Trigger warning: Obsessive behavior/OCD
I always do a shuffle play on Spotify to name my fics but the first song that came up was Bring Back My Girls by RuPaul so I cheated and shuffled it again. Then, came Shoop by Salt-N-Pepa and I don't even know whose playlist this is anymore.
I eventually settled on Give up by The Pack a.d which had so many good potential titles!
Friendship but can be read as romantic too.
The battleground is calm, the air reeking of stark cobber and death, evaporating titan carcasses hissing and injured soldiers crying out in panic and pain.
Levi has just stabbed his blade into the heart of one of his own men, arms, and legs torn off by teeth the size of tombstones. A grown man crying and begging for release in death. It would inevitably happen within the next few hours anyway, so Levi decided that the end of his knife would be the merciful way to go.
His hands are as bloody as his swords and crimson covers his clothing, bleeding into the thick fabric to leave unerasable memories of the countless of lives lost.
Grasping onto an injured shoulder, he watches the chaos unravel from the eery silence after the end of another (won? Lost?) battle, to the realization that it's over, and most of the men laying down have no idea if they are even dead or alive yet.
A heavy sigh is uttered from behind and a large hand rests on his good shoulder. Levi tilts his head up and looks into redrimmed ocean-blue orbs, pale lips that tell him something that drowns in the ringing in his ears.
It feels like he is holding his breath. Now, he just needs to keep holding it until they get back to the headquarters.
It is with frantic, circular motions that Levi scrubs the counter of the small kitchenette in their quarters. The new stitches in his shoulder tugs painfully with each movement and the sling that he was strictly ordered to use until the stitches were taken out in ten days, hangs loosely around his neck, forgotten and abandoned.
He cleans the same spot for whateverth time. After, he will do the dishes again, before sweeping the floors (which have not been swept since this morning and that is disgusting with all the muddy boots trotting in and out), cleaning all the door handles, and dusting any surface. Wariness was tugging at the edges of his eyes, but before he could go to bed, he would have to change his sheets and take a bath.
Eying the countertop, he tries to will himself into leaving it and start on something else, but the damn bumps and dark spots from years of use trap him in and even if he knows it is not dirty anymore and he knows that it will not make anyone sick, he just can not take that chance. There might be bacteria in the cracks and it might give someone salmonella and that might kill them.
And that would be his fault, for not cleaning it that one extra time.
Black dots are swimming in front of his eyes, covering the surface in front of him and it looks so filthy. The rag in his hand is graying from the excessive dirt, so his grip intensifies, wiping forcefully and nearly a little desperate. His palms burn and muscle ache, but he ignores it, just keeps rubbing at the spreading grime. Eventually, his hand sizes painfully, losing the grip on the cloth. Levi raises the cramping hand to his face, realizing that it is his hand that is dirtying the damn counter.
It's still dripping with blood.
He scoffs in frustration, tossing the nasty rag into the sink before turning on the faucet, wetting the bar of soap, and rubbing it in his palms and up his wrists until the bar is dry. The water is steaming, scolding hot as he runs his hands under the steady stream, rubbing them against each other and watching the water run pink down the drain.
Thoughts run to the lifeless eyes connected to the bodies of which the gore belongs to. All the good men and women that trusted him with their lives. The people he had failed, that would never return to their families. Levi knows he's selfish for being alive. Is selfish for mourning them when he should have been the one scattered limbless beyond the field in their place. Never had he earned the right to feel this kind of debilitating grief. Something catches in his peripheral and his shoulders goes stiff.
He knows Isabel's head did not roll over and bump into his feet right now. He knows her bright green eyes (that are no longer bright or shining with life) is not staring at him from the floor.
He knows Furlan's ripped off arm is not lying on the counter beside him.
He knows they are not pleading for him to save them or cursing at him for not being there when they were ripped apart-
Their voices are just so loud.
And this damn blood is not letting go of his skin.
"Levi-"
He snaps for his next breath, swirling around with wide, shell-shocked eyes, and stares up to the same cerulean gaze that always seems to look at him with the sadness of a hundred battlefields and it hurts. The large hands that earlier had grabbed his shoulder and lead him to his horse were now grabbing both of his wrists and it makes Levi want to scream. But then, he notices the raw, blistering skin in his palms.
"I- " Levi starts, chest heaving as the revelation washes down his back, leaving him with an icy feeling along his spine. "What time is it?"
"Morning," is all Erwin tells him when he realizes that his subordinate has been cleaning since they got back from their expedition the evening before. "Come." The commander tugs the dazed captain out of the room and into his own quarters, seating him on a chair in the corner of the spacious room. Levi complies without arguing and sits motionlessly as Erwin pulls out his well-stocked first-aid kit and brings it over.
There's a comfortable silence between them as Erwin apply burn cream and disinfectants before he starts bandaging the damaged hands. He eyes the sling around Levi's neck begrudgingly, remembering the deep gash in Levi's shoulder from before, but does not say anything about it.
"I'm sorry," Levi finally whispers hoarsely, lowering his gaze to meet his lap. He does not want to look at his hands, nor the soft expression on Erwin's face as he treats his stupidity with no hint of disgust or anger.
Erwin pauses for a heartbeat, before continuing the meticulous work.
"Don't be."
As if he did not hear him or perhaps choosing not to, Levi continues. "I'll be better the next time, I promise-"
"It's nothing to apologize for," Erwin snaps heatedly. Levi's attention clasps back at the harsh tone.
"If anything, I should apologize to you, Levi."
To that, Levi can only shake his head. A sad smile has curved the corners of his mouth as he opens to talk, but Erwin interrupts him.
"I have not been fair to you, Levi," he sighs earnestly. Levi's hands twitch in his. "First, I manipulated you by using your friends' desire to leave the Underground to make you join the Survey Corps for my own selfish agenda. Then, I neglected your emotional wellbeing when they died. The pressure I've put you under is immense and I've chosen to ignore any sign that you were cracking."
Levi blinks up at him, wanting to scoff, tell him to go fuck a goat and stop thinking so damn highly of himself. But, he does not. Instead, he can feel a strange warmth burning behind his eyes. Promptly, it releases and crowds into long black eyelashes, falling, ghosting on his pants. He retracts his good (better?) arm and quickly brushes it across his watering eyes. The sleeve lingers there a little too long and before he can brace himself, a painful sob rack through his heart, forcing his upper body to arc until his elbows rest on his lap. He cries soundlessly into his bandaged palms, shoulders shaking and trying to draw out whimpers at the strain on his stitches.
He forgets to breathe when he is pulled into a tight embrace by long arms that wraps around his feeble body, unable to recall the last time someone held him like this (or suppress, 'cause it's Isabel and Isabel's ecstatic arms that envelops him as she squeals happily about seeing the sky for the first time and shut up shut up shut up-)
Levi's claws urgently at the soft cotton shirt that smells clean and nice and somehow safe and tries to cut off the strangled wail that leaves his traitorous chest. Erwin coo's gently, telling him 'it's okay' but Levi disagrees and shakes his head forcefully.
"I'm sorry Levi," Erwin pleads regretfully, letting the shaking form tire itself out until there is nothing left of Levi. He is just a heaving bag of air.
"But, I am sorry too, Erwin," Levi finally wills out, unwillingly breaking the comforting contact. "I should have said something sooner. I- I'm no good like that." He rubs the reminding tears off his cheeks and sniffles. A warm feeling erupts in his stomach when Erwin finally smiles down at him, like grey clouds moving away for the sun.
"I guess we both can do better," Erwin drawls, watching him fondly. His gaze stills on the deserted sling that slouches around Levi's neck. Erwin reaches out and gently places Levi's arm inside of it.
"And you can start by following doctor's orders," he smirks, self-satisfied. Levi rolls his eyes but can not keep the smile off his own face either.
"Go fuck a goat," he gripes and hits back a little harder than necessary when Erwin brushes a friendly fist against his arm.
I kinda wanted to end this with Erwin stopping Levi in the kitchen and have his apparition fade away with the other hallucinations - but I couldn't do it to you, or myself.
I wrote this in one and a half hours, starting at three in the morning. It's currently a quarter to five so my apologies if there are any weird grammatical errors.