it very far.
Cold, dead brown eyes flashed, uncertainty flicking in their depths, then recognition. "You're the deserters."
Levi had his hand in an iron grip, his fingers twitching and hand trembling as his touch turned black and blue with despair. Farlan didn't dare peel his eyes off the bruiser to look at Levi, no matter how desperately he wanted to.
"Not deserters," Levi spat out, his voice smooth and cold, just like ice. Except this ice was sharper, capable of murder. A voice that Farlan had heard all too often not but a few years ago whenever they had a theft planned or were beating someone half to death for information or spitting at customers, telling them to fuck off unless they had enough money. "We were allowed to leave."
The guy snorted, eyes narrowing as the gun shifted, settled over Levi's chest. "No one leaves."
It all happened too fast.
That small hand that had been too well acquainted with blood left his, shoved at his chest, pushed him to the ground as Levi ducked low and lunged forward. Sirens split the air. More gunfire, one crack so close that it left Farlan's head ringing.
No.
He scrambled at the slick pavement, fighting for purchase as he slipped and slid over, crashing in an ungraceful pile next to him. A clatter. Sirens. Heavy footsteps going the other way. He could barely hear it, couldn't see it. His eyes were only for Levi as he pulled his lover into his arms, cradled him close.
Gray eyes flicked around, dazed and disoriented. Pale lips parted, nothing escaping but a wheeze, a trickle of dark red liquid. Hands fluttered against his arm, his chest, tremors wracking those fragile limbs as Levi shuddered, body hitching with strangled breaths. He fought to grasp at Farlan's shirt, tugging on it before his hands flopped uselessly down only to try again a second later.
Farlan clutched at him, eyes wild and hands fumbling as he cradled Levi close and pressed his hand over that hot damp spot in his abdomen, slightly left of his breastbone. "No, no, no, no," he whimpered, "Don't do this to me. Don't you fucking do it. Levi, Levi, don't you dare!"
But his touches were growing weaker, light fading, colors bleeding away as everything drained past Farlan's hand. The blond doubled over, ice filling his veins, a knife twisting in his gut as he pressed their foreheads together, shuddering with Levi. "Don't… don't, don't, d-don't…"
"Far…" A whisper in his ear, barely audible over the clamor in the background, and a rattling breath. No inhale. No twitch. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
"No…" Any more protests died in his throat, disappeared with the rush of blood, the crash and shatter of every fragile hope and dream and belief he had ever held close as they slipped from his grasp and plummeted to the cold, hard, brutally unforgiving ground below. "Levi…"
Cold. So cold. When had they gotten so cold? Absolutely frozen, barely warmer than the ground beneath them. Fuck, they might as well have been statues, frozen in time and space, never to move.
"Don't leave…" His lips moved but they were numb, useless, barely forming the words he could force out, burying the ones he couldn't. They pressed to that skin, rapidly cooling beneath winter's fierce bite, but it was still soft. Still smelled of vanilla and coffee and something wholly, uniquely Levi.
Disoriented blue eyes flicked open as sound broke through his daze: booming shouts, wailing sirens, pounding feet. His eyes wandered, uncertain of where to go, unable to return to that blank face once they left. A crimson pool surrounded them, stained his clothes, his skin, his face, his hair. Farlan gagged at the stench, at the realization that it was Levi on his fingers, on the ground. Everywhere but where he was supposed to be.
Farlan traced the edges of it, watched as it spread further and further away - closer toward a sleek black object that glinted in the sun. It took an endless stretch of time for him to realize what it was. A gun. Sickeningly familiar. A face swam up, so thoroughly ingrained on his mind that he didn't need to strain to see it. To recognize it, slap a name to it.
The ice inside fractured as he leaned forward, trembling hand closing around the cold metal, wrapping around it and pulling it into his chest. It dissolved in an instant, a rush of fire searing through his veins, burning him alive as he finally looked back down at Levi. At that empty face, slack without life to tug it into a familiar scowl or smile. At blank eyes, the blue no longer visible as they reflected the flat gray from overhead. At the cold skin that would never trace across his and leave trails of color behind, things to light up his world and make it a better, brighter place.
Farlan slipped the gun into the inner pocket of his jacket, safety going on with a quiet click as he bowed low over his lover, chapped lips pressing to that forehead as he had done so many times before. Except this time was different. "They'll pay, Levi… They will." And then maybe I'll join you.
In the cover of night, it was quiet. Peaceful even. One would almost never guess the occupants of the structure. Well, based solely off the noise anyway. There were still the smells and the all-too-obvious clues as to where they were.
Still, it was times like then when Farlan could pretend that he was somewhere else. That he was back in his tiny flat that he shared with Levi, curled up on their bed as they pressed close together, seeking out more heat in the bitter winter months, though they'd be lying if they said that was all they wanted. They knew too well that they wanted to be close. To be held within the warm grasp of the other, safe and secure, when all felt wrong, or whenever they just plain needed it.
Sometimes there were kisses, but there were always warm touches, ones that Farlan called "pink" and Levi had dubbed "blue", their ever conflicting color scheme colliding and meeting somewhere in the middle.
It had been Isabel's idea first, giving touches colors. Well, not so much an idea as a gift, something about her senses working in tandem or some scientific jargon like that. So Farlan and Levi had adopted it, cultured it into something of their own. It would never be as precise as her's, but it was good enough for them.
And as they lay in that slightly too small bed with its irritating penchant for creaking and being shit in general, they would sometimes whisper things of varying importance. Sometimes they wouldn't say a word. More often than not tales of the future to come slipped past their lips, filled the dark air between them and buoyed their heavy hearts enough to make it until they came together again for those welcoming touches of pink and blue.
Instead Farlan had a lumpy mattress that didn't creak, an itchy blanket to cradle in his arms, a stained pillow to whisper his plans for the future to. Except they weren't plans for the future, not any more. He had given up on that the day Levi had become nothing more than an empty shell in his arms.
He hated funerals. Positively detested them. Until Isabel had died, he had never been to one. They had been things that couldn't touch him, things he would never attend until it was his turn to go under or it was for someone they didn't know or give a damn about, just someone they were expected to show up for.
That day it had been bright, just like she was, and somehow that was befitting despite the fact that they could have hidden their anguish in the rain. Somehow, that had made her funeral easier to bear until they had returned to their shitty apartment on the wrong side of town and collapsed into each other's arms, seeking out some form of peace with light touches, damp cheeks, and muffled words.
He couldn't do that now, he realized, as raindrops cascaded down, plastering his hair to his head, making his rented suit cling to his body as he stared at the casket. Condolences were whispered in his ear, half heard and mostly ignored. Gentle hands brushed over his shoulders, touched his arms, tried to press an umbrella into his hand. He didn't react to any of it.
All he could do was stare and think about how when he went back home, this time to a better part of town, there would be no strong arms to fall into, to let guide him and hold him close until all the tears were gone and he was sound asleep, too exhausted in too many ways to keep them open. His feet moved on his own, carried him forward toward the box. The one that held Levi within its impenetrable clutches.
He had looked so beautiful, so peaceful, when they had opened the casket to let the visitors drift by. Erwin, Hanji, Mike, Nanaba, hell, even Nile came. Friends they had made when they had escaped the hell on the other side of town, all of them there to pass along words that could never sooth or even begin to mend the split that went straight through his entire being. Trembling fingers stretched forward and traced the dark mahogany of the coffin. It had taken every scrap of savings he had to get it for Levi, that, the tombstone, and the plot right next to Isabel. I'm sorry, Izzy. I couldn't keep him safe. Levi… I'm sorry...
Sorry because even though he had left that other life behind he was going to pick up that gun, cleansed of blood and grime and fingerprints, and march his way downtown, straight into their hideout, and butcher every last one of them until he found him. The man who had pulled the trigger in the first place. Maybe then I'll be with you both. We'll be together again. Happy.
He opened his eyes, heavy with exhaustion, as early dawn light began to seep through his window and paint itself across the cement floor. Sleep had come on fits and starts, mere momentary glimpses of darkness and emptiness before something jerked him back onto consciousness. Still, that was better than usual.
Farlan didn't sleep much anymore, not with those memories playing behind his eyes, forever ingrained there like some macabre film he could never cease to watch. It amazed him to no end that he had yet to collapse from exhaustion, or even die from it. Then again, the nurses were constantly dragging him to the Health Care Ward to force something down his throat so he didn't resemble a walking corpse since he barely ate as well.
There was no point.
There was nothing left to live for.
Nothing to give a damn about.
No one waiting on him for when he got out, especially since he'd be in a pine box. Well, maybe Hanji would be there. She still visited him, her and Mike and Nanaba and Erwin. Probably because they knew why he'd done it, why he'd said "fuck you" to the law and thrown himself into a veritable suicide mission. And they still loved him, even if he was a murderer, even if Levi was no longer there.
Farlan slipped in through the door, leaving behind the body of a man he had quickly, quietly strangled and a lock that had been picked all too easily. Then again, a nest of these fuckers made them pretty confident. He should know. It hadn't been all that long ago when he had been one of them, cocky that no one would dare break in, let alone try to take them down. And at the time, no one had been so foolish or wished for such a death sentence, a slow one of they didn't die in the initial assault. But no one had reason like Farlan. No one had nothing to lose.
Except for him.
He slunk further inside, moving with the shadows through the dark foyer, right towards the sounds of life, toward a door with light streaming out from beneath. Boisterous laughter reached his ears, sending his hot blood boiling as his hand tightened around his gun.
Breathe. You need to be calm. Breathe. And he breathed, sucked down a deep breath, clenched his hands, and eased forward oh so carefully. Though he hadn't bothered to maintain his stealthy capabilities, they had never quite left him, likely due to the fact that it had long since become instinct. A wild, crooked smile curled his lips as he waited in front of the door, a predator patiently waiting for his kill.
The opportunity came after just a few minutes, the door opening and spilling light into the hallway except for where the mob rat stood. He squeezed off a round - there was no need for more, not when they were so close and with his skills. Better than Levi even, though Farlan could never compare when Levi had held a knife in those deadly, gentle, loving hands.
Shouts filled the air as the man crumpled, his mouth a surprised 'o', even as he toppled down with a sickening thud. Farlan rose and stormed in, throwing all caution to the wind. He didn't need it. No, fuck that. They all had to die and if he was shot in the process, so fucking be it. There was nothing to live for anyway.
One was still seated at the table, a scrawny guy who looked like he'd probably piss himself in a few moments. Farlan saved him that embarrassment with a bullet through the chest and he tipped backward, crashing to the floor in a heap of limbs and blood.
Rustling drew Farlan's eye and he whipped around. Another man stood with his back turned, fumbling in a cabinet, doubtlessly looking for a weapon stashed somewhere inside. They had certainly done that at the base Farlan had once occupied. He didn't bother wasting a bullet as he stalked up behind the bastard and graded him by the hair, hauling him back.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins, slowing the world down and accelerating everything at the same time. Elbows were thrown but he didn't feel a damn thing, didn't even flinch as he jerked the man around, pressed their bodies close, and wrapped an arm around his neck as he backed into a corner to keep the two entrances in sight.
"You know what?" He hissed into the man's ear, eyes dark with barely contained rage. "I'm going to enjoy killing every last one of you bastards. Judgement doesn't mean a damn thing." His arm tightened around the man's neck, bring up desperate hands that scrabbled at his skin, frantically, fruitlessly trying to tear the limb away. Heavy footsteps filled the air, drew closer.
The wicked grin dropped from Farlan's lips, a blank, cold expression taking its place as one, two men burst into the room. He dropped the first with a bullet through the throat, sending red spraying everywhere, coating the walls and the man behind him. A shot went wild as the first man crumpled into the second and Farlan used that distraction, putting two slugs in the second guy, both through the chest. Bones cracked as gore splattered across the surfaces behind him.
Farlan's ears were ringing, the gunfire too much in an enclosed place, but he barely heard it, didn't give a damn. The man he held had ceased to struggle and he dropped him with a thump. Cold blue eyes stared down at him for a moment before Farlan slipped a knife from the butcher's block, knelt down, and slipped the blade in. He barely noticed the resistance of flesh and muscle, the scrape of blade against bone, the sickening squelch as he pierced the heart. He barely noticed anything. He left the blade there, buried hilt-deep in the man's chest as he rose.
One more. There was still one more.
He swept the rooms on the bottom floor before he descended into the basement, the only place left in the tiny building turned compound. It was dark down there, only a few lights buzzing and flickering above to illuminate the dirty concrete below. Some of the visible patches were stained dark, probably from poor, unfortunate victims who had been dragged down there and tortured until they talked. Or died. Either way they would end up with cinder blocks tied to their ankles and dumped into the river that cut straight through the middle of the city. No body, no crime.
The second his foot left the final step a bullet flew by, so close it ruffled his hair as the deafening crack filled the basement. The wall beside him exploded in a burst of powder and shrapnel. Farlan dove forward and rolled, pulling his finger off the trigger at the last second so he didn't accidentally shoot himself.
"Chicken," the other man sneered from somewhere in the darkness. He knew his name but he didn't give it to him. That would make a monster human, and a monster only deserved a bullet through the skull.
Farlan kept quiet, clinging to the shadows as he crept around the perimeter, one eye on the stairwell. A click was the only warning he got to dive down to the floor as bullets riddles the wall above him and further on, the familiar rat-tat-tat of automatic gun fire filling the basement. Idiot.
It stopped after a moment, a clatter following behind it. Shoes scuffed against the ground and the man stepped forward into the light, eyes narrowed and lips pulled down into a scowl. Fire surged up in his gut, twisting his insides and bringing his gun up as it blinded him.
Levi.
One, two, three shots, booming cracks that deafened him, made light flash before his eyes. A body thumped to the ground with a weak sound and Farlan sat up. The monster didn't twitch, didn't move. Only the creeping stain of blood caught his eye as it drained out of that son of a bitch.
Farlan hesitated for a moment before his mouth curled up as his shoulders started to shake, hysterical laughter bubbling up and exploding out, filling the dark basement. It carried everything: his misery, his hatred, his fire, his fear, ringing off the walls and bouncing back to him, absorbed only to be forced out again a moment later. It only died down when a realization struck him, jolting him out of his hysteria. It's over. All over. Levi... He pressed a hand to his mouth, expecting tears but finding none. Numb. Too numb to cry, to feel, to salvage himself from the abyss he'd fallen into. Levi.
Farlan raised the gun to his temple, face emptying. Nothing crossed his face except for a peaceful smile at the feeling of cold steel pressed to his sweaty skin, at closing his eyes, ready to embrace the darkness as his finger tightened around the trigger. Levi... I'm coming.
A hand grabbed his wrist and jerked it up as he squeezed the trigger, sending the bullet smashing into the roof above. Splinters and dust rained down, coating him as the gun was jerked out of his grasp, his body forced down, his arms pinned behind his back, even as he struggled and heaved and jerked against those large hands. "Sir, you are under arrest for the murder..."
He tuned the rest of the words out, drowning them with his screams as he thrashed, kicking out, fighting to break free. "Let me go! Let me go! Just let me die!"
At first, the confinement had nearly driven him insane. Twenty hours in a concrete box every single day would drive anyone mad. All that played on the simple radio fixed in his cell was a religious channel, a Catholic one for his Catholic background. He wasn't Catholic anymore. Not since Levi. All trust and belief in a God had drained out of him then as Levi had slipped away in his arms. But that was part of their correctional program, a repentance thing. That didn't mean a damn thing to him. He didn't regret it, not even close.
The only thing he regretted was not ceasing his laughter sooner, not pulling that trigger before that hand had caught his. That was the thing that kept him awake at night, haunted him alongside the images of watching Levi grow still and cold in his arms.
But that wasn't all. His personal torment didn't cease there. Oh no, it had to continue, to systematically strip him of whatever strength he had and leave him a trembling mess. Hell, it really was a miracle he hadn't completely shattered yet.
Or maybe he had done so long ago and he had just ceased to feel that as he drowned in agony and nothingness that welled up fresh every fucking day. A painful cycle to say the least. Even after five years, six months, and seventeen days it was pure, undiluted Hell.
Farlan sat in the courtroom, his head bowed as a prosecutor stalked up toward him with the click-clack of expensive dress shoes on polished floor. She stopped a few feet away and through his shaggy, unkempt bangs he could see her body angled toward him, hands clasped before her. The entire courtroom held their breath, waiting on her to begin her rigorous round of questioning to bring the truth of that entire night to light. Or to hear him spill nothingbut lies.
"Mr. Church, can you give me your full name?" He slowly raised his head, hollow, dull blue eyes sliding up over his black slacks, over the polished wood in front of him, and to the woman in black barely a few feet away, her dark brown hair pulled back in a bun, her brown eyes sharp, predatory, intelligent.
"Mr. Church, answer the prosecution's question." It came from above in the gravelly voice of the judge, the same voice he had heard intermittently every day for the last month.
He swallowed, his mouth too dry, before he finally spoke. "Farlan... Farlan Joseph Church." He didn't understand the point in asking a question that everyone knew the answer to but it didn't matter in the end. None of it mattered. Not anymore.
"And your age?"
"Twenty-four."
"Good. Now, Mr. Church, can you tell me what you were doing on the night of February the eighth after one in the morning?"
Someone cleared their throat and his gaze traveled on, slipping past her to his DA. The man looked pained, rightfully so. This case would not help his career to say the least. Or perhaps his employers would be understanding. I hope so. He's a good man.
"Mr. Church? Answer the question."
"I know," he mumbled as he looked back at the prosecutor. Perhaps another time he would have been intimidated to even sit before her with that intense stare upon him and only him. Now he was merely apathetic. That was a common thing nowadays, that and crippling grief coupled with a healthy dose of agony. He sighed and squeezed his own hand as he let go, let the words - the story - pour out.
"I left my house at ten and walked to the building. 133 Rose Street. I had a gun. A Glock. I got there at twelve I guess, waited until there was only one guy out front. That might have taken half an hour. I strangled him. No way around it and I didn't want to alert the guys inside. I went in after that. No one was there until I reached the kitchen. I waited until one of them opened the door and I shot him. Don't remember where. Further in there was a guy at the table. Shot him too. One was going for a weapon in a cabinet so I grabbed him and started choking him when a fourth and fifth came in. I don't really remember who shot first but they both died. The guy I was strangling was still then, so I let him fall to the floor. Grabbed a knife from the butcher's block. Put it through his chest... right here."
He tapped his chest, toward the bottom of his heart, as he stared forward with blank eyes, his expression dead, even as people in the courtroom gasped even though they had already seen pictures, autopsy reports, heard the tale of their deaths told not once but twice by an autopsy technician. It must have been different, hearing the truth monotonously uttered by a disheveled, dead-looking individual like himself, one who seemed to have no regret or sympathy. Farlan didn't think he could summon any if he tried.
"Go on," the prosecutor ordered, arms crossing across her chest, fingers tapping against her bicep.
"I went downstairs. The last guy-"
"Marcus. His name was Marcus Alexander Grey."
Farlan scowled, emotion finally flashing across his face. His hands clenched, nails biting into his skin as he fought to keep his feet planted so he wouldn't shoot out of the chair and scream at her, at the entire court.
"The last guy-" and oh, he got a sick kick of watching her eye twitch at that "-shot at me first. I dove forward and waited on the ground. 'Course, he broke out some kind of automatic, hit the wall waist-high and stepped into the light. He..."
Farlan swallowed hard, finally faltering. Hate and rage burned on his tongue, still fresh even though it had been well over a month since he had pulled that trigger, since he had gotten revenge, cradled it in his hands, and held it close to enjoy the sweet taste before giving himself over to the void of death. Well, tried to anyway. It felt like the entirety of the court leaned forward in their seats, even the jury, as he struggled to find words, to finish it.
"I didn't mean to shoot him... not right away. But he stepped out and... I was going to ask why. Why he did it, w-why he shot h-him, why-"
Farlan broke off again with a shake of his head as he pressed his hand over his mouth, biting back grief and pain and bile. Something dripped onto his hands and it was only then that he realized the world was blurry, wavering as his eyes filled too fast to hold back.
Heels clacked against the floor and suddenly there was a hand on the wood rail before him, slender and tanned with a gold band on her ring finger and nails painted light blue. He managed to peel his eyes from his knees and direct them to the prosecutor. She reached into her pocket and extended her hand, a white piece of cloth in her hand.
Like Levi's cravat. The one he wore to formal events like the business dinner Erwin had invited them to or Isabel's funeral. Farlan's throat was so thick with tears that he could barely choke out a thanks as he tentatively took the cloth and dabbed at his eyes as the prosecutor turned around and quietly returned to her previous place.
He couldn't even remember her name.
She waited until the handkerchief was in his knees, his tears mostly dried, before she cleared her throat, their eyes locking. "Why he did what? Who did Mr. Grey shoot?"
Farlan's mouth moved but no words escaped him, trapped inside his throat. His hand rose, searching until it found the familiar weight around his neck and clutched at it, the tiny gem biting into his hand. It shouldn't have been there. It should've been with Levi. And Levi should have been with him.
"Levi... He shot Levi."
His heart was in his throat, choking him as he fought to get the words out, to let the world know of the man who had been ruthlessly murdered. Whose case was still open, unsolved. His eyes settled on four familiar figures not far from the front, all four watching him with strained, pained expressions. Hanji looked like she was about to start bawling.
"He killed Levi. My best friend. My... my fiancé."
And the pain in his hand from their rings cutting into his hand couldn't possibly compare to the fracturing in his chest. Farlan hunched in on himself, clutching at his side and the rings, choking back tears and sobs and unbearable pain. Sympathetic murmurs filled the courtroom but he didn't look up, couldn't. He didn't think he could meet their eyes, not even Hanji or Erwin or Mike or Nanaba.
A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss."
The words were simple, soft. They could never mean enough. Their empathy meant nothing in the end. Absolutely nothing.
Farlan leaned into Levi, the heavenly scent of baking cookies filling the air as they nestled together on the couch. Their bodies were pressed close, Levi's back to Farlan's chest, their fingers intertwined, and their legs linked together. "You have flour in your hair," he murmured, chuckling as he blew on the powdered black strands before nuzzling into the crook of Levi's neck.
He smelled so good, like vanilla body wash and coconut shampoo and black tea - the expensive time he occasionally allowed himself to splurge on or Farlan bought for him as a surprise even if their budget was tight. He couldn't help but spoil Levi, even if it meant eating a little less until the next paycheck came in.
"Then get it out," he grumbled, playfully swatting at Farlan's thigh but making no move to let his hands go to let him do so. Farlan shook his head and pulled Levi closer, somehow considering there was no room between them to speak of. His little lover didn't complain. Despite his early objections to affection, he had turned out to be far more fond of cuddles than Farlan could have ever expected. That had been a pleasant surprise to say the least.
Loud beeps made him pull his head up, lips tugging down into a scowl as the oven timer went off. Levi squeezed his hand and twisted around, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before detangling their limbs and rising. He turned back, an easy smirk on his lips. "I hope you're ready to eat all of these."
"I'm not gonna eat all of them," Farlan scoffed with an eye roll, "You're gonna eat at least half!"
He merely got a middle finger and a wider grin in response before Levi slipped off to the kitchen to silence the blasted alarm. I love him. So fucking much. Words couldn't even begin to describe how much he did and he wouldn't even bother to try. In the end, the unspoken feelings were known, mutual, and they bother understood the extent of them without ever having to voice them in their entirety. Hell, Farlan wasn't sure he could.
It would fill pages upon pages, whole novels really, as he tried to express everything he adored about Levi from the way his fingers and toes curled when he slowly extracted himself from the cozy warmth of sleep to the gleam in his eyes when they played a game of poker and Levi won a hand, raking the massive pile of "chips" over to him as Farlan tossed down the raggedy cards with mock exasperation. There was so much that it would take years, centuries, lifetimes to even begin to scratch the surface. It would take until the end of time to even hit the halfway point.
His lips quirked up in a smile and he tugged on his hair as Levi bustled around in the kitchen. I can't wait to marry him. Levi popped back out after a moment, two cookies carefully wrapped in a paper towel. He sank onto the couch between Farlan's legs, a smirk rising when Farlan hooked his ankles around him and tugged him close.
Wordlessly he held one out for Farlan, a gooey chocolate chip cookie that they had made from scratch. He leaned forward and took a bite out of it as he touched Levi's cheek, eyes glittering with happiness. It practically melted on his tongue and fuck, it was the best he had ever tasted. Or maybe he was biased since they had made it. Together. "Levi-"
"Swallow first. Gross." Gentle, playful childing that made them both smile.
Farlan swallowed, stuck his tongue out, and caressed Levi's cheek, nudging his hand out of the way to bump their noses together.
"I love you."
He reached up with his other hand to cup his face, to pull him closer. He found emptiness instead. No warmth. No skin. Blue eyes fluttered open, dazed and befuddled as he stared at the concrete wall opposite of him, hard and unforgiving. The scent of fresh, homemade cookies was gone, replaced by the stench of sweat and stone and antibacterial cleaners. Their apartment melted away, replaced by steel bars and concrete and emptiness. The perpetual ache in Farlan's chest doubled, tripled, expanded until it was fucking crippling and he curled in on himself, shuddering and trembling as his fingers curled around nothingness. "L-Levi…"
Farlan stared blankly at the wooden tabletop in front of him, words of the prosecution filling the courtroom as she made her closing statement. The words were nonsensical, mere sounds crushed together that made no sense, not that he even tried to make them be heard. He was too empty, too numb. His insides were frozen. His hands trembled on his knees. Too much coffee and not enough sleep. He didn't sleep. Couldn't.
Every moment with his eyes closed was another moment where he saw the concrete painted with Levi's life as he clutched at his cooling body. Other times he had Levi in his arms, alive and well as he kissed Farlan's cheeks and told him, lovingly, how much of an idiot he was for buying that expensive tea again or for doing something that made him blush so dark that even his neck flushed red. Things that warmed his icy, dead insides until he opened his eyes and realized that he was a million proverbial miles from his apartment with Levi, that the only thing he could ever hold would be himself or a thin, scratchy blanket. And that hurt. God, it hurt.
But he couldn't help but cling to the hope that it was all one sick, twisted, extensive dream that he couldn't seem to wake up from. Maybe even a coma. And maybe, just maybe, he would open his eyes and see that he was back home in their cramped but cozy apartment with chipping walls and squeaky doors and stray cats that hung around because Levi was too much of a softie to stop feeding them scraps. Maybe he would wake up and see that they were in bed, arms and legs entangled with Levi's head nestled beneath his chin, his soft, huffed breaths whispering across Farlan's chest.
He kept pinching himself, praying that would wake him up. It never did.
Movement from beside him caught his eye as his defense attorney stood as Ms. Clark, the prosecutor, took her seat. There was no possible way he could keep Farlan out of prison. Everyone who followed the case knew that. But he had already insisted that he was going to try and get him as lenient of a sentence as he could. That he was going to get justice for Levi. The legal kind anyway. Farlan watched him take his place in the middle of the courtroom, facing out towards the occupants behind him, to the jury off to the right. He didn't listen to him either, not really. Honestly, it didn't matter. Nothing he said would keep Farlan from getting at least one life sentence.
Maybe I'll even get lethal injection. That shouldn't have made him so happy. Maybe I really am crazy. Mad with grief, with pain anyway.
It blurred by, his DA sitting down and the prosecutor rising to give another brief statement before she sat as well. The jury disappeared back through a heavy oak door and Farlan watched them go with dead eyes. He didn't bother to look around as he waited. He knew where his, well, Levi's friends would be if they had come. Sometimes they made it. Sometimes they didn't.
Honestly, he would have preferred if they didn't. They weren't so much moral support as they were painful reminders of what he had lost. They made the ache a little worse every time he looked at them. Because they reminded him of how he had failed. How he couldn't do anything to bring Levi back, no matter how many bullets he put in that bastard..
Footsteps filled the silent courtroom as the jury filed back in and settled in their seats, then the rest of the people in attendance who had slipped out for the short deliberation. "Has the jury reached their verdict?"
"We have, your Honor. We find Farlan Church guilty on seven accounts of assault with a deadly weapon and seven counts of murder of the first degree."
"Very well. Mr. Church, how do you plead?"
He blinked, uncomprehending at first, and then his DA nudged him, whispering in his ear that he had to stand and plead. Farlan stood slowly. He felt aged, a hundred years older than his meager twenty-four.
When he had gone to the bathroom before court had gone in session he had seen his reflection. Wan and haggard with dead eyes lined with dark bags, shaggy hair that was unkempt except for the few strokes of a brush his DA had made him do. Hollow cheeks, pale skin, at least twenty pounds lighter, likely more. His suit hung off him, something only heightened by the stoop in his shoulders. He had aged overnight at some point, suddenly waking up and moving like a man in his nineties, not one in his twenties. Pathetic. If only I had died that night.
Farlan cleared his throat and loosely curled his fingers around phantom ones that twined with his. "Guilty. I plead guilty."
He didn't hear the rest, not really. Something about seven consecutive life sentences. He had never understood the point of that. He wouldn't even survive one, let alone seven. Oh well. It didn't matter. Nothing did any more.
Farlan let them cuff him, let them lead him away. The only thing that broke through the daze was the fact that there was no clamor, no sudden surge of the press as they fought to move to be first to ask questions, to grill him for the why and the how. Everyone remained seated as he shuffled out, head bowed and cumbersomely heavy, flanked by two guards. Levi. I'm sorry. It's all my fault.
His tears had dried by the time a guard came up to his cell, rattled the keys, punched in a code, an opened his cell door without even a creak. It was a familiar guard, one with dusty blonde hair and a dark underside to it and dark brown eyes. Jake? Jean? Something like that. It was hard to be sure when he didn't care anymore, when his memory was a fleeting beast except for when it came to counting the days and remembering painful things.
Jean - Farlan decided that would be his name for the day - stepped in, keys in one hand and one hand on his baton. Honestly, he wasn't sure why the guards bothered bringing weapons to his cell anymore. Fighting was rare when it came to him. "Come on, Church. I've been told to take you to the Med Ward."
Dull blues fluttered for a moment before Farlan rose slowly on stiff legs. Jean let him make the bed with his lethargic movements, then pull on his socks and plain white sneakers before slipping out past him and into the hall. The door slammed shut behind him and a hand prodded his shoulder.
Obediently he started to shuffle forward, the path so ingrained in his mind that he didn't even need to look up. The surroundings were all the same anyway, only differentiated a little by signs, cell numbers, and the cells themselves, inconspicuous doors that could have led to anywhere had it not been for the flap at the bottom where they pushed food trays through and the small, barred windows near the top.
A maximum security facility, one only befitted of mass murderers like himself. Though, they didn't quite have a reason like he did. They hadn't killed the scum of society. Farlan didn't see it as a favor to society though, not even close. It was revenge, pure and simple. It was putting Levi at peace, closing his case since no one else could do it and get the justice he deserved.
"Hey, Jean." So that was his name.
Farlan glanced up as they waited at a checkpoint as Jean flashed his badge at the guard in a reinforced glass box beside an automated, heavy steel door. He nearly choked on his tongue. Black hair that hung just over his eyes, light colored eyes, pale skin. Levi. But no, it wasn't. As the shock died down and he came to his senses he remembered that it wasn't Levi, couldn't possibly be Levi. Just some nice guard named… Marco? His hands fell back to his sides, not that they had gotten much of a chance to rise.
The first time he had seen Marco he had thrown himself toward the poor guard, crying out Levi's name until a burly blond guard had dragged him back and a needle had been pushed into his veins. That time he had gotten a startled stare and a gaping mouth at his tears and screams. Now he only got a sympathetic smile and a "Hello, Farlan" before Jean pushed him into the Health Ward.
It was another world on the other side of those doors, all white tiles and white-painted bricks and sterile smells. Farlan's tongue untangle itself and he looked back at Jean. "Why am I here?"
"I don't fucking know," the blond huffed with a roll of his brown eyes. "Trust me, I'm just a guard. Probably just a fucking checkup or something."
He kept shuffling forward with that, mulling over everything. All the medicines they had given him - antidepressants, antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, God knew what else - were taken every day under careful supervision, his mouth checked immediately after to ensure that yes, he had swallowed them. Blood or urine tests proved that he took them. It couldn't be that.
They constantly fussed at him to actually eat instead of pushing out trays still full or barely touched. He had learned long ago that they wouldn't let him starve himself to death - they had shoved a tube down his throat and pumped him full of vitamins and minerals and something more than water. Why, he wasn't sure. After all, he was nothing more than a murderer. Scum of the earth now. But they were expected to keep him alive until he died a natural death. Pity. And he did exercise, doing his mandatory laps every- oh.
Oh.
Farlan's feet stilled on the clean white tiles, his fingers twitching with terror, outrage. "Oi, Church-" He whipped around, eyes wild as he shot away, the sluggishness burning out of his veins as he lurched away, a little unsteady at first before he found his balance, his will. No!
Sneakered feet slapped the white tiles as he darted through the halls, desperation lending him strength and speed. Nurses, doctors, and guards stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, lurching into action a moment too late to catch him. He heard Jean shouting into a radio behind him but it faded behind the pounding of blood in his ears, the ragged gasps that punched out of his chest, the screams inside his head. No, no, no! They can't, they can't, they can't. I can't. Anything but that. Anything!
A guard loomed up in his way, arms outstretched as though he was going to give him a great big bear hug. The police baton in his hand kind of ruined that. Farlan's sneakers squeaked on the tile as he skittered and abruptly changed direction, ducking down another hall as panic surged through him. No, no, no, no, no.
Everything blurred by, fading into nothing but interruptions in the blank whiteness and the dark gray blobs of prison guards that he ducked and slid and darted around, desperation giving him the speed he hadn't held in his grasp for so long. Last time, he hadn't been aware until the last moment. They wouldn't get him this time, couldn't get him. He- A massive body crashed into him, arresting his movement and sending him sprawling on the cold tile. Immediately there were hands on him, fighting to pin his limbs down.
"No!" Farlan screamed as he thrashed against them, body heaving and straining frantically, fruitlessly. "No, no, no! Don't touch me! Get off me!" Don't make me sleep. Please, please, please don't.
Because that was where the real monsters were. The monsters that came in good dreams of seeing Levi's smile, seeing his eyes light up, feeling his hair as he ran his fingers through it, breathing in his beautiful scent, having his words ring in his ears again. Things that filled him with warmth and happiness and life, that made him less of a shell, a wraith, a walking corpse who wished he was dead day in and day out. They made him alive. And then morning or consciousness would come bearing its horrible truths that it was a lie, every second of it.
Farlan shrieked and lunged up, teeth snapping at someone's arm but missing just barely. "Shit! Someone get a needle in him!"
"No!" It was a broken sob, that one word. One arm came free and he lashed out blindly, catching something square in a soft part. Someone groaned and fell away only for more hands to pin him down, press him to the floor. A needle pricked his arm and he froze, gasping for breath as his gaze snapped down to watch the little sliver of metal go deeper and deeper before stopping, then to watch that thumb push the plunger down.
A quiet moan escaped Farlan and he let his head fall back, giving up, going limp beneath their hands. Over. It was all over. His chest hitched with a ragged breath as exhaustion swept over him, drugs coursing through his veins. Blue eyes fluttered, the world swimming and the faces above blurring.
"Please…" he whispered, "I… don't want to." Protests didn't matter. Begging didn't either. Nothing did as he crashed into black.
"Farlan. Faaaarlan. C'mon, don't be such a fucking lug. God, you're heavy. How the fuck did you get drunker than me? Jesus… Oh thank God, there's our door."
Farlan giggled and buried his nose into Levi's hair, breathing in the scent of raspberries and vanilla and sweat. "You smell really good…"
"I smell like sweat," Levi grumbled as he tightened his hold on Farlan's waist, pinning him against his side as he fumbled, the key clicking once, twice against the metal of the keyhole before he managed to hit it and turn it, the tumblers rolling and door squeaking as Levi practically dragged him in. In his defense, Farlan did at least try to walk, though it was more of a pathetic stagger that nearly had both of them toppling to the ground before Levi tightened his hold to shut and lock the door behind them. "Idiot. Don't try to do anything or you'll get us both killed."
"Well, as long as I'm with you…."
"Sap." The smile was audible in his voice. It always was, even if Levi tried to mask it. Farlan merely giggled again and allowed Levi to guide him through their dim apartment to the bedroom and onto the bed. He set him down and ruffled his hair, pulling Farlan's chin up so they could look each other in the eyes. "Stay. I'm gonna get you some water."
"Yessir," he practically sang with a lopsided grin, swaying as he watched Levi go. By the time his little lover came back he had managed to shuck his shirt and shimmy out of his pants, tossing them both somewhere in the dim room. The bed creaked as Levi sank down on it, two glasses of water in his hands. He pressed one into Farlan's with a shake of his head and a snort. "Idiot. But saves me some effort."
"'M not an idiot. I graduated high school with honors, thank ya very much."
"I know, I know. But you're still an idiot." Farlan stuck his tongue out and, at Levi's urging, chugged half his water before slumping against Levi's side, his head finding the crook of his neck. He sniffed gently, breathing in his warm, familiar scent as his eyes fluttered shut. "Smells good…"
"I know. You told me already."
"Levi…"
"Yeah?"
"I had fun tonight. Lots of fun."
Levi shifted a little and suddenly there was a hand in Farlan's hair, smoothing it back and combing through it as Levi pressed his cheek against part of his head. "Me too, Far, me too."
"You looked so good dancin'... Swaying to the beat with those lights on you…" Farlan smiled into Levi's neck before he kissed his sweet skin, reveling in the taste, the feel, the smell. "Beautiful."
A soft chuckle met his words. The glass disappeared from his hand, as did the palm in his hair, and gentle touches pushed him down onto the bed, pulled covers overtop him. Rustling caught his attention a moment before Levi slipped in. Farlan moved, swimming through the covers to meet Levi with outstretched arms and clumsy lips. Levi indulged him for a moment before gently pushing on his forehead, separating them so he could press his forehead to Farlan's chest, one arm snaked beneath Farlan's in a familiar, comfortable position. The blond smiled and stroked Levi's back as he sighed, eyes fluttering shut.
"Night, babe."
"Night, Far."
"I love you."
"Love you more. Now go the fuck to sleep." He giggled again, drunk and high on the bouying warmth of joy and love, before he succumbed to the bliss of sleep, wrapping up tight in Levi's arms.
Farlan nuzzled Levi's leg as he looked up, watching his peaceful face as he quietly, idly strummed his guitar. It was an old present, one Farlan had gotten for him ages ago. It wasn't anything special, just an old, beat-up, used guitar. But it still worked. Levi had painstakingly learned it over the years and after they had moved into the apartment, Levi had finally played for him. Sure, it had been a simple song, but it had meant a lot.
He recognized the tune now, a song by MIKA. Soft. Sweetr. Slow. Something that Isabel had played for him a long time ago. She had said it was cute, that she wanted to hear it when he and Levi got married. He had obliged her, agreeing with a smile even though marriage was the last thing on their minds, even though they had barely been dating for six months. Farlan smiled, a little bit of sorrow tinging the easy smile.
Levi's fingers danced over the strings, his silvery eyes soft, a miniscule smile tugging at his lips. His own fingers settled atop Levi's thigh, tracing innocent patterns into his thigh as he let his voice join the quiet melody of the guitar.
"Is this happening to me?
Have I lost all my defenses?
Should I wait around and see
What it's like to lose my senses?
Always looking for the chase
From the high ground to the ditches
But the chance I'll never miss
Now I know what happiness is."
A gray eye flicked down but his stride never broke as the quiet strums and his soft voice filled their living room, peace in every note and chord that took to the air. It ended far too soon for Farlan's taste, the guitar and his voice fading into silence that left them looking at each other, grays locked with blues, before Levi set his guitar aside and leaned over Farlan. Delicate, warm hands cupped his cheeks. Smiling lips brushed across his nose, then his mouth. "Such a pretty voice… my little songbird."
Farlan chuckled, his own arms rising to loop over Levi's neck. "Only for you," he murmured, rising up a little to peck Levi once, twice.
"Good. I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Of course not, angel."
Levi snorted and kissed him again before pulling back, those silver-blue eyes rolling with exasperation. "More like a devil. i don't think you can get into heaven after all the shit I've done. Or if you believe those idiot bigots."
A grin flicked onto Farlan's face and he tugged Levi back down to breathe against his lips. "Well then... My devil, what does that make me?"
Levi chuckled, a throaty rumble that made Farlan's insides tingle pleasantly as a languid kiss was pressed to his lips. "A miracle," Levi breathed, "A gift, a boon, a phenomenon. Mine."
His eyes weren't even open and he knew, oh he fucking knew. A hollow void had ripped his chest open, sucking in everything - his breath, his hope, his warmth, all the happiness that had come out of God knew how many hours of sleep. But it couldn't take the devastation that wracked him, searing through his body and choking him with fresh grief and agony as they poured out of wounds that had been ripped right back open. Hot tears streamed down his face and he threw an arm across it, blocking out the light, the world, as his entire body shook, heaved with sobs. "Levi… L-Levi…"
Levi, with his beautiful, angelic smile that lit the entire fucking world up whenever his lips quirked upward, no matter how far. Levi, with his vibrant gray-blue eyes, just like the river on a stormy day, that were constantly overflowing with emotions, even if they never leaked onto his face. Levi, his hair so soft that it felt like down dyed with the depths of midnight as Farlan combed it back with his fingers and relished every chance he got to touch it, to fawn over every delicate, sinfully silky strand. Levi, with his snarky tongue full of bark but no bite nine times out of ten. Levi, in all his perfection.
Levi.
Covered in blood, drawing in the ragged, strained breaths they had both known would be his last. His slender, cool hands fluttering weakly against him and the ground, fighting for purchase on Farlan, on life. His eyes filled with terror and anguish before they went blank. Before he went limp.
Farlan screamed, his jaws splitting but no sound leaving as tears streamed down his face. Levi… Why couldn't I have died?