Beneath The Flies • 《 Levi × Reader 》

《 Chapter 2 》• Pale Hands of Hope

His cerulean eyes were like reflective pools that you could drown inside if you ventured too far, unable to reach your pointed foot to the sandy bottom. They were pools that absorbed every word and phrase ever spoken, pools that let the meaning behind every metaphor fester within and turn the waters an opaque blue that did not show what lingered underneath the glistening surface.

Or maybe they were two halves of the shivering night sky.
The divine split in the dark clouds that allowed you to choose which side to peer into. In one eye you would see the stars, the constellations that wrapped fixatedly around the moon and held it in place.
In the other you'd find nothing but shadow, the plain and blatant fact that sometimes the stars did not wish to show themselves to the evil eye of humanity; afraid of being lassoed down and trapped in a claustrophobic world of nothing but cruel lies that slipped from the tongue of the damned.

I did not know which it was, but I knew that both were desolate options.
And whichever it was, I felt that part of it was my fault.

I wanted to kneel down at his feet and repent for my inhumane words that took the form of a knife and plunged through his gut, twisting until it hurt just enough to make his blood spill in the shape of unmistakable grief.

The anguish that came from the blood that bloomed into tiny rivers in the lines of my palms placed that very same knife against my throat- and I was holding it with the clean hand.

I would let the blade kiss the delicate skin of my neck, waiting for it to create an opening that would allow the apology I could never say while I was alive to spill from my corpse. The red waterfall that I mercilessly envisioned would be able to express what I never managed to say.

And while I bled out without a shred of worry for myself, I would grab his hands with mine, both of them lubricated in the red liquid of my lifeless body, and beg for his undivided forgiveness...

... I knew he had lost his squad to the foreboding presence of the Female Titan, and I very vaguely knew of the two friends he journeyed up to the Survey Corps with from the Underground City who had been taken from him all too soon. He loved all of them dearly, so dearly that loosing them made him sick with despair.
And even though I hated him back then, I felt nothing but gentle compassion for his situation.

I wonder,

If it had been them in the place of Erwin that day-

Would I still have told him it was his fault?

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《 Chapter 2 》• Pale Hands of Hope

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There was nothing mellifluous about the metallic sound of ODM gear. The zipping wires always pierced through the peaceful atmosphere and carried the warning of titans. It was our duty as soldiers to heed this warning, and to fight until our breath was lost to the slender hold of time.

But, to my relief, today the sound of ODM gear did not mean that death would fill the air in a pungent scent. Instead, it meant that we were testing the waters of new equipment designed for war against Marley. Which, unfortunately, was not such a fun thing either.

"The clasp is here," Hange assisted Mikasa as she was putting on the new harness, telling her where all the touchups were and making sure it was tightened correctly. The new uniforms were less blocky and much easier to maneuver around in, and it seemed the the gear itself had been manufactured to be immensely lighter.

The metal sheathe that honed the blades was visibly slimmer, and the harness that wrapped around the frame of our bodies had a lot less straps, leaving only a few ones that were reinforced with metal.
I flexed my arms to feel the difference from what I was used to, the black uniform tight around my forearms. My hand lifted to press against the metal chest-plate, knocking on it with my knuckle. I felt a slight tremor reverberate through the armor, but could tell it was sturdy enough that no blade nor bullet could puncture through.