sai ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @heartsai - Tumblr Blog

|| moon river. || part xiv. || the final chapter. ||

|| masterpost || part xiii. || epilogue. || ao3 ||

pairing: Levi x fem bodied reader

chapter content: modern au, neighbors au, coworkers au, alcohol/drinking, angst/emotional angst, minors/ageless blogs do not interact.

summary: in which you understand that love can present itself in many different ways.

wc: 14.7k

a/n: it's....done. thank you. thanks for reading this. holy shit, i cannot believe this is really it. thank you to my wonderful friends who helped me brainstorm ideas for this story, for talking me through plot points and allowing me to just TALK about mr. this fic has meant everything and more to me. thank you thank you thank you for letting me write this. <3

An extraordinary tightness squeezes your lungs. Wrapping tar black tendrils around your ribcage, digging staggeringly sharp nails into your throat – suffocation consumes your every rational thought. The promise of relief dangles closer than previously believed. You’re treading towards the brink of escape and dangle on the precipice of freedom.

You stare at the empty shell of your bedroom. Gone is the warm bedding of your mattress, your closet a desolate space, all of your paintings and musings stripped from your walls. The room lacks the entirety of you and your sentimentality. In fact, it is devoid of any trace that you ever existed here. Not even a solitary fragment of your dust remains.

Leaving should feel electrifying and ecstatically happy. Instead, it compares to grief. Embedded deep into your bones, you ache with melancholia. It is as if you are present for your own funeral, offering yourself final goodbyes and remorseful sorrows.

Except, you have every intention to finally live.

Your heart unweaves at the seams, observing in terrible silence at the carcass of what you’re leaving behind. A weathered mattress is the only proof that you were ever here.

You have planned every extravagant detail of your escape. Your mother and her husband will be absent from the house for the next week. Your friends will be studying for their exams, far too engrossed with the vocabulary that riddles their textbooks to notice your immediate disappearance. You were fired from the bookstore two weeks ago. You dropped out of college last week.

Nestled within your clenched fist, a one way plane ticket molds to the heat of your palm. Any earnings and savings have been liquidated to cash. Your bank accounts are closed. Your passport sits in your back pocket. All possessions you are unable to take with you have been given away or sold off. You hold no ownership of responsibility anymore.

The only thing left to do is to walk out the front door.

A single tear burns in the corner of your eye. You refuse to let it fall.

You decided against packing any photographs for your journey. It would be too painful to remember what you’re choosing to abandon. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to mentally retrace the images you’ve discarded. A photo booth collage of Eren and you, pulling funny expressions and making mock kissing faces at one another. A framed portrait of Armin at work, grinning so brightly while stocking the fiction section of the bookstore. Mikasa lounging gracefully in a beach chair, and you in the background burning in the sand. The four of you at your local pub, drinking your first legal beers.

Countless memories photographed, and you will not take a single one with you. You convince yourself it is an act of mercy on their behalf, your absence will heal all the wounds that you have inflicted upon them. You will not be tempted to reach out to them or stare longingly at the faces stained into the glossy papers. Just as you will be gone, so will they.

You pull out your cell phone — the last item to leave behind. You thumb at your messages, scrolling through your final conversations. They lack any indication of your departure, filled with promises of future plans and see you soon’s. With resilient apathy, you navigate to your settings and erase everything.

The phone is thrown on the barren mattress. Your bags are on your front step. A taxi awaits you with impatience. With one last gaze around the bedroom, you inhale the final breath and close the door behind you.

Before you cross the threshold of the home, you pause. You scribble a haphazard note, abandoned on the kitchen counter.

“Don’t find me,” you read aloud. Your fingers graze the edges of the paper, your final goodbye.

A daydream flashes. Your mother and her husband returning home, calling out your name. The unemployment of your mouth. The house erased of your presence. The sour expressions of their faces as they read your note. Perhaps a regret will fester within their chests, but more likely it will be a relief.

It is sort of morbid to think this way, so you relinquish the thought and leave the truth to form when the future occurs. You will not be present to witness it, anyhow.

You lock the front door behind you and venture forth. Your heart paces with excitement and anticipation. Remorse is replaced by excitement and hope.

You are leaving, you are getting out of here. You’re really doing it.

The taxi driver is kind enough to offer their assistance, picking up your small collection of luggage and packing it into the trunk of the car. You place yourself in the backseat, staring faithfully ahead as the driver shifts the gear out of park. You do not turn your head as the cab glides forth, the crunching of asphalt and gravel amplifying with each turn of the tires.

You make small talk with the driver on your hour-long journey to the airport. You’re grateful for the casual noise, distracting you from the temptation to sit and dwell on your choices. It would be all too easy for guilt and empathy to latch onto your vulnerable mind, the false convictions of stagnancy speaking murmurs into your ears to reassure you of uncomfortable comfort.

Truthfully, you still have time to turn around and stay. Your hometown is predictably known to you. You have maintained this routine for the duration of your life. You have loved ones. It wouldn’t be so bad to continue things as they always have been.

Except every cell in your body is screaming in celebration. You have never felt so alive.

The airport comes into view, and you find solidifying determination.

Regrets be damned. You are getting the fuck out of here.

-

Your name spoken in Mikasa’s voice echoes in your ears. Time slows as the pounding panic consumes your mind, body, and soul. Your limbs feel heavy, weighing you down until you feel as though you are slipping from yourself entirely. Your mouth hangs in a lazy gape, teeth tingling and tongue dry.

Thick tears fall from Mikasa’s lashes, her lip a patterned quiver. Her face displays pure agony and shock, eyebrows knitted tightly together as she holds your horrified stare. You have never witnessed such unadulterated pain before, so raw and tortured.

You can hear the glass shatter of your heart, smell the smoke of the fire alive in your veins.

Levi watches on in justified confusion and horror. Silently, his gaze flickers between you and Mikasa. His lips move to speak, but only air leaves his mouth. His eyes are apprehensive, guarded and impatient. His fingers clench and flex at his sides, unable to move or attempt to break the resounding tension.

You feel outside of yourself as you murmur, “Mika?”

The pressure hanging in the room bursts and decays. With frightening speed and violent anger, Mikasa stomps furiously in your direction. You are too slow, too frozen in place, to react.

“Why did you leave me!” she screams mere inches from your face, the uncurrent of a sob amplifying her volume. “How could you do that?”

“Mikasa,” your voice splinters. “I am so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” she cries. “What are you even doing here? With Levi, of all people?”

“I didn’t know.” Your sight flickers between the cousins.

Levi must connect the dots, saying, “Is she the one you called?”

“That was you?” Mikasa shouts your name. “It’s nearly been a year, and you decided to call me out of the clear blue like that? Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? Why are you here?”

A pulsing heat flushes the cartilage of your ears, a tidal wave of tears edging your lash line. “I wanted to tell you! I have missed you so much! It killed me to leave you, Eren, Armin! But I had to—“

“Are you even hearing yourself?” Mikasa hisses. “We all thought something terrible happened. Some witness protection program shit maybe, except your mom was still around. You dropped off the face of the fucking planet!”

“I—,” your tongue catches between your teeth, a lack of conviction hanging in the back of your throat. “Please. Just let me explain.”

“And you!” her fury aims at Levi. “How do you even know her? Did you plan this?”

“No,” Levi states stoically. “I met her after she came to the city.”

“What a sick joke,” she laughs without humor. “My best friend disappears out of nowhere only to be found on the other side of the world with my cousin. I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.”

She speaks for the both of you. You can barely wrap your head around the fact of the matter. What a cruel, sick joke the universe plays upon you.

“I can explain!” you shriek, all tears and white hot anger. “I was going to fucking drown back home! I hated my life! I needed to leave. I had to! You would have stopped me!”

“You left me,” Mikasa responds with a deathly cadence. “You left all of us. You told us nothing. Not about how you were feeling, how you felt like you were drowning, nothing. Would I have stopped you? Maybe, but maybe I wouldn’t have. Maybe I would have gone with you.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” you say. “Mika, you were doing so well in school. You were committed and responsible, it would’ve been so fucked up of me to ask you to abandon everything, everyone. It was cruel enough that I did it.”

“You disappeared. It was like you never existed at all.”

A stinging palm across your cheek would hurt less.

Your lip quivers, “I thought that would make it easier.”

“None of it was easy,” she releases a deep, hallowed sigh. “Armin is still looking for you, you know. He never gave up trying to find out where you went.”

Impossibly, your heart shatters more. “Stop.”

“You know how smart he is,” Mikasa smiles sadly. “He researched all the data you didn’t delete from your socials. Your laptop. Your search history. For the first two months, we all took turns trying to track you down. They were all dead ends. Eren took it the hardest. You should’ve seen his face when he finally realized you weren’t coming back.”

“Stop,” you beg.

She doesn’t. “You know what’s the most fucked up part of that? You were so uninterested in him, and he worshipped the ground you walked on. He still does. We can’t even say your name without him getting angry. If I ever thought I stood a chance, you leaving absolutely ruined that.”

The distant suffocation of stagnancy creeps from your chest, making you feel smaller and smaller. Your breaths exhale shakily, your inhales sharp and clipped.

It’s too much. Far too much to handle and process.

All your progress, your milestones, your triumphs — they collapse under the weight of consequence. Your cursed cause and effect, the repercussions of your abandonment, slamming into you at breakneck speed.

You hurt the people you had loved the most.

“I can’t do this,” you admit brokenly.

“Why don’t you just run away?” Mikasa bites, though her tone lacks the conviction of anger. “That’s how you deal with hard things, right?”

The nail in the coffin. She’s right.

For a brief moment, you flicker your attention to Levi. You think back to the promises you’d made the night prior, quelling his worries and anxieties. You swore to be better for him, to him.

Maybe it was just a facade all along. Your weary dreamer heart and weak resolve wish you to be the person you swear to be.

You are a coward, you finally realize. At the end of the day, do people truly change? You believed yourself to, but was it truly an evolution of self or were you simply playing your tactical game of avoidance?

You sought to discover a new version of yourself, molded by experience and sacrifice and lessons on love and loss. A memory slithers into your mind's eye. Traveling to this foreign land, stepping into a future so unknown and full of potential it startled you with hope. The call of adventure still rings faithfully in your ears, even now, though it was different back then.

Staring into the eyes of the past and your present, you fumble. Your left foot wobbles forward, while your right remains planted where you stand.

You want to run. You want to stay. You want to fight. You never want to feel this anguish ever again.

A hand on your back shakes you from your internal battle, your brain a defensively dissociated mess. Levi holds you stable, a comfort ebbing its way through your bones. He’s grounding you, you realize.

“Mikasa,” he says, tone filled with an unidentifiable emotion. “This is all very sudden, and while I don’t understand exactly what’s happening, this is a lot.”

Her mouth parts to respond, a rebuttal at the tip of her tongue, but she spares whatever harsh words dare to escape. She nods reluctantly.

Levi continues, “You showed up unannounced as well. A phone call would’ve been appreciated.”

“I was feeling spontaneous,” she grumbles, her focus floating back to you. “I’m sorry.”

Whether or not her apology is intended for you, the words do allow you to find stable footing. A splintering noise from your throat ensues, a thick hum of a sob ricocheting within your closed mouth. If either of the Ackermans hear, they do not comment.

“I’m staying at a hotel, before you ask,” Mikasa nods to Levi. “Call me, I guess.”

Levi’s lips form into a straight line, “I wasn’t telling you to leave.”

“But I should.”

Despite all the things you have wished to say to Mikasa over the last year, every word dies behind the slippery spit on your teeth. As much as you feel the urge to protest, to duke it out, to find understanding and relish in reconciliation, a simple fact outweighs these desires.

Mikasa owes you absolutely nothing.

Betrayed malice is expressed in every expression, every movement. Her fingernails dig crescent moons into her closed fists. She grits her teeth. She stares with a fury that can only be described as scorned.

Mikasa hates you.

Or at the very least, the absolute worst truth, she still loves you.

Levi nods finally, flickering a worried glance at you. You shake violently within his hold.

Mikasa’s mouth parts, wobbling tongue tasting words unable to be spoken. You presume you look the same, gaping lips gnawing at air.

You find courage in a blistering heat. “Can I call, too?”

As she turns to exit, a stray tear falls from the corner of her eye. “I’ll think about it.”

And then she is gone just as quickly as she came. Something like a tornado, you suppose.

The door closes with a gentle click and you fall to the floor in a crumpling pile of devastation. Heaving gut wrenching sobs, you hardly recognize it when Levi joins you, grasping at your waist to hold you steady. You thrash, overly dramatic and ultimately embarrassingly, but it is raw and you are bruised.

You feel sick with pain. The emotional weight of it all — you left, you betrayed, you abandoned. How could you ever declare yourself healed? How dare you find love after all the destruction you’ve caused? Did you truly believe you could outrun your past forever?

How do you survive this?

“It’s okay,” Levi coos, pressing himself tightly against your back. Perhaps to prevent further shattering. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“I’m awful,” you choke out.

“No, you are not. Vous êtes merveilleux.”

(You are wonderful.)

It feels like salt in the wound, his beautiful language.

“I’m so sorry.”

He holds you together so tightly. “It will be okay.”

It won’t, but you relinquish your right to protest.

In a matter of minutes, your entire life has fallen to ruin. You hardly understand it, how the past can just so easily sweep in and set fire to your present. Nothing will ever be the same again.

You pause your hysterics, craning your neck to gaze at Levi. His expression reveals no clues to the internal monologue he must be reciting, just worried eyes and pouting lips.

“That—fuck. What.” Gibberish. You are decimated.

“I know,” he soothes. “I know.”

Your lip begins to quiver again, bone rattling shakes jerking your body against his embrace. Where words fail, cries replace. You become a symphony of apologies and snot.

And Levi simply just holds you there right on the kitchen floor until you finish your breakdown.

-

Despite the heated words and deep-rooted betrayal, Mikasa does in fact reach out to you. Quite sooner than anticipated, mere hours passed from the morning’s events. Levi generously consoled you as you continued to fall apart, body flushed with embarrassment and regret.

You explain everything through heavy breaths and sniffled mumbles. The honest, ugly truth — your mother despised you, your stepfather was an emotionally absent figure, your college experience ruined by your own doing, your friendships had fallen apart before your eyes. You feel pathetic, going over a story that sounds lackluster and overdramatic when spoken aloud. You feel Levi’s judgement though he tries to maintain a neutral expression. There is not a part of your past left out.

Even the Eren bit.

How he meant little to nothing to you but the world to Mikasa. How selfish your actions had been, lavishing all of his attention while Mikasa hopelessly pined. How you discarded Eren without a second thought.

Because you have grown, you do realize how trivial your runaway was, how silly your problems. You destroyed your entire life — for these reasons? It’s ridiculous, an echo of who you used to be, of what you used to have.

But it is still you. It will always be you.

Maybe that is the reason why you never reached out to your loved ones left behind. Deep down, you were always going to be that runaway girl. No city, no man, could change this. You belong to nothing and no one. Not even yourself.

It is when you begin this train of thought that your phone lights up. A text message states a time and place, signed by Mikasa. You reread it obsessively, looking for the smoke signals of sympathy and reconciliation. You can decode the blunt statement, you’re sure of it.

Levi gently strokes the length of your bent spine, observing the text from over your shoulder. He places a peck to the clothed skin, slowly reaching around to your wrist, placing pressure on your hand to lower it.

She wants to see you tonight.

“Are you going?” he asks quietly.

You nod, voice far too hoarse from crying to verbalize your response. He hums in acknowledgement.

She wants to see where you’ve been living.

If you weren’t so emotionally distraught, you would laugh at the sheer ridiculousness.

You send a text back with your address and imagine the complete look of apathy that crosses Mikasa’s expression. You can envision the shake of her head, a humorless chuckle on her tongue.

Taking a long and deep breath, you gently tap on Levi’s hand. He releases you silently, slowly standing to his feet and outstretching a palm. You take it, using his stability to stretch your wobbling limbs to stand at full height. You breathe once more, shaking with the remnants of your embarrassment and self-pity.

“I’ll cover your shift tonight,” Levi says. “I’ll tell Hange that something came up.”

“Thank you,” you respond. “For everything, Levi. I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.”

“I guess it would have been unavoidable no matter what, family and all.”

You smile at his stab at humor. “Better at your apartment than at the family reunion.”

“Definitely would’ve been awkward.” Levi smoothes a strand of hair behind your ear. “There’s no need to apologize. Shit happens.”

“If I were you right now, I would be completely freaking out. I mean, what are the fucking chances?”

“Sounds like a terrible plot to the worst book you’ve ever read,” Levi says. “Too bad I’m invested. Can’t exactly write me out of the story now, can you?”

“You do happen to be a main character,” you laugh, the sound ridiculous and harsh. “Fuck, maybe everything will be okay.”

“There she is,” he murmurs, adoration and love staining his pupils. “There’s my girl.”

You choke through a teary giggle, suddenly so overwhelmed with gratefulness at the man cradling your face. A nagging thought blooms from atop your spine, that you don’t deserve his sweetness or his empathy, but still, you smile. Regardless if you’re truly deserving, Levi loves you. He’s here, listening to you whine and weep, holding you tightly and trying to uplift your mood.

You believe your words. Maybe everything truly will be okay. You have Levi. Your best friend, your lover, neighbor, co-worker, etcetera. In the year that you’ve had the absolute pleasure of knowing him, he has molded into every role in your life. Your bartender, your photographer, your grumpy and sarcastic boss. It’s him — Levi, Levi, Levi. Your never ending train of thought, the name of the man you fought to learn, the person you fell desperately and incomprehensibly in love with.

He isn’t going anywhere. It scares you. It grounds you. It’s hard to accept. It’s difficult to understand. It’s easy to love him, to want to stay too.

When he looks at you like this, as if you are the world, you feel as though you can accomplish anything. When he smiles at you, you feel invincible.

“I’ll call you after?” you say it as a question, though you really mean it as a statement.

Levi hums, nodding his head. “I understand if you need space.”

You shrug. You might, you might not. He places a tender kiss on your forehead, his physical reminder that no matter what happens, he will be there. For you, Levi will give you whatever you need.

“I don’t want to do this,” you confess, discarding your eyes to the floor.

He frowns, placing his hand beneath your chin. Levi tilts your head up, forcing your gaze to his. “Maybe not, but you will, and you can.”

“What makes you so sure?” your voice cracks pathetically.

“Because,” he grins. “I have not known you to once be afraid of anything. You are the bravest woman I know.”

“Stop, I’m going to start crying again. I just stopped.”

“It’s true,” he insists. “Regardless of what happens, you’re not who you used to be. You’re not going to run anymore.”

You nod, absorbing his encouragement with apprehensiveness. You’re too sad to be as positive as Levi right now, but it’s still nice to hear that he believes in you.

“Okay?” Levi asks, smoothing his thumb over the sharpness of your jaw.

You nod your head once more, “Okay.”

“Call me if you need anything at all. I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” you repeat dumbly. “Levi— thank you.”

He smiles, so pure and bright. “You’d do the same for me.”

He’s right of course. You would.

-

Pacing the hallway outside of your apartment, you attempt to wipe the cold sweat from your palms on your jeans. Your heart is beating a million miles a second and you can’t stop shaking. You are beyond anxious. Your nerves are atrociously shot. You’ve noticed a loose nail in the floorboards of your hallway and you can’t stop staring at it. It’s kind of a lawsuit waiting to happen, and someone should really fix it. You make a note to talk to your landlord as soon as you can.

Or really, you could run inside your apartment and find your hairbrush. It’s probably sturdy enough to knock the nail back into place, and you could really use the distraction. But then you might miss Mikasa, who should be here any minute now, and fuck you are really not ready to handle the second wave of her anger —

Footsteps, slow and delicate, are ascending the staircase to your right. The sounds echo and reverberate through the empty hall, your trembling breath a backing track to the bass. You stare unyieldingly as the first glimpses of Mikasa appear — the top of her raven hair, strands windswept and dimly lit in the flickering sconces decorating the walls of the hallway. Her eyes are downcast, lashes kissing the tops of her chilled pink cheeks. Her arms are crossed under her ribs, fists tucked under her armpits. She’s bundled up in a green jacket, one you recognize immediately. You were with her when she bought it, you have the same but in a different color.

You wonder if she wore it on purpose.

It is only when she reaches the final step, Mikasa looks up. Her expression reveals nothing, but a frown begins to deepen across her mouth. Awkwardly, you smile and raise your palm in a lazy wave. She nods her head in a similar manner, eyes flickering to Levi’s front door.

“Neighbors,” you mutter.

“Ah.” Mikasa uncrosses her arms. “So, which one is yours?”

You crane your neck in the direction of your apartment, taking hesitant footsteps to the door knob. You open it silently, aside from the creaking hinges, and extend your arm in invitation.

Mikasa brings her lips into a tight smile and crosses the threshold. She smells of chilled Spring wind and peonies as she passes by, and it is so disgustingly nostalgic that you whimper back a cry. You wonder if you still smell the same, halfway across the world and over a year later. Does she recognize you?

You follow quickly behind her, rushing out formalities that do not belong in the air between you, “I can take your jacket. I made soup if you’re hungry. Can I get you anything to drink? Water, tea, coffee? Wine?”

“Water would be nice,” Mikasa responds, eyeing all of your decor.

Jeremy’s painting sticks out like a sore thumb amongst it all, being that you still haven’t gotten around to really overhauling your apartment. Your decor resembles more of a collection of trinkets than a fully realized aesthetic, little things here and there. You’ve only recently begun to add photos to the walls, thanks to Levi. You notice Mikasa staring hard at one in particular, one of you, Levi, Hange, and Petra at the bar during Christmas.

“Of course, I’ll be right back,” you say, hurrying to the kitchen.

Retrieving two glasses of water, you take your time to collect yourself. Mikasa is going to have a million questions, a thousand accusations, and an undetermined amount of anger. You set the stovetop knob to low, allowing the soup you’ve made to remain warm should she get hungry. You’re expecting her to be here for a while, and who seeks retribution on an empty stomach?

When you return to your living room, Mikasa is sitting rigidly on your couch, jacket slung across the arm rest, the Christmas photo in hand.

“You’ve changed, haven’t you?” she asks, not removing her gaze from the picture.

“Yeah, you could say that,” you answer breathily.

You place the two glasses on your coffee table as slowly as you can. You place yourself on the floor across from Mikasa, too scared to seat yourself beside her. As tortuous as it is for you, you do not want to miss any emotion that passes her face.

You deserve her fury. You deserve to witness it, to feel the fire of her disdain.

Mikasa finally looks up with watery eyes, “It’s like you replaced us.”

“No,” you say sternly. “That’s not true at all. I think of you guys literally every second of the day. I could never replace you.”

“Then why,” she takes a deep, stabilizing breath. “Why?”

“I couldn’t do it anymore,” you speak barely above a whisper. “I was hurting others and being hurt by others. I couldn’t pretend to be happy. I couldn’t drag everyone else down with me.”

“Who was hurting you?” Mikasa asks, earnest and raw. “Please, tell me the truth. Just be real with me. It’s me.”

“I know,” you sniffle. “That’s why this is so hard. You were one of them, Mikasa. I was hurting you too.”

“Are you talking about Eren?”

“Partially. There was more to it.”

“Okay, how was I hurting you?” Her eyes have grown softer, less vengeful.

You exhale a deep and loud breath. “I was in the process of losing everything. I had that thing with Eren, and I wasn’t interested in anything long-term and he was. You’ve been in love with him since middle school, and you hated me. I know you did, and it’s okay, I understand now. When you really care about someone, all you want is to be selfish with them. But you took all of that out on me without even realizing.”

Mikasa casts her gaze away, guilt expanding through her body. “Yeah, I can admit to that.”

“I’m not asking for an apology, either. I deserved it,” you press. “I was really self-centered. But it was one of the reasons why I left. I would’ve bent over backwards to try and be your friend, to make things right, but as long as all of us were still friends, things would’ve never changed. You still would’ve silently resented me, despite how close we were, and I couldn’t keep causing you all of that pain.”

“You give yourself too much credit. I would have gotten over it eventually.”

“Are you over it now?”

She blinks. “No.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around your knees. “I wasn’t a good friend to you. You deserved to be happy. You still do.”

“But regardless,” Mikasa heightens her tone. “We could’ve tried to figure things out, find some middle ground.”

“But there was more,” you reason. “Eren and I weren’t exactly on good terms. I’m not stupid, Mika, I could see that he wasn’t getting over me. It was making things really fucking awkward between all four of us, and I can’t even begin to get started on Armin. He was so optimistic, thinking everything would all work out and we would be friends forever. After I lost the job at the bookstore, he was practically begging our manager to let me come back. I mean, that’s so pathetic! I was such a shitty employee! And poor Armin was willing to plead for me to come back, because he was worried I would go off the rails!”

“Well,” Mikasa gestures towards you. “You sort of did.”

True.

“And then I dropped out of school, my family life sucked, my mom’s a bitch,” you laugh humorlessly. “I was going nowhere. I was losing all of you. And worst of all, I was stuck. I ran out of options. What the fuck was I going to do with my paintings anyways? Sell them in some annual artisan faire and hope I was going to make a sustainable living? What was I supposed to do other than watch all my friends, all of the people I loved the most, pity me, hate me, obsess over me? All while I fell behind as all of you moved on with your lives, moved on from the deadbeat you called your best friend?”

“You would have figured it out!” Mikasa protests. “Just like you always do!”

“I was a self-centered narcissist, Mikasa!” you yell back. “I was the problem! In everything, it was me!”

“And what are you now, a fucking martyr?” she scoffs. “Thank you so much for moving halfway across the world! It really saved us! I mean really, it was so enjoyable filing police reports, deep-diving into every lead, crying over you, missing you, consoling each other. Despite her being a bitch, which you are absolutely correct about, your mother was, and still is, an absolute wreck. Even your step-dad went above and beyond to try and find you. They’re still looking. We all are! You disappeared!”

“I had to! And I’m sorry!”

“You have absolutely no idea how much damage you caused. When I called Eren and Armin earlier, you want to know what the first thing they asked was? Is she hurt?” Mikasa softens dramatically. “Then, was she kidnapped? What happened?”

“You told them?” you blanch. “Did you say where I was?”

“Of course I did. They’re getting on a plane tomorrow. You need an intervention, needed one last year.”

“Did you tell her — did you tell my mom?” your voice is deathly still.

She pauses. “No, I didn’t. But you will when Eren and Armin get here. She needs to know that you’re safe.”

“Why are you doing this?” you shout. “You haven’t even asked me how I’m doing! How much I’ve changed, all that I’ve accomplished, what my life is like! You haven’t even mentioned Levi!”

“I don’t really care to know,” she says bluntly. “You do realize that every person you’ve gotten yourself involved with is an accomplice, right? Or at the very least is a witness? You ran away! This isn’t a fairytale! There’s literally legal consequences to what you’ve done!”

In this very moment, your life crumbles before you. You feel stripped and bare. You sequentially realize that it doesn’t matter what you say to Mikasa, or Eren and Armin, they won’t hear you, not really. The versions of them that you’ve held in your mind, the adoration and the memories you’ve grasped so tightly onto, they weren’t real. They’ll never understand you. Maybe they never have.

“We want to talk to you about coming home.” Mikasa slides from your couch and onto the floor. She takes your hands into her own, a bright and teary smile beginning to form on her face. “We can fix this together.”

“But I don’t want to leave. My job, my apartment, and, ” you whimper. “Levi, what about him? I love him.”

“But what about us?” she implores.

You’re edging on hysteria, your breath quickening and body trembling. You part your lips, mouth sticky with the beginnings of a sob, but no noise escapes. Her dark irises flicker across your face, pupils dilating as they steady, staring directly into your own watery eyes.

“Despite all that you’ve put us through,” she says, smoothing her thumb against your knuckles. “We miss you. We’ve been worried sick, all of us. I miss my best friend. I love you, I still love you. I don’t care about whatever your reasons may have been for leaving, so long as you try to make amends. You tried calling me, right? To fix things, tell me about your life? To tell me that you missed me?”

You nod reluctantly. Mikasa’s smile widens, though tears of her own begin to descend down her cheeks.

“Let Eren and Armin come. Give us the chance to talk to you,” she continues. “Let us help you. You made all of these rash decisions by yourself. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

You implode. Throwing yourself forward, you lock your wobbling arms around Mikasa in a suffocating embrace. She matches your ambition with her own fervor, sobbing into the crook of your neck as her nails clutch onto the back of your shirt.

Although it is the very last thing you have ever desired since running away, you do feel shreds of gratitude for the universe reuniting you with Mikasa. In your wildest of imaginations, this moment wouldn’t have happened for decades. Maybe you’d return home some day, quietly check in on your forgotten loved ones, run into Mikasa at the grocery store on complete happenstance. You’d purchase a bottle of wine, go down to that lake the two of you would frequent, and catch up on all of the years that had zipped by. The pain of absence would be reduced to a phantom ache, a ghostly scar of a wound well healed yet always thrumming with soreness. You would laugh, the urge to cry a miniscule twitch of longing. It would be powerfully healing. It would not hurt, so far removed from the active pain and suffering of the present.

Life has never treated you with such kindness, and your determined spirit requires lessons learned the hard way. You’ve always faced your bullshit head on, for better or worse. You just can’t decide what side Mikasa is on at the moment, good or bad.

Through broken cries, you say, “I’m so sorry, Mikasa.”

“I know,” her voice breaks. “I’m sorry too.”

You can shred yourself apart, deny all of the good parts of yourself and declare to be without conscious or empathy. You can practice self-loathing, play both victim and villain flawlessly.

But you can finally admit this to yourself — you are brave. The last twenty-four hours have been some of the hardest you’ve internally faced. Yet you did not run. You stayed.

You can do this. You can mend the bridges you’ve burned.

“I’ll see them,” you whisper. “I’ll see Eren and Armin.”

Mikasa really starts to cry. She shakes violently in your hug, her fingers digging into your spine. Loud, hysterical wails are swallowed by your shoulder.

“I’m so glad that you’re okay,” you can make out through her muffled sobs. “I’m so relieved.”

You lean back, maneuvering your palms to cradle her face. Mikasa looks wrecked, all clumped eyelashes and soaked lips. You probably look identical, a tickling of snot daring to leak from your nostrils. You can’t help but laugh. She mirrors you, laughing as she rubs the backs of her fists along her eyes.

“This is so stupid,” she groans. “What the fuck?”

“What do we do now?” you ask.

“Talk like normal people, I guess?” Mikasa’s giggling resumes. “I think we covered our shared trauma.”

You smile, an excited lightness filling your chest. “Well, how’s life?”

“It’s good, aside from, well,” she sends you a pointed look. “School is good. I have an internship at a law firm. I got a place with Eren and Armin.”

“That’s great, Mika,” you say. “Really.”

“Yeah, it’s been good.” She bites her lip, suddenly ashamed. “I didn’t mean what I said, about not caring. I just don’t think I can handle hearing how good your life is.”

“I get it.”

“Maybe I can, though.” Mikasa wipes a final tear from her cheek. “Not now, but maybe with some time.”

You nod, conveying sympathy with the gentleness of your tone, “I’m not going to run anymore. I promise.”

“You’ll fix this?” her voice wobbles. “Us?”

“Yeah,” you say. You mean it.

“Okay,” she sighs. “I’ll work on my stuff. Eren and Armin will, too. We’ll be okay again.”

You choose to believe her. You think she makes the same decision, her small smile full of warmth.

-

You do not exactly recall when you gave Levi your extra set of keys, but you’re unbelievably thankful to hear the unlocking of your front door. From your bedroom, you hear the subtle shuffling of the ravenette removing his shoes. Padded footsteps roam down the hallway, flicking light switches off as he passes through. Your bedroom door creeks, the faintest of moonlit illumination swallowing his silhouette.

Mikasa left quite quickly after your conversation. While there are a myriad of things to discuss, history to recount, the well of words ran dry. There is only so much a person can say in a single night, so she gathered her things, gave you a brief hug, and departed.

And so, you went to bed.

You’re not pretending to be asleep, but you’re also not actively convincing Levi that you’re awake. He stands, relaxed and patient, releasing a sigh that translates his relief. You’re not the blubbering mess you were earlier, at least.

Maneuvering the comforter down your shoulders, you shimmy backwards on the mattress in silent invitation. Without verbal reply, Levi acquiesces, slipping in to the spot your body heat still reverberates.

You curl into his side instantly. Flinging an arm across his torso, you nestle the crown of your head into his chest, pressing your ear to the gentle thrumming of his heart. It beats steadily, staggeringly loud in opposition to the night’s quiet hum. His palm brushes along the nape of your neck, fingertips tickling the thickness of your skull.

“How’d it go?” he speaks harshly above a whisper.

“She doesn’t hate me,” you hum. “We’re going to work on things.”

“Good,” Levi replies.

Your fingers clutch tightly onto his shirt. “The others are coming too.”

He pauses, body rigidly stiff. “When?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

He hums a reply in acknowledgment. Levi’s fingers loosen from their circular pattern.

“I don’t know what I’m going to say to them,” you continue. “But part of me is happy to see them.”

“They’re your friends,” Levi says. “Of course you would be happy. You never thought that you would again.”

“No,” you answer. “But a larger part of me is scared.”

He turns his torso, nudging his forehead against yours. His eyes study your own, and for a brief moment you are entirely without worry. It is only you and Levi.

His knuckles brush against your cheekbone, his skin cool in stark contrast to your blazing flesh. “Why?”

You whisper it as if it is a secret. “I don’t want them to take me away from here.”

“I wouldn’t let them,” Levi chuckles softly.

“But you would, if it was my choice,” you say without question.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Not without protest, but yes.”

“Would you come with me?”

His lashes flicker, his brow twitches. “Have you already decided to leave then?”

“No,” you insist. “But what if?”

“Mon cœur bat pour toi, bien sûr que je le ferais,” he says wistfully, his hand dropping from your face.

(My heart beats for you, of course I would.)

“Levi?” An edge of panic stains your voice. “Would you come with me, if it comes down to it?”

“I refuse to make decisions on hypothetical scenarios,” Levi replies. “We are here now. Let tomorrow be what it will be, and the day after that, and the day after that.”

“Poetic,” you humor.

“I’ve been known to be a romantic,” he jokes lightly. “Say a line or two.”

You hum in response, sleepy and emotionally exhausted. Levi presses a chaste kiss to your forehead and you lower your eyelids.

You’re really not thinking of leaving, but you aren’t sure if you can’t be convinced. Your resolve has always waned under pressure, and the last twenty-four hours have been a complete whirlwind for you. Add Eren and Armin into the mix, and well, you’re not expecting to know the difference between up or down.

Maybe they’ll see your life and understand why. Maybe you can convince them you were always better off choosing this path.

Truthfully, you do not think you could survive loving and leaving Levi – or Hange, or Petra, or your favorite patrons at the bar, or Jeremy. You cannot even imagine doing so, it pains your wearied heart too much.

How do you manage to have it all then? The reconciliation, the true love, the healing, the growth, the rewards of all of your change. You hear Levi’s breath begin to steady, signaling his drifting slumber, and you cling tighter to his body. How can you keep everything you’ve gained without losing who you used to be?

-

The cafe from across your apartment is a quite cathartic choice of place of reuniting with your past loved ones. It seems as if it were yesterday you were perched upon the mezzanine outside of your bedroom, looming over the railing in awe and envy at the people sitting at the tables lining the sidewalk. You wished to be among the crowd, not just there, but with. To laugh and smile and speak with friends as if you had always lived here, grown alongside them, belonged to this world you forced yourself a part of.

Eren and Armin’s plane landed about an hour ago, according to Mikasa. They will be upon you at any moment now. Your accelerated heart rate might land you in a hospital before you first catch sight of them however. Bluntly put, you feel close to dying. Metaphorically you stand on the precipice of profound change, unable to move backwards from the minutes looming ahead. Physically you are furiously wiping your palms against your jeans, panicking so hard that you’re fighting the urge to dry heave.

You tell yourself that in an hour, your anxiety and worry will be nonexistent. If nothing else, this will all be over with, your meet-up already done and consequences faced.

Levi will be waiting for you after all is said and done. The reminder of this fact allows your heartbeat to steady for a split second.

The slamming of a symphony of car doors forces you to jump out of your seat and to relinquish the grasp on your espresso, desperately grasped in your clammy touch. Your eyes instinctively search your immediate surroundings, your breath halting entirely when you see them.

Armin has cut his golden hair. His eyes are still as big as they are blue. He appears broader, stands more assertively, any inkling of insecurity or shyness is absent from his stature. His arm extends from a taxi, holding out the door as Mikasa shimmies through. You smile. Armin is still thoughtful.

Eren emerges from the street. He’s somehow taller than you remember, his hair longer and his verdant eyes fiercer. He’s grown more handsome, impossibly so, and you understand all over again why you betrayed Mikasa in the first place. Eren oozes charm, even from across the room.

They’ve all grown. They have all changed. But so have you, you think. You wonder what they will think once you stand and announce yourself to them. Will they recognize you? Will they hate who you have become?

Is this all a mistake? Would it have been better to stay gone?

Mikasa’s gaze finds yours, and you realize with startling clarity that none of your questions matter. You cannot control what has already been done, what is currently in motion, and what the future holds. You can only be present.

Maybe, being present was your lesson all along. Or whatever the fuck the universe wants to teach you.

With surprisingly steady knees, you rise from the table and begin to tread towards the trio. Armin is the second set of eyes to meet yours and the intensity nearly knocks the wind from your lungs. You press onwards, taking faster strides. The blonde murmurs something you cannot decipher, but assume it's about you as Eren whips his head in your direction. His face scrunches together, his bottom lip quivering and eyes bubbling with tears.

Mikasa smiles so softly, speaking a sentence to the two. Then, they are bolting.

Your feet slide from the concrete beneath you as you are tackled by your friends. A myriad of arms encase your form, refusing your fall to the ground to be completed. Your ears are muffled by the combination of chests, but you hear wailing and words and you cannot believe that this is really happening.

You begin to sob, but it is not the sorrowful and remorseful tears you anticipated. You’re crying because you feel as if you are returning home after a long and grueling trip away. So much love surrounds you, it feels as though you might drown in it.

And what a sight the four of you must be, openly wailing in a crowd of perfect strangers. You’d be embarrassed if not for the fact that nothing else matters at this moment.

Your grip tightens on whoever you’re holding onto — probably all three of your friends — and you’re spewing. “I missed you guys so much.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” Armin says into your hair. “Just give us a heads up next time, okay?”

“Fucking Marco Polo,” Eren chokes out a laugh.

You chuckle, watery and thick. “I just wanted a change of scenery, I guess.”

“Idiot,” Mikasa says. “Dramatic moron.”

You pull back, a shy smile creeping from behind your teeth. “How have you guys been?”

“Crazy, mostly,” Armin responds. “But good, in some ways. We’ll tell you all about it after.”

“After?” You crane your neck.

“After you tell us first!” Eren shouts. “What the hell have you been up to? You’ve been gone an entire year! You literally have a new identity now!”

“You guys don’t want to yell at me first?” you ask timidly. “Get that out in the open?”

Eren and Armin share a pained look. Mikasa is the one that answers your question, “I think I already covered that part.”

“We’re all caught up on, well, that,” Armin grimaces.

“Got it. Well, um,” you fumble with the buttons on your jacket nervously. “Can I get you guys a coffee?”

“They got beer here in fancy land?” Eren humors.

“We actually have a growing craft beer scene,” you answer autonomously. “Some breweries actually reached out to the bar—“

“Bar?” Armin interjects.

“Oh,” you blink. “Yeah. I work at a bar.”

“And we’re meeting up for coffee. Why?” Eren throws his hands up.

“Because it’s polite,” Mikasa bites. “And it’s the morning.”

“Not home it’s not,” Eren argues. “We’re still jet-lagged.”

A grin spreads across your face, an unconscious thing. “I’ll take you guys there later, if you want?”

The three friends nod thoughtfully, timidly. Silently, you gesture towards the cafe table you were previously sitting at. They follow, one by one, over to the metal chairs, the chatter of the other tables dispersing as the early morning rolls forth.

Mikasa sits to your left, Armin to your right, Eren directly in front. You cast a glance to your espresso mug, chilled now by the Spring air, and feel mildly guilty that you didn’t order them anything before this moment.

Not that that is all that important, but the guilt lodges itself right alongside your grief, tugging your attention away from excitement and happiness. You’re here to explain yourself afterall, tell your story of events.

You clear your throat, cutting through an uncomfortable silence that settles over the four of you. “I’m sure you guys have a million questions.”

Armin is the first to answer, his expression painted in compassion and care, “Yeah, but we just want to know that you’re really okay.”

Eren follows the blonde with, “Why?”

Mikasa stays quiet, but offers you an encouraging smile.

You huff out a tensed breath. “I wasn’t okay. I am okay now.”

“Start from the beginning.” Armin places his palm atop your knuckles. “Tell us everything. We want to listen.”

And you do. For a third, and hopefully a final, time, you spill your guts and rehash traumas and feelings and strife that lead you here. You talk most adamantly about the day you left, walking the three through the visceral memory of abandoning everything, how free you felt in the moments following.

You talk about coming to France. You say it was hard finding a place to live in the first couple of days, so you slept at the airport until the staff caught onto you. You got lucky securing the apartment you did, convincing your landlord to allow you to rent the furniture from the previous tenant. You recalled the job hunting, how you actually used a planner for the first time in your life and immediately threw it away the second you were hired at Hange’s. You talked about Jeremy, your elderly neighbor, Hange, Moblit, Petra, even Erwin.

You talk about the seasons changing, your creaking floorboards, your drafty balcony door, your mother’s soup recipe, your abandoned passion for cupcake making, your perpetually unfinished paintings.

You talk about every single thing there is to talk about until it is time to talk about the one, most singularly important thing.

“Levi,” you chuckle lightly. “Levi is my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Eren shouts, jaw tight. “That’s so fucking cliche!”

“This sounds like the plot of a book,” Armin says. “Like, a really good book.”

“You won’t fucking believe this,” Mikasa quips. “Levi is my cousin.”

Shocked expressions circle the table, and it is impossibly hard not to laugh. It is deeply ironic and you imagine that you’ll be laughing at this fact for decades to come, but now is not the moment to abandon sincerity for humor.

“Imagine my surprise when Mikasa walked through the door a few days ago,” you frown.

“Scratch the book idea,” Armin blinks. “This is movie potential.”

“Out of all of the billions of people in the world,” Eren says. “Mikasa’s cousin is the guy you decide to shack up with halfway across the planet?”

“To be fair,” you explain. “I really didn’t know. To make it even more fucked up, I called Mikasa and left a voicemail the night prior.”

“She didn’t call you back?” Armin asks, throwing a confused look to Mikasa.

Mikasa’s eyes travel to her lap. “I had just gotten to the city. I had my phone on airplane mode.”

“Wait,” Eren interjects, directing his attention to Mikasa. “You didn’t tell us that part.”

“I told you what was most important,” Mikasa says in a clipped tone. “I found her.”

“Yeah but, we could’ve been here sooner!” Eren raises his volume, eyebrows furrowing into the base of his nose. “That’s like a twenty-four hour difference!”

“Can we not?” Mikasa barks. “We’ve been back together for literally an hour and you’re already starting this shit back up again.”

“What shit?” you ask stupidly.

Armin winces, “I agree with Mikasa, can we not do this right now?”

“I think now is a great time, since we’re airing everything out,” Eren laughs without humor. “Mikasa, in your leaving, had decided to tell us how much we dotted over you and made her the villain. She thinks that when you were around, we were mean to her.”

“That is not what happened,” Mikasa defends. “Nor is that what I said.”

“Then explain, please, to her, about how you felt. Because you acted like the stars aligned in the fucking sky when you realized that she wasn’t coming back, Mika.” Eren crosses his arms over his chest, a deadly glint in his eye.

You stutter out, “Mikasa?”

She stares into the fabric of her pants, unblinking and voice trained as she answers, “That’s not what happened. We all dealt with your disappearance in different ways.”

“Eren,” Armin exasperates. “We can talk about this later, please. We just got her back.”

“Did we?” Eren chuffs. “I think it’s more that she got us back, and she deserves to know the truth.”

His gaze lingers on Mikasa, frowning in a silent apology. His eyes shift to Armin, expression becoming emotive with betrayal. Then, Eren’s eyes land on you, conviction lacing his beautiful features.

“Mikasa all but celebrated the fact you were gone. Armin turned into a detective. I cried each and every day over you and wondered why you didn’t take me with you,” Eren sighs heavily as he speaks the last lingering words of his confession. “I hated you.”

“What?” you’re left all but speechless, jaw slacked and eyes blown wide.

“Eren!” Mikasa barks, all white hot fury with the lingerings of guilt.

“I hated you,” Eren repeats callously, calm and sturdy. “I told myself that if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t forgive you.”

Mikasa and Armin shrink into their chairs, looking anywhere away from the two of you. Your bottom lip wobbles, but you do your best to keep your tears at bay. Eren glares solemnly into your eyes, sad and bereft, but an indistinguishable emotion flickers within their depths.

“I understand,” you deflate. “I don’t blame you.”

“I didn’t hate you for leaving,” he explains. “I hated you for having the balls to do it. To stay wherever the hell you went. I hated you for not telling me, not taking me. I hated you for not reaching out to me, me, of all people! You knew that out of all of us that I would be the one to understand you the most.

“And you never called,” Eren’s voice softly breaks. “You never texted. You sold all of your things. You got rid of our photos. I didn’t even have a painting to remember you by. You were just gone, completely, like you were never even there. And I was still there. I’m still there.”

“Eren,” you speak above a whisper. “I told Mikasa the same thing, but I couldn’t bring you guys down with me. I didn’t know if my plan would work, if I would get lucky and figure it out, or if I would have to come running home with my tail between my legs.”

“I didn’t care about any of that,” he shakes his head. “I don’t care now to even hear that. It didn’t matter then, I would’ve gone with you. I would’ve figured it out with you, I would’ve come home broke and embarrassed with you. We all would have, and I hated you most because you knew that.”

“You’re right,” you answer earnestly. “I didn’t tell you because if you three didn’t convince me to stay, you would’ve convinced me to let you tag along. You have every right to hate me, Eren. All of you do.”

Armin smooths his thumb across your knuckles. “I don’t hate you. I never did. I was worried and sad.”

“I don’t hate you either,” Mikasa says. “You know how I felt and how I feel now. I was angry. I’m still angry.”

Eren pauses on an inhale of air, rolling the breath between his teeth before he speaks. “I hated you because I couldn’t actually hate you. Because at the end of it all, I get it. I really fucking understand why you did what you did and I hate myself for not doing the same.”

The confession sombers Mikasa and Armin, their faces broken and grateful in the same expression. You think that maybe they’re just glad that they didn’t have to travel the world to find more than one of their friends.

Eren’s tone wobbles again, “Was it worth it?”

You reflect quicker than you expect to. The answer comes to you autonomously — yes. To see Hange, Petra, and Levi’s faces smiling at you fondly in the cluster of memories, to feel the onslaught of growth and happiness and pure love slither through your bones, to taste the reminisce of all the wine and coffee on your tongue and to understand completely that yes, yes it was all worth it.

You’ll forever feel remorse for the way you left. You’ve decided that you’ll spend the same amount of time rebuilding those bridges you’ve burned. Leaving was worth it, despite the pain, despite the anguish. You became yourself. You discovered who you were and are still learning about who you may be one day. You found love, so much of it, in all of its shapes and forms.

Love is Levi, who kisses you so fiercely that it knocks the wind from your lungs. Love is Hange, who is so brightly optimistic and kind and encourages everyone around them to just live their life and have fun. Love is Petra, who is genuinely one of the most compassionate and understanding people you have ever met.

Love is Jeremy, your beautiful begonia, that glitters and shines in his painted terracotta and leaps with joy at every watering.

But love is also this — the hurt, the pain, the longing, the anger, the mistakes. Love is Mikasa and Eren and Armin and love is you declaring that you will do right by them. Love is the lifetime of apologies you owe them.

Maybe love is forgiving yourself too. You make a mental note to verbally apologize to your reflection when you get home. Perhaps you’ve always been a bit dramatic, too hard on yourself, or self-centered. You’re learning though, how to be a human, and you feel love for yourself even in those moments.

“Yes,” you finally answer, violently and unwaveringly honest.

Mikasa, Armin, and Eren stiffen. You do not feel guilty, but you do feel grief. Love is regret, too.

A subtle lift of Eren’s lips leave you confused and relieved. “And that’s why I don’t really hate you, because I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” your attention flickers to each of your friends, your voice agonizingly dripping with sincerity.

Eren utters your name in a dreadfully serious cantor, “Your mom knows where you are.”

You stop moving entirely apart from your eyes, where they dart to Mikasa. Her face betrays her, guilt riddled across her expression.

“I thought you said I would call her,” you mumble, mouth growing dry.

“I lied,” she says soberly. “I’m sorry. I had to tell her.”

“We’re here to bring you home,” Armin mutters, quietly and shamefully. “Or at least to try to convince you to come back.”

“It’ll be different this time,” Mikasa reassures you, passion etched into her tongue. “We’ll get you back into school, help you find a job, or an internship, or whatever you want to do. You don’t even have to live with her anymore if you don’t want to.”

Your mind reels. You feel sick.

“If I say no?” you ask, devoid of outward emotion.

“Then you say no,” Armin replies. “All of us agreed on no consequences.”

That may just be the most surprising revelation yet. Your mother, no threats and anger?

“What do you mean?” You look to Eren who has yet to break his intense stare.

“She probably won’t forgive you, but we did talk her out of figuring out how to legally get you back home. She only wants a phone call at the very least,” Eren elaborates.

Okay, so no cops. That’s good at least.

“You have time to think about it,” Armin offers. “We’re here for a couple of days.”

You swallow despite your drying throat, and nod in acknowledgment. An angry and annoyed pit in your stomach engulfs your vocabulary, an anxiety taking root in an unrecognized problem. A thought previously unknown sparks in your brain — could you have left your hometown in a better way?

You feel yourself start to defend your actions. No, of course you couldn’t have. There were too many pressures and not enough support, you would have never left at all. Another voice plays devil’s advocate, yes of course you could have! What were you thinking, believing there wouldn’t be consequences for acting like a child and running away? You could have applied for dual citizenship, gone about all the legal proprietaries and what-not.

But it doesn’t really matter, given all that you have done and all that still remains to be done. Bluntly stated, it is what it is.

You clear your throat, offering a weak smile and finally paying attention to your abandoned espresso cup. You sip, the drink gone cold, and wonder if something a bit stronger would quell the swelling tides of your discomfort.

You make a decision.

“Do you guys want to see my life?” you ask timidly.

Whatever tension that had begun to build dissipates, the three eagerly nodding. You turn, pointing a finger upwards towards your apartment complex.

“That’s my balcony,” you say. “My landlord is pretty cool, I hardly ever see him except when I pay rent. I live next to Levi, and there’s this old lady who’s a little mean but she let me borrow her sugar one time. Everyone else just kind of keeps to themselves.”

“Can we see it?” Armin speaks up, adventure sparkling in his ocean eyes.

You nod eagerly, standing abruptly. The three follow suit, equally as excited to see what your life has transformed into. You figure it’s a bit intimate, showing them your apartment first — but fuck it. This whole ordeal has been raw and vulnerable enough.

Eren practically scrapes your heels with the fronts of his boots as the four of you travel across the street and into your building. Armin chatters away, in awe of the architecture and speculates the rich history of the bricks. Mikasa, familiar with the layout, silently listens and smiles at Armin’s words. You warn them of the creaking stairs, the loose nail at the top step, the dim lighting of the staircase, the obscenely difficult lock at your front door.

They cross your threshold after invitation, and you give an excited tour of your humble apartment. You mumble about the distinct differences between your hometown and here, the coldness of the previous Winter, the daylight of Spring. You present Jeremy, freshly watered with his bubbly personality, and show off his royal portrait in your hallway afterwards. You point out the uncleanable paint splatters on the floorboards, express concern about your security deposit, and end your tour outside on your balcony.

Mikasa leans over the metal railing, in awe of the view below. “They look like ants now, all those people.”

You swallow an ironic chuckle, “Yeah, I people watch a lot.”

“It’s probably hard to see the stars,” Armin notes, head facing upwards to the clouds. “All the light pollution.”

“I do miss it,” you say. “But there’s some places in the city where you can still see them!”

“Cool,” Eren says. “You’ll have to take us there later. French stars, ya’know.”

“Oui,” you respond, wagging your eyebrows.

You share a stupid laugh with your friends, embarking back inside to your living room. With a few hours to spare until the next point of exploration, Hange’s bar, you catch up on Eren, Mikasa, and Armin’s lives.

Eren is working part-time at his father’s clinic as a receptionist. He hates it passionately, but it affords him gas for his car and his share of the rent for their apartment. Eren decided to drop out of college, but he’s figuring out if he wants to go back to finish his Bachelor’s or not.

Armin is still in school working on his Master’s degree, because of course he is. He works at that same book store, even managing it now. After he completes his schooling, he’s planning on buying his own book store, which he is both excited and nervous about. He says he wants to travel, but he’s unsure exactly how he’s going to fit adventure into his very busy and strict schedule for the next five years.

Mikasa, as you know, is interning at that law firm. She goes into great detail about the people she works for, complaining about the dress code and the boring days that seem to drag on forever. She started seeing Jean casually, and he’s begun to fill in the empty space in the friend group that you left behind.

All of the extended friends that the four of you saw on occasion — Sasha, Connie, Jean, Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, Annie — come around more often now that Eren, Mikasa, and Armin have their own place. Their shared apartment is in a constant state of mess, but it feels like home, they say. They catch you up to speed on all of their lives, the changes each of them have gone through, and how your disappearance brought all of them together.

Which makes you feel sort of weird, knowing that leaving caused a ripple effect in your community. You wonder what they’ll think when word reaches back to them that you crossed the Atlantic to start a new life.

The mid-day sun withers in the sky, casting orange rays into your apartment. Levi and Petra’s shifts will start soon, and with that, introductions will be made. A new source of nervousness enters your system as you shimmy your shoes on.

What if your old friends and new friends don’t get along?

It’s apparent as the four of you begin your familiar walk to the bar that they do not share your same concern. The three are lively and jovial, Eren pretending to trip Armin several times while Mikasa playfully scolds the two for acting like children. Eren even attempts to run away, pawing at your elbow whenever you pass by an alleyway. It is, for a lack of a better word, goofy. It’s nostalgic as well, flashes of your previous adventures to your hometown pub passing underneath your eyelids when you blink.

All too soon you are grasping at the handles of the front door of Hange’s, your fingers slippery once more from anxiousness. The door creaks forth and you step inside the warmth.

The bar has always smelled distinctly of bergamot, cedarwood, and the lingerings of tobacco, but tonight it whips you in the face. The assault comforts you unexpectedly, all of the joints and muscles in your body relax on impact. As your eyes adjust to the typical dim warm lighting inside, your gaze lands on a sight that allows you to completely surrender over to fate.

Levi’s gunmetal eyes lift as the sound of your entry. His face, stoic and calm as always, breaks into something softer, more affectionate. A corner of his mouth lifts, a mockery of a smile, a silent greeting and a loud reassurance.

You blow out a shaky exhale, the breath hot and humid against your lips. You will not be scared. You simply just won’t.

You hardly notice the fact you’ve gravitated towards Levi until you’re standing directly in front of him. The mahogany of the bar’s surface serves as a barrier, almost knowing that you’d attach yourself to his side within an instant. Levi’s elbows rest on the counter, a shared sentiment you figure. Your hand rests down, his arm lowers. His fingertips brush against yours.

“Hey,” he breathes, eyes lowering to your mouth. “You okay?”

You nod, smiling gently. “Yeah, surprisingly.”

Levi quirks a grin, albeit small. His attention shifts to the group behind you, “Them?”

“Them too,” you answer. “They’re okay, too.”

You stare at one another for a brief pause. It is almost as if you’re seeing Levi for the first time, noting his raven hair — it’s growing longer again, the clipped sides fuzzy and opaque, his bangs teasing his long eyelashes. He appears more chiseled in this light, the hollows of his cheekbones sharp and deep, his jaw angular and square. His nose, arguably your favorite of his features, is illuminated to a heavenly degree. A usually hidden cleft between his nostrils presents itself, the subtle bump in the bridge casts shadows across his cheeks. His mouth is loose and relaxed, plumped and pink.

Levi is so painfully beautiful, and though you know you think this often, it is staggeringly apparent in this moment.

“There she is!” Petra appears in your periphery, bubbly and bright. “And she’s brought friends!”

You reluctantly remove your gaze from Levi, bringing your full attention to the larger group. “Petra!”

The strawberry blonde wraps her arms around your waist, tugging you against her torso in an embrace. You reciprocate it, placing your palms against her shoulder blades. The hug lasts for a breath before you both lean away.

“Petra, these are my friends from home. Eren, Armin, Mikasa,” you smile. “Eren, Armin, Mikasa, this is Petra.”

With unashamed friendliness, Petra launches herself into the arms of your old friends, greeting them individually and leaving the same lasting impression she had given you. They even stare at her with the same sparkle that you had, falling in love instantaneously with her endearing personhood.

Mikasa is the first to speak out of the three, gesturing to Levi with the flat of her palm, “That’s Levi, my cousin.”

“You guys don’t really look alike,” Eren notes, pupils scanning your ravenette up and down. “Just the hair.”

“They’re not siblings, Eren,” Armin uncharacteristically rolls his eyes.

“Still,” he pouts.

In an act of civility, Levi rounds the corner of the bar and extends his palm out first to Armin. Armin excitedly shakes his hand, offering his name and a kind smile. Levi moves next to Mikasa, placing his hand on her shoulder, smoothing his thumb in a greeting. She smiles back delicately.

When he gets to Eren, Levi studies the brunette’s face. Eren’s eyes are hardset, apprehensive and presumably judging as he towers over your lover. Still, he presents an open palm, knuckles teetering on white as they grasp onto Levi's.

“So, you’re the boyfriend?” Eren asks, eyebrows quirked on his forehead.

“You’re the ex?” Levi responds coolly.

You cringe. “We didn’t really—”

“Yup,” Eren answers in a clipped tone. They’re still shaking hands. “You taking care of my girl?”

You guffaw at the audacity. The air is tight. Armin’s brow furrows, his posture ready to intervene.

“Don’t really think she remembers much about you, ami. ‘Specially not when she’s screaming my n—”

(Friend.)

“Okay!” You clap your hands together. “Now that introductions are out of the way, let’s get a drink!”

Eren and Levi finally relinquish their clutch on each other’s hands, glaring intensely. Eren is the first to break, a mischievous smirk crossing his lips. He laughs loudly, slapping Levi on the back.

“Just fucking with you,” Eren clarifies, his grin toothy and youthful. “Nice to meet you, Pierre.”

“Eren!” Mikasa scolds.

He only continues to chuckle in response, pleased with his cheap shot. Levi, shockingly to you, does find humor in Eren’s mockery.

“You too, Tanner.”

After a fit of laughter from your entire group, drinks are made and given to each person. You fall into an awkward bit of conversation, Levi and Petra entering and exiting between patrons that order at the bar. You recall fond memories with your old friends, the trouble you’d get into collectively, the good times, until you’re entirely comfortable and your personality sparkles to its fullest extent.

The night is fairly slow, only a regular customer coming and going here and there. Claude, of course, sits at his usual stool, sipping at his vodka. He observes silently, only nodding at you when you make eye contact. It’s sort of funny, how he’s become your favorite patron.

Once Claude pays his tab and grunts his farewell for the night, the bar is completely empty of customers, only leaving the four of you and Petra and Levi. Petra sneakily locks the door, flipping the sign to signal its closing, and makes herself a drink — vodka cranberry. The pair join you at the table you’ve occupied with your friends for the last couple of hours, and Petra animatedly enthralls herself into telling the story of how she met you.

It’s quite out of body, linking your past and present so physically like this. Levi gently brushes his fingertips against the tops of your thighs, focussed on the storytelling of Petra. Eren and Armin both choke on their laughter, Petra going into great detail of your drunken shenanigans. When she begins to tell the story of you and Levi, you lend your ear.

“They were both idiots, they were so obviously in love with one another!” She throws her hands in the air. “Levi was such an asshole too! She was literally an angel who fell out of the sky, actually just appeared one day, and she was such a gift to us all!”

“Oh stop it,” you laugh, hiding your face in his palms. “You’re going to make me blush!”

“We feel the same,” Armin says, smiling fondly over at you. “I guess that’s why we came halfway across the world to find her.”

Your expression softens, eyes brimming with unshed tears. The table falls into a comfortable silence, but the outpouring of affection is heard viscerally.

How lucky you are to love and to be loved by the people surrounding you.

“We should do this more,” you say, mostly to Eren, Armin, and Mikasa. “Plan visits.”

“Anywhere in particular in mind?” Mikasa asks, voice hopeful.

You disguise a frown as a laugh. “Here, wherever.”

“Home, maybe?” Armin joins.

The comfortability shifts to an unease. Levi reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You feel his heartbeat in your palm.

“I don’t think so,” you answer somberly. “Not for a while, at least.”

“I mean, I don’t mind coming to France a few times a year,” Eren interjects, shrugging his shoulders. “Fuck, I might be convinced to move here myself.”

Mikasa speaks your name in a low murmur, “We still have time to persuade you. This is great, your life seems so great, but, don’t you miss it? Don’t you miss home?”

No, not really, just the three people seated in front of you.

Petra clears her throat, apprehensively taking charge of the conversation, “I know this isn’t really my place, but coming from someone who did a kind of similar thing, I think you guys should let her make her own decisions. I’m sure this is hard enough on her.”

“I’ll say this, and sure, you can still try to change my mind,” you exhale. “But I made my choices a year ago. No, I’m not the same person I was, and yes it was so incredibly stupid of me to leave my entire life behind in the way that I did. I can’t bring myself to regret any of it though. I love you, all of you, but that part of me hasn’t changed. I’m still choosing to live my life on my own terms.

“Let me be stupid,” you continue passionately. “Let me make my mistakes. At the root of it all, I left because I couldn’t be myself. I couldn’t grow. I couldn’t change. And being here, I have changed so much. I’m still changing. You don’t have to understand, but all I ask is that you respect whatever choices I make going forward. I’ll do the same.”

Levi hums in approval, thumb smoothing over your knuckle. You’re grateful for his lack of interjection, glad that he is not the type of person who fights for all of the air in the room. He taught you that, you realize. Levi taught you that you don’t always have to be right, you just have to be you.

“You’ll feel the same in two days?” Eren poses his statement as a question. “Then that’s it. We can just enjoy our time together, no pressure.”

Mikasa appears defeated, but accepts all at once. “I won’t stop trying to change your mind, but I get what you’re saying.”

Armin nods in agreement. “I understand, too.”

Levi clears his throat, unlinking his hand from yours. You look at him in subtle surprise as he wraps his fist around his glass, raising it above the table.

“Cheers,” Levi smiles gently, gazing into your eyes with such a love that you cannot comprehend. “To being human.”

Slowly, each glass rises from the mahogany grain, clinking together in the center. You watch, heartbroken and gleeful in the same line of feeling, grieving and celebrating. You follow suit, raising your own cup, bringing it to your lips and allowing the liquid to flow down your throat.

It’s a complicated mess, all of this, your situation, but it is your mess, your life.

You’re not a runaway anymore, you think ironically. You’re choosing to stay this time, to keep fighting for things you thought previously lost, people you’ve loved in different eras of your story.

You inhale the oxygen in the air to your fullest capacity, your lung swellings in your chest. You roll your tongue in your mouth, tasting the wine in your cup down to each individual note. You memorize the faces surrounding you, down to the smallest line in the corners of their eyes, their mouths. You take it all in, every detail, every smell, sound.

Finally, you are completely and irrevocably present.

A ring tone breaks your line of thought, the perpetrator being Levi’s cell phone. He picks up the call, rolling his eyes and he murmurs an agreement to the other line, and holds his phone out on speaker.

“Hi Eren! Hi Armin! Hi Mikasa!” Hange’s voice crackles over the line, and you can see their perfect excitement in your mind’s eye. “Petra, Levi, why didn’t you tell me she had friends in town? This is betrayal! I should fire you lot!”

“Sorry, Hange!” Petra winces. “They’re here for a couple more days though!”

“Yeah, we’ll be back here tomorrow,” Armin offers sweetly. “We would really love to meet you!”

“Fuck that,” Hange gruffs. “Party at mine, tomorrow night. Levi, write off a case of beer from the inventory. Bring it, or you are actually fired.”

The ravenette sighs in annoyance. “Can’t you just buy your own?”

“How dare you suggest that?” Hange gasps dramatically. “After all you’ve done tonight? You should be ashamed of yourself!”

“I’ll make sure he does,” Petra giggles.

“I knew I made the right choice hiring you Petra, you sweet angel.” Hange practically growls your name, “You can be forgiven. Only because you’re cute and I love you.”

You sigh a mock of relief, “Thank god. Hange, I’m sorry, we’ll wrap it up.”

“Good, I’m kicking you out of my bar. You’re not allowed to have any more fun if I’m not there. It’s literally written in your job descriptions.”

“Got it,” Levi says. “Bye, Hange.”

“Wait, don’t hang up, I want to talk more to Mikasa and how cute Levi was as a kid—”

The silence that looms over the party is stifling. Simultaneously, you erupt into a laughter so loud it shakes the floorboards. A stray tear trails down your cheek, Levi’s thumb gently reaches across to swipe it off of your skin. You turn your head to face him, your breath knocked out of your lungs.

Levi gazes at you as if you hung the moon. He looks at you like he loves you, like he is positively in love with you. Your heart skips a beat, and you realize that he is only mirroring how you’re currently looking at him.

Your tear threatens to drop from the curve of Levi’s thumb as he brings it towards his lips. He presses a kiss to the tear, maintaining his adoring eye contact, and the liquid smears across his mouth. A promise, that’s what he’s doing — Levi will be there for everything. Your happy tears, your gut wrenching sobs, the good, the bad, the ugly.

God, you love this man. You love who he influences you to be. You love how you’ve changed him as well, your grumpy neighbor turned sentimental lover.

“You think we can see the stars from here?” Armin asks once the joint laughter dies.

Levi shakes his head, “Not here. There’s a place not far from the bar you might be able to, though, if you guys want to see.”

“Yes!” The trio speak in unison.

You have an inkling suspicion on where the place in question might be, so you stifle an excited grin and allow Levi to show your friends around his beautiful city.

-

“Uh, I don’t see any stars,” Eren scratches his temple, neck craned back as he stares into the night sky’s abyss.

“The moon’s too bright,” Armin nods. “They’re there though! If we look hard enough, we might see one!”

“But the water looks so cool!” Mikasa gasps. “You can see the moon perfectly in the river!”

How odd you would find concrete to be sentimental, but as you pace the river’s edge you can’t help but feel overtaken by fondness. Levi showed you this place all those months ago, before either of you had really come to terms with your feelings. You understand this place to be something made of magic, something wonderful and precious.

“Tourists don’t really know this spot,” you echo your memories of Levi’s words. “It’s too far from any landmarks, so it’s almost always empty like this.”

“I’m spoiling all of my hiding spots,” Levi sarcastically mumbles into your ear. “This was only supposed to be for your eyes, you know.”

“And I went and ruined it,” you whisper back.

“I’ll tell you what your punishment is when we get home,” he chides, nipping his teeth at your earlobe.

You stifle a giggle. “A very nice and cute cuddle, right?”

“In your dreams,” he purrs. You slap his chest playfully.

Eren, Armin, and Mikasa wander off alongside Petra to do their star searching, leaving you and Levi at the river’s edge. You lean your head against Levi’s, watching in perfect serenity as the water’s tides flow southbound. The waves aren’t exactly calm tonight, given the moon’s fullness, and the tide swells to its fullest potential. The water laps against the concrete beneath the metal barrier, creating a symphony of white noise.

“You were really brave today,” Levi says suddenly. “You’ve always been brave, but you really amazed me.”

“I didn’t have a choice but to face them,” you respond. “I didn’t really want to run away, either. I thought about it though.”

“Oh yeah?” Levi hums. “What was your master plan?”

“Buy a train ticket,” you chuckle. “Pack all of my shit, give Jeremy to the old lady next to us. Write you a note, call Hange and Petra and apologize.”

“You wouldn’t have left me a note,” Levi snorts. “I would’ve known right away. Would’ve seen it in your eyes.”

“Really?” Your eyebrow raises. “I doubt that.”

“I would’ve,” he presses. “And I would’ve bought a train ticket too and would’ve gone wherever you went, whether you liked it or not.”

“I would’ve,” you repeat. “Liked it, I mean. I wouldn’t say it in the moment though.”

“Stubborn,” he clicks his tongue against his teeth. “You would’ve reduced us to homelessness and I wouldn’t even get appreciation for it?”

“Sounds about right,” you joke, gently pushing against his side.

Levi blows a laugh from his nostrils. “You’re very lucky I’m as in love with you as I am, or else I might have bought a ticket to go in the entirely opposite direction.”

You feign a shocked gasp, “Traitor!”

“Fortunately for you,” his eyes sparkle in the warm moonlight as he shifts his face towards yours. “I would never.”

“Good,” you flutter your lashes. “Because I don’t think I could ever leave you behind.”

“Gross,” he smiles, scrunching his nose.

“Agreed, this is too sappy,” you giggle. “Let’s talk about leaving each other again, that was super thrilling.”

Levi places a gentle, adoring peck to your cheek. “No, let’s not.”

“I’m glad I’m not leaving,” you state, wrapping your arms around Levi’s midriff.

“Me too.”

“This is my home,” you continue. “You, Petra, Hange. You’re my home.”

“Me too,” he repeats, softer and full of sentimentality.

“It’s nice though, having everyone back together again. I did miss my friends.”

“Then you’ll plan to see them again,” Levi says as if it is the simplest thing in the world. “They’ll visit, you heard them. You’ll call, you’ll text, write, whatever. You stay in touch.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do about my mom, though,” your teeth capture your bottom lip.

“One burnt bridge at a time, my love,” he kisses your temple. “You’ll figure it out, you have time.”

He parts from you then, turning his full torso and attention to you. You stand there unmoving, just staring at one another. It feels like you’re looking into a mirror. You know Levi feels the same.

When his right foot steps forward, so does yours. Closer and closer to each other’s bodies, you move so slow it seems like you’re in a dream. You can’t hear anything in the distance, only the rhythmic thumping in your ears that reminds you that you’re alive — you’re here, you’re standing in front of the man you love, in the city you fell in love in, the place you’re happy you moved to.

His eyes search your face once you stop directly in front of him. Your smile wobbles, and so does his.

“So, if we could go anywhere in the world, where would you want to go?” Levi asks so softly, so gently. His palms cup your cheeks, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your hands cover his, your eyes flutter shut, “Anywhere?”

“Maybe even everywhere.”

You breathe out a laugh through your nose, tears slipping past your closed eyes, “That’s a lot of world to see.”

“Wherever you’re going,” Levi’s thumbs slide across your cheeks, collecting your tears. You gaze at him, breathing the air he exhales. “I’m going.”

You kiss him. For how long, you don’t know. You could kiss Levi for an eternity, if he’d let you.

Levi would kiss you for just as long, if you’d let him.