[ in contrast, when Levi wakes, everything is crystal fucking clear. he knows exactly where he is—that crater, again—and exactly what he just saw. the image feels like it's permanently burned into the back of his eyes.
he feels sick.
but he also knows he has to get out of this place, so for awhile he turns on survival mode. without that focus, he knows he would just collapse and let grief overtake him. so just like the first time, he finds a rescue crew and makes it back to the station. everything blurs together—all the things he had stopped to stare at the first time seem completely unremarkable now.
who cares? Erwin is gone.
it hits him over and over. it's like his heart stopped right after he woke up but instead of dying he just keeps going somehow. he thinks dying would have been better.
Sumarlok from above is exactly the same, but it looks so much worse to him now. is he just supposed to go on living here on his own? he never thought he'd want to go home, but he made a promise to Erwin before—before he died, and he can't do anything about it while he's stuck here.
he lets the thought consume him. he knows it's the only way he'll be able to keep going.
he's in no real rush to get back to the house they built together. he goes largely on autopilot, because the dread of going inside alone for the first time keeps him from any desire to hurry. when he gets there, he'll finally collapse. he'll get back up eventually, because he has a vow to fulfill. it's all he has left now.
even his ring is gone.
so he's ready to let the grief take him—for awhile, at least—when he finally walks in the door. and when he sees Erwin, one-armed again but alive, he thinks he must be hallucinating. what a cruel trick for his exhausted mind to play on him—
but it's not a trick. it's not a ghost. right? he can't watch him disappear. he can't be left behind again. he just freezes, eyes stinging with tears he won't let himself cry, and looks at Erwin, halfway just waiting for him to vanish.
no subject
he feels sick.
but he also knows he has to get out of this place, so for awhile he turns on survival mode. without that focus, he knows he would just collapse and let grief overtake him. so just like the first time, he finds a rescue crew and makes it back to the station. everything blurs together—all the things he had stopped to stare at the first time seem completely unremarkable now.
who cares? Erwin is gone.
it hits him over and over. it's like his heart stopped right after he woke up but instead of dying he just keeps going somehow. he thinks dying would have been better.
Sumarlok from above is exactly the same, but it looks so much worse to him now. is he just supposed to go on living here on his own? he never thought he'd want to go home, but he made a promise to Erwin before—before he died, and he can't do anything about it while he's stuck here.
he lets the thought consume him. he knows it's the only way he'll be able to keep going.
he's in no real rush to get back to the house they built together. he goes largely on autopilot, because the dread of going inside alone for the first time keeps him from any desire to hurry. when he gets there, he'll finally collapse. he'll get back up eventually, because he has a vow to fulfill. it's all he has left now.
even his ring is gone.
so he's ready to let the grief take him—for awhile, at least—when he finally walks in the door. and when he sees Erwin, one-armed again but alive, he thinks he must be hallucinating. what a cruel trick for his exhausted mind to play on him—
but it's not a trick. it's not a ghost. right? he can't watch him disappear. he can't be left behind again. he just freezes, eyes stinging with tears he won't let himself cry, and looks at Erwin, halfway just waiting for him to vanish.
it's too much. ]