Eren swam in the lining between sleep and wake, fighting to grasp full unconsciousness. His bed felt cold. Too big. Too empty. He'd given up trying to find a comfortable position long ago and had simply stuffed his head between two of his pillows, the rest of his body sprawled across the bed.

Nights were always like this when they were spent alone in the basement of the castle, where it was colder. More isolated.

'I can't rely on Levi every night,' Eren scolded himself every time he'd decided to stay in his own bed, as he always thought he should've in the first place during nights like those. Still, there was something about falling asleep next to another warm, living, breathing person whom you cared about, and Eren could never deny that.

He'd just begun to fall asleep when a faint shuffling sound carried to his ears. Footsteps, he concluded, after pulling his head from between the pillows, and they were coming from the direction of the stairs. He sat up, hugging a pillow to his chest and squinting into the darkness as the soft steps gradually came closer and a figure appeared on the other side of the bars of the cell.

"Hello?" he whispered into the darkness.

"It's just me," said a low, unmistakable voice as the cell door was pushed open.

"Who's 'me'?" Eren joked.

"Tch," muttered Levi, stepping into the cell.

"What are you doing down here?"

"The same thing you do when you sneak up to my room every other night." Levi felt his way toward the bed, his feet shuffling along the cold stone until his shins met the mattress. "Where the hell are your matches?" he grumbled, hands feeling over the bed. He'd just come into contact with something warm that he could only assume to be Eren's leg when a box was pressed into his hand. He fumbled for one of the wooden sticks and struck it against the box. It sparked to life, illuminating the soft face and green eyes just inches away.

Eren squinted at the sudden light. Levi moved to light the torch in the corner, illuminating the little cell. He shook his hand, thus ending the life of the flame alight by the match. He tossed the charred stick in the waste bucket as his hand was taken and he was pulled onto the bed by the teen.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Eren asked, not releasing his hand.

Levi got comfortable, crossing his legs to face Eren. "I hardly ever sleep."

"Touché..."

"At least...when you're not around I don't."

Eren chuckled breathily. "I keep you warm or something?"

"Something like that."

Smirking, Eren laced his fingers through Levi's - surprisingly soft for all they'd been through. Lightly, Levi's thumb brushed over his own. It suddenly didn't matter that Eren hadn't slept well the past couple of nights, or that he should've been sleeping at that moment. The one he cared for most was there with him then, and he'd had constant thoughts of how the moments with him might be limited because of the cruel world they coexisted in, and he drank and reveled in every moment he could get with his captain, even if he lost precious sleep because of it.

"Eren."

"Hmm?" he hummed with a frown. He knew every time Levi addressed him by his name rather than by 'brat' or 'kid' or simply 'hey', it was serious, and usually not in a good way.

But almost as soon as Eren looked up from their hands, torn from his internal mind babble, he was granted no time to react before a soft palm pressed to the side of his face and a pair of warm lips smashed into his own. A surprise squeak sounded from his throat; he froze involuntarily for a moment. He was lost as to how to react, feeling Levi's nose tucked next to his, his hair tickling his forehead where his own bangs parted, and his superior's almost desperate attempt to get a response out of him. But he was frozen. Had no idea how to respond.

Eventually, Levi had pulled back, but only enough for their mouths to cease contact. Eren could feel himself shaking, just slightly, fingers like vices around Levi's hand and his breath caught somewhere between his mouth and lungs.

"You're such a dumbass," Levi had muttered, hand wrapping around the back of Eren's neck to hold him just a bit closer. "Don't make me regret that."

After a few forced swallows, Eren managed to find his voice, even if it was a mere breath in the silence of the dungeon.

"Wha...what are you talking about? You're not one to regret anything."

"I suppose you're right about that..."

"C-can I ask you one thing?"

"Hm?"

"Did...did you do that because you wanted to...or because you thought you should?"

"Both."

"Huh?"

"I thought I should because I wanted to."

"Oh..."

Eren brought a hand up to gently wrap around the wrist Levi held behind his neck. Pulled it forward and brushed his lips lightly across Levi's knuckles. In truth, he hadn't much of an idea what he was doing, but Levi hadn't seemed to mind.

That night, Eren fell asleep with his head cradled in Levi's lap, curled up with fingers pulling gently through his hair and a hand rubbing small circles into his side. It was the first in a long string of nights he slept without nightmares.

* * *

"You...threw your notebook...off the wall?" Thomas asks with surprised icy blue eyes.

"That's what I said," I mutter.

"Why?"

"Because I don't see how writing out the shit I feel is supposed to help the shitfest in my head," I explain rationally.

"Okay...but did you actually try to write out your thoughts?"

"Sort of..."

"What do you mean, sort of?"

"I mean just what I said."

Thomas shakes his head and sits back in his chair. I can tell I'm stressing him out; his forehead, already wrinkled enough, is a complete mess of wrinkles and it reminds me of the page I tore out of the notebook, crumpled up, and hurled off the wall.

Never mind the abandoned notebook, he should be glad I'm here. Mikasa all but dragged me by the ears to get me here. I already know my head's a mess, I don't need some old man who thinks he's qualified telling me over and over.

"Well, Eren, I'd be happy to provide you with another one, but I'm afraid you'll just end up doing the same thing."

"Probably would."

He sighs heavily, like a parent does when they don't know what to do with a misbehaving child.

In the end, he gives me another book, this one with a harder cover and void of lines on the pages.

"Try drawing," he says. "But please, Eren, if it doesn't work, don't throw the book off the wall. Bring it back. We'll try something new. Alright? And come back in two days. Show me what you've got, if anything, and we'll talk about it."

So I make my way back to the top of Wall Maria at the same spot I'd thrown the writing journal over the edge at the same time of day, where on one side the sun is finding a place to sleep and on the other, one by one, the stars are waking. I sit, dangle my legs over the edge of the wall, and shake the hood of the cloak off my head. Take a peek over down to the ground to see if I can spot the other notebook, but I can't.

I think about the paper I threw over the wall the other day, probably long gone having been blown away by the wind. I think about how Levi's death occurred outside the walls, and I briefly (and comically) wonder if his ghost has found it, read it, and laughed at it. He'd probably think it was ridiculous, pathetic, and pointless, too.

I try to imagine it and suddenly realize I'd never seen him laugh. Or smile, really. Maybe in his eyes a few times, he did, but the rest of his face never showed it. Not that I can blame him; this world is shit. There's not much to smile about. At least, not anymore. Not for me.

I picture my friends' smiles. Armin's. Jean's. Connie's. Sasha's. Mikasa's. Hers are rare, too, but they've happened. They've all found something to be happy about despite the pain lurking behind their eyes, so easy to see by someone who experiences the same thing. Minus the smiling.

I can't recall the last time I smiled. Genuinely, anyway. It couldn't have been too long ago, could it? Jean is always saying or doing something idiotic that would make me laugh at him, and Connie's brimming with jokes. Hell, watching Sasha ogle over food is comical. But I don't remember any of those things cracking even the slightest of grins on my face, at least not so recently. And even when they did, before he died, Levi never showed any amusement in those trivial, tiny little things.

Suddenly my biggest desire is to see such a thing grace the features of the man I love. And the only way to do that is to heed Thomas's new advice and draw.

I start with a pair of lips. Relatively thin, as I remembered them to be, and tilted up at the corners. Not too wide, but not subtle enough that it would go unnoticed. I move on from there, shaping the face, the nose, his thin eyebrows, that little crease between them, and the hair falling over his forehead in a perfect cut, halfway covering his ears.

I stop at the eyes. Where they should be, the paper is blank. The rest of the drawing, surprisingly, looks like an eyeless face and I'm surprised by my skill despite lack of experience in art. But I'm afraid to try the eyes, afraid I won't fully be able to capture the hard, steely, stormy gray they used to be. Afraid they won't fit the face with the smile.

Even without the eyes, this face tugs on something deep inside me, and it's bittersweet. It's completely drawn from memory, and I didn't realize I remembered his face so well. Seeing it as opposed to simply remembering it hurts, and soon enough, little dark circles begin appearing on the paper in front of me. A few smear the lines, and one drips down from the shades of his hair, creating something of a darkened tear streak down his cheek...

"S-sorry," I mumble stupidly. I hug the book to my chest, pulling my knees up along with it, and watch as the outside world swims in the fading light. But who the hell am I apologizing to? "I know...I'm a huge baby." What? "You'd think after everything, I'd be tougher than this, right?" This is senseless. No one is listening. "I'm sorry," I repeat. But why? "I-I'm starting to hate...what I'm turning into..."

Talking out loud to the air, like someone or something hears and will respond; put a hand on my shoulder and tell me I'm not alone, or that it understands. Or maybe shove me off the edge of the wall...

"Stop!" I blubber. This time to myself. I hate these thoughts.

* * *

I take the stupid notebook back to Thomas two days later, this time without Mikasa's prodding. I don't know why. Maybe to show him the drawing and what a mess I am, that it seems like what he's trying to do is making whatever this mess in my mind is worse. Because it is. Because I don't feel as if I really have control of my thoughts anymore, and that scares me.

Thomas peers at the drawing on his desk, his thin lips pressed together in a line. He rubs his chin thoughtfully. All I do is sit and stare him down.

"This is...good, Eren," he praises me. Whether he means the art or the representation of whatever it is he wants, I want to punch him. "This is Levi, correct?"

The name sends daggers to my throat and temporarily revokes my ability to speak, so I nod.

"Hmm," he hums, nodding. "You think of him often, don't you?" Another nod, though accurately it would be that he's in my every waking thought, but I'm not about to spill the beans on that one. "You looked up to him," Thomas goes on. "Not only as your superior but as someone strong, no?" Nods. "So you miss him." Obviously. "More than other comrades you've lost?"

"More than my mother."

His unkempt, stringy looking brows raise a bit and wrinkle his forehead. "I see. So, was he like a parental figure in your life?"

I almost laugh. Yes, Levi was older than me, but not old enough to be my dad. Only by 7 years. What a stupid assumption...

"No."

"Then, just as your superior, or a comrade."

No. "Yeah." Much, much more than that.

Almost every night we spent together, Levi would remind me what we were doing was wrong, even illegal, but I never gave a shit. I didn't care if he was older, or my superior, or the fact that when we first started sneaking around I was still technically a minor. In a world like this, or that, I guess, if you're going to grasp something, you have to grasp it tightly no matter what may be against you and savor your time with it because it could so easily slip through your fingers.

And that was what Levi did - slipped right out of my grip, slick like the gallons of blood gushing out of his body from the wounds of his missing legs, staining the grass and ending the life that was so precious to both of us.

"Eren, do you believe Levi is at peace?"

"What?"

"Do you believe after he passed, his soul found peace?"

I blink at him a few times, trying to comprehend the question. Is he crazy? Or is it just the crazy in my head telling me the question is ridiculous?

"I don't know," I answer honestly.

"Why not?"

"I don't get how someone could be at peace after dying...the way...he did." My throat grows thick and trying to swallow around it is fruitless.

"I see, I see," he murmurs, looking back at the drawing. "And...how did he pass away?"

Immediately my stomach clenches and my back tenses. Thomas's eyes flicker up to mine and soften a bit. "My apologies," he says quickly. "Talking about it, though, will help you. I want you to understand that. It'll help you to not be so afraid of your memories. I only asked because you didn't draw his eyes."

The thickness thickens. "I...don't remember them," I lie.

This surprises him. "Really? Usually the eyes make the deepest impression." He nods a bit before gently closing the book and sliding it back in my direction. "This was good, Eren, very good. Thank you. I want you to try and keep this up, alright? Draw whatever you like, but try and focus on the important things." With another nod, he dismisses me. I hightail it out of there and gulp in lungfuls of air once I'm outside.

* * *

I draw in Levi's room this time, flipped past his face and focusing on capturing everything around me instead of what's in my mind. If anything is important, it's where Levi and I spent the majority of our time together when it wasn't strictly military business.

I draw an aerial view of the room. The dresser, the bed, the desk, the lanterns, the doors, window. And then myself, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, drawing.

And then I move to the next page and try my hand at hydrangeas, one of the few things Levi liked. At least, one of the few things he ever told me he liked. I never asked why, and I constantly wish I had.

They suck and I know it, so I tear the paper from the book with the intention of crumpling it up and tossing it just as I had that other page from the writing journal, and thinking of that piece of paper and how I wondered if Levi's ghost had seen it and laughed, and a much better idea pops into my head.

* * *

Same wall. Same spot. Same disguise. This time with a paper pinched between my fingers, and I'm not sitting. The paper has been folded carefully. A paper airplane.

It's a miracle I remembered how to construct one, recalling from my days in school before Shinganshina was breached. I'd tried it out a few times before making my way all the way out here the evening after creating it. It's the hydrangeas.

"These are shitty, but maybe you'll enjoy them. But knowing you, you'll probably think they're worse than I do." I snort. Raise my hand and point the nose of the little plane toward the vast planes. The last golden rays gently kiss the land, the trees. A slight breeze pushes through, lifting the cloak and bringing with the scent of construction, yet something natural. Fresh. I let it fill my lungs. I pull my arm back and, with one last breath, snap it forward and release the airplane. With longing eyes, I watch the wind carry it away until I no longer bear sight of it.

---

So, I need some ideas on things Eren draws and tosses off the wall based on what you've learned of his and Levi's relationship so far and even things in the canon plot. Really, any suggestion is good :)

Anyway, thanks for reading, & lemme know what you think <3