Even in my wake, I remembered everything still. As much as someone like me was able to. I remembered the velvet of his lips, which felt the exact same in real life. Nothing about him had changed, apart from who he was relative to those around him.

He promised to never let his race be known and I was going to hold him to that. If he'd been around humans as much as he claimed to, then he should've known how to mimic them. That was what I assumed at first. The last man he interacted with, I'd forgotten, was Erwin. Times have changed. Manners back then did not match today's. As quick-witted as he was, I did not know how well Levi would do with this disadvantage.

Nobody questioned our relationship. Should anyone ask, we were to present ourselves as friends. I convinced him that it was going to make things easier.

When the clock struck six, Levi followed me downstairs to get food. He leaned on the dining table, and right as I turned away from the fridge, commented, "I hardly ever see you eat."

I almost explained to him that I had a problem with food. I always ate alone, away from eyes that likely wouldn't have even judged. Levi never quite learned how necessary food is to humans, so he did not think twice of it.

I put my meal back and took an apple in replacement.

"You change your mind?" he said.

"I'm actually not that hungry," I said.

"Do you not starve?"

I ignored his curiosity and headed for the stairs. My mother was on the way out of the bathroom when I got to the top. She stopped me and asked, "Is Levi still here?"

She usually referred to my friends as they were. My friends. But this time, she used Levi's name. I didn't understand why he was a special case.

I said, "Yes," as Levi made his way up to me. I cocked my head at him to gesture into my room, then entered. My mother said his name, and I looked back and saw that it was only me in my room.

Fuck's sake.

I leaned past my doorframe and said firmly, "Levi."

His head snapped. He had stopped to listen to her, but I did not want that. I was sure she had numerous questions.

She did not say anything as Levi left her with a polite smile.

When I closed the door behind us, he asked me, "Do you not like your mother?"

There was no offense to his expression. He only wanted to know.

I said, "No. Don't you need new clothes?"

He stood quiet for a second, asking himself if I really just avoided the subject. Then, he replied, "I do not. I can pull my wardrobe any time I please."

"Just yours?"

He stared at me. "Is there an issue with it?"

"I can't have you looking like a magazine cover all the time." It would attract attention. That was what we needed least.

"What does that mean?" he said.

I left him confused again. He did not need to learn, so I did not feel like teaching.

Gods did not run commerce. If Historia liked something that she saw on Petra, she would make her own rendition. The same went for male gods. They copied one another's weapons and gadgets. No one batted an eye. This plagiarism was widely accepted, because gods were not in haste to be recognized or seen as unique. Their senses of individuality were built-in. They had infinite time to make something of themselves.

I wondered who inspired Levi's taste. He was minimal, and minimalism wasn't until after Erwin.

I took him to the grocery store on day three. My father drove, and Mikasa sat as the passenger. Levi looked at me, then at my family, over and over. The lack of dialogue made him uncomfortable.

He leaned forward so that my father heard him. "I never learned your name, sir."

My father turned around briefly in mild shock. He always initiated and so was not quite prepared to be a responder. "Uh, Grisha. Yours?"

"I told you his name, dad," I said.

He shushed me. "What if I forgot?"

"It's Levi," said Mikasa.

Levi was proud of himself. He smiled at the conversation he had just set off. "How old are you, Grisha?"

My father laughed. Here it came. "I got Carla pregnant when I was twenty-six. How old do you think that makes me?"

I beat the window to release my humiliation. "Dad, Jesus Christ!"

Levi did not share my embarrassment. He looked up, then said, "Forty-seven."

Grisha pointed at him. "Bingo."

"That's very young."

"Isn't it, Eren?" My father glanced at me. I made a mocking expression. "How old are you, Levi?"

Levi observed the passing trees, and said, "I forget."

Everyone handed him a laugh. Mine was fake.

My father settled down. "Okay. But seriously, though. How old is he?"

The question was aimed at me. Levi tore his gaze from the window to look into my soul, and I choked.

"Remind me, Eren," he teased.

"Shut up. I'm thinking."

I forgot. It was four numbers; two too many. But I thought Levi didn't even know it himself. How was I supposed to?

"Twenty-two," I said.

"Is he right, Levi?" my father said.

"Yes," he replied, looking out the window again. He must have been hiding a smile.

It was funny in retrospect. Levi would later reveal to me his real age; seven thousand, eight hundred, and twenty-two. He said he laughed because he thought I'd purposely left out the first two digits.

He would be twenty-three on Christmas. Allegedly. He was not keen on hiding his humor. As we sang him a happy birthday, he stared at the numbered candles, and I saw a smile begin to surface.

Then, Mikasa did that 'are you one?' thing, and his laugh was faint.

"Don't do it," I said. Don't let her keep counting.

He crossed his arms and sat there. As soon as Mikasa said twenty-three, I moved her out of the way and said, "We can cut the cake now."

"No, let her continue." Levi held up a hand. I smacked it away and held the knife. He backed up in his chair, feigning vigilance, and said, "I apologize."

I dug into the cake. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

I wish I could describe how little of it he ate. He was a humble god and so this gift meant a lot to him, but I was serious when I pointed out the way he ate.

I was a slow eater, once. I was born that way, but it got me into trouble. I would get yelled at if I stayed behind my bowl for too long. I eventually learned to eat faster, but I gained weight in the process. Fuck my parents. Fuck them for that.

Levi did not like talking about his family. He hated his, too. And though he was born a literary prodigy among other talents, I knew that a portion of his flaws came from a domestic domain. Namely, defensiveness.

His first problem arose when we went shopping for clothes. A woman was pushing her cart toward the entrance. I did not move out of the way when she approached because I assumed she'd steer clear of me.

She was going faster than she appeared to. Her cart rammed into my lower body, and I stumbled to the side.

"Get the fuck out of the way," she growled.

And just like that, the encounter was over. She continued out of the building, never to meet me again. But then I saw Levi tailing her, and I rushed to catch him.

"It's not worth it," I said.

Levi fumed, like milk flowing over the rim of a saucepan. I held his shoulders to take him off the fire, but he continued to boil. The calmness in his voice did not match his words. "I'll kill that bitch."

"They will lock us up."

That would be nothing to him. As long as it was man-made, no cell could hold him.

He gripped me back, his fingers much stronger than mine. "Why don't you stand up for yourself?" he said. Curiosity swam in the midst of his anger; he allowed it to be so, for my sake. "How could you take that?"

The nature of a god's wrath, which I did not consider beforehand, was not like men's. These were beings that couldn't die. Aside from the vengeance of another god, nothing could scare them. Nothing. Except, I had the ability to shake Levi's heart, simply because of how close he allowed me to stand to it. I hated to abuse this privilege.

I said, "It's whatever. She's gone now. It didn't bother me, I swear."

"It bothers me."

"Levi."

"Eren."

I shook him once to get it through his head. "Stop."

His lips pressed together, like that helped him stifle anything more. He looked past my ear to see if that woman was still there. I caught him in the act and shook him once more, repeating, "Stop."

His hands slid off me. They now rested at his side, scratching at their own palms. Levi sighed, and did not say anything more as I held and guided him through the aisles. He stayed present. Commented on items he had never seen before. Laughed at my jokes and complimented my choices. But underneath, I knew he brooded.

He could annihilate us all. It'd be as easy as weighing the tip of your finger upon an ant. Just like that. He could do it.

I could tell him to stop as many times as I wanted to, but the heart wanted what it yearned for. And in his heart, he knew that there was something wrong with this planet and the people on it. He was going to fight for whatever justice he saw righteous, I knew, because that was the kind of person he was. He would soon long for peace, and stand against the world for it. He would skin the planet to its substratum. But my dread did not sit under a notion where he burnt soil to ashes, water into air, and air into nothing; I only feared with all my heart that it would bring a downfall so massive, it would sweep away him as he was.

"Something on your mind?"

I inclined my head. "Hm?"

On the opposite end of my room, Levi decorated my mirror with his own handprints, drawing patterns and palming away at the condensation. He traced one final line before leaving his art behind to come my way.

"I can tell when you're deep in thought," he said. "Your expression becomes angry."

I rubbed my face. "Mm."

My heart held nothing but hate. Surrounded by those with golden hearts, it felt like what I had in my chest was a brick of coal. I guess the reason I was never good enough for these people was that I was never good to begin with.

Levi looked out of my window. I saw specks of white in his eyes. No. I saw star clusters. "The moon is nearly full," he said. "Emotions are at an all-time high."

"There's no proof of that," I said.

"You're living proof."

I lowered my head to conceal my laughter. "Okay."

"So what stretches your night?"

I already asked him this question. It still burned. "Why are we born? Just to die?"

Levi lowered himself beside my bed and rested his head on my legs. "There are many reasons for life," he said.

He was dimly lit. Absorbed the moon like a mortal. His eyelashes no longer glimmered, and his clothes did not glow. The atmosphere had never been so sullen.

I said, "Name one."

He took it into careful consideration. Which one was easiest on my ears? "Well," he said, "Because life can be interesting."

"Next."

His smile faltered. He realized just how serious I was. "Sorry. I know I've been too upbeat. You don't seem to be having fun right now. I thought it'd cheer you up."

I closed my eyes. I'd been cranky for reasons I could not recognize. How was I going to house Levi with this attitude of mine?

"I'm sorry," I said.

The skin of gods did not produce oil. He smelled the same. His hair stayed the same. I barely felt it between my fingers that were also dry. When was the last time I saw him bathe?

"Isn't it strange how we always wind up apologizing to each other?" Levi asked me.

I laughed. "Yeah."

"Are you being afraid of death again?"

"No. Yes. I don't know."

He held my shoulder. His blood ran unnaturally warm underneath his palm. "I'm not letting you die. I put that on my life, Eren."

"You're immortal."

"Exactly. I cannot perish." The whites of his eyes waxed when he looked at me through the darkness. "So neither will you. What do I do to convince you?"

"Just hold me," I said.

He fell asleep first beside me, closer to the wall. He did not snore nor mumble. I stayed awake, still dreading the future. Thinking about the war. How could I live in a world without him? And how could I be dead in an abyss that he was not in with me?

I thought to myself, there must be a way to kill a god. A way that not even the divine knew of.

I looked at Levi, for the final time that night.

There had to be a way.