The moonlight pooled through the infirmary window, soft and pale. Outside, the walls of the compound were silent. Even the wind had stilled, as if it, too, was holding its breath. Inside, Beatrice sat at the edge of her cot, arms curled around her knees, wrapped in the blanket Levi had left draped over her earlier.
The scent of tea lingered. And he was there. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, but watching her. Always watching her.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
She smiled faintly. "You already knew that."
He exhaled through his nose. Walked over. Sat beside her on the cot without needing an invitation. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, Beatrice said softly:
"This is the last night."
Levi stared ahead. "I know."
"Are you going to pretend it's not?"
He turned to her, finally. And that look—
That look in his eyes— It knocked the air out of her lungs.
"No," he said quietly. "Not tonight."
The silence afterwards wasn't empty. It was full. Of things never said. Of touches never taken. Of goodbyes, neither of them wanted to say.
Beatrice leaned against him slowly, her temple finding his shoulder. He didn't flinch. He just exhaled, long and low, and tilted his head until his cheek brushed her hair.
"You're going to be fine," he whispered. "You're stronger than anyone in that damn wall."
"But I don't want to be strong somewhere you aren't."
He closed his eyes. She could feel it—his hands twitching, aching to hold her tighter than the rules allowed.
"Don't make this harder," he murmured.
"I'm not trying to," she said. "I'm trying to remember this."
She turned toward him, slowly. So did he. Their faces were inches apart. Breaths aligned. Hearts loud. Her lips parted slightly. His gaze dropped, for one second, to her mouth.
She saw it. She felt it. His hand lifted—
Paused.
Fingers brushed her cheek.
"Don't," he breathed, "if you're not sure."
"I've never been more sure," she whispered. The space between them collapsed just enough to be unbearable.
His forehead touched hers.
"If I kiss you now…" he said, voice hoarse, "I won't be able to let go."
She swallowed. His lips hovered over hers. But they didn't close the gap. Because he couldn't. Because if he kissed her, it wouldn't be a kiss. It would be a promise he wasn't allowed to keep. Instead, he pulled her into his chest and held her. Tight. Desperate. Silent.
And when she finally fell asleep in his arms, his lips brushed her hair, barely a whisper.
"If this is goodbye… I love you."
The sun had barely risen, but Levi was already awake. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed slightly. Beatrice stirred behind him, slow, groggy, then paused.
He was already dressed. His coat is already on. His hair was neatly combed back, though his eyes told a different story.
"You don't have to fuss," she mumbled gently, pressing her forehead to his back.
"I do," he muttered. "Because if I don't make sure everything's perfect, I'll go insane."
He turned to her slowly, calloused fingers immediately checking her forehead, her pulse, the slight healing bruise on her collarbone.
He adjusted the collar of her uniform anyway.
"Did you eat last night?"
"You fed me, remember?"
"Didn't trust you not to fake it."
She smiled, eyes damp.
"Levi—"
"You slept like shit."
"So did you."
He stopped then, thumb brushing beneath her eye with the softest touch.
"Still sure?"
Beatrice reached up, wrapping her fingers around his wrist.
"I'm sure of you."
They stood at the edge of the hall, the corridor empty except for them. His arms were around her—tight, steady, unwilling to let go. Her face was pressed to the curve of his neck, breathing him in like she'd never get the chance again.
He didn't speak. Because if he did, He wouldn't stop. So he just held her. Memorised the shape of her spine beneath his hands. The sound of her breath when she steadied.
The way she whispered, almost broken, "Don't forget me."
He pulled back just enough to cup her face. "Tch," he whispered, voice rough, "you think there's a second in my day when you're not in my head?"
She blinked fast. Then slower. And he kissed her.
Soft.
Deliberate.
Not rushed.
Not hungry.
But lasting.
Like he was imprinting it into the folds of her memory. Of his.
"That's for the days I'm not there."
They walked side by side through the courtyard, hand in hand, fingers locked so tight it was almost painful. The Military Police stood waiting at the gate.
Stiff. Armed. Indifferent.
Levi didn't stop holding her hand. Didn't let go even as they approached the waiting officers.
Beatrice squeezed once. He didn't respond.
Because his eyes were on them. Glaring. Burning. Every step they took closer to her, Levi's expression hardened. His jaw set. His shoulders squared. His hand twitched toward the blade at his hip even though he knew he couldn't draw it. Not today.
But his stare said it all.
You hurt her… You so much as bruise her… And you'll regret the day you were born.
One of the younger guards shifted awkwardly.
Another looked away. Beatrice stepped forward then, and slowly—reluctantly, Levi let her go.
She turned back one last time.
"Don't disappear on me," she whispered.
He gave the faintest nod.
"Don't die in there," he replied.
And with that— She stepped through the gate.
And Levi stood there.
Alone.
Unmoving.
Eyes locked on her back as long as he could see it.