The touch is a step farther than anything they've shared in the past, but Erwin had reached for him without even thinking, drawn by an innate need to confirm that they were both real, to reforge the bond that hadn't ever truly been broken, even in death. His eyes never leave Levi's face, though he can feel the difference in his grip, an uneven pressure left by missing fingers. An impulse shifts through him as he tries to reach out with an arm that no longer exists, frustration fluttering over his expression that he should be so limited in this moment.
Erwin feels his heart shatter and reform a thousand times as he watches years of thoughts and emotions compound themselves in Levi all at once, and then again with each word that finally flows from him in a voice that seems to almost collapse under the weight of them. The release of that burden winds its way into Erwin's chest, burrowing like shards of glass into his heart. He knew all of these things, had witnessed them from a spectral distance, but it still feels like hearing them for the first time. With every passing moment, he realizes just how muted that existence had been compared to the full vibrancy and agony of life.
The weight of it all finally dawns on him, blossoming with heady heaviness. He had been so close - so very, very close, to that personal vindication. His father's vindication. Yet in the end, in the very face of it all, he had become paralyzed between his dream and his duty.
Levi, in all of his grace, had freed him.
Erwin has left scores upon scores of corpses in his wake, of his soldiers, of innocents caught in the consequences of his decisions. He's left these scars upon Levi, both upon his body and upon his mind, his heart. How cruel and selfish, to have needlessly left him behind. Him and Hange both, abandoned to a world apparently set against them from the very beginning. So many have sacrificed so much for him, and what had he done for them in return?
It would be understandable if they had turned from him, from his memory. Who could blame them, if years of separation had brought a clarity and bitterness instead of a devotion to a decaying devil?
Erwin feels his throat tighten, a pressure of emotion closing it off, choking his breath as Levi leans into him rather than away. Even if he had been watching over him and everyone else left behind, a one-sided, muted existence is no substitution for this.
"Levi..." His heart closes around the name, an endearment, voice heavy with sorrow and guilt and gratefulness and a longing that seems to open like a void beneath his feet.
Almost like gravity pulling him, Erwin sinks down to one knee in front of Levi. His hand slips slowly from his cheek, but gently catches the hand that had been pressed against his. Tenderly he rests his forehead against the back of Levi's injured hand, in tacit acknowledgment of his sacrifice, of everything.
"You have fought well," he murmurs softly, finally returning Levi's words to him.
After, Erwin raises his eyes, seeking his face once more, the candlelight illuminating around his form like a halo.
no subject
Erwin feels his heart shatter and reform a thousand times as he watches years of thoughts and emotions compound themselves in Levi all at once, and then again with each word that finally flows from him in a voice that seems to almost collapse under the weight of them. The release of that burden winds its way into Erwin's chest, burrowing like shards of glass into his heart. He knew all of these things, had witnessed them from a spectral distance, but it still feels like hearing them for the first time. With every passing moment, he realizes just how muted that existence had been compared to the full vibrancy and agony of life.
The weight of it all finally dawns on him, blossoming with heady heaviness. He had been so close - so very, very close, to that personal vindication. His father's vindication. Yet in the end, in the very face of it all, he had become paralyzed between his dream and his duty.
Levi, in all of his grace, had freed him.
Erwin has left scores upon scores of corpses in his wake, of his soldiers, of innocents caught in the consequences of his decisions. He's left these scars upon Levi, both upon his body and upon his mind, his heart. How cruel and selfish, to have needlessly left him behind. Him and Hange both, abandoned to a world apparently set against them from the very beginning. So many have sacrificed so much for him, and what had he done for them in return?
It would be understandable if they had turned from him, from his memory. Who could blame them, if years of separation had brought a clarity and bitterness instead of a devotion to a decaying devil?
Erwin feels his throat tighten, a pressure of emotion closing it off, choking his breath as Levi leans into him rather than away. Even if he had been watching over him and everyone else left behind, a one-sided, muted existence is no substitution for this.
"Levi..." His heart closes around the name, an endearment, voice heavy with sorrow and guilt and gratefulness and a longing that seems to open like a void beneath his feet.
Almost like gravity pulling him, Erwin sinks down to one knee in front of Levi. His hand slips slowly from his cheek, but gently catches the hand that had been pressed against his. Tenderly he rests his forehead against the back of Levi's injured hand, in tacit acknowledgment of his sacrifice, of everything.
"You have fought well," he murmurs softly, finally returning Levi's words to him.
After, Erwin raises his eyes, seeking his face once more, the candlelight illuminating around his form like a halo.
"Forgive me."