Bury Me on the Crossroads to the West

They are both in bed, the remnants of the flames in the fireplace only a dim light.

Eren's mind is tireless, despite his body heavy with exhaustion. He is on his back, his arm curled around a warm body beside him, his fingertips lightly brushing against a freckled shoulder. He turns his head, taking in the presence of his partner.

Levi looks peaceful when he sleeps; it is a strange sight to see, though it is beautiful. He is beautiful. He has freckles on his shoulders, and a small few near his eyes. Only those who get close to him can spot them, for they hide in the dark circles that will come and go. He is so beautiful, and it makes Eren's heart hurt.

Eren gently slips his arm out from under Levi, and he doesn't wake, only inhaling deeply and shifting to face Eren; he likes to be warm when he sleeps, so he naturally seeks out Eren if he moves since he has an abnormally high body temperature. He calls Eren a personal heater in a teasing manner.

The fire is dying.

There is a dull ache in Eren's chest; he remembers nights around the fireplace with Armin and Mikasa as children, reading books about fantastical lands beyond the walls. He remembers his mother and her gentle smile, and how she chided them lightly for staying up so late to read such things. He remembers, and it hurts. It makes him sit upright, rubbing his face with his hands to try and forget about after everything fell apart. The next part is all pain and loss and undying rage and relentless guilt.

Gods, the guilt is what hurts more than anything.

"Eren."

He comes out of his memories at the sound of Levi's quiet, tired voice. He doesn't look at Levi, but instead hums in response. His hands are covering his eyes, not wanting to see the world around him just yet. Those memories hurt, but the early ones stir up nostalgia.

"Come back to me, Eren." Levi's voice is calm, and soft. Levi's hands are calloused and worn from years of battle, tracing Eren's spine, but his voice is rich and gentle. "They're only ghosts."

Levi puts his other hand on Eren's arm, giving the kindest of squeezes. In the most gentle manner, he pries one hand away from Eren's face, which makes the other come down. Eren finally looks at him, and he doesn't say anything at first. Those brilliant green eyes are not as bright as they once were, dim with sadness. It is late, and Levi has come to learn that he longer Eren stays up, the easier it is he falls apart.

So Levi helps piece him back together.

"I need a dreamless sleep," Eren says, his voice hoarse.

They all need it, Levi wants to reply, but he knows that Eren needs it most. So all he does instead is place his lips against Eren's wrist, leaving soft kisses. Eren lays back down, giving a heavy, weighted sigh, and he looks at Levi as if he's waiting for something. Levi kisses him tenderly, his hand moving to cradle Eren's face; no longer a mere boy, there is a strong jawline beneath Levi's light touch.

"I am entirely yours," he whispers to Eren, who simply brushes his nose against Levi's before kissing him once again. They both know that Levi cannot take the weight from Eren's shoulders, but Levi is going to be by his side to help ease his troubled mind and keep the ghosts at bay.

"Will you help me?" Eren asks; he always does, and he always sounds as timid and guilty as the first time he asked. Levi always gives him a small smile, his dark eyes softening and those freckles catching Eren's eyes for the quickest of heartbeats.

"Always."