Chapter 111

Melody of a Wounded Heart

Eren and Levi walked through Libramont until they reached the railroad tracks, their breath visible in the freezing air. Eren took a final drag of his cigarette before flicking it into the darkness. It landed in a puddle and hissed as it put out the embers. He exhaled one last plume of smoke before shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets. The wind was biting now, slicing through fabric and sinking into their bones.

They walked back silently to the hotel. The moment they stepped inside, warmth wrapped around them, a stark contrast to the unforgiving cold. The world beyond the door was uncertain, unpredictable, but in here—at least for now—there was peace and comfort.

Eren let out a weary sigh and ran his good hand through his hair. He was exhausted, both physically from a long day of cleaning and also mentally from being on edge through dinner, but the night was far from over for him. They both walked to the kitchen.

One of the senior workers suddenly bellowed out. "Ah, vous voilà! Toi! Dis à ce bon à rien de sourdingue qu'il ne bouge pas d'ici avant que toute la vaisselle soit propre!" Ah, there you are! You! Tell that deaf good-for-nothing to stay put until all the dishes are clean!

Levi wanted to yell at the man, but he did not want to get in trouble. It was their first day of work in this hotel, and already they had left a bad impression.

He turned to Eren, but the young man nodded. He knew there was still a lot of work to do now that dinner was winding down. Levi's hardest work was always in the late mornings as he cleaned up vacated rooms and prepared them for the next guest, but his work would be after every time the patrons ate.

Realizing no one was nearby, Levi whispered, "Try not to drown yourself in the sink."

Eren snorted and struggled to hold back more sounds, not wanting to attract attention. He shuffled toward the kitchen and sighed as he saw the stacks of dirty dishes waiting for him.

One of the maids, a young woman with a playful smirk and keen eyes, ran up to Eren and spoke to him in French. "Hé, beau gosse. Ces assiettes ont l'air bien sales. Tu veux que je t'aide à les frotter? Promis, je suis très douce… quand on me le demande gentiment." Hey, handsome. These plates look pretty dirty. Want me to help you scrub them? I promise, I'm very gentle… when you ask nicely.

Levi barely resisted rolling his eyes. He simply shook his head as he walked away. The poor girl didn't stand a chance!

Levi veered off toward the restaurant and walked up to the bartender. He inquired about buying some wine. He surveyed the meager selection with a sharp, critical eye. He did not normally care for luxury, but tonight he wanted something nice to enjoy in the quiet of their room. It was yet another splurge, but if Eren could have his cigarettes, then by God, Levi could have some good wine!

His tongue clicked in mild disapproval, finally settling on a bottle and turning it over in his hands.

"It's not French wine, but it'll do," he muttered.

After purchasing the bottle and handing over the money, he made his way upstairs, setting the bottle down on the nightstand. With practiced ease, he uncorked it, and poured some into their battered metal cups—far from the delicate stemmed glasses he wished he had.

He took a sip. It was decent.

Instead of appreciating it, his mind wandered back to the scene downstairs. That maid, flirting, hovering near Eren, thinking she had a chance. The thought irritated him more than it should have. He set the cup down with a sharp clink and stood.

Levi marched back downstairs, pushing through the kitchen doors just in time to see the maid still lingering far too close to Eren.

"Hé…" Levi called, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. The maid jumped, turning to face him. "…t'as pas autre chose à faire?" Hey, don't you have somewhere else to be?

"Oh, je voulais juste—" Oh, I just wanted to—

"Partir," Levi growled, cutting her off sharply. "Tout de suite." Leave. Right now.

His tone afforded no room for an argument. With an awkward laugh, she backed away.

"D'accord, d'accord, j'y vais." Alright, alright, I'm going. She threw Eren one last lingering look, gazing at him up and down with a pout of disappointment. "Ah, j'vois, Monsieur préfère une main un peu plus rude pour frotter." Ah, I see, Mister prefers a slightly rougher hand for scrubbing.

Levi's glare darkened. "Je t'ai dit de partir!" I told you to leave.

She stepped back, surprised by his reaction, but he did not give her time to reply.

"Sors d'ici! Dégage!" Get out of here! Scram!

She turned and fled.

Eren exhaled, giving Levi a sideways glance. He had no idea what Levi just told the poor girl, but it was anything but subtle.

"She wasn't a bother," he muttered under his breath.

"She was to me," Levi grumbled as he rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a dish. "Move over. I'll wash, you dry."

Side by side, they worked in silence, the rhythm of washing, rinsing, and drying settling into something almost peaceful. When the last dish was placed on the rack, Eren sighed in relief and leaned against the counter. The hotel was now quiet, everyone asleep.

"Thanks," he muttered, drying his hands.

"Whatever," Levi grumbled. "Come on."

They returned to their room, the warmth enveloping them once more. Eren barely made it to the chair before collapsing into it, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. Levi poured him a cup of wine and handed it over without a word.

Eren took it gratefully, lifting the cup in a small toast before taking a sip. He sighed, eyes slipping shut for a moment.

"I could use a strong beer," he mumbled.

"Be happy that I got this for you."

Eren peeked an eye open. "For me? I think it was for you."

Levi ignored that for now—although it was true—and swirled his own cup with practiced ease. His shoulders relaxed, and his eye slipped shut for a moment, looking like he was in bliss.

Eren watched him over the rim of his own cup.

Every move Levi made was breathtaking. The graceful way he lifted the cup, the slow, thoughtful way he drank, the flicker of distant memories in his gaze as he stared at nothing in particular. Sometimes his face would shift—just slightly—the corner of his lips threatening to turn upward before he caught himself, as if a memory had slipped past his defenses. Other times, a shadow would cross his expression, a quiet sorrow settling in his gaze, as if he were lost in thoughts of people who were no longer alive.

Eren could not look away.

Levi was beautiful like this, bathed in the soft glow of the lamplight, lost in his own world, utterly unaware of how captivating he was.

Levi finished his cup and sighed in contentment. "I should get a bath before I fall asleep," he murmured, stretching as he stood. He untied and removed his shoes and began to unbutton his shirt.

Eren kept watching, his curiosity piqued. He hid a small, amused smile behind the rim of his metal cup as his gaze lingered, tracing the lines of Levi's lean frame, the scars etched across pale skin. Then, realizing he was staring, he quickly looked away before Levi could catch him.

The soft jangle of a belt buckle made his ears perk up. He risked another glance—just for a second—but as the trousers dropped, the moment felt strangely intimate. Guilt settled in his chest, and he forced his gaze back down, focusing on the last sip of wine in his cup.

Fully nude now, Levi took a few steps toward the bathroom, but he suddenly stopped. His fingers twitched at his side, and a shadow flickered across his face. His lips pressed into a firm line.

"No," he said abruptly. "I don't want to leave you alone. Who knows what you'll do without me around!"

Before Eren could react, Levi spun back toward him, seized his wrist, and yanked him up from the bed.

"Levi—" Eren coughed, barely managing to swallow the wine before nearly dropping the cup.

Levi refused to let go, dragging him along. His hands were small, but his fingers wrapped tightly around Eren's wrist as he strode toward the bathroom.

Eren's heart pounded and instincts screamed at him to resist, to break free, to run. He panicked, thinking of all the dangers and all the pain they had already gone through. As he reached the threshold to the bathroom, for a brief moment he fought against the grip, trying to yank himself free. Levi's fingers only tightened.

If Levi was truly determined, there was no escaping him. Eren would have to fight, and there was no way he could defeat Levi. Even at full strength back when he was a soldier, there was no winning against someone as highly trained as Levi.

Sometimes, giving in was less dangerous.

Eren cringed as he stepped inside, and the bathroom door shut with a quiet but final click. Levi stood in front of the door, guarding it, while Eren retreated to the opposite wall near the sink.

"Strip!" Levi ordered.

Eren's breath hitched. Had he lost his mind? Surely he was joking!

There was no teasing smirk, no flicker of amusement in that sharp, unreadable gaze. Levi was being completely, utterly serious.

"Now," he said, softer this time, but that only made the command more threatening.

Eren swallowed thickly. His eyes darted to the door for a split second, but with Levi guarding it, escape was not an option.

Hesitantly, Eren reached for the buttons of his shirt. His fingers trembled, whether from nerves or exhaustion or the bone-deep chill he still had not shaken off after Metz. One by one, he undid the buttons, fabric slipping from his shoulders. Then came shoes, trousers, underwear, until he stood before Levi bare naked, twisting away slightly in nervousness.

Levi froze as he really looked.

This was not like the dim light of an abbey's community shower, nor the passing glances while changing clothes. As Eren stood there, vulnerable in the yellow light of the bathroom, Levi fully gazed upon everything.

The way Eren's ribs and hips jutted sharply beneath his skin, the unnatural paleness clinging to him like a ghost, evidence of weeks spent in a dark wine cellar, and then there was that scar on his shoulder from the bullet Eren had taken to save his life, a large, pink, jagged pock mark of an exit wound marring his skin.

The image of that moment flashed through Levi's mind—Eren leaping in front of him with a shout, the deafening crack of gunfire, the pain in his face, only for Eren to open his eyes and smile in relief at seeing Levi was safe.

"Of course I'd take a bullet for the man I love."

Levi took two steps closer and reached out, brushing his fingers across the scar.

Eren flinched as the memories flashed in his own mind, the fear of losing Levi, the burning pain as the bullet tore through flesh and muscle, and the intense relief to realize he had protected Levi.

At least, for the moment.

Summoning up his bravery, Eren opened his eyes and saw the guilt on Levi's scarred face. Why would he feel bad about this? It was his choice. He would do it again if he had to.

"If it's of any comfort," Eren whispered, "it doesn't hurt. In fact, it's a bit numb. So is most of my arm." He wiggled the three fingers that still had sensation after the bullet severed a nerve.

Levi did not respond. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the scar.

Eren sucked in a breath, eyes widening.

"I will never forget what you did that day," Levi murmured.

Eren scoffed, trying to play it off with a weak, dismissive chuckle. "What, nearly bleed out?"

Levi's fingers traced the bullet wound again. "You saved me," he whispered. "Then, instead of escaping, you came back for me. After that Gestapo bastard had you dragged away, I honestly didn't think I would ever see you again. I thought I would die in that room. I was prepared for death. But you came back. You refused to let me die."

Eren's chest tightened. He wanted to argue, to tell Levi that he had not done anything special, that any decent person would have done the same. But he knew that was a lie.

"You did the same," Eren pointed out. "After leaving the hospital, you returned to me. You found me in that wine cellar." His throat tightened as he forced himself to look at Levi's scarred face, the damage done to him, the eye patch, and the scar that ran under it. "For a while, I didn't think you would bother. After all of that, you had every reason to walk away, to decide that being around me was too dangerous. Hell, I think I'm too dangerous for you."

It was why he had initially planned to leave as soon as they found a safe town. Levi was in danger so long as they were together.

Levi scoffed. "I'm a Jew," he said simply. "Existing is dangerous. At least with you around, I know I have someone who will lift me back up and carry me to safety." A rare, reluctant smile pulled at his lips. "Damn you, but I feel safer knowing you have my back. If I didn't have you, I'd probably slink back to Paris and hope for the best. With you here, I'm confident we could make it to America together."

Eren's mouth dropped. Wait, without me he wouldn't even try to leave Europe?

"But that was your dream!" he cried out. "To go to New York City. We even promised to meet each other there."

"Yes, it was my plan," Levi admitted, "but maybe… maybe…" A furrow deepened between his brows. "One thing the Gestapo taught me was that I'm not invincible. You'd think, with everything I've been through, everyone I've lost, I would have learned that, but I always knew I would survive. Call it arrogance, but I always figured, if I died, I'd die fighting, and if I had a weapon in my hand, I knew I'd win." He let out a dry, humorless chuckle, holding up his mangled hand. "I can count how many times I've truly thought I would die on this hand."

Eren was not amused by the dark humor, and his heart ached at the sight.

"The first time I felt that fear, truly felt it, was the day your captain shot Moses."

Eren nearly gagged as bile shot up into his mouth from the memory.

"I thought if we both just fought through such… such perverse entertainment, we would survive. When he fired that gun, I realized…" Levi's face flinched at the emotional pain he still felt from that moment. "There was nothing I could do. I had no weapon, and I was surrounded by the enemy. Even if I bit his ankles, he was wearing boots!

"The second time I felt it was the day that same damn man killed my companions. We were trapped, caged like animals. How was I supposed to fight, or escape, or even hide? I prayed you would come, but they were all praying too, and little good it did them. But then you actually did come. By then, I was one of the last ones alive, zikhronam li'vracha." May their memory be a blessing.

Eren looked away. He still had nightmares of shooting that poor, innocent man trapped in his prison cell. He could close his eyes and see Abel's face. Had he prayed too? Prayed for a savior, and instead Eren became his executioner.

"Every single time I thought for certain I was going to die, somehow I lived." Levi looked up at Eren's anguished face. Gently, he admitted, "I began to think it was you. Maybe you were lucky and would always come to my rescue."

Eren suddenly grabbed both of Levi's hands as if to protect him and promise that he really would be there for him.

"Yet in that hellhole of Queuleu, I thought for sure I would die alone." His grip on Eren's hands tightened. "First I thought that captain of yours would kill me outright, and I was okay with that, so long as it saved your life. Then I thought the Gestapo would torture me to death. So long as I protected you and your friends, I was okay with that as well. But then they left me, and those bombs started falling overhead, and I thought, Well fuck, we're both locked away, both just as powerless to save ourselves as I had been down in that dungeon. I had thought my sacrifice would save you, and suddenly I feared that the next time I saw you would be in Sheol."

Levi looked up at Eren with a smile.

"But then you came to my rescue… again." His thumb traced along Eren's knuckles. "Perhaps your men were right, and you have the Devil's luck. As for me, I have Yiddisher mazel—Jewish luck, the worst luck of all." A faint smirk ghosted across his lips. "To be honest, I don't want to go anywhere without you. I mean, can you imagine? I survive all these years, finally arrive in New York, and two steps off the boat I get stabbed by some shitty brat mugging people for their wallets? That's Jewish luck. So if I go to New York, I want you there with me. You're good luck, my very own blessing. We go together, or not at all."

Eren's breath caught in his throat.

Levi trusted him. Truly trusted him.

And yet, in the depths of his soul, Eren still felt it—an undeniable, aching certainty.

He was not lucky. He was a curse. He should get as far away from Levi as possible.

But if he left, would Levi really give up his dream?

Levi whispered fiercely, "I'm not letting you out of my sight. Even if you try to be noble and leave, I will hunt you down, Eren Jäger. Do you understand?"

Had Levi already guessed his plan? Knowing him, yes.

"Jawohl," he breathed out, giving up on the idea of escaping Levi so he could travel freely and safely.

"Good. Now," Levi ordered, "get the water started."

Eren stiffened at the commanding tone in his voice, his breath catching for just a second.

.

Obey orders, soldier!

.

His whole life, he had been expected to follow orders, blind obedience ground deeply into his psyche. He could not resist. His body moved before his mind could even think, obeying out of instinct. He turned to the bathtub, twisted the faucets, let the water rush in, and carefully tested the temperature.

Behind him, Levi finally removed his eye patch, revealing the pale blue glass eye, and hung it on a hook. He suddenly caught movement from the corner of his eye.

Eren was making a break for the door.

Levi reacted instantly, reaching out behind him without even turning around, his grip closing around Eren's arm. A second later, he worried because it was the broken arm. He felt the way Eren tensed, the sharp inhale, and Levi feared that maybe this had hurt. Instead of pain, he saw silent panic in his body

"I don't think so," Levi warned, his voice low but steady. "You're coming with me." He pulled Eren back toward the bathtub, his grip unrelenting but a bit more careful now. "Sit!"

"But I thought you wanted a bath." Eren's voice cracked in anxiety.

"I do. We'll bathe together."

Eren's stomach twisted. "Levi—"

"Follow orders, Lieutenant," Levi said in a voice Eren rarely heard from him, a truly commanding voice of a former officer.

Those ingrained instincts kicked in again. He gritted his teeth and hissed, "Damn you."

"Sit," Levi repeated, firmer now.

"Logistisch wird das nicht funktionieren," he argued stiffly. Logistically, this won't work.

"Translate that, and don't speak in German again."

Eren huffed in frustration. "Why not? Because it's dangerous? Isn't this even more dangerous?"

Levi grabbed Eren's ponytail and yanked his head back. "Are you arguing against me?" he said softly, snarling. "Now, translate what you just said."

Eren breathed hard, fighting against fear and the instinct to obey without thought. "I won't fit. There's no room."

"Of course there is," Levi replied with a knowing chuckle, and he released Eren's hair. "I'll sit behind you. Your arm is broken, you shouldn't get that cast in the water, so I'll wash you."

Eren's heart pounded. Every instinct screamed at him to pull away, to escape, to be anywhere but here. Yet at the same time, something deep within him yearned for Levi's touch.

Once again, his heart won.

With stiff, reluctant movements, he slid into the bath, keeping his broken arm propped carefully on the edge. The heated water enveloped him, but his body remained tense, wound tight like a coiled spring.

Levi slid in behind him, straddling his back. It was an awkward fit—Levi had to admit, this worked better with him leaning against Eren—but he was determined to make it work. Levi grabbed a bar of soap and a washcloth, preparing to wash Eren.

Stiffly hunched in the tub, Eren jolted with a small gasp as the sudsy cloth brushed against his skin. As it slowly and deliberately moved in circles around his back, Eren hugged around his knees, trying to keep his fears at bay. He inhaled shakily, his muscles twitching with each stroke.

He had spent so long feeling unworthy of Levi's affection. The ghosts of their past clung to him, whispering that he did not deserve this, that he had failed Levi, that he had caused all of his suffering.

His mind repeated a fictional scene:

Gestapo bursting into the bathroom, guns pointed in his face, while Levi was grabbed and dragged away.

Over and over, that door burst open in his mind.

Over and over, the scene played.

"Eren."

His eyes opened. He saw hands wrapped around him, but one of those hands had only three fingers.

I'm the reason Levi is missing his eye and fingers. It's my fault. It's my fault!

He began to shiver more, and the hands around him tightened.

"Eren!"

He had not noticed how his breathing had become so labored, shaking so hard that his lungs convulsed. He fought through it. His hands gripped the sides of the tub, trying to force himself not to leap out and run away. He knew he needed to calm himself.

"I'm okay," he said, not really to Levi, but more to himself. "I'm okay."

Levi was here. The past was gone. Woermann was dead.

We're okay now.

But we're not okay.

Levi will never be okay.

And it's my fault!

Levi began to doubt if this was the right thing to do. After all, if some man had tried to force him to take a bath together a week after losing his wife, he would have slit that person's throat.

Was it too much too soon?

He had no idea how to help Eren. He was just trying to do his best.

Maybe he needed to take Eren back to happier days.

"Do you remember that day when you washed me, down in the dungeon?" Levi asked, his voice lighter.

Eren sneered. "Yes," he hissed. He often tried to forget about that day, the death of Moses, finding Levi being brutally assaulted, killing the rapist with his bare hands, and washing the filth off of Levi as the poor man trembled in trauma.

Levi scowled, mad at himself for picking that day of all days. "Okay, that's not the best memory. Still," he insisted, "I'm paying you back for that time." Then he playfully added, "Don't expect me to pamper you all the time, little boy."

A single, airy snort of a laugh slipped out of Eren before he could stop it. Levi really was trying so hard to cheer him up, although he was bad at it. Still, it was amusing to hear him trying. "I don't expect anything like that. After all, I'm the one who wants to pamper you."

"Oh? How?" Levi said, urging him on.

Eren gulped back his fears. They were safe here. He could confess it. "I want … to … to touch, and … and to…" His voice dropped to a mere wisp. "… to t-taste you again." He felt dirty just saying it.

Levi smirked at the confession. "You do have a good mouth." He leaned up into Eren's ear to whisper, "Such a dirty mouth!"

Eren shivered as heat chased away the cold dread. Down under the water, Levi saw Eren's cock give a slight twitch, not firm yet, but like it was reawakening.

There you are, he thought to himself.

The Eren he knew and loved—the passionate, ardent, and unguarded man—was still in there, peeking through the cracks.

He just had to coax him out.

"I like your mouth," Levi whispered rubbing up and down Eren's chest, pretending like he was cleaning it. "I like to watch you beg on your knees in front of me, so eager to have me fuck your mouth."

Eren let out a burst of air, not a moan, but definitely getting closer to that. His body shivered, and down below, there was more evidence of just how much this was affecting him.

"Do you like sucking my dick?" Levi continued, speaking right into Eren's good ear.

Eren bit his lip and nodded.

Levi pushed a little harder. "Do you like swallowing down my cum?"

"Levi!" Eren said, tense and beginning to cringe. "Stop, please."

Okay, that was far enough. Levi was satisfied with how he could at least rile Eren up still. Not like he had any doubts that he could. It was just nice to see him move away from all those fears.

Eren had to admit, hearing Levi talk like that had helped. Gradually, he stretched out his stiff limbs. He closed his eyes and let out a content hum as the tension melted away.

"This is nice," he whispered. "No soldiers next door. Well, not Nazi soldiers, anyway."

Levi could feel how loose Eren's muscles were now. It made him smile. If only for a moment Eren could find escape from the nightmares, that was enough for Levi.

Eren rested his head on his raised knees, staring at nothing. "I miss this," he admitted softly. "I miss simply being with you, sleeping with you, bathing with you, like in the brothel." He chuckled softly. "That room feels like a dream now, too good to be true."

Levi snorted. "I think you mostly miss Carly's massive bed."

Eren laughed, a real, genuine laugh that sent warmth through Levi's chest. "We'll never find a bed as huge as that." He leaned back against Levi, resting against his chest. "Any bed works, though, so long as I'm with you."

Levi's eyebrows shot up. That was definitely something the old Eren would say. Hope flickered in his chest. Maybe—just maybe—Eren was healing.

Eren shifted, turning his head to rest more comfortably on the small, firm chest. That was when he saw it.

Levi's hand.

He had avoided truly looking at it for so long, afraid of all the guilt, how Magath had utterly broken his mind by showing him Levi's fingers and eye.

"He wanted to see you."

But now…

He felt braver. Levi was here, Levi loved him, and things felt almost normal.

Except for that.

Except for the wounds.

He reached over, but he could not bring himself to touch the mutilated hand. Not yet.

Instead, his fingers came to rest on Levi's wrist. Even that was almost too much, but he wanted to get closer to Levi.

It was a small step toward acceptance.

"I'm so sorry for everything," Eren murmured.

Levi dropped the washcloth and wrapped his arms around him. "I don't blame you," he said softly. "I was prepared to die for you."

Eren trembled at hearing those staunch words of fidelity.

Levi stretched out his hand, aware of what Eren was looking at. He flexed the remaining fingers. "I would have given up my whole hand, my arm, my life. Two fingers?" He let out a scoff. "The Gestapo miscalculated my love for you."

A sharp sob tore from Eren's throat, violent and abrupt. His body curled inward, as if the last bits of poison were being squeezed out of his wounded heart.

"Eren," Levi said, shocked by the outburst.

His breathing came in short gasps. He grabbed the mutilated hand and raised it to his lips to kiss the scarred stubs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Tears dripped onto the scars, slipping between the creases of Levi's palm.

Levi heard the pain like a cyst draining out its poison. It stung him, but at least it meant Eren was healing.

"Takhshet," he sighed, stroking his fingers through Eren's brown hair. A deep warmth filled Levi's heart, and he whispered instead, "Neshomeleh."

A louder sob burst out, and Eren nuzzled the wounded hand. If he could give up his own fingers, he would. If he could pluck out his eye and let Levi use it, he would. Yet all he could do was cherish what was left.

Suddenly, Eren rolled around, sloshing the bath water as his body turned sharply.

"Your arm—!" Levi scolded, but Eren barely heard him. His body twisted despite the plaster cast, and he somehow managed to flip around while keeping his arm raised out of the water.

He bravely looked into Levi's eyes. Without the patch, he saw the glass eye—the details in the craftsmanship, well-made German glass, but the wrong color. Then he focused on Levi's good eye. Stormy gray instead of that summer sky blue, full of depth and grief and love. An eye that looked into his soul.

Cherish what's left!

Looking straight into that gray eye, he confessed, "Part of me still doesn't want to be alive, even now. I feel I don't deserve life."

Levi sighed and reached up to touch his face. "Eren—"

"I don't deserve it!" he yelled, but Eren caught himself as he heard the echo of his voice in the small bathroom. "And so…" His lips drew into a tight line, firming up his resolve. Then he declared with burning conviction, "My life is yours. Keep it, end it, I don't care. For as long as I breathe, my life is yours!"

That moment of fiery determination melted, his face filled with anguish, and Eren collapsed his forehead onto Levi's shoulder as sobs began to tremble his whole body.

He whispered, still firm, but so fragile and quiet, "My life is yours."

Levi wrapped his arms around Eren, holding him protectively. "I accept it," he murmured, pressing his cheek to Eren's hair. "And I will cherish each breath."

Eren sobbed, and Levi held him as the pain poured out.

Let him cry it out. Let him heal.

A single tear slipped from Levi's eye. He mourned the gentle, naive, boyish young man who had died in Metz, and he cherished the ruthless, jaded, broken man now in his arms.

This was still his Eren, no matter what!

Gradually, Eren's trembling subsided. His breath evened out as he rested against Levi's chest, listening to the steady beats of his heart. The warm water surrounded them, but it was Levi's arms—safe, secure, strong, steadfast—that truly made him feel at ease.

After a long silence, Eren muttered, "Why do our most emotional moments always happen in bathtubs?"

Levi snorted a small chuckle that vibrated through his chest. "Convenience," he quipped. "You're always so filthy, and I happen to like keeping you clean."

Eren hummed, squeezing Levi a little tighter before sinking back into his embrace.

Levi smiled to himself, thinking back. Their first time being truly intimate had been in a bathtub in Metz, interrupted only by Reiner inviting Eren to go out drinking. The first time Eren had managed to get Levi to come had been in the bathtub, sitting behind him and reaching around to stroke him. Levi would love to do that again, returning the favor, but he feared if it was too soon.

He decided to test the waters, so to speak.

"We can sit here until the water gets cold, or I can finish washing you," he offered.

Eren slowly rose off Levi's chest, though his hands lingered on his bare shoulders, reluctant to part just yet. He gazed at Levi's abs, his chest, only up to his neck. It was still hard to look at his face, an emotional challenge, and he felt exhausted now.

Still, like this…

He closed his eyes and slowly leaned in to capture Levi's lips.

The kiss was slow, unhurried, a gentle and silent confession. Levi's arms slid over his wet back, along the curve of his spine, down further, to the soft plumpness of his rump. There was no flinching back, but also no wild surging forward. Just acceptance of the touch. His hands rubbed soothing circles around Eren's ass before gliding back up the spine.

Slowly, the kiss deepened and tongues met. It was not rushed or desperate, just… warm. Familiar.

When Eren finally pulled back, he hesitated before feeling like he was strong enough. Slowly, his eyelids cracked open, and he looked at Levi's face again.

His heart clenched at seeing all the painful reminders of that dark day in Metz.

But Levi was still Levi.

Cherish what's left.

He had a feeling that this was going to be his mantra as he adjusted to things.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and managed a sad yet genuine smile. This was the man he loved, no matter how he changed.

Still, his heart could only take so much pain, and his eyes shut out the sight, pushing away the memories of blood.

Eren was about to turn around, but Levi placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. His fingers slid down, skimming the smooth, wet skin, feeling the firm muscles beneath his touch.

"I already washed your back," Levi murmured, his voice dipping into something dangerously intoxicating. "Time to wash your front."

Before Eren could react, Levi's legs shifted, wrapping around Eren's hips, and he hoisted himself up, flipping Eren upright while he was practically sitting on Eren's lap. Shocked, all Eren could do was wrap his good arm around Levi, worried he might slip and fall, but Levi was too skilled to make a mistake like that.

They were face to face, wrapped in an intimate entanglement of limbs. Eren looked stunned, while Levi looked devious.

"Close your eyes," Levi whispered, placing his hand in front of Eren's face to hide him from view.

He realized that Eren still struggled to look him in the eye, but at least he was trying. That was progress! He didn't want to push the poor kid too hard.

If he needed to close his eyes, Levi could accept that limitation.

So long as Eren was happy!

Levi soaped the washcloth again and rubbed it around Eren's chest. His movements were calming as he rubbed around the muscular pecs and cautiously traced over the old bullet wound. He dipped lower, along the sharp ridges of his ribs and the defined lines of his abs that flexed slightly under his touch.

Eren's muscles tensed at first, flinching away out of instinct. As Levi worked the cloth around, Eren slowly relaxed again. Levi took his time. There was no rush. He gradually desensitized Eren to his touch, washing area by area, waiting until Eren's face changed from cringing to neutral, and finally seeing a smile, before he moved on to another part of his body.

The water lapped gently against them, warm and welcoming. The tiny bathroom echoed whenever the faucet dripped into the tub. The moist heat eased a harshness in Eren's lungs that he had hardly noticed, perhaps damage due to the cold mixed with the harsh fumes of lye soap from washing dishes all day. He took a deeper breath and slowly let it out, feeling his body melt.

When he opened his eyes again, he focused a little higher. Levi's neck, so slender and sexy. Eren reached up and softly caressed his neck. Levi hummed with pleasure, tilting his head slightly to feel more.

Then up a little higher, his chin, his lips, until he reached his cheek and the scar. He had to admit, it made Levi look more sexy now.

Not like he wasn't already the sexiest man Eren had ever met!

The longer Levi continued, the more Eren felt something burning inside him, a tingle, just a flicker of heat beneath his skin, yet it grew and spread. Then Levi rubbed the washcloth along Eren's legs, starting at the knee and working slowly, small circles of the soapy cloth, inch by inch creeping up his thigh.

Eren caught his breath as the tingling heat spread downward, focused now.

And Levi noticed!

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. Levi moved methodically, rubbing the cloth in gentle, circular motions, massaging the tension from Eren's muscles. He glided up his thigh, pressing firmly yet tenderly.

Eren swallowed hard, his breath hitching. His skin tingled beneath the washcloth, every nerve coming alive. He felt his heart racing, and he began to pull away again.

"Relax," Levi murmured, his voice deep and provocative.

Eren clenched his jaw. He wanted to relax. He wanted to melt into Levi's touch, but some part of him still resisted, holding onto the guilt and fear.

Without breaking his slow rhythm, Levi leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of Eren's neck.

Eren shuddered, and a tiny moan echoed in that small bathroom. Levi's hand slid higher, rubbing the cloth up Eren's other thigh, taking his time. He squeezed and kneaded the muscles, lulling them into submission.

"Eren," he whispered.

He shivered at the sound of that deep, ardent voice. His heart was racing. He knew his body was reacting in other ways as well.

"You don't have to keep running," Levi said, velvety smooth. "Not from me."

Eren's breath hitched as Levi kissed the other side of his neck, sending chills all through him. Under the water, the washcloth slowly worked along the thigh, higher, higher, right to where Eren now desperately wanted him to touch. Only he continued up, scrubbing his hips and waist.

"I'm still here, Eren." He pressed another kiss closer to his ear. "And I'm not leaving you."

Levi's touch was not demanding or forceful. It was patient, tender, filled with nothing but love. He was not asking for anything. He was simply reminding Eren, over and over, that he was still here, he still wanted him, he still loved him. No matter what they lost, no matter how broken he felt inside, they still had each other.

"Your life is mine," he whispered, caressing Eren's cheek. "And my life is yours."

Then he leaned in and gave him a kiss, a promise.

Eren squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. Between the touches and the gentle words, walls were being torn down. The knot in his chest tightened in one last defense, but then—slowly, slowly—it began to unravel.

And then, finally, he let go.

His body softened, surrendering to Levi's care.

He wanted Levi!

Wanted him so much!

Eren's breath shuddered out of him, but this time it was not from tension.

It was from need.

From love.

His heart ached, but not with pain.

Levi felt the shift, the way Eren's muscles finally unwound beneath his hands. A soft smile tweaked his lips. He slid his hand up again, along Eren's thigh, this time with no cloth, just skin against skin.

He couldn't help himself! He just had to tease him.

"You're already so excited," Levi said with a smirk.

Eren huffed. "We're naked in a bathtub and you're rubbing all over me. Of course my body would react."

Levi reached up and rubbed his thumb along Eren's jaw. Those teal eyes glanced up, and Eren forced himself to look into those mismatched eyes.

He had loved the intensity of Levi's gray eyes. Now, he just had to love the remaining eye twice as much.

Cherish what's left!

His fingers twitched before he reached out to Levi, running a hesitant finger along the scar, before focusing on the other side and that delving gray eye.

Levi leaned into Eren's touch, covering the scar with that callused hand. They both drew closer, their eyes focused on each other's mouths. Eren's lips parted, about to ask, but no words came out.

He didn't need to ask permission anymore.

Eren met Levi's lips, now so boldly, resolute, maybe even a little jealous of how carefree his past self had been. His fingers curled into Levi's hair, gripping lightly, claiming this man as his, and needing something to anchor himself.

He was drowning—not in fear or guilt, but in the overwhelming warmth of Levi's touch, in the quiet reassurance of his presence.

Levi did not rush him. He let Eren take his time, let him lean in, pull away slightly, then return even stronger, as if convincing himself that this moment was real—that they were real.

Then, finally, something inside Eren totally gave way. With a shaky breath, his lips parted, allowing himself to melt, to feel, to want without shame. Levi felt it and responded by tilting his head, deepening the kiss. Their lips moved hungrily, yet in an unhurried rhythm, savoring every sensation: the touch of their tongues, the taste of wine in their mouths, the heat of their breaths.

Eren shivered as Levi's tongue claimed him. A desperate heat built between them—not rushed, not urgent, but filled with longing.

Levi's hands moved up, one gripping the back of Eren's neck, the other sliding down the curve of his back, yanking them in closer. The water sloshed between them to allow their bodies to collide, pressed flush together.

Eren's fingers dug into Levi's shoulders, clinging, needing him. He let out a soft, broken sound, somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, as Levi kissed him harder, sealing away every doubt, every painful whisper of self-loathing that had plagued him for so long.

Eren whimpered against Levi's lips, overwhelmed, wanting to cry in happiness, but he did not pull away.

Not this time.

Instead, he pressed in closer, answering Levi's touch with his own, pouring everything—his sorrow, his hope, his love—into this one, unbreakable moment.

My life is yours.

And Levi accepted it all.

When they finally parted, breathless and trembling, Eren rested his forehead against Levi's. His chest rose and fell in shallow, unsteady breaths.

Levi stroked the back of his neck, his touch light and grounding.

"We're safe," he whispered.

Eren's lips trembled into a smile.

He believed him now.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to be truly happy.

"Eren…" Levi's hand drifted down the wet, smooth chest, down to the water line. He couldn't help himself anymore! "May I touch you?"

An electric shock went straight through Eren. Yes! He wanted to be touched more than ever.

Yet with it was also cold dread.

He thought about the dream he had that morning.

If he gave in to Levi fully, they would get caught, and the brutal fires of war, hate, and intolerance would scorch them both.

They barely survived last time. They might not be so lucky again.

Levi saw the way Eren struggled just to breathe, and he lowered his head. "Sorry."

"No!" Eren gulped hard. "I want to say yes. So much!"

"I understand. Trust me, I know the feeling!"

How many times had Levi wanted to let Eren touch him but pulled away in fear of getting wrapped up in a love that the world had decided was criminal? To be honest, as soon as he realized just how traumatized Eren was, he had expected that it might take months of healing. To be at this point merely a week after reuniting was astonishing.

"Are you at least feeling a little better?"

"I feel… safer here." A sad smile flickered on Eren's lips. Then, in a whisper, he admitted, "Still, it's so… painful." His throat tightened as his eyes burned with unshed tears. "I always loved the color of your eyes."

Levi lifted his head, gazing at Eren, but the younger man had to shut his eyes tightly, like a child trying to block out the world.

Eren hit the water with his fist, sending up an angry splash. "Es ist alles im Arsch." It's all fucked up. "If I don't see you, I'm fine, but if I look at you…" His voice wavered, and suddenly he crashed backward in the tub, sinking, submerging himself into the water, trying to escape the weight of it all.

He had done this before in Metz, thinking how easy it would be to sink and drown.

Only now, Levi was there. He grabbed a fistful of Eren's hair and yanked him back up. "Stop being so dramatic."

Eren coughed, sputtering water, but when he forced his eyes open, he was met with that stormy gray gaze, the one that still held the same intensity, the same unwavering devotion. And beside it—the pale blue glass eye, cold and artificial, an Aryan eye.

Yet the face was still undeniably Levi.

Holding back a sob, Eren whimpered, "How long does it take to feel better?"

Levi's heart clenched painfully. He wished he had an answer. He wished there was something—anything—that could make it better. A new glass eye could take months, and that would just be cosmetic. It would not get rid of the rest. The scars, the missing fingers, the pain—they were permanent.

His jaw tightened, rage simmering beneath the surface. He dropped his forehead against Eren's chest, hiding his mutilated face, wishing everything could simply go back to how it used to be.

Damn that Gestapo bastard!

They stayed like that until both of their bodies calmed back down. Both of them desperately held onto this sliver of warmth, trying to remember when their moments together had been free of this kind of pain.

It felt like so long ago.

So many wasted moments!

Suddenly, Levi began to hum a song, a deep, steady vibration against Eren's skin. The soft melody echoed in the tiny bathroom, reverberating like a lullaby.

Eren's eyes fluttered. "What is that?"

"Nothing," Levi mumbled.

"It's pretty," he murmured. "It must be a song."

"If it is, I've forgotten it."

Levi kept humming. The deep vibrations calmed Eren as he sat there, tracing his fingers along Levi's back, memorizing the warmth of his skin as the bathwater turned cold.

Finally, the song ended. Levi shifted slightly, and that was the signal to get out.

Eren stood up, exhausted from emotional outbursts but feeling better. Levi drained the tub while Eren climbed out, drying his body and running a towel through his long, damp hair. Then Levi climbed out and reached for his towel, but Eren grabbed the towel off the rack.

"You washed, now I dry," he said with a warmth in his gaze.

Levi chuckled softly, allowing Eren to rub the towel all around his body. If he needed to feel like he had to have excuses to touch more, Levi would give him all the lame excuses he could come up with.

Eren ran the towel through Levi's hair, around his chest and back, and along his arms. Then he knelt down, eye level with a certain part. Eren looked at it for a hesitating moment, before focusing on the ankles, drying his feet, and working up his legs.

That part affected Levi. His legs were just as sensitive as always. Maybe this was also why Eren took his time there, rubbing slowly up and down. Levi had to put a hand on his sink to hold himself up as his body responded.

And Eren saw it!

Levi spread his legs. "Make sure you dry everything," he whispered in a husky command.

Eren ran the towel between his legs, and further up, closer, closer. His eyes flicked up, and he saw Levi watching, waiting. Boldly, he glided the towel over the erection, giving it a cautious stroke. Levi's mouth dropped with a nearly silent moan.

Eren focused on what was in front of him. His whole soul yearned.

He could do this! Levi would let him!

BANG!

A door slammed shut somewhere down the hall.

Eren's hands jerked back. Acid shot up into his mouth. The sound of a gunshot ricocheted in his mind.

A second later, his head slumped in self-loathing. How pathetic!

Then a handed land on him, comforting him in the midst of his anger. Eren looked back up to a gentle, understanding gaze that told him, they would get there, and it was okay to go slowly this time.

He still felt bad, but he was relieved that Levi did not try to force him. He probably could, and Eren would give in, only to panic and try to run away in terror.

Maybe Levi knew that from experience.

After all, he had run away after Eren pushed his limits in the bathtub. Ran off and joined the French Resistance!

Eren leaned forward and gave Levi's cock a single kiss, like telling it to wait for him. Then he rose back up and hugged Levi.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"When you're ready," Levi reassured him.

Neither spoke as they brushed their teeth and dressed for bed. The air between them was thick with exhaustion—not just of the body, but of the soul.

Eren recorked the wine bottle and climbed into bed, sighing as his muscles sank into the mattress. Levi turned out the lights and slipped into bed beside Eren.

For a moment, he did not lie down. Instead, he simply sat there, watching Eren's chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. He wanted to soak in this moment—the bath, the touches, the kisses.

His Eren was still hidden in there, peeking out from time to time.

He hoped a bit of rest was all he needed.

At last, he lay down, facing Eren. The warmth still lingered, but it was tainted with an ache that never truly left. Healing was not something that happened in a single night. Their fingers sought each other under the blankets, brushing lightly at first, hesitant, before gripping tighter, pulling one another close.

Suddenly, they were both struck by a desperate, unspoken need. A final spark of passion ignited between them, wild and consuming. They grabbed at each other in the darkness, kissing, grasping, growling, claiming. All the passion that had been pushed aside boiled up with a fury.

Levi surged forward, rolling on top of Eren. His weight pressed him into the mattress, and his powerful hands pinned the young man's wrists down. Eren's breath hitched as starving lips crashed into his, fierce, demanding, devouring him whole.

"You're still my prisoner-of-war," Levi murmured against his mouth.

Eren let out a breathless laugh, twisting beneath him. "Oh yeah?"

With a sudden shift, Eren jerked his arms free, flipping their positions. Levi grunted as he hit the mattress, surprised for only a second before a smirk curled his lips. Eren loomed over him, triumphant, hands pressing down on Levi's shoulders.

"You were saying?" Eren teased, lowering his face until their noses nearly brushed.

Levi narrowed his eyes. "Tch! Lucky move."

"You aren't even strong enough to keep your prisoner secure."

Levi's eye twitched. "You brat!"

With a sharp twist, he caught Eren around the waist, rolling them right off the bed. Eren crashed onto the floor, dazed for a moment as he hit his head. Before he could even say "oww," lips crashed into his, rough and intense, a silent battle of desperate longing. They invaded each other's mouths, battling one another for territory, stealing what little breath they had left.

Eren's fingers curled into Levi's shirt, gripping it so tightly the fabric strained. The warmth of Levi's body seeped through his clothes. He trembled with the urge to rip away Levi's clothes and feel the heat of skin on skin once more.

Levi responded with his own need. His fingers tangled in Eren's long, damp hair, pulling, gripping just hard enough to make him gasp, and taking that moment to plunge his tongue in deeper, gaining a victory over him. He wanted to hear those sounds, those beautiful, broken moans that told him Eren was still here, still his, and that he was the one who could make him moan so erotically.

They tumbled, limbs tangling, laughter mixing with stolen kisses. Hands roamed, fingers gripped, their bodies pressing together in a playful battle of dominance neither truly cared to win.

Slowly, the fire ebbed away, shifting into something softer. Frantic need gave way to gentle devotion. Their mouths moved in unhurried, lingering kisses. Wild lips gave way to tender pecks as the urgency faded into intimacy, and all that remained was simple nuzzling, noses brushing together, foreheads touching, reluctant to part but too drained for more.

Their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. Neither wanted to pull away. Neither was ready to let go.

Eren's hands roamed lazily over Levi's back, fingertips ghosting over the ridges of old scars beneath the fabric. He traced them reverently, a silent acknowledgment that healing took time, and some wounds never went away. They turned into scars, reminders of survival.

It was okay if Eren had scars on his soul.

They showed his strength and will to keep going.

Levi, in turn, smoothed his hand through Eren's messy hair, taming the strands he had pulled, savoring the simple act of touching Eren like this again.

A week ago, he had been lying in a hospital only dreaming about this man. Now Eren was here, and he was his.

After a moment, Levi pulled back enough to look down at him. It was dark, but a street lamp was enough to see the faint glow of Eren's pale skin: the parted lips, the flushed cheeks, and the sleepy glow in Eren's eyes. Levi dipped down once more, stealing a final, lingering kiss before rolling off.

They climbed back up onto the bed, chuckling that they had gotten so rambunctious. Eren collapsed onto his pillow with a satisfied sigh while Levi tried to straighten out the twisted sheets.

Finally, they lay there, breathless but content, a quiet chuckle escaping them both. It was not just relief, not just the comfort of touch.

It was something more.

Proof that, despite everything, the passion was still there.

"If you ever need to be washed again…" Levi let the offer hang between them.

Eren let out a tiny, embarrassed laugh and tucked his face against Levi's chest. "I liked it," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. After a pause, he added, "I wish I could do more. I'm sorry."

Levi's fingers threading through Eren's hair. "Don't be, takhshet. Take your time." He leaned over, kissed Eren's forehead, and whispered, "Dors paisiblement, mon homme chéri. Rêve de moi, comme je rêve de toi."

"What are you saying?"

Levi smiled craftily. "I'm not telling you."

Eren huffed, but he was too sleepy to complain. "So it's romantic."

"Says who?" Levi whispered, but he did not protest.

After all, he had said, 'Sleep peacefully, my darling man. Dream of me, as I dream of you.'

His hand returned to Eren's hair, stroking through it in slow, soothing motions. Then Levi hummed again, the same low, calming melody.

Maybe it was something his mother used to sing, or a song from the streets of Paris. It didn't matter. He felt like humming it, and Eren seemed to relax with the music.

Eren exhaled deeply, his body sinking into the mattress as the tension ebbed away. The fear was not gone—maybe it never would be—but Levi's presence made it bearable.

The way Eren's breathing slowed, the tension ebbing from his body, the tiny smile, allowing Levi to hold him, letting himself be comforted… that was all that mattered.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Eren let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—they were safe and they could make it through this together.

"Levi," he whispered, his voice laced with sleep. "Thank you for everything."

Levi brushed his lips over Eren's mouth and whispered back, "Of course, mon doux."

Outside, the rain fell steadily, washing the world clean. Maybe one day it could wash away all the hate and bigotry. Then Jews and homosexuals could live and love in peace.

Maybe, someday, they could build a world where they didn't have to hide their love.

Where they could be together.

Forever.

Free.

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AWWWWWWWWWW!

Zikhronam li'vracha (זיכרונם לברכה) — May their memory be a blessing. This phrase is a way to honor the deceased and express respect for their memory.

Side note: It isn't often that I need to break out the thesaurus, but I ended up writing the word "soothing" 8 times in my original draft, and worse, I used "warm/warmth" a whopping 19 times originally! While "warm" as in heat has some good alternatives, "warmth" like a heated but gentle touch is shockingly lacking.

[image]

I mean, really, is that it? Warmness is not different enough. Tepidity/Tepidness normally applies to water, not skin; hotness can imply sexiness—which Levi is, but totally inappropriate usage here—balminess implies sweaty hands; and temperateness sounds like you've run out of words so now you're smashing suffixes onto words out of desperation.

Come on, English, you normally have way too many alternative words from German or Latin.

Anyway, it took forever to edit this, what with real life drama, trying to finish up formatting a friend's book for publication, medical crap, and just me being a damn perfectionist.

To reward you, here are some more old photographs of Libramont, with thanks and credits to Le Cercle Art et Historie de Libramonth-Chevigny.

[images not allowed on this site, sorry. You can try Wattpad or AO3.]