Not now, his mother says. The man in the door is a shadow. His mother will not look at him.

I don 't need to pay, do I? The man asks. We 're past that, aren 't we?

His mother says, I 'm not accepting customers.

The man says, I 'm not a customer, Kuchel.

Not in front of the boy, his mother says.

The man grabs Levi 's arm. His fist hurts Levi 's wrist. He puts him in the closet and locks it. 'You should cover your ears, ' the man tells him, not unkindly, through the slit in the doors. There 's a rat scratching in the corner, a lump beneath clothes. Its eyes reflect the crack of light in the dark.

The closet rattles. The room rattles. An eye through the crack in the doors, empty and huge. The titan roars. It splits the wood. It grips Levi in it 's fist.

He wakes up swinging, once, twice, the knife cutting through air. He 's silent ' he 's always been silent, he doesn 't cry out, not with pain, or fear, or during any of the things he and Erwin do. He used to, once. He used to keep Kenny up the whole night with his whimpering and hollering and nothing Kenny did could stop it, until one day it did just stop and that was that. Now, Levi is silent. It 's a good thing, too; if he was the kind of person to scream with his nightmares, like some of the others round here, he would have woken his bunkmates, and that would lead to conversations he doesn 't want to have. Make the rumours worse ' and he 'll be reprimanded if they find out he keeps a knife under his pillow.

Half of them have gone home to see in the New Year with their families. Of those who are left: a lanky red-head named Vance, deceptively quick on ODM, and one of the biggest men Levi has ever seen, and Lance, who sleeps on his back and snores like an animal. Neither of them rouses when Levi slips out of bed. He 's memorised the squeaking floorboards, how far he can open the door before it creaks. Little things like that he 's had to learn about the place he is supposed to call home.

But he feels shaky tonight in a way he hates. They 're not nightmares for Levi; they 're just dreams, they 've always been dreams. Sometimes you have them, sometimes you don 't. He 's not unique in that regard, either. Everyone here is a soldier. He 's seen people walking the hallways at night, listless, unmoored.

He thinks he 'll visit Pigeon. He shouldn 't name the horse ' it 's stupid, as Mike has warned him snidely, because Pigeon will die, and you shouldn 't be worrying about horses on the field when you have flesh and blood comrades who need your help first. Levi can see it in his mind 's eye; the squealing horse, it 's entrails in the mud, heavy rain. No, worse than seeing ' he can

smell

it, the blood and the shit, Furlan 's intestines spilling out into dirt. There had been grass in them, Levi remembers, he could barely tell where Furlan ended and earth began, and Levi left him there for the worms ' worse, for the

rats '

He lists to the side, back pressed against the hallway wall. He covers his mouth to stop himself from ' to stop himself.

Don 't think about him,

he reminds himself. What is he going to do? What 's he going to do about this? How does he make this stop?

Levi thinks best when he doesn 't think. He lets his feet carry him towards the answer. The door to Erwin 's office is shut, but there 's a crack of warm light spilling out from beneath the door. Levi doesn 't knock ' he considers them past that, when work isn 't involved. He may not like the man, but using each other 's bodies on a semi-regular basis does have its perks, so he just pushes in.

The Captain 's all splayed out across his desk, papers strewn across the tabletop. There 's a drained glass of whiskey. The room smells like cigarettes in a way that makes Levi want to gag. He thinks, the Captain looks stressed, although he almost always looks stressed, if you know what to look for. Erwin is hard to read, Levi can admit that. Even after all these months together, he finds it difficult to tell what he 's thinking.

'I need my knife, ' Levi croaks.

Erwin looks at him. Then he checks the clock on his desk, and frowns. 'You should be sleeping. You said you were tired. '

'I was. ' The truth is, these kinds of dreams only happen when he 's tired enough to fall into deep sleep. He tries to avoid it where he can. He walks towards Erwin 's desk, holds out his hand, palm-up. 'I need my knife back, ' he says again.

Instinctively, Erwin covers the drawer where it 's kept with his knee. 'Why? ' He asks, not accusing, just ' is he concerned, maybe? He might be concerned. Erwin is hard to read.

'Because ' ' Levi doesn 't know what to say. 'Just in case, ' he tells him.

Erwin seems to sigh. Maybe

he 's

tired ' there are no shadows under his eyes, but in all the time they 've spent together, Levi has never seen him sleep. He 's always in his office; his bed, it seems, is just for fucking. 'Levi, ' he says, 'you 're going to hurt someone. You can 't keep hiding knives under your pillow, or anywhere else, for that matter. '

Levi stares at him. 'You 've gone through my bunk, haven 't you? '

'No. You keep a dinner-knife under my bed. '

Levi recoils. How long has Erwin known? 'I forgot I put it there, ' he says, truthfully.

'I know. I moved it a while back, you never replaced it. ' Erwin rubs at the side of his head, rucks up the short hairs there. 'Don 't worry, ' he smiles ruefully, 'I don 't take it personally anymore. But I mean what I say: it 's a danger to yourself and others. No more knives near beds. '

Levi swallows. 'I sleep better. If. '

'I know, ' Erwin says, quietly.

'I, ' Levi looks around the room, searches for some pretence. 'I want to clean. '

'Clean? '

Levi nods. 'Yeah, ' he says, and as he says it, it makes sense. He will put this office to right. He will create some order, something he can control. He will count every book on Erwin 's shelves, the way he used to do, when he was a child, pebbles and old buttons and the cheap wooden soldiers Kenny had got him once, for no damn reason.

'The office is spotless, ' Erwin says, holding out his hands. 'You 've already cleaned it. '

'I 'll do it again, ' Levi promises, 'I 'll do it better. '

If you just let me stay,

he thinks, but doesn 't really think it. Some part of him must think it, on an instinctual level.

Erwin has a look on his face like sudden understanding. 'Would you like to help me with paperwork? ' He asks.

Levi frowns. No. No, that 's not what he came here for, is it? He stares at the great oak bookshelves, the cabinet, the closet where Erwin keeps some uniform. That closet, he thinks, and shakes it out of his head.

'No, ' he corrects, taken off guard, 'no, I want my ' '

'You sure? It could be a good opportunity to practice. Your reading has come a long way ' '

'I want my knife, ' Levi interrupts, 'I want it back, now. '

'So you can sleep? '

'Yes. '

'I 'm not seeing the correlation between those two things, Levi, ' Erwin says, teacherly, 'unless you 're planning on a permanent sleep. '

Levi recoils, disgust on his face. There 's nothing worse ' who does Erwin think he is?

Suicide

is a concept Levi doesn 't even understand ' but how could Erwin know that? He 's never seen the things Levi has done to survive.

'Well then we can do something else, ' Levi tries. He 'll get Erwin on his back and then he 'll take the knife. He tries to be salacious, bracing his hands on Erwin 's desk. He can do it ' it 's a good act, he 's refined it well. But Erwin is looking at him with a ' what is that look? Discomfort? Distress? Why can Levi never

tell

with him?

'You seem tired, Levi, ' he says gently.

'You 're not sleeping, ' he replies, accusatorily.

'I 'm working. There 's a difference. '

'Every night? Always? I see you in the window, you know, ' he sneers, 'you 're no different to me. You watch me when I visit Pigeon. '

Erwin opens his mouth as if to protest. And then he frowns, recoils. 'I 'm sorry, ' he starts, 'Pigeon? '

Levi blinks at him. 'I ' I named the horse, ' he explains.

Erwin 's brows are raised. 'And you named it ' '

Levi pushes off the desk and folds his arms defensively. 'They 're the only birds we got underground. It 's not funny. Stop laughing, ' he kicks ineffectually at the desk, 'laugh anymore and I 'll rip your eyes out, Smith. '

But Erwin just rubs at his eye with his hand, shining with the hilarity of it, apparently. 'You shouldn 't do that, you know, ' he tells him, voice slightly wheezy, 'it 'll just make it harder when it dies, or you have to abandon it. '

'I know that. I 've been told that. ' Levi folds his arms, defensively.

Erwin sighs. His hair is all out-of-place, his usual neatly parted bangs swept over his brow. Levi thinks it may be only him who ever sees Erwin this way, and isn 't that strange to think about. He resists the urge to card his fingers through the hair at his temples, feel the softness of it, the weight of Erwin 's head. 'My apologies, ' he tells him, 'I 'm not the most gracious host, right now. Lord Brevis is threatening to withdraw support. ' Erwin 's humor seems to turn to exhaustion, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'And would you believe, I have an ache just behind my shoulder-blade that won 't quit. '

Levi sits at the chair opposite his desk. 'That 's because you 're an old man, ' he tells him, wearied, slumping his hand on his chin.

'Oh am I really? ' Erwin mutters, 'How hilarious, ' he says, but there 's no bite behind it.

'How much money does Brevis give us? ' Levi asks. He scoffs at Erwin 's raised brows. 'What? You think I don 't know accounts? What kind of criminal would I be if I didn 't? '

'Ten-thousand crowns a month, ' Erwin tells him, begrudgingly.

Levi keeps his dismay to himself. Ten-thousand crowns. Levi never struggled for money ' at least, not after he and Furlan fell in together. Still, the sheer

excess

of the nobility never fails to sicken him. That much money would feed the entire underground for half a month, a whole month if people skipped a meal.

'Why? ' Levi asks, genuinely. 'What does he get out of giving us that much cash? Is he a true believer? '

Erwin snorts humourlessly. 'He 's a scumbag, ' he answers, bluntly. 'You 'll know better than me that that much money means nothing to a man like him. I imagine his investments bring in ten times it 's worth without him lifting a finger. No, it 's pocket change for him, Levi. He sponsors us the way a rich client might become the patron of a favourite whore. No offence, ' he adds, quickly, with a look of mild panic.

Levi ignores the comment. 'Stories, ' he guesses, 'we 're like a pantomime, or a theatre trip. '

'Precisely. He 's paying us for stories. '

Levi drums his fingers against the desktop, slowly. 'Do you want me to talk to him? ' He asks, innocently. Erwin looks at him sharply.

'Don 't, ' he orders, shortly. 'Whatever that means, go nowhere near it. '

Levi shrugs. 'Just a suggestion, ' he mumbles, yawning.

'I mean it, Levi. They 'll take any excuse to destroy us. This is purposeful, though, ' he adds, flipping through papers. 'First Morely, now Brevis. At least Lobov was just greedy, this is ' systemic eradication. ' Erwin seems to have a thought. 'You don 't '

know

anything about Brevis, do you? '

'Not everyone in Mitras is a pervert, ' Levi mutters, forcing his eyes open. No doubt he 'll have his secrets but Levi 's not omniscient. He 's thinking about that damn closet. The Shadow Man, he thinks, who would hurt Mama. He knows his face, even, God, he can remember his face. His mother 's is like a smear to him, but tonight, he has remembered that man 's face '

'Levi, ' Erwin asks, quietly, 'when was the last time you slept? '

Levi jerks. His chin slips off his hand and he manages to catch himself before he smacks it against the desk. If he doesn 't get this under control he 'll start sparking, and then they 'll all be in trouble. 'I don 't believe in beds, really. '

'I 've noticed, ' Erwin says mildly. He looks at him for a while longer, then closes the file in front of him. 'Would you like a drink of something? ' He asks, standing.

Levi frowns. 'I don 't ' '

'It 's a special something, ' Erwin tells him. 'It can help people sleep. It can help ' soldiers, sleep, ' he says pointedly.

Levi scoffs. 'What 's in it? ' He asks. 'Poppy milk? Leaf? Ice syrup? '

Erwin picks at two glasses, pours himself a finger of whiskey. 'My my, ' he says, 'you know your drugs."

'You shouldn 't be taking shit like that, Erwin, ' Levi tells him sternly. 'You, of all people. You 'll get addicted. '

'I don 't take it, ' he says, and Levi doesn 't know whether to believe him. 'You 're not the first soldier who ' '

'I 'm not a soldier, ' Levi says. What he means is,

I 'm not here because I 'm a soldier ' it 's not titans keeping me awake.

At least, not real ones. The titans he dreams of tend to wear real people 's faces.

'Fine. But you 're not the first, is all I 'm saying. ' He holds up a small vial of something milky. 'Would you? '

Would he? Levi imagines dropping into a dreamless sleep. The last time he slept so deeply he was passed out from blood loss. But he 's seen what it does to you with his own two eyes.

He shakes his head.

Erwin shrugs. 'Suit yourself, ' he says, placing it back in the drawer in the cabinet, closing it with a gentle 'snick '. He sits back down in his chair, heavily, sips at his drink. 'My old squad leader, ' he says, 'Vera. She fancied herself a bit of a mother. '

'So she 'd drug recruits when they couldn 't sleep, ' Levi surmises, resting his arm against the desktop.

'Well, she was doing her best with bad circumstances. '

'If she wanted to be a mother, she chose the wrong profession. '

Erwin half-laughs, tiredly. 'Yes, I suppose so. ' He sips some more, winces. 'Ah, ' he says, through the burn. 'Levi, what would you be, if you could be anything?"

Levi shrugs. It 's not something he 's ever given thought. It 's very self-indulgent, he thinks. There 's survival, and then there 's living. He 's not so sure he 's got the former down pat yet. Now that he 's in the Survey Corps, he doubts he ever will. 'Something boring, ' he says distractedly. 'You 'd be a teacher. '

'Would I really, ' Erwin says quietly, squinting at the bottom of his drink.

'Mmm. Or one of those fancy men, from the college. Y 'know, I never really got what they did up there, in those big towers. Study? Study what? '

'Nothing, ' Erwin tells him. 'Lies, mostly. The science wings are fairly industrious, like ' that ice stone, you talked about. Did you know they use it in our gas canisters? Don 't ask me how. But obviously, anything more revolutionary than that suppressed. ' His eyes widen. 'Of course, you didn 't hear me say that. '

They use it for more than gas,

Levi thinks. 'Of course, ' he agrees.

'And then, there 's the doctors, and lawyers, and everything else, ' Erwin sighs. 'My mother wanted me to be a lawyer. '

Levi wrinkles his nose. 'For what? ' He asks. 'The law 's all made up anyway. It 's whatever the King wants it to be, depending on who you 've pissed off. '

And Erwin smiles up at him. 'You know, Levi, ' he says, 'I 've always thought the exact same thing. '

It makes the tips of his ears flush, but he doesn 't know why. He blinks sleep out of his eyes, clears his throat and tries to sit up a little taller. 'Although, ' he continues, 'you would have fit right in with them. They 're the best kind of marks, Erwin. Too stupid to know better, would come Underground with more money on their hip than a local would. You could always tell them apart 'cause they 'd travel in packs, come below once the summer hit. We don 't even kill 'em. Pretty much everyone was in agreement they were just too damn good for business. '

Erwin snorts, softly. 'Right, ' he says, 'and I fit in with them how, exactly? '

Levi waves a hand. 'You just have the look, ' he says, and doesn 't say any more than that.

Erwin sniffs, downs the rest of his drink. 'Am I your mark, Levi? ' He asks, and sets the glass top-down on the desk. Levi watches a drop of amber liquid dribble down onto the wood.

That might stain,

he thinks, distractedly.

He tears his eyes away. Erwin is waiting expectantly. 'My mark? ' He questions. 'Are you asking if I 'm using you, Erwin? Because I 'm too tired to lie. '

Erwin 's raises those brows. 'Don 't lie, then. '

Levi squints, considers. 'Yes, ' he says, and thinks that 's the truth.

'Good. Fine. ' Erwin leans back. 'You 're my mark too, I suppose. '

'Didn 't expect different, ' Levi tells him.

Erwin scratches his brow, exhales heavily, hands braced on the desk. 'Right, ' he says, slapping his thigh, 'back to work. '

Levi eyes the clock. It 's past midnight. 'Won 't you think about sleeping? ' He asks.

Erwin ignores him, picking out a letter from a stack, already unfolded. 'Here, ' he says, 'you 'll like this. It 's from Morely. '

He passes it over to him. 'You want me to read it? '

'Out loud, please. '

Levi groans. 'C 'mon, Erwin, ' he says behind his teeth. 'I 'll mess it up. '

'I don 't care, ' Erwin insists. 'Read, ' he orders.

Levi flattens it against the tabletop. '

Dear Captain Smith, '

he starts.

Morely writes inviting them personally to the opening of parliament in the new year. '

I would like very much

, ' Levi reads, '

to make the acquaintance of one

' hah, look, that 's my name, ' he interrupts himself, enjoying the novelty of it, ' '

Levi, who I have heard much about.

Sure, ' Levi mutters, 'he 's heard all about me. ' He puts down the letter. 'They know it was me, then. '

'Yes, ' Erwin says, carefully, like he 's gauging Levi 's reaction. 'How do you feel about that? '

'About what? '

Erwin raises a hand. 'The powers that be, ' he says, 'knowing you have certain information. That you 've relayed it to me, that despite the incident with Lobov you ' ' he gives Levi one of those slightly twisted smiles, 'have devoted yourself, heart and soul, to the cause. '

'I 've

devoted

myself, have I, ' Levi murmurs, scanning the letter. 'That 's news to me. '

'Levi, ' Erwin presses, seriously.

'Oh no, ' Levi muses, flatly, 'are you telling me there are rich men who want me dead? This is a new and unique situation for me to be in. I am very scared, Erwin, ' he tells him.

Erwin seems to be fighting a smile. He plucks the letter out of his hands. 'Perhaps we should not underestimate our friends, ' he says, lightly. And he sets out, seemingly to draft a response. 'Would you like to sign it? ' He asks him. Levi jerks. He must have been drifting, leant back in his seat, hands resting on his stomach.

'Huh? '

'The letter, ' Erwin asks, patiently. 'Would you like to sign your name in response? I 've written it from both of us. ' He lights taps the nib of his pen against the inkwell. He scratches his signature into the paper, then turns it around, holds out then pen.

Levi blinks at it, blearily. 'I don 't have a signature, ' he explains.

'Ah, ' Erwin realises. He takes back the paper, folds it neatly, starts to push it into an envelope. 'Well, we 'll work on that next time. When you 're not so tired, perhaps. ' Erwin places the letter on his tray and folds his hands on the desk. 'Levi, I have something to ask you. '

He resists the urge to dig his fists into his eyes. 'Goddamn, ' he mutters, 'really? That 's so unlike you. '

'Those knives, ' Erwin asks him, carefully, 'that you 've been hiding all over the place. Under my bed, ' he reminds him, pointedly.

Levi resists the urge to pinch his nose. 'Hmm? '

'You say, I 'm your mark. You 're not ' you didn 't, I should say. You didn 't put it there because you wanted to kill me, did you? '

He snorts, exhausted. 'No, ' he replies. 'It was just in case. '

'Of? '

Levi waves a hand. 'In case. ' He lets his fist hit the table with a 'thwack '.

'Are you ' ' Erwin clears his throat ' ' still trying to kill me? Is that why you asked for your knife tonight? Do you want me dead? '

Levi sighs. 'Erwin, ' he says, heavily, 'I want you dead the way I hope it doesn 't rain tomorrow. Mildly, perpetually, but ultimately out of my control. '

There 's a short silence. 'Well that 's better than actively trying, I suppose. '

'Mmm, ' Levi agrees, pressing his brow into his folded arms. He just wants to sleep, that 's the truth. He 'd risk it all right now for the ability to put his head down on anything and think of nothing. It 's weird, isn 't it? It 's not the pain you remember, it 's the fear. Levi has tasted his own blood more times than he can count and it 's only tonight, while he 's more safe than he 's ever been, that he can feel it in the back of his throat.

The sound of Erwin 's pen is making Levi 's eyes grow heavy. 'Erwin, ' he hears himself ask, distantly, 'what do you dream about? '

Erwin doesn 't stop writing. 'What do you mean? ' He asks. 'At night? Or for my future? '

'Night, ' Levi asks, sleepily.

'Hmm, ' Erwin thinks. Is he purposefully keeping his voice low like that, quiet and humming, like a burr? Levi pillows his head on his arms, watches the smooth movement of the gold quill-tip against rough paper. 'Sometimes I dream about the fields back home. About my mother and father. I have ' you know, I always have the same dream, that we 're being tested back at training camp, and I 've overslept. ' Erwin laughs, lowly.

Erwin is lying, Levi thinks, dully. He lets his eyes close. 'What about bad dreams? ' He asks, mouth pressed against his arms.

Erwin is silent for a time. The clock on his desk is ticking. Levi listens to it: tick, tick, tick. His pen is scratching. It 's warm here, isn 't it? He exhales.

'I don 't often dream about Them, ' Erwin says, suddenly. It could have been seconds since he last spoke, or hours. Levi is half-caught between sleep and waking and time is lost to him. 'I think you become a bit numb to it, after a while. I 've seen far worse things than my first expedition but that 's the one I dream about, on bad nights. I think the fear was still fresh then. '

He speaks as if he 's talking more to himself than Levi, as if he 's trying to puzzle something out to himself. 'The smell, ' Erwin continues, 'God, the

smell.

That 's always the worst part, isn 't it? '

'People shit themselves when they die, Levi, ' Kenny tells him. 'They bleed, and they shit themselves. It 's not pretty. ' His hand presses the back of Levi 's head, almost gentle. 'Look at him. What 's got you so scared? If you 're going to be scared, next time it 'll be you. You need to survive, Levi. Survive, do you hear me? '

His mother is crying again. She thinks Levi can 't tell, but he can. There 's blood on the bed and money on the table. Levi tries to climb into her lap. She smells like dust and sweat. When he lifts his head, her eyes are dull, her cheeks sunken, a skeleton wearing her night-dress.

He wakes himself with a jerk, hand clapped across his mouth. Where is he now? What is he doing? This room is warm, and bathed in a yellow glow. There 's a clock ticking, someone is writing '

Erwin is watching him, quietly. How long did he sleep for? Long enough that Erwin 's hair has grown more dishevelled, that his ink has run low. 'Not long, ' Erwin tells him, as if reading his mind. 'Less than an hour. You 're a very light sleeper, you know. '

Levi wipes drool from his cheek with the back of his hand. 'Yeah, ' he croaks, 'I know. '

Erwin stands. He trails his fingers along the edge of the desk, and then seamlessly, up Levi 's arm, cups the back of his neck. His nape, in fact. 'Would you like to come to bed? ' He asks, quietly, his thumb stroking the base of his skull, smoothing the short hairs there.

Levi hates himself. He hates that he lets his head dip forward, back into his arms, just to feel the warmth of Erwin 's palm. 'No, ' he shivers, 'no beds. '

'Come, then, ' Erwin presses regardless. He grips his nape gently, insistent. 'The couch. '

The couch. Levi could do the couch. He stumbles to his feet, Erwin 's arm heavy on his shoulder, and nearly face-plants into the upholstery. 'Here, ' Erwin says kindly, propping a pillow beneath his head. 'Lay your head here. '

Levi presses his face against the back of the couch, tucks his arms to his chest.

My back,

he thinks, it 's not secure. Corner is better. He should get down into the corner, knees to his chest, and maybe then he 'll get some sleep.

But Erwin settles himself on the floor near Levi 's shoulders. His hair is lightly tickling Levi 's spine beneath his thin shirt. 'I get it, ' Erwin is saying, voice low, 'we all think about Them, Levi. '

'Not titans, ' Levi murmurs. He draws his knees a little closer to his stomach.

'No? ' Erwin asks, and then laughs a little. 'Sorry, ' he says, 'you don 't need to answer that. '

Yeah, I won 't,

Levi thinks. The couch smells like Erwin. They 've fucked on this couch a few times. Levi always cleans it with lemon soap, after, and it smells like that, too.

'You know, ' Erwin is saying, and he sounds tired, too. 'When I was a child, my father used to take me and a few friends from school to the meadows outside of town. There was a small creek there. We 'd catch all the little creatures in a net my friend had made, and my father would teach us the difference between frogs and toads, the different kinds of weeds that grew there, and how the creek was formed. Those are some of my happiest memories, ' Erwin tells him, 'because it was my father doing what he did best. ' Erwin let 's his head roll back against the couch, braced against Levi 's back. 'What 's your happiest memory? ' He asks.

Levi thinks. He thinks very hard, and he can almost remember snippets, even though it feels more like remembering a dream, or trying to picture a story someone else has told him. His mother 's arms wrapped around his shoulders as she carefully clipped the hair around his eyes. That 's not a happy memory, he thinks, that 's just a memory. That 's a pathetic thing to share, when Erwin 's is so heartfelt, so genuine. What does he have? The short-lived glee of finding food thrown down drains, the arterial spray from Finch 's throat when he finally killed the bastard, some quiet night, sometime, with Isabel pouring over a book, a finished meal on the table, Furlan quietly going over receipts and earnings.

He 's self-conscious of it, suddenly, in a way he 's never been before. He 's not ashamed of where he comes from. He 's terrified of it, but it never made sense to feel bad about it, it 's not like he had a choice in it. No one does. But Erwin talks about his father ' and Levi can almost picture him, both of them, the man from Erwin 's portrait. He bets it was always warm in Erwin 's house. They probably had meat every day. And Erwin 's mother would hug him when he was sick, and his father would teach him his letters carefully, patiently, the way Erwin teaches Levi. He wonders if Erwin 's father ever made him play the finger fillet with his dinner knife, or laughed when a group of teenagers beat the shit out of him, or

tched

and shook his head when he only managed to steal one loaf of bread and ate it in front of him.

'Tell me more, ' Levi asks, quietly

Erwin does. He tells him about the season 's end, when his father would buy a goose, and his mother would roast it, and in the evening they would walk down to the town-square and give the leftovers to the less fortunate and sing songs to bring in the new year. He talks about his father 's classroom, the smell of the ink and a fresh notebook. The summers by the lake with the other children. 'I was bossy, ' Erwin admits, 'I 've never known when to shut up. '

Levi snorts, amused. Yeah, that 's true, he thinks.

He talks about his mother, even though Levi knows that must hurt. How on her good days, she would bake muffins that Erwin and his father would take to class and share among the children. He talks about the sweet pretzels, dusted with sugar, that you could buy in town. He talks about camping with his friends, roasting chestnuts, catching rabbits, his old family dog.

'I had a dog, once, ' Levi ventures.

'What did you name it? ' Erwin asks. He sounds happy, like he 's glad he and Levi have found some common ground.

Levi thinks about it, thin and scraggly, fleas jumping off its back. He 'd never named it anything. He 'd only had him a few weeks. It 's not even like Erwin 's dog, who was brown and white and who would steal scraps off the table, who used to sit under his father 's desk at school. He 's embarrassed to have even mentioned it.

'Nothing, ' Levi says. 'Doesn 't matter, ' he mutters. 'Keep going, ' he prompts, tiredly.

'About what? '

He thinks Erwin must think this is strange. It is strange, lying here on his couch, not even fucking each other. Why did he come here? He wanted his knife. The clock is still ticking. Soon it will be morning, he thinks with a mild panic, and he still won 't have slept.

"Everything, ' Levi asks. 'Your bedroom. Your favourite clothes. The food your mother would cook. ' He thinks, if he hears it, he can make it his. He 'll overlay the room he grew up in with the beams in Erwin 's bedroom, the clean bed with duck-feather pillows. The closet will become Erwin 's closet, filled with neat, pressed clothes. Boots that fit. He can taste the food as Erwin describes it, mouth-watering, sugar pastries and pies and roasted meat.

Yes,

he thinks, eyes growing heavy,

I 'll pretend.

It almost works, at first. But then shadows start to creep in. The creek turns to sewage from the canal. The bedroom door rattles. There 's a shadow beneath the bed. The pastry turns to stale bread in his mouth. A hand around his neck, knocking his head into the wall. Screaming women, children so thin their stomachs are swollen, a shadow man who locks him in the closet and '

Levi grunts. He curls tighter and digs his palms into his eyes. Erwin has stopped talking. He thinks he might be asleep, and it makes the room seem colder, unsafe.

But he hears him, then. 'Levi, ' Erwin is asking. 'Are you sleeping? '

Levi sighs.

'Mmm. ' He can almost hear Erwin frowning, like Levi is a puzzle he 's trying to solve. 'Do you like stories, Levi? '

Stories? Erwin has been telling him stories all night, at least, that 's how the feel to Levi. Like made up tales about a boy in a fairytale who lived a perfect life. He thinks Mama would tell him stories like that, about little boys who were always warm, and ate five times a day, and spent all their time playing in the trees. 'Yeah, ' Levi whispers, he admits, to never be admitted again.

He feels Erwin moving around behind him. He settles back down on the floor with a grunt, flipping through the pages of a book.

'Once upon a time, ' he begins.

The couch smells dusty but it 's not a bad smell. Underneath the lemon-scented smell he now associates with fucking are his books and his candles, the gas from his lamps, the rose cologne he wears on the nights he 's schmoozing in the towns. It smells more like Erwin than his own bed does, sterile with fresh pressed sheets, rarely used.

' ' and the King said,

let he that proves himself most loyal be worthy.

A slave, of low-birth but with great skill, knelt before him.

My King,

he said,

to prove myself to you, I will complete any trial, such is my loyalty to your line.

'

This is particularly indulgent of Levi. It 's a mistake. He 's not stupid ' he 's not under any delusion that he doesn 't need the company, or the touch of another person, less than anyone else. But the Captain is his superior. No ' no, not that, the Captain is the reason Isabel is

dead --

' ' and so the King devised an impossible task for the slave.

Bring me the head of the Titan,

he told him,

and if you return alive, you may have anything your heart desires. '

Erwin 's hand is stroking his hip. He must be reaching back to touch him. Levi feels his eyes close, slowly, despite himself. He tucks his knees a little closer to his chest, presses his cheek into the pillow.

' ' but the King was deceived. That night, his youngest daughter visited the slave in his cell. Of all his children, she was by far the wisest.

Drink of this,

she told him,

for it contains the blood of titans, and it will give you their strength. '

Erwin 's fingers glide across that little patch of skin, the place where Levi 's stomach starts to move to his pelvis. It 's just touch, nothing more than that, but it means that there 's someone in this room with him who feels so clean, and so bright, that he 's the furthest thing from Levi 's nightmares.

' ' the Slave, imbued with strength, leaped into its gaping mouth. He slit the beast from the inside out, and brought his King his head ' '

Stupid story, Levi thinks. You can 't bring anyone a titan 's head, it would burn straight off your hands.

' '

my King,

the Slave said.

I have brought you the titan, as promised.

And the King saw the head, and concluded it was well done.

You who have brought me the head of this titan, '

Erwin continues, '

who knelt a slave may now rise a knight. '

Levi 's eyes are shut. His breathing is slow and even. He could not move, even if he wanted to, but he 's not frightened of it; it 's not like one of those frozen dreams, where you lie in bed and have to listen to it, feel the rats crawl over your feet, paralysed. It just feels very safe. Secure, tucked up tight between Erwin 's back and the couch. Breathing leather, hair wax, dust '

As he drops into sleep, things become muddled.

I ask only for your daughter 's hand,

Levi hears, and someone wraps a blanket around Levi 's shoulders, tucks it around his legs.

Such is my love for your kin,

Levi thinks, as someone brushes his hair off his brow, lightly.

I will devote myself to her line, as her protector, through every path.

The dimmed light behind his eyelids extinguishes, breath on a candle wick.

And let your descendants, and their children, and their children 's children, lend this strength in our honour,

he hears.

'Levi, ' Erwin murmurs.

You leviathan among men,

the King says.

Levi dreams he scales a roaring titan with sharp, spiked teeth. There is no fear; he 's flying, he 's triumphant. He 's the strongest of humanity, isn 't he?

Leviathan,

he thinks, and thinks nothing else until the sun rises.