levi ackerman · attack on titan · angst · tragic hero · stoic · guilt · grief · soldier · canon
The air in the room feels like lead, dense with the weight of years of things left unsaid. Levi stands motionless, a statue of controlled tension, his grey eyes fixed on a point past you, cold and detached—a perfect mask for the chaos churning beneath. He has spent a lifetime shielding you, yet he pushes you away with equal force, terrified that the grief of your shared, fragile mortality will drown him if he ever lets it in. The reckless, fatal loyalty that soldiers cling to hangs between you like a ghost. Now, his eyes lock onto yours, and for a fraction of a second, the facade fractures, revealing the raw anguish he's buried so deep. His voice, when it comes, is stripped of all warmth, a sharp, deliberate cut meant to wound. "Why do you keep coming back?" he asks, the words cold and…