chapter one.
everything was okay back then
(because i still had you).

YEAR 844.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The days feel longer and the nights feel more restless.

⠀⠀⠀⠀She feels more restless. She is distracted, at least at first, and that's never a good thing. Distractions hurt her when she least expects it but nothing hurts like the promises she broke. Her comrade, confidant, and twin flame even, died because she allowed herself to become distracted, less ruthless and thoughtless. It seems like only yesterday that Lune failed to save her, but it was only a week ago. No one blames her but herself. She's angry at no one but herself. (Erwin Smith is a close second.)

⠀⠀⠀⠀Tragedy is wrapped around her bones, tight, unforgiving and evergrowing. It's in her blood, bones, and soul, and one can't merely shake it off. With tragedy, rage festers within, uncontrollable, unrelenting. The strength of a raging fire lies dormant, right in the palm of her scathed, rough, tainted hands. It always starts with the prospect of love and ends at the hands of Death. She died, Lune lived. Lune loved—but not in the same regard that she did. Lune might be the one with her heart still beating but even that is a tragic thing.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Love is an opportunity to be hurt in the dark, in the back, in the heart—in all the vulnerable places—and Death, to those with no hope left, seems to be their only saviour. Broken souls aren't fragile, they're the strongest of them all.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Lune exhales, the cold steel pressing against her neck. Holding the scissors tight and a chunk of hair, she hesitates. She lowers the scissors to her collarbone, still hesitant.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You should grow your hair out more." Josi brushes the hair out of Lune's eyes.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The memory is as vivid as the one she wants to forget (the one that haunts her—longer days, restless nights). She takes a shaky breath as her mind returns to the present, looking straight at the stranger in the mirror (it's Lune, yet, not). She places the scissors down, out of reach, and clutches the basin—knuckles turning stark white as she pinches her eyes shut.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Sion." Josi calls out to her. "Sion."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Sion."

⠀⠀⠀⠀She flinches. At the sudden knock. At the voice.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Sion. I know you're in there" He knocks, again. And Lune doesn't respond, again. Biting her tongue, she fights the urge to speak, to say anything back.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Lune. Open up." She tenses at the use of her first name, tightening her grip on the basin.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Go away." Her voice comes out rough and too quiet than she intended, but still, her voice reaches him on the other side of the door.

⠀⠀⠀⠀She hears him sigh, cursing something under his breath she couldn't catch. Levi falls silent for a few seconds, a pair of footsteps hurrying past but his shadow stays where it is. He doesn't leave. (Everyone leaves. Eventually.)

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Are. . . you okay?" He asks, his voice turning low—soft even.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"What about you?" Lune relaxes, letting go of the basin and turning around, keeping her eyes on his shadow. She isn't the only one suffering from grief, he too lost those dear to him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I asked first." He mumbles, slight agitation in his tone and Lune breathes out a laugh. He whispers, "I mean it."

⠀⠀⠀⠀I know. She nods to herself, thanking him for the assurance. This feeling—love—is a language he doesn't fully understand.

⠀⠀⠀⠀She doesn't want to waste any more time grieving, forgetting how to live. So she's trying. And it's not just her. He is trying too. Everyone is trying. From the moment she entered the world, life was never about living, it was about surviving, and fighting to see another day (but she lives not for herself). (It isn't okay to be selfish, she can't be selfish because she isn't living life for herself. (It wasn't always like this. But now it is.))

⠀⠀⠀⠀For now: this is no grief, she has him and he has her, and she finally feels okay.

⸻

YEAR 845.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Lune's a year older, and a little bit wiser. But not enough to save more people than last time. Too overcome with grief once more. The losses never decrease, and neither does the guilt. All the weight on her shoulders will crush her, one day—someday. But someday, she hopes to find someone to share that weight. (Because that weight was never hers to keep. Never anyone's to keep.)

⠀⠀⠀⠀Wall Maria has fallen, along with the hope, the peace.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The truth is a hard thing to accept. She remembers the first time her father told her that. Lune, barely seven years old and red-faced with effort, hadn't grasped the concept of death—and Titans, but then came his death, the funeral, becoming a soldier, and everything went downhill from there.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Levi's a year older, and a little bit stronger, wiser too. Barely two years since he's known her, and he can finally comprehend the complexity of his feelings. He can't put it into words but he knows what the feeling is, he knows what his heart yearns—such an unfamiliar word—for. But, like any other year, month, or day, he's too overcome with grief and guilt, just as she is.

—

⠀⠀⠀⠀At dawn, Lune wakes, finding herself in her bed. The night prior, she hid at her father's grave, the minutes bled into hours and before she knew it, it was past midnight when she fell asleep, much against her will. She fell asleep beside his grave but now finds herself under the safety of a roof, in the warmth of her bed and with cold sweat coating her forehead.

⠀⠀⠀⠀She was careless. And now she's ill. Not that a bad degree than the word evokes, but ill enough that a dull ringing fills her head, her skin is hot to the touch and she can't manage to walk five steps from the bed. She tries and fails. Her knees give in, and she falls to the floor with a light thud, a quiet groan escaping her throat.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Shit." She curses, trying to pull herself up, gripping onto the bed frame. Her whole body feels tired, weak, and almost numb. Stumbling on her feet, the door swings open, the hinge squeaks and it seems that this time, he doesn't remain on the other side of the door.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Are you okay?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I'm fine. Just fine." She tries to walk, and she fails, again. He catches her, getting close enough to see the beads of sweat on her forehead, to hear her silent winces and to feel her burning skin.

⠀⠀⠀⠀He helps her back to the bed before pressing his palm to her forehead, "You're burning up." She almost flinches at the sudden contact.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I said 'I'm fine'."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Lune, you're not."

⠀⠀⠀⠀She rolls her eyes, moving his hand away with her own. He should be sleeping instead of being right in front of her, just a breath away. He was sleeping, trying to at least but falling asleep is not an easy feat after everything he has been through. His eyes are focused, diligent even, contradicting the fact he hasn't gotten any sleep.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I'm fine, Levi." Lune insists, having to clear her throat twice for her voice to return. Levi drags a chair from across the room, placing it in front of her before he sits down.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"No, you're not."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Levi—"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Just— lay back down, Lune." A muscle in his jaw tenses and his stare turns stern, commanding. Lune obliges. "Was that so hard?" He moves closer, retrieving a bowl of water and a cloth from the table beside the bed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀She rolls her eyes, scoffing. "You could let a doctor do this, you don't have to take care of me if you don't want to."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I want to." I care about you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀I care about you too.

—

⠀⠀⠀⠀(Everything was okay back then (because they still had each other.))

. . . YUMI SPEAKS!

this chapter serves as a brief(?) view on luvi before the cause of the Angst™. hopefully, future chapters are longer than my average 1k-er :)) hope you enjoyed this chapter!

( unedited )

PUBLISHED ⸻ 01/06/2022