[The Breakup]

He just stares at her stilled form from the short distance that stands between them. Lips pressed together tightly, and hues deprived from any indication of life being born beneath the surface of them. It startles him, her bare visage. The way her hardened features always strayed from any form of sentiments or how it continuously prompted his being towards her at every moment that their gazes would lock.

This subtle attraction, he's become aware of it for a time now. That it strangely falters him late at night when his thoughts immediately fill with countless portraits of her silhouette and his heart begins to pulse against his hollow chest in the spur of the moment—he swears that it's dangerous for him to be so taken by such a small existence.

It was certain. Every harboring feeling or vehemence that stirs inside of him, overlooked, directs towards her wholeheartedly and it makes him sick to his stomach. Not in disgust nor in repulsion. But because bitter realization was dawning upon him every morning—in the midst of his trite reflection. He monitored her. Messy attire, loose strands, and even just a spec of dirt that lingered on the fabric of her blouse. This established routine become frequent before he realized it.

At first, he acknowledges this reckless, enraged, spiteful soldier as his own recruit for his squad. Given, that her actions, conduct, and responsibilities were all his. She breathes, bleed, trains, and labors under his verdict. And the fact that she belongs under his command, somehow manages to give him an overprotective perception of wanting to shelter her. Pointless? He can agree to that. Afterall, she harnesses potential even greater than most of the elite soldier's that were recruited before her arrival. Mikasa Ackerman, top of her class, second in line to him, carries a favorable asset with a strong value way beyond the lines of distinguished techniques or gained aptitude. A substantial resolve. One that was created through the threads that hung loosely from the twisted works of her past. A red string that eventually led her existence towards him without forewarning.

How ironic.

Grievance and affliction, he believes, are the most effective ways to relinquish a person's humanity and triumphing their veiled fears. To defeat a monster, one must be able to become one. And Mikasa Ackerman for that matter, fitted perfectly within that commodity. The exact same way that he did. Call it fate or not, she belonged to the Scouting Legion without doubt and he's come to understand her in the process of raising her up like his own.

"Levi." A soft whisper escapes from her pink flushed lips.

His breathing hitches in his throat, head jerking towards her for a protracted moment. Almost forgetting his purpose for visiting her within her quarters.

Though, before he opens his mouth to speak, she begins to unbutton her blouse immediately, giving him a quick glance before tugging her shirt from the waistband of her pants. As if she were expecting him to seduce her without explaining the reasoning as to why he wanted to see her. This enrages him. Gives him not even a moment to contain his bottled up anger.

"What the fuck do think you're doing Ackerman?" He demands, as he reaches out for her hands, stopping her movements before she completely undressed herself.

She just stares at him in silence and quirks an eyebrow. "Undressing myself." She states in a flat tone.

"I can see that." He replies between clenched teeth, using the tips of his fingers to brush his raven locks back. "Let me rephrase that again. Why are you undressing yourself?"

She opens her mouth but then closes it. Pondering to herself for a few minutes, with a hint of affliction coursing through her pupils. "No reason." She says quietly. Though her eyes betray the sincerity in her voice.

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. Knitting his eyebrows together tightly in frustration. He knew this would be hard. He understood the gut-wrenching pain and the twisted knots in his stomach that would follow after. But it had to be done. Right now. Not later. Or any other time. If not, then all of his efforts of practicing in front of the mirror, repeating one single goddamn line would have gone to waste. Everything down to shit.

But in truth, there was one thing he couldn't deny. And it was that being with her was like merciful bliss to his empty, fucked up, shit-filled life, in which he grew to love, because of her. Waking up to that warmhearted smile and cradling her form within his arms was like a forbidden paradise that kept him on the brink of sanity. And that was dangerous for him.

Having his main focus distracted by a girl who could easily be taken away from him. Far too dangerous and unbearable of a thought to process. He knows this. His whole squad was taken away from him in a matter of seconds. Especially Petra. The blow to her death was still there. Underneath all of the scars that branded themselves in the midst of his twisted recollection. He couldn't even imagine Mikasa's death in his mind. He wouldn't allow it. But he knew it could happen. The possibility was still there and that kills him inside.

We can't be together anymore…

He inhales sharply, his mind silently repeating those vile words that causes his heart to ache violently and his lips to compress to thin. He wants to say it, but the words are lodged deeply inside of his throat. Clinging on to any last remaining strings, in hopes that his mind changes and that he pulls this girl into his arm, never letting go.

Levi, however, represses those screaming urges and clears his throat promptly. "Mik—Ackerman," he forces out with a struggle.

She glances up. Silence filling the thick tension between them. Not a single word escapes from her mouth.

Levi squeezes his eyes shut and exhales out. "We can't be together." He says firmly. Cold and empty, but without inflection.

Silence stills. Her complexion stays calm, but he sees the flicker of hurt across her dark hues and he swears that his stomach tightens, his body refusing to accept oxygen in that brief moment.

"I know." She replies, but doesn't lift her eyes to meet his gaze. "I already knew." She states coldly.

He feels his heart clenching in turn with the knots in his stomach. The given pain that he awaited for, prepared and ready. But even while bracing himself for this, it was still a lethal blow to his chest. And it hurt like hell. Though he wouldn't show it on his face. His pride wouldn't allow him.

Opening his mouth but then closing it again, the words he so badly wanted to tell her stayed fixed within his throat. I love you..

Two words.

Two fucking words was all he could muster out. "I'm sorry." Is all he says, before he pivots his heels and escapes through the door, his eyes glancing back to see her scarf hoisted up to cover the copious tears escaping from the brim of her eyelids.

Fuck. Why. Fucking Hell. I just…

He clutches his chest tightly. Gripping it with such brute force, that he swore he was close to tearing the layer of skin off. And he actually wish he could. Maybe it could rid him of the searing pain that he felt inside.

He stands still in front of her door for just a fraction of a second. Just waiting. Hoping in his mind that she'll call out to him. Telling him that she loves him and that she wants him to stay. Because he knew the moment when those words escaped from the lips he grew so accustomed to—he'd bring her back into his arms again, his lips capturing hers.

But she doesn't. Because he knows her well enough.

There was no 'I love you,' or 'I want you to stay.'

Just silence. His back pressing against her door.

Goodbye Mikasa..

He leaves, without taking a single glance back.

Erasing any remaining memory of her from his mind. Especially the three words he wasn't able to say.

I love you..