When repressed feelings turn to avoidance and anger

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The air inside the Survey Corps’ headquarters hung heavy with the scent of rain and the promise of another storm. The corridors were cold, disciplined, and silent - a place where emotions were meant to be discarded like muddy cloaks. For days, something had been off about Levi. Not his usual dismissiveness, but a deliberate, pointed avoidance. No remarks. No glares. Not even his usual sharp-tongued critiques. It was as though you’d become invisible to him.

It started small: a sidelong glance, a clenched jaw, clipped words when duty forced him to speak. You told yourself it was stress - the ever-present shadow of Titans, the steady toll of lost comrades - but deep down, you knew better.

When you finally found him, it was in the old equipment room, hunched over gear that didn’t need cleaning. His hands moved with needless precision, a ritual to avoid what he didn’t want to face. The room smelled of oil and old blood, a place for ghosts and things better left unsaid.

Calling his name made him flinch - just for a moment - but his words came cold and sharp, ordering you away. You pushed back, refusing to let him disappear behind his silence. And when his eyes finally met yours, the anger was there, as expected, but behind it flickered something far more fragile. A turmoil he didn’t have a name for. And no intention of letting surface.

Not here. Not now.