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The kid knows pain, he knows loss, he knows grief, he knows desperation, he knows rage. He knows the bottom of that dark never-ending pit called hindsight. In hindsight everything becomes so clear. All those decisions not made. All those different paths that had extended around a bend their eyes could only see as they reached it; the final stretch unknown.
How great would it be, to go down each path and return. Choose the most favourable outcome.
But he can't. No-one can. Foresight is a balm but such a thing as 100% accurate foresight is a mere naïve wish. There are those who possess incredible foresight yes. Strung together with their incredible intelligence and it becomes almost as good as predicting the future. However; variables. There are always, always, always variables that a lack of knowledge omits; until those variables rear their misshaped heads with a vengeance.
It all returns to hindsight. In hindsight they shouldn't have assumed, shouldn't have based, shouldn't have relied.
It is too late now. Far too late. What is hindsight but a dark cloud looming like a blackened bruise above them? Taunting with the possibilities. The choices they could have made. So that everyone, everyone could be-
Come back please, please oh please don't leave. I could have saved you, could have….why didn't I?
Yet there are four graves that stand out against a hundred. Four empty spaces at the excruciatingly empty table. With it's empty chairs. Empty noise. Empty warmth. Empty eyes. Pristine green-blue and stormy grey dulled. Emptied. How long will it take them to recover? How long will it take their comrades, friends to notice the glaze is anything but a determination to live on and fight in their stead?
Can't you tell it's moisture? These unshed sorrows hang heavy. What scream should I supress so that you will finally notice?
The silence is tantamount. Breathing inadequate. Two is not six and six is what they miss. Two who grieve together and separately. One who has known them for far longer than the other. None whom it hits harder. Is it different for the man who had fought alongside them with implicit trust and loyalty? Who has now lost them in one merciless blow. Does it affect him more than it does the kid who has known them for but a few months?
Kindness and warmth and laughter no more. They will not meet with them until the arms of the only one who embraces all. Finally embraces them.
The kid has lost too. It is different for him than it is to the man. Labelled a monster. Rejected but then accepted. They were his guides, his mentors, his guardians. He would go so far as to include them in his family. Oh how he admired them, respected them. Yes, he had loved them. For they, though doubtful at first, opened up, welcomed him in. And he stumbled into the warmth of their embrace.
Ripped so cruelly away. He wished he could go back. Change his decisions but he can't. Can't can't can't. And it tears him up inside.
Green-blue eyes flicker towards the one of his squad he has left. Eyelids drooped, grey opaque, shoulders bowed, expression void. His Corporal had not looked back, told him not to regret. For regret brings about nothing. But how can he? How can Eren, who could have saved them all had he just bitten down. He had wanted to believe in them, believe in his corporal. Only one hadn't let him down.
The reunion of corporal and subordinates, four dead, one taken, one gained back alive.
Tears would do nothing for the boy yet tears are all he has to offer in this silent room. His usual method of dealing with grief cannot be achieved unless he is faced with a giant maw adorned with equally giant rows of teeth. Here, in this silent, cold, empty room that is unachievable. Will be unachievable in the near future, if the talk of his trial goes the way they expect.
Heartless smiles, greedy hands, corrupted orders. If Eren is handed over who will Corporal have left?
Grey snaps up and rests on startled green. Understanding wrought with pain wrought with desperation. It startles the boy as a chair scrapes back, harsh upon his ears as it echoes too loudly. Surprisingly light footsteps sound for the mass of muscle that they carry across the room, strength they do not convey through the soft but discernible steps.
But it is the skies that experience his strength in full. What sound does a creature with wings make upon the earth?
He stops. Right in front of Eren. Corporal Levi looks weary. Exhausted beyond measure. Green glazes as tears flow. A sob; low, guttural, torn. No words because that is what they don't need right now. Levi rests a hand onto hair still damp with water that washed away all physical signs of the confrontation. Those that lie underneath cannot be swept away so easily.
Warm. It is warm. This gesture of comfort, of acceptance still. It goes both ways. They will rely on each other.
Thinner arms than his, leaner and not yet defined fling around his middle. Eren's face buries itself into his chest, were Levi taller that boyish face would undoubtedly be buried in his stomach. Be that as it may his face is buried in Levi's chest; nose pressed against his ribs, forehead crushed beneath his clavicle and damp breaths heating and then cooling the fabric underneath his mouth. And maybe this is better because the brat is directly over his heart, is sure those tanned ears while not pressed to it like his forehead is, can hear the rapid beatings and perhaps this is where he needs - they both need - to take refuge.
And so they see a glimmer. In the distance before and not behind them. Soft nudges from behind. Four pairs of hands pushing them forward.
The body shakes minutely against him. But they have it, what they both need. Their sorrow still rests with them but they have not lost their whole squad yet. Two is better than one better than none and six was good while it lasted. What they had not grasped is now clutched tightly in-between them. Their grief is not gone but it is now fuel. Fuel to push them forwards and they have not lost everything yet.
Push forward. If you do not fight you cannot win, if you fight you must believe you won't regret the choices made. And so they will fight.
They will fight for them, because of them and most importantly so that they do not lose the last of their squad. So that one or the other will live to see another day is what they will fight for. Eren's sobs die down but their position holds. Warmth shared in this brief period.
We will fight. Our ending might not be desirable but we will make our choices, we will not regret. We will surge forward on the wings of freedom. For them. For us.