Hello! This will contain spoilers for the ending of AOT / anime spoilers in that it reveals who lives & dies. So please only read on if you are comfortable with such :) (cross-posted on AO3)

I hope you are blessed with a heart like a wildflower.

Strong enough to rise again after being trampled upon,

tough enough to weather the worst of the summer storms,

and able to grow and flourish even in the most broken places.

~ Nikita Gill

He never expected to live through the war.

Never expected to outlast so very many of his comrades, his friends – family, really. For that's what they were, what they had become to him over the many years of fighting along each other's side. Not that he ever mumbled those words to them. Regretfully, as now any chance to do just that had been taken away from him.

Orders.

Levi always followed orders. Erwin's orders, then Hange's for a brief time, even that brat Armin's decisions for a short period before he decided to walk away from it all. Besides, how much help is a Captain without the full use of his legs? Not much. He did his job, followed through on that promise to Erwin.

Never expecting to come out from this, beaten and bloodied but still breathing when so many of them were not. How was that fair? To see those who lived their life openly and freely, lovingly above all else… gone. How many times must he throw himself into harm's way to die?

Not that he particularly wanted that, but if able to trade for one of the lives which had been taken from this world far too soon – yes, he would gladly lay down his life for one of them.

Eld. Petra. Oluo. Gunther. Sasha. Furlan. Isabel. Miche.

The list was endless.

Erwin… Hange...

Some were so painful they belonged to a list of their own.

Five years. How did time pass so damn quickly when the days felt long and endless? Needing to get away from it all, he left Paradis shortly after negotiations with the other remaining Nations appeared to pick up momentum. Living in the newly established Marley, the one no longer under the old regime.

Why? He had nowhere else to go, no real desire to live anywhere in particular. Plus, the large memorial had been constructed here – of all those lost in the Rumbling. Merely any bodies had been found, yet small stones erected with etched lettering: the names of the fallen.

Erwin Smith, 13th Commander of the Survey Corps.

Hange Zoë, 14th Commander of the Survey Corps.

His eyes shifted down to stare below at their names. A tightening of his heart, he's a little relieved to feel fresh raindrops cascading down from the sky. A cover for the salty tears which spill down his cheeks.

"Why me?" He mumbles, voice hoarse and barely loud enough to reach his own ears. Why none of them and yet, me…

Tightening his grip on the cane, Levi prepares to leave when he glances over and catches sight of a woman across the field in a black coat with an umbrella hanging limply at her side. She's too far away to make out the specific details of her face and yet instantly he knows, he feels the matched pain, the sadness seeping out, he knows that look all too well.

The hopelessness and the heartbreak. Yes…

All too well.

My eyes glance up at the dark clouds which spread out across the moody sky above and I shiver as a flurry of thick raindrops begin to wash down through the air, splashing down into thick puddles on the pavement. Thankful that I've brought my umbrella, but still… a regretful look down at my black pumps I know the grass will now destroy.

Oh well… I only wear them here. No one will mind a little tarnished leather in this place, I softly chuckle.

A heavy breath as I push open the car door and step out into the rainfall. It's empty here, which is usually the case and is the very reason why I show up oh so early on Sunday mornings. Quietness, severely underrated in today's world. At home, the silence leaves my ears free to imagine the screams and horror of those large stomps, the vibrations of the ground as we all ran… leaves my mind pulling back to the image of his hand reaching out to encourage my running away as I watch one of them crash down and bring my world to an end.

His world, I suppose… yet when someone is your everything, do you not end with them as well?

In this place however, I find the silence comforting. My eyes glance over the rows and rows of tombstones, the neatly manicured grass which I find perplexing as I never notice any yard workers around. The mixture of fresh and withered flowers, of dates with years placed so close together it causes me to wince. The hardest one: 853 – 854. One year… only one year before life all came crashing down over here for that poor little soul.

The day those giant nightmares came marching across the sea and changed everything for those of us living over here. The day I lost my beloved… my husband.

Every Sunday morning, just like clockwork. I arrive in the newly constructed cemetery for those lost to the Rumbling with a batch of fresh waterlilies in my hands. His favorites. Or, more accurately my favorite. "Something that places such a smile upon my wife's face, how could it not be my favorite flower?" He would send me one of those painfully charming winks while brushing his fingers along the small of my back in the market as we picked up a new batch.

I lower my umbrella, suddenly in the mood to feel a little rain splash against my cheeks. Covering the trail of tears which inevitably fall down while I walk up to his grave before it slowly turns to a blank stare, spent of crying.

Placing the flowers carefully on the ground and staring out at the etched lettering, brushing away a few leaves which cling to the stone having been caught in the damp winds. The world shuts out for me when I am here, time suspending in a way that I could sit here for hours, caught in the past of warm memories, of a time when returning home at the end of the day meant laughter over a glass of merlot instead of dimly lit embers in the fireplace as I curl onto the sofa and stare blankly at the empty armchair before me.

Staring at the open door which leads to our empty nursery, for the family we were meant to have if none of this had ever happened. Though some nights I find it just a little too hard to breathe and so I quickly pull the door shut, hoping to keep that part of my heart blocked off for a few hours until I fall into a restless sleep.

Slight movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention and pulls me from my thoughts of the past. I glance over to see a man, standing by himself before a grave with a sunken posture – one I know all too well. The look of grief, hard to explain. Easy to recognize when you share someone's pain.

It's a little odd knowing I am not here alone yet I pull my gaze back to stare before me. Letting out a sigh, I close my eyes and find myself slipping through time once more, mind desperate to fall back to the past and live in tightly held memories.

There's one in particular which always seems to settle on my mind when I'm feeling exceptionally lonely. As if my body wills to see just how much heartbreak I can take, reliving it over and over.

Our first place together, after months and months of saving, of tirelessly working to gather the deposit required before we called the place our very own. The exhausted weekend of throwing all of one's belongings into boxes, carefully packed with cellophane and brown paper only to grab them off the truck a little too roughly because it's nearing the end of the day and we are exhausted.

Then laughter mixed with groans as we unpack the following day, glancing down at the broken glasses and teasingly glaring at each other, how did that happen?

Of old and torn wallpaper needing a fresh coat of paint in the bedroom so we find ourselves sleeping on our thin little mattress in the middle of our living room for the first few nights. Attempting to keep dirtied feet from the bedsheets as we step around it in the daytime, cursing myself for buying white sheets. If ever there was a poor idea, it must be white bedsheets in the middle of a move.

Of falling asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. Mumbles of the to-do list for tomorrow before we drift off, staring out at the mountain of boxes around us and feeling proud because the mess is slightly less than it was when we woke up today. Not a big change, but a change nonetheless. Progress, we're moving forward.

My mind never seems to be content with staying in those peaceful memories. Evenings with laughter and music, swing dancing in the kitchen slip into the cries and yells from that horrible afternoon. Of the dust clouds, so large it covers buildings – covers everything. The streets shaking… From footsteps? That's hard to believe.

But then my eyes spot the first one and I realize it's all too real. Running, frantically in every direction. I'm thankful we have our hands clasped together and figure that we won't get separated because how can we when my husband's hand is still held tightly onto mine but then I feel his fingers pull, his fingers slip away.

I turned back. Gods, I wish I hadn't. His face, his eyes as the large Colossal tramples down upon him. My everything, my safe place – all gone.

Somehow I get pulled along in the crowd and find myself whisked off into one of those large wagons. My eyes closed for the majority of the ride, I don't care… don't care if I get out of here because why? Why continue on when my better half has been stollen from this world.

No more laughter, no more stollen kisses as we walk through the streets. I'm alone in this world now and merely left wondering, why me?

The rain has broken and the sun's rays shine through a slither of open sky, pulling my eyes back up to the heavens and smiling as a final tear slips down my cheek. A deep breath, it's likely time to leave and so I pull out my handkerchief to dab at what is likely ruined mascara, hoping I don't look too distraught and so that I am still able to stop off at the farmer's market on my way home.

I turn my head over to the left and chills dart up my spine upon noticing the man from before still standing there yet with his eyes now turned directly to my location. He's far enough so that I cannot make out any real features with the exception of his raven hair.

Wincing a little, I wonder how long my private moment has been intruded upon but then notice what appears to be a small nod of his head and then the angry feelings seem to dissipate.

I nod a little in return before his eyes pull back to stare down upon his lost loved one and then I let out a long sigh. Time to go, I turn myself around and trek back through the soggy grass to catch a final glance of the man slowly making his exit from across the parking area.

For the first time, I notice a cane placed within his hand and what appears to be a limp. Wonder if that happened in the war…? I frown before pulling myself into my vehicle.

A glance up in the mirror confirms my suspicions: I look a mess. No freshly baked croissants this morning for me. A warm bath and a cup of tea, perhaps I'll venture out tomorrow instead. A new tea shop apparently has popped up around the corner of my house.

An excuse to pull myself from bed. A needed one… as these days, that task seems a little more impossible than I had ever imagined.

A little more daunting than what I care to admit.

Certainly, I was not expecting for our paths to cross again so soon the following morning as I walk past the newly opened tea shop. Nor as a I make another early morning visit the following weekend to the graveyard. I stare over at his weighted shoulders, slumped over and staring down at the names before him and I find myself wondering…

Does all pain feel the same? If so, I pity that man. I pity anyone who knows the sadness which I walk. The loss…

The hopelessness and the heartbreak.

Thank you so much for reading :) Please let me know if you've enjoyed!