Not sure how well the title fits this chapter but eh idc. Enjoy~

Warmth. The sound of soft breathing. My face is pressed into the top of Eren's hair as he sleeps quietly in my arms, one of his own arms still hooked possessively around my waist. It's hard to tell if he dreams; every once in a while his breath will deepen or quicken, his shoulders will tense, and then he'll relax and let out a sigh as if he's more comfortable than he's ever been. The only way to tell for sure are his eyes - if they flick around beneath their lids - but they're impossible to see at this angle.

Those little things are all that make the random, unexpected flashes bearable. Black tendrils floating through water; deep, deep red eyes; a scene where it's as if I'm flying through clouds; random splatters of blood; the sound of a titan screaming; heat, and then an unbearable, bitter cold. Scorpions and spiders. Sharp teeth. I don't know what they mean, but I feel their pull like an almost desperate need for oxygen, and the only reason I haven't suffocated yet is because I no longer require the stuff.

Each flash comes with a bolt of pain through my bones, down my wings, and pounds in my skull for a few moments before it fades out like it was never even present, and fortunately they aren't frequent enough to make the pain constant, but I can't deny each comes sooner than the last, even if just by a hundredth of a second.

As a result, the night seems to last a hundred years, even with the distraction of Eren's scent. Every second the pull grows stronger. Sometime between the quietest moment of the night and sunrise, a dull ache begins to creep up my legs, beginning at my toes, and only stops at the scars encircling my thighs.

And yet despite this pull, despite my "instincts" telling me this isn't where I'm supposed to be, I find myself fighting it harder and harder with each new symptom, and it only helps me better realize how damn much I love this kid in my arms. I want to stay with him as much as, if not more than, he doesn't want me to leave.

And so the night goes by with me running in endless circles in my mind, fighting the instinct and the instinct fighting back. Despite it being evenly matched, it's only for the moment. Because the pain is winning, and I'm too weak to keep this up forever. I am giving in, bit by tiny bit.

* * *

Eren doesn't wake until several hours after sunrise, and the only way I know is due to the damp lips pressing to my chest.

"Morning, kid," I say quietly, untangling myself from around him to allow him to stretch. Just as I stand to light a torch and allow Eren's sleepy eyes some light, his fingers wrap around my wrist.

"Just stay here for a while," he mumbles sleepily, tugging me back down.

"I'm not going anywhere," I say, but sink back onto the mattress anyway.

Eren simply hums, tugging me all the way back down before his hands begin their search, starting at my shoulder and moving toward my neck, brushing his fingers softly over my jaw and cheek until he finds my lips. He moves in slowly, only removing his hand to replace it with his own mouth.

"I want as many of those as I can get," Eren whispers against my lips, "because I don't know how much longer I'll be able to take them."

And I can only press close again, kissing Eren tenderly for as long as I can before he's pulling away for air, and even then I move to pepper his face with soft kisses.

"Didn't I tell you cheesy lines don't suit you?" I mumble.

Eren merely grunts before he sits up, stretching his arms over his head and yawning just as his stomach growls. I stand and light the torch, causing him to squint for a moment as he's passed his shirt and I brush my hand over his hair, attempting to flatten it where my face was buried into it most of the night.

"Breakfast time, hm?"

"Guess so," Eren mumbles, rising to his feet. Looking up at him, I can't help a scowl. "What?" he asks, blinking innocently.

"You're a damn giant," I scoff, crossing my arms.

And Eren grins. Although small, an actual, genuine smile forms across his lips and truly touches his eyes for a moment before it's gone again.

"No, you're just short," he retorts.

"Hmph. Just go get your breakfast." I bump him toward the door with a hip. "And meet me in my room when you're done," I tell him, walking toward the torch to put it back out. "I have something for you."

"O...kay..." Eren mumbles. A second later I hear his the tapping of his footsteps as he ascends the stairs.

* * *

I'm perched in the windowsill of my room - one leg hanging outside with a wing draped alongside it, my chin resting on my knee - when I hear the small squeak of the door as it's opened and turn just in time to see Eren slipping into the room, shutting the door almost soundlessly behind him.

"Hey," I greet softly as he turns around.

"Hey." He approaches slowly.

"How was breakfast?"

"Fine." He's halfway to me when he spots what's sitting on the foot of the bed and stops, eyes narrowing in confusion, maybe a little suspicion. He glances back to me like he's expecting an explanation, but I offer none. He carefully steps toward the bed, evidently unsure, before reaching out to rest the tips of his fingers on the edge of the hand-woven basket. I can see him swallow as a warm breeze pushes into the room. His hand moves forward and his fingers pinch an edge before he lifts one of the airplanes from the others.

He doesn't know what to make of it as he unfolds it slowly, his face relaxing just a bit as he takes in what's drawn on the inside of the carefully folded piece of paper.

"You kept them," he says quietly.

"Every last one."

He swallows again. Folds the paper back up after a moment and delicately places it back among the others. His fingers move back to the edge of the basket and trail along the rim.

"Did you make this?"

"Mhm."

"How...did you know how?"

"Had a lot of time on my hands." I turn into the room, tucking my wings in but enjoying the warmth of the morning sun against them. "I made several...the more planes you tossed out, the more I had to accommodate for."

"Wow..." I see his lip pull between his teeth as he takes a tentative seat at the corner of the bed. "Why did you bring these?"

"They're yours," I tell him simply.

Eren's head shakes, slow and small at first as his gaze travels up to me and then hard enough that his hair flies a bit. "No...they're...they're yours, Levi. I drew them for you. Folded them and sent them to you."

I stand and move in front of him, taking one of his hands to pull him onto the floor with me, dragging the basket along as well. "Look through them with me, then."

"What for?" he asks, hesitant.

"Just because." I pluck up the one he had a minute ago and gently unfold it. It's of a line of soldiers, capes blowing in imaginary wind as they salute, but their faces are blurred out. Smudges mark it up all over, mainly his fingerprints. I remember him drawing this when he was on the verge of blanking out...

"Gunther." He places a finger on the one on the right end. Moves it to the left. "Erd." Moves it again. "You." Pauses for a moment. "...Petra. Auruo."

I can feel myself holding my breath. Underneath and between the ones who are supposed to be myself and Petra was clearly something else that was erased with vigor and drawn over. It takes little observation to know it was supposed to be another soldier, one taller than both Petra and myself.

I place my finger on it. "You."

I see Eren shake his head out of the corner of my eye. "I didn't deserve to be part of that squad."

I catch his gaze. "And what the hell makes you think that?"

"I killed them."

In a sharp, quick movement, I catch him by the jaw, turn his head toward me, and smash my lips into his. He reels for a second before he kisses back, but his response is hesitant.

"You're an idiot. I told you never to regret your decision because you only know the outcome once you've made said choice. It's useless, and dwelling on it isn't gonna do you any damn good."

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Shut up, kid. That's nonsense."

A half smile flickers on his face before he looks back at the drawing. I don't want to let him dwell on it any longer, so I quickly and carefully fold it back into a plane and set it aside before going after another. He's tried to draw even the smallest things that had reminded him of me - of us. Hydrangeas, because he knows I like them. A cup of tea. A pair of bandaged hands. A page shaded entirely black with little specks having been erased, as well as a crescent shape for the moon to be hanging in a sky of stars. Rope and 3DMG. In one, he drew himself sitting atop the wall and behind him is yet another erased figure, although it's sketched in such a way to make it look as if a ghost is standing behind him, and of course it's me.

A tea shop, it's sign labeled "Humani-tea".

"One of the secrets you shared with me," he murmurs. "Remember?"

We sat in the dining hall on a late night with our own cups of tea, made by him - not very good, a little too sugary, but fitting for him. It'd been snowing lightly, not even sticking yet, when he'd asked for a secret.

"What do you mean, a secret?"

"You know...something you've never told anyone before."

It'd taken me only a second to think of the answer.

"When the war is over or I get too damn old to fight anymore, I want to open a tea shop."

And I can still picture his smile to this day, and the way he'd asked what I'd call it.

"Humanity," he'd said when I told him I had no idea.

"What?"

"It's a play on words. Get it? Humani-tea." Held up his teacup and laughed.

"Of course I remember." I look at it a while longer. The building is made of wood, a little rounded door and windows looking into a small 'dining' area, with tables and random pictures and the front counter with a menu mounted on the wall above it. Behind it he stands, smiling, while I sit on the counter adjacent to him with a cup of tea held up by my fingertips, legs crossed and a neutral expression on my face. It's by far the most detailed drawing he's ever done.

The last plane, though, bears solely a drawing of me, propped up in a chair, asleep. When he wasn't in my room or I wasn't in his, I tended to fall asleep in chairs rather than my bed, but I don't remember when or how he ever saw me.

"When was this?" I ask. "When did you see this?"

"When you stayed with me in the infirmary," he clarifies, "after I had my seizure."

"Ah..." I still don't remember, but I believe him.

"Levi..." He leans into me, our shoulders pressing together.

"What's wrong?"

His head falls against mine. "Did you see me draw all of these?"

"Most of them."

"How...how often were you around?"

I grin just a bit. "Sure you wanna know?"

"Yes."

I snort at how suddenly eager he seems. "Every day. Most nights. Every time on the wall. I heard you talk to me. I didn't sit in on your therapy sessions, though, after the first two times because I thought it was something you'd want to be kept private."

"It wasn't, really..." He picks up my hand, begins tracing nonsensical patterns into my forearm with the very tip of his finger. "I would have told you anything long before I'd tell Thomas." He practically spits the name.

"You're just saying that," I scold. "You know you would've pretended everything was fine like the stubborn thing you are, and I would've had to pry the answers out of you."

Eren doesn't respond. He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing my palm, my fingers, my knuckles. Remembering what he said about kisses, I look up and turn his face toward mine to kiss him softly yet briefly.

"What the hell have you done to me?" I mutter affectionately, shaking my head a bit.

I can feel his small smile when he kisses me again, this time with much more thrown into it, and for a moment I let it envelop me. The desire of our contact quickly heats up as we press closer and closer, my arms around his neck and his hands on my hips. I let him communicate what can't be said in words through the motion of our lips without a care or hesitation in the world.

Until the flash comes, hot and quick like a snake striking its prey. It's hard to tell what exactly it is or why, but it causes me to pull away from him, my teeth smashing together.

"This is...wrong..." I grit out, removing my hands from his neck and curling them into fists in my lap.

His forehead rests against mine. "I'm so tired of hearing you say that..." he breathes.

My eyes open to find his already are. "But it is, Eren. I'm not even alive..."

His breath does a funny, quiet little hitch. "You're alive to me."

"You're delusional."

"Maybe..." His arms slide around my waist. "But you're here. That's all I need."

And I push him back, looking directly into his eyes as deep as I can without making him feeling violated. I have to engrave this into his head as much as I hate to hurt him. He needs to wake up. "Eren, I'm dead."

"I don't care."

There's something in the way he says it that tells me he's more aware of the situation than I've realized. He does know. He understands it; his sick head isn't completely mucking up his perception of reality. It truly doesn't matter to him that I'm not technically alive.

Something warm blossoms from the pit of my stomach and travels throughout my body until it reaches my fingertips, my toes, my ears. It tingles - odd, but not unwelcome.

"So you really want this, then?" I allow myself to lean another inch closer, and he follows my lead.

"More than anything."

"Why?"

On my back, his hands curl up. "Because...I...you mean so much to me."

The warmth pulses; I press my forehead to his, our faces touching to the tips of our noses. "I know. You mean the same to me."

"Then what's wrong?" He holds me tighter. I feel his brow tug toward the middle. "Will it hurt you?"

I exhale slowly. "No. It will hurt you," I say slowly, evenly.

Surprise surges through him so fast that even I feel it, his body twitches, and he lifts my head to look into my face. "Me? Why?"

"Because I'm going to disappear someday."

And the shock is quickly replaced with fear and, more potently, denial, though I don't need to be tuned into his emotions to know that - it's written all over his face. "But what if...I can never let you go?" His voice breaks, and with it my heart endures another crack. And what I've to say next will be acid on the wound.

"You have to someday."

"Fat chance," he mutters, eyes retreating downward like a child.

Now for salt.

"You'll find someone else, Eren. Someone who can give you the things I can't." Someone alive, I add silently at the end.

"Hmph." His head falls to my shoulder. "That sounds so cliché," he complains.

"Shut up." I tangle my fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. "You know I'm right."

He sighs. "I still don't see how having sex with you will hurt me..."

"Because it'll instill a stronger emotional attachment...and then I'll disappear..."

"Even if that's true..."

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

"How'd you know?"

Without removing my hand from his hair, I lift his chin up and search his eyes for a moment. "I can see that determination burning in your eyes."

The corners of his mouth twitch. I stand, pulling him along with me, and move onto the bed, sitting us in the center with our legs crossed.

"So you're giving up trying to talk me out of it?" he asks, a smile creeping its way onto his face. "Just like that?"

"It's amazing how you can be so damn stubborn and oblivious to it at the same time," I mutter.

His eyes are big and shining. "But you never give up that easily." I swear I feel it resonate with my soul.

"It's hard to argue against something I've wanted for longer than I care to admit."

Shock has his eyes widening more and he stares at me for a moment. He swallows thickly - I can hear it, and I don't miss his eyes glancing down my body. "Me too," he says finally.

It hardly makes sense but I know what he means; I let myself smile a bit. "Then what are you waiting for?"

It only takes him a second to process before he's practically shooting forward. He's probably way too eager, but that's something we bear in common; I don't hold anything back.

Eren's lips are hot against mine. Needy. Almost demanding. I follow his lead with no hesitation, taking him by the shoulders and pressing him back against the headboard, allowing myself more access. His hands scramble for my neck, his breath coming in a deep, labored manner, but he doesn't pull back to catch it.

Clothes are strewn about the floor, tossed away without a second thought. Beneath my touch, he's impossibly soft and warm with only a little stubble across his jaw I find I enjoy. Both of us breathe hotly, the sound of breathlessness shattering the silence of the room.

It's only when I'm hovering over him, his legs spread out and tangled in the sheets, do I feel him shaking.

"What's wrong?" I breathe in his ear, a handful of his hair tangled in my fist while my other hand rests on his hip.

"N-Nothing," he breathes back.

"Are you nervous?" I nip his earlobe.

"No."

"Your heart is pounding..."

He doesn't answer me, but stretches up to nip at my earlobe, graze his teeth and lips over my jaw. His hands slide from my ribs to my back, pulling me down against him before he lifts and hikes a leg around my waist.

When I lift my head to look him in the eyes, they're begging for me, and I feel it swirl through me and take control in a way words can never hope to describe.

All I can feel is Eren, Eren, Eren. It's as if the earth itself has stopped turning for us, as if nothing but this exists anymore. His voice seems to surround me, the beating of his heart the only thing keeping any sort of time. His fingers pull through my hair, brush through my feathers, rake down my sides and my back. I can't tell where my own white-hot pleasure ends and where his begins. Anything and everything else has been forgotten.

Several times we each reach our highest point and then relax a moment, whispering things to each other or simply listening to the sound of each other's breathing before starting again, dragging this out as long as we possibly can.

The only indication of how long it's been is the moon having replaced the sun outside the window when he starts to slow down, his fingers gentler on my shoulders as he ceases moving so much with me. His muscles are tense; his breathing has changed. As I lift my head I slow my own pace - though never completely stopping - to gaze down at him.

His whole face is shiny with sweat with strands of hair sticking to the moisture, but the tears making their own tracks are as plain as day. His eyes are puffy and red, and as soon as he sees me looking at him, he turns his head.

"Sshhh..." I move a hand to turn his face back to me, kiss away his tears. Kiss his eyelids and his forehead. Rest mine down against his. "I've got you," I whisper tenderly. "I'm here."

He lifts his chin to kiss me. Sighs into my mouth. "One more time," he breathes against my lips.

I hum in agreement, kissing him deeper as his hands tangle through my hair, my own holding his hips as I sit up and increase the pace again. After only another moment, his mouth drops open, his eyes nearly rolling back with the lids fluttering, fingers tangling like vices through the sheets and his back arching off the bed as we're both brought back up to that absolute, incredible bliss. My vision goes white for a moment as we ride it out and I only have a second to shift myself to the side so not to smother him before I collapse into the bed.

It takes him several long moments to catch his breath. When he does, I reach over him for a box of tissues and we clean ourselves off as best we can. His head then rolls toward me before the rest of his body lazily follows. I kiss him once. Twice. He sighs tiredly and curls into me, tucking his head neatly under my chin. Our sweaty skin sticks together; the sheet beneath us is even damp with it, but neither of us minds much. I drape my wing over him, feel him gently kiss my clavicle.

"How you feel?" I ask him; his heart rate is still elevated. "You okay?"

"Yeah..." he mumbles. "I'm tired." To punctuate his sentence, he yawns.

"Sleep, then," I say. I begin gently running the tips of my fingers up and down his side; if possible, he relaxes even more and his heart gradually slows back to its normal pace. I can still feel the miraculous amount of love he bears, though, and how all of it's reserved solely for me. And I can't fathom it; can't understand why he feels so strongly about me when I've seemed to do nothing but hurt him until now, when all I seem to have left to do is hurt him more. Those feelings are unmatched, challenged only by my own for him.

"Levi?"

"Mm? I thought you'd fallen asleep already..."

"I'm sorry..."

"For what?"

"Bringing you pain you don't deserve."

"Eren, it's-"

"Don't say it's not my fault."

"We're both guilty of it, Eren. The last thing I want to hear right now is an apology."

"Then what do you want to hear?"

"Literally anything else."

Surprisingly, he laughs quietly. "Goodnight, Levi."

"Night, kid."

Eren snuggles a bit closer before he relaxes again and my eyes flick up to the window, where the clouds are slowly moving away from the nearly full moon to shine directly into the room and splay out across the bed and over my wing. Not long after, I feel Eren slip into a calm, blissful sleep.