Levi wonders what made him kind.
He never was a kind person to begin with, nor a gentle one. But right now, in this moment, his bones seem to have melted into the warmth of the pillow, his fingers suddenly capable of a softness he thought was impossible.
No - not kind. He is not a kind person. But right now, in this moment, his heart is thumping so hard it reverberates throughout the room. He feels unspeakably happy. He has never felt this gentle contentment in a long time.
"Levi," Hange mummers. She lies on the opposite side of the bed, their bare arms and legs are separated by a thin layer of blankets, and they don't touch. "Aren't you asleep?"
They have been lying in this position ever since Hange invited him - or he invited himself into her room. It started as a friendly banter as always. How did it end up like this?
"I was going to, four eyes," Levi mutters back. In the hazy darkness, he can barely make Hange's form out, but she shifts, and the creak of the bed is the only sound in the silent room.
"Okay," she says, a hint of unsureness in her tone. The moon reflects the metallic edge of her glasses onto the dark ceiling. Her clothes lie in a pile on the floor.
Filthy, Levi thinks, but he's not even in the mood to criticize her anymore. Even if his back is sticky with sweat and his bare feet feel exposed, hanging off the edge of the bed like that, he doesn't get up and return to his room. Doesn't bother to wash up. He simply lies there, eyes unfocused in the darkness, watching the wall opposite him with a dazed kind of contentment, a warmth in the pit of his stomach.
"Levi," Hange repeats. She flips to the other side so that he can smell her hair, the bed creaks again.
"What? I said I was going to."
Hnage's eyes glint, a reflection of his. Her hands stretch and reach for him. His what? His face? Her lips press tightly together, her fingers pause just above his sweaty forehead.
Levi doesn't move, and simply closes his eyes, expecting her touch. Hange exhales. The fingers sweep off his forehead, skim down the curve of his cheek, rest at the corner of his lips and lingers there. Her expression is unreadable.
"Shitty glasses," he mummers half-heartedly, and her fingers retract quickly. His eyes are still closed, but he reaches for her, and twines a curl of her fiery hair around his index finger.
"What?" Her voice seems to contain barely concealed amusement.
"Don't give me a half-assed excuse. Like asking me to sleep when you were really going to do this," Levi replies tautly, his face as impassive as ever. He grabs her hand and pulls it down to his chest, above his heart.
"Look at what you're doing to my hair, clean freak. Are you a hair curler?"
Clean freak. Levi smiles quietly to himself. "Another half assed attempt, four eyes." His other hand reaches for her again, needy, and she inches closer.
"Levi."
"Shitty glasses."
"Levi," Hange's breath is hot against the curtain of hair framing his forehead, she inches closer again. It's a wonder that she's so gentle here, when it's only the two of them. Her usual brusque movements are gone. But then again, he is too. He's being so kind to her, his hand snaking around her back tenderly, so gentle.
Levi wonders what made him kind.
"Hange," his breath billows against her hair, she smiles, and he knows.
"Hange," he repeats.
And they fall asleep, a thin layer of blanket separating them, just like that.