levi who can’t admit to admit to anyone, not even himself, just how far the extent of his feelings for you go because he’s too embarrassed about the tenderness of it. embarrassed by just how impossible it all feels to him.
he’d be circling around you for months, years even, and would be content with just observing you from a distance. just taking in all those times you’ve been kinder to him than he thinks he deserves, chance glances exchanged during strategy meetings, how you always seem to make space for him to simply just exist near you.
he would think about you all the time but the rare times he really allows himself to wallow in his feelings would be when it’s dead of night. when there’s nothing but half-finished paperwork and nearly burnt out candles keeping him company, he’d let his thoughts drift to you. he’d start imagining how nice it must be to have your hands cradle his, handling him with a kind of care that he hasn’t experienced enough of. how in dreams he tells no one about, he lays his head on your lap and you accept all of him. how you see him for all his unpolished edges, his rough demeanour, all the pain he carries, and you still would want him.
and then as if his thoughts somehow summoned you, he happens to look out his window and there you are, on a midnight stroll in the fields. and maybe he might think it would be a good idea to abandon his work and go give you some company.