Red skies had always meant doom.

The winds gather and bend to blend with those scarlet, ill-fated skies. Levi crouches beside you in feathers buckled with ropes. You run your hands over it— whoa... it is feather! Just what's going on?! Why are you riding on top of a big ass chicken in a rope? Connie and Levi, along with the rest's cooped in this chicken and even Pieck is here, and she's so pretty!

But that kid.

That kid beside you... looks like... Gabi.

What is an honorary Marleyan— Sasha's murderer, doing beside you? Maybe you should push her out and be done with it. It's not like she's gonna die for real since this is a dream.

Levi's hand reaches to cover the back of yours. His cold, shaking grip tightens to assure you that everything will be fine. Safe is the last thing to feel in a situation where one wrong move and you're flattened down and charred stuck on those giants' feet. Those titan toes are almost circular; pushed short as close to the base of their foot like an elephant's. Little are their resemblance to human feet besides the exposed fibrous muscles which allow them to move. Now that you're thinking about it, they're designed that way because they aren't primarily made for walking; they were made for pressing and stomping as flat as their weight allowed them.

The wind overcomes the noise, its gusts are enough to knock you over by sheer force. The parts of your body that resisted made the wind deafening, like it was singing and howling songs of sorrows in your ears. Below sounds like hundreds of drums beaten simultaneously but with no rhythm. Are those trains? Gongs? No, you had to listen again— those are footsteps! Those are the sound of stomping, ton-weighed footsteps of those titans! They reverberate and leave a traumatizing echo in your head. You feel like when this is finally over, you're one of those people who will cower below a table when you hear a simple knocking sound.

And then flashbacks will play in your head as your psyche will try to save you from your own.

Weeping and muddled incoherent prayers plagued the low ground as multitudes were cornered, waiting for their deaths.

Wait… is this what you think it is?

This… hell unleashed in the world?

You have to remind yourself that this is a dream, or you might lose all sanity you've been struggling to keep.

You unclutch a hand from the rope, intently observing it. Dirty. Dirty, but surprisingly okay. Your knuckles hurt but aren't as exhausted when bent. Aside from that, it isn't as painful as you remembered them to be. There are remnants of past battles like this unfamiliar concave-shaped scars in your palm, and these ugly fingernails from the torture, but they're painless. Even the titan bite in your arm runs almost unnoticeable albeit a huge, faintly discolored scar. The remnants of your wounds from Trost seemed to have healed a long time ago.

Is this a premonition of sorts? Because the details of your wounds are misgiving.

The chicken starts to descend, as the wind changes directions of how it blew. The air is hotter in low ground and it smells faintly of salt water and bitter acetone; the kind when cats are run over and their organs pop in the middle of the street.

The ground shakes in an unfollowable beat, and it becomes more violent the closer Paradis' army of mindless titans get. You widen the scope of your focus, the steam seems to hide the details of their magnificent form, the titans in the horizon slowly approach.

And in the center of them all, is the lanky, inhuman form of Eren's founding titan.

Levi's pull is harsh, your vision briefly turned to a timelapse photo of a bolting something before it falls into his panicking features. He shakily cups your face, his hand with less fingers combs your hair. You flinch realizing how cold you are when his already cold hands are warm to your cheek. You've come to a point where you're not certain if the shallow, shaky breathing was yours or from Levi's partially opened mouth. There is this inkling that this time when both of you are together is running out, and this is his way of saying goodbye.

"Sam," his voice is hoarse, exhausted beyond comprehension. His lips move painfully as they are chapped and bled. Levi's mouth carved words that you can't understand. You try reading his lips, but they quivered so much you can't do it too.

Your heart, however, reacts in a way that didn't need words.

Maybe that is why this dream deliberately muted him, and all that remains is the thumping of the titans' approaching steps.

It knows you will never be able to take it.

You jerked awake, the unpleasant throbbing in your temples followed short after. The daylight came too bright, it only added gas to the fire that is your heartbreak 'hangover'. Your dream just a few minutes ago is another matter to add on the list of the things you need to overthink.

You couldn't recall most of the details in your dream, but the heavy feeling lingered in your chest. You're spent just feeling the way you do because of that dream. Whatever that was, you're glad it was nothing but a dream. You can shrug your shoulders and go on with the list of things you still need to do especially when the soldiers come back from their most precious day-off.

Petra let herself in the room you shared with four people. She must've spent her entire morning pampering herself, her skin glistened at the soft hits of the sun.

"What happened to you?" She asked about the crying, but she herself had eyes that looked like fish with a popeye disease.

Now that you think about it, your eyes feel sore, you can feel them squint involuntarily by how bulging they must've looked.

"I could ask the same about you." You sat upright in your bunk, letting yourself adjust from this position before you stand. Petra looked through you in the vanity mirror. You should've perceived her mood as happy and glowing, only if it weren't for her eyes that said she too, cried all night.

"Should I pin it on the side, or should I put it in a half-bun? Or go for a low ponytail? I feel like that's a trend nowadays." She deflected, examining her angles in the mirror of how she looked in each hairstyle she mentioned.

Last night, you went into the mess hall with your usual clothes. You could tell that Petra was kinda disappointed when she saw you. Petra and Nifa were the only people whom you can tell put a lot of effort to look gorgeous for the soldiers' dinner.

Nanaba was in a loose dress layered with another loose-fitting pullover to combat the cold-biting air. Probably to hide her pregnancy growing everyday. You wondered if Miche finally caught in, or he still thinks she's only gaining weight.

You somehow managed to calm your thoughts that night. You couldn't possibly kill people because you got a big crush on someone. Like a sane, barely functioning adult, you managed your emotions from seeping out so that the internal turmoil didn't leak and run over your cheeks.

You could feel a watchful pair of eyes on you from a distance, but you didn't dare meet them. You knew whom it belonged to. Forget about meeting Levi in the late afterparty— he's betrothed! You're all chummy in the kitchen and shamelessly eye-fucking everywhere in the headquarters so you're basically flirting with the man whom Petra was destined to get married to.

You will never do that to a friend. Especially when Petra had been good and accepting of you.

You ate your portion in silence, keeping your eyes down on the food while listening to the grumbles of soldiers about their wives, or the good news of an added member of their families. You nodded and added some input when asked, giving neutral answers and half-lies to make sure there were no follow up conversations and you're left alone with the role of a listener in the group. You made sure to stick with more people even when you didn't like it. It lessens the chances of Levi approaching you, guessing he'll only do so when you're alone.

So that's why all those approaches happened only when you're alone with him, huh? The patch up playshit in his office, the kitchen thing— because that was the only time he could move without the suspicion of his would-be bride, or anyone in the corps!

You wanted to hit yourself with a chair, the shame getting through you again. You hastily chewed the last of the bite, hoping it'll distribute the feeling of indignity to your jaws. Maybe you should take your leave by slipping with some lady soldiers, so no one will notice you're gone from the scene—

Then, out of the blue, Levi sat in front of you, shocking even the soldiers sitting near.

He casually slipped in, owning a space in the long bench like no one's damn business, unfazed by the stares directed to him or to both of you.

You choked on your dessert— what was that? He only does 'the moves' when you're alone together, doesn't he? Well that notion is now out of the window, ladies and gentlemen.

But the bastard remained blank. No smirk, no twitch in the eyebrow, nothing. He stayed seated so still in that plank of wood, his arms crossed in the level of his chest.

This guy has the audacity to watch you make love with old Luce's pudding like Petra wasn't at a nearby table? And on the front row no less? Oh hell no.

So you acted like he's not there too.

He isn't there. He's some soldier whose wife just gave birth and he's out bragging about it to his war brethrens that they named the poor lad Basil John Wakuhvee. You will listen— you will endure this deafening silence in your table as it gets progressively worse because the next table noticed the peculiarity of this situation.

And the next table, and the next one before it, until the awkward event reached the corners of the mess hall.

You made mental notes on the things you still need to do by tomorrow— the final fitting, the bomb, the stretches you need to do so you could ride the horse tomorrow without feeling so sore.

You remembered how the money-making guitar progression sounded and played it in your head, listing the songs that you could play with it as you imagined strumming the guitar.

You thought of a large milk tea and how delicious it would be to eat the chewy black pearls and sweetened red bean, smeared over the cup is the surprise salty goodness of cream cheese. You thought Levi would love it if he ever had the chance to taste it.

Wait, would he love sugar though? He likes his tea straight down to business right?

Your thoughts led only to stare at the very person who dared plagued your mind.

That icy, yet expectant stare was all it took to crumble that defense you've put up and it wasn't long for your facial muscles to instantly betray you.

It was a whole mental battle to keep a straight face, and another to keep acting like he wasn't seated in front of you.

And then you felt feather-like strokes caressing your bare skin. The tip of his boot brushed against your skirt.

Oh, the bastard had some nerve to play footsie with you!

He played with your fabric— he twirled it around so it glided back and forth; the sharp edges of his outsoles tickled your bare skin. Why is he like this— did he want an answer that badly? Can't he at least wait tomorrow so you'll never have the chance to give him one at all?

This is so uncharacteristic of him— is he this desperate? This impatient?

"Oi." Your breath hitched at one call, compelling you to look at him at once.

The soldiers surrounding this little… whatever this is, seemed to get the hint and they attempted to leave, only to stop when Levi singlewordedly excused the both of you outside.

"But sir… Petra's father is here."

You glanced at Petra, who's already watching the whole scene, with her father taking his hat off upon reaching the entrance of the mess hall. He had a sack full of radish, you could guess, that he carried over his back at this time of the night. Beside him was another sack that he dragged inside the castle. Seeing the man that feeds you makes you feel smaller than how you feel now.

Their necks turned to watch you and Levi leaving together. There was this heart-wrenching hesitation that burned in your fingertips and crawled to the veins of your body. All you wanted to do was peel your skin off, and assume another person's identity.

"Maybe you should see them first." You said, animating your gestures as much as you could so Petra and her father could get a clear gist. You directed Levi's attention on Petra and her father, pointing and bowing at them to make sure they didn't get the wrong impression. You are Levi's subordinate, not some side piece he can swap when he's tired of his bubbly ginger fiancée.

"We'll talk tomorrow," He said, leaving you for them, as he should.

He could, but you'll be careful. Not alone, not in the dark, not in an enclosed area.

Not anywhere that a good friend of yours will misunderstand.

He extended a hand to Petra's father— now that's what a good superior would do. Their families must be sufficiently assured that he is taking care of them. She is his responsibility because she is but one of the many lives Levi borrows and is obliged to return safely to those who expect them to come home after a hellish day at work.

Petra should be thrilled to have such a dependable fiancé. Respectful and respectable, capable and strong, polite and noble-natured. Height is all he's short at, you humored yourself to ignore the needles that poked and tightened the muscles in your chest.

You bowed to them in the distance before walking to your room with trembling knees. Petra intently watched you, her mouth slightly opened, the forehead wrinkled when her eyebrows got higher, as if she realized something.

You didn't need to wait for her or anyone. With the little strength you still had, you dragged yourself out of the mess hall, seeking solace in the halls leading to the barracks.

A soldier stopped you on the way, some unfamiliar recruit who was too relieved to catch you.

"Yes…?" You uncertainly asked them, in your periphery was Levi and Petra's father talking on the patio.

"My squad wanted you to have this." She showed you a small brooch. Fire emblem carved out of copper, she handed it to you, and you hadn't got the slightest clue why.

You just kept it in your pocket, whatever it was.

"It's a thank you, we all chipped in. We understand how the gear works a little now because of you. So we might've tweaked it more so it'll suit our battle needs." You heard her, but your eyes kept glancing at the patio. Levi bowed slightly, while Petra's father nodded.

"Oh, well, that's great." You said. Mumbled. Your lips moved but your mind was elsewhere. Levi and Petra stood on each other's side now, bowing to the elder whose lips were smiling so kindly.

You guessed it, the talk went well.

As it should.

"I feel like we can actually survive the expedition. We saw our comrade die because the gears were slower than those jumping titans—"

"Oh, I hate those types too!" You exclaimed, exerting more energy than you should. It sounded too fake, even to your ears. The talk went well, Petra should be happy! Isn't that great?! That's some news you should celebrate!

"Isn't it?! They're freaky and they jump on you!" This is good, you're not thinking of him .

This is good— you'll leave with ease because a friend of yours will finally end up with someone she loves!

"Anyways, thank you for teaching us how the gear works, Febe. It's almost a miracle you're sent to this world."

You're very happy for them! You can't wait for them to see their family grow!

"Yeah."

It's great! No fuss leaving their world then! Everything's in perfect order!

"But, uh… are you okay?" You raised your eyebrows to indicate that you didn't hear her, until you felt the tickling warmth that ran down your cheeks.

"I'm—" You swiftly wiped your cheek, flashing a reassuring smile before nodding too earnestly. It didn't work though, because she only got more worried when more tears selfishly decided to trickle down on their own.

"I'm okay. Just really overwhelmed because…" Remembering the thing she gave you, you fished it out. "Because of this. No one appreciates enough to give me a gift so…"

"Oh, it's a small token, but I hope we see you wear it."

When she said her final goodbyes, you almost didn't want her to leave. You almost begged for her to stay a little more and walk you through the straight wooden hallway and act like a shield from your thoughts of a burning spiral of gloom.

Somehow, you made it to the room. Did your nightly routine. Even read a few sentences from the Daily News before you realize it was not sinking in.

Nothing happened, between you and Levi— nothing happened. You ate dinner, chatted with colleagues, and then you're now preparing to sleep. You're getting good at this: blocking off all the what-ifs and why's, until you covered yourself with sheets.

You didn't care if it was fifty or a hundred degrees celsius, you just wanted to stay hidden. Not sharing the refreshing, comforting air they're breathing or the pointless, mundane topics you'd want to join into, you raced with sleep, before your brain could process the hurt.

You guessed you must've dozed off sometime, and here you are, feeling shitty than shit itself.

"Go for the usual, but wear the perfume." You answered, taking the hint that Petra didn't want the conversation to stir that way. Something happened between them; you mean who's had a successful straightening out of marriage talks until their eyes are puffy and red but act happy in the morning?

No one, like ever.

And hope sprouted like weeds from the pit of your stomach, reviving your soul from last night's funeral. You felt guilty for acknowledging the feeling you're having, knowing how these little bands of magic can do sorts of things otherwise you will never do.

Like taking a chance now that something bad might've happened between them.

"Nah, maybe I should go for a high ponytail—"

"It'll damage your roots." You countered. "Low ponytail will suit you." You advised. You stood, paying attention over your periphery to see an overwhelmingly elated Petra humming happy tunes under her breath.

"Did something happen?" You tried to sound casual, taking your towel hanging in the handle of your drawer.

"Nothing much," She said, ransacking your personal stash of makeup. You forgot to put it away last night, but you didn't mind. She can have all the things she wants in them.

Petra turned her torso to give you all her attention, keeping the eye contact you're dying to cut.

"We both agreed to cut our engagement… Sir Levi and I."

Her smile slowly faded, mirroring your own…

Only that she snapped back to her sunshine mode and you were stuck in shock.

Did he call it off because of you?

"Petra—"

"Nothing to worry about, really!" Her grin was too wide to be happy, "If our marriage pushes through, I don't think it'll last anyway! It's better that I knew his heart sooner before I married him!" Her laughing muscles plastered in an unnatural grin, her laugh sounded artificial you can tell she was barely keeping the act.

You wished you could hug her— do something helpful to this one breakdown while she's trying to keep together. Silence was your response because there's no way you'll be so thick-skinned to offer help or comfort to the woman whose heart got shattered because of you. Probably. What can the person who might be the cause of her heartbreak possibly give, when your hug might be interpreted as an act of pity, and a kind word could sound condescending?

"It's all dad's idea… because the captain saved us from the plowers when I was younger…"

"Plowers, you mean the bandits? " The rumors about them boomed three years ago. When the harvest is ripe and ready to reap, the plowers will come and rob the farmers of their harvest in the lower grounds. They're bandits from the highlands who have no land to farm, so they come and steal crops to prepare for the chiller months.

Petra's father had the same problem every harvest season, until Levi trotted along the route of their farm and defended her father and their helpers from being killed. The captain happened to be going back from informing a family about a soldier's untimely fate, and he was kind enough to secure Petra's father's farmland.

Since then, her father brought sacks of his harvests to the Survey corps headquarters, bringing Petra along. It was payback after payback, until Petra's father presented her daughter as an eligible maiden for marriage.

"That's the thing," She chirped. "Captain never agreed to it."

She blossomed into a woman who made the bravest decision to be a soldier at a very young age, out of admiration to the person who saved them from trouble. She trained for years to be the best of who she can be while following someone whom she thought had the same goal in mind: Humanity's survival and victory over its oppressors, and somewhere along the way, she fell in love.

"And I wondered what was wrong with me. He didn't look interested at all…" She sniffed, her hands flailed to express her frustration. "I mean— I'm young, pretty, can cook, and kills titans for a living…"

"I'm lovely, gentle with people, strong…"

"Well…" You dared to interject.

"What?"

"I don't think I should—"

"You'll hold back now ?"

"Well…"

"Your one pretty friend's heartbroken, and you'll hold back the cookies? Goodness me Phoebe, you're impossible—"

"Well— you can look at it this way: you collected so much love waiting on him so you'll have a lot of love to give to the right person." You quoted one of your mother's books.

"That's his loss, not yours. You're full and ready to pour. He just happens to not have the right container to catch it all."

And that's when she paused, her chin formed wrinkles to contain her upcoming cries, her nose flared, and her expression became grumpy and crumpled.

Her cries were something that could accompany that part of a song that hurts too good. All its angry drums, the building bass and that soulful melody of a guitar riff... they were the cries of someone left alone at night when everyone's asleep, and they curl in silence underneath their blanket, while their desperate screams turn to hoarse, pitiful whimpers.

Their limbs will tremble in an effort to make themselves small and unnoticeable, so no one will know that they're breaking down, suffocating on their own tears that stupidly chose to run through their nose. Only to wake up with a sore, squinted eyes, and a puffy face the morning after, and try to carry on like nothing happened.

Those cries are honest, and you can tell hers were.

And when Petra couldn't bear it anymore, she put her arms around you, her hold was tight and trembling, her silent sobs were screams to your conscience. You let her hug you as tightly as she wanted to, even when it hurts, you have to endure. If this is helpful, as helpful as you could, here you'll be. She could do anything in this body, in one condition that she'll feel better.

That's all you're asking, with what position you hold in the life of this precious, gentle fighter.

"Levi's a bitch," Petra muttered while buried in your shoulder, and you both giggled. She let you go after a few moments, her eyes were red again, mucus ran down her nose. You had to give her something to wipe it.

"Don't you think so?" She whined uncharacteristically while wiping her face.

"I wanna keep my fingernails, thank you." You responded, and you both chuckled again. That was probably the first time Petra cussed his superior's name, and you like this side of Petra that Oluo only knew. It's refreshing from the stereotypical sweetness she portrayed with her co-soldiers.

"But really, whoever got him's gonna be so lucky. She'll never find someone like him even if she searched her world.

Hello, here's 15th chapter, and I'm pretty hyped to write so I'm also making the next one. It should've been longer but I think this is long enough so I'll cut them into 2.

Anyway, you guys must've caught the name 'Sam'. She's kinda important.

Also, breaking off engagements. Yes, I wanted to portray a love 'rivalry' where everyone is blameless. I don't like people chasing people, or women hurting each other because of some guy. I want it to be supportive but at the same time, portray their inner struggles. They're good friends, but they like the same guy. It's not that simple.

But I don't like to complicate it, because military love in the middle of war is hard enough.

Petra will find her man. He's somewhere... sporting an undercut, and a cravat. If only he wouldn't bite his tongue confessing to her.

Next will be the one full day. It should cover:

-Her preparation of the bomb;
-Some mysterious diary entries and;
-the 57th expedition.

Thank you for reading. I hope you're enjoying the story!

Your always late on the update fanfictioneer,

Shittyzucchini.