"Throw roses in the abyss and say: "Here is my thanks to the monster who didn't succeed in swallowing me alive."

Before Rivaille had known it, the sun had already dissipated over the horizon, nothing but a silvery moon left hovering in the sky. He was exhausted and hungry to the point of actual pain in his stomach, and there was a twisting in his heart that he couldn't exactly place. "Having a mature head and a loving heart was a pain", someone had once said, and Rivaille could think of nothing else than that moment, words spinning around in his head like fibers of sewing thread stuck in tangled loops on spindles. The debris from fallen trees was scattered over the dirt and dust of the new wasteland, and he could feel splinters sticking to the bottom of his boot each time he took a step, like that of the mermaid with the feet of knives.

Finally, he stopped, faltering in his steps, stumbling over dry leaves.

You can't go on like this.

"Yes, I bloody can." Rivaille growled between his teeth; only the moon was here to see his insanity now.

Eren wouldn't have wanted this.

"Why is it in past tense?" He choked out, clutching his mangled jacket closer to himself.

No good is coming out of this.

"What if it's for my own satisfaction?" Rivaille cackled, voice coming out harsh and raspy.

You're going to die like this.

"Go on, then."

You're going to die like this.

"What if I don't care?"

You're going to die.

"Aren't we all?"

You're going to die right here, right now.

Rivaille collapsed, sticks poking his legs and cheek on dirty leaves. "So this is what they mean by tearing in halves..."

It had been so easy to prepare himself for disappointment back then, accepting the loss of his squad, steeling himself against the beautiful expressionist in Petra's face, the ethereal empty in Aruro's, in everyone's.

And no matter how much he convinced himself otherwise, Eren would no doubt be utterly in despair if he ever saw him like this, at this level of dirt and grime. And no doubt, the boy would most likely blame himself over and over again, tears streaming down his face as he apologized for something that wasn't even his fault in the first place.

He was going to head back. Rivaille had wanted to escape, to run through the ocean and through blurred fields of gold and sharp forests with their vibrant leaves, to open that window and scream out into the sky, to feel, to live, to breathe this beautiful air that they were blessed with.

But that had been impossible from the first place. You knew, didn't you?

That you would never make it.

But it didn't hurt to try, Rivaille told himself. It never did. His eyes were drooping, head nodding forward and dried mud on his face. It didn't hurt to try.

When he came to, he was lying on the ground, left side soaked entirely in mud and grime, cravat far too grimy to even be considered white ever again, and hair stuck to one side of his face. He stayed like that for awhile, early sun baking his face, feeling the mud harden and stick to his cheek.

Never in his life had he felt so helpless or desperate until he took the first step back the way they came, ripped jacket fluttering in the breeze that had picked up, legs still trembling with the effort, and chest finally burning with humiliation as he picked up a branch and held it to support himself, feeling old beyond his years.

His mouth was dry, and even though there was still water in pools all around him, Rivaille hadn't gone that far past his sanity; he still had even a shred of pride left, after all.

He settled for some water that had gathered in a fallen array of leaves, licking the dew off of them until the only liquid on there was his saliva, wetly gleaming as if to mock him.

Food was a more pressing matter, but there was nothing but pure wreckage for miles as he glanced around. The only hope he had was to keep going, and stumble on some miracle crop that had survived.

After what seemed like hours, there was still nothing, still no intact landmarks, and Rivaille wondered if he had even gone the right way.

It might've been safer to stay by the ocean, after all.

Suddenly, his foot tripped over something, and Rivaille looked down to see a piece of plankwood, smoothed and painted (even though specks were falling off) and paused, heart in his throat.

Was this...was this- He rapidly glanced around, weight leaning on his makeshift cane as he affirmed his theory. This was where Irvin's house had once stood. The forest that he and Eren had gone through was completely gone, only broken stumps and holes left where massive pinewood had once towered.

It was a miracle that pieces of Irvin's house still stayed in the general area. But then again, there was that story of the man's door in the tornado that floated down at the exact same place after.

He hated this part of him, he really did.

Standing there among the ruins of the cottage that used to be there, seeing nothing but the ghost of what used to be there in his eyes, he let out a gruttal scream and kicked that piece of driftwood across the land, channeling all his bitterness, anger, and regret into that motion, flashing faces and memories in his mind, his squad-Erwin, Hanji, Mike, Petra, Aruro, Armin, Mikasa.

(Eren, I was such a fool. Such a big fool.)

The piece flew in the air, suspended for an immortal second, until it fell almost (gently) 3 feet away from him. Rivaille was left there, chest heaving up and down, head spinning with vertigo. Mentally and physically exhausted to the point of no return, he collapsed in the mud and dug his fingers into it, smearing the black all over his hands, his clothes, his boots, his heart.

Oh, if only Eren could see him now.

~X~

Eren's head spun, but still he bit down, nerves in his hand screaming from protest, teeth piercing the skin. Blood was dripping on the ground, a mocking reminder of his past failures, the color growing increasingly darker each time. He had been doing this for the past hour, summoning every cohort thought in his mind, focusing so hard that his eyes and forehead started throbbing.

He could almost imagine what Rivaille say if he was here. ("Oi, brat-")

Eren shoved that out of his mind, looking at his hand once again, deep teeth marks standing out prominently among the mass of dark red. His rasping breath was the only thing he could hear, save the wind and sky.

What would Rivaille have done?

He would've surely moved on back; there was no other option that Eren could imagine. The best course of action would be to return anyways-there was no future for him at this place, nothing to salvage from the wreckage except for tears and more sadness than he could fathom.

His skin was still burning hot, so he couldn't be that injured-he still had a chance of walking back and making it-Rivaille would make it, so would he.

Only-Eren frowned as he straightened, looking around him, mind clearer now that he had a goal in mind. Where was the way back? There was no way he could find the way back when there was nothing but debris everywhere; where did the ocean carry him?

If he remembered correctly, the way that they had traveled was roughly west, so he would have to go east to return to the walls.

He picked up a stick, roughly 2-3 inches long, and planted it in the soil, placing it in view of the fading sun, to see that the shadow was slanting towards him. Racking his brains for what Armin had told him, he carefully scratched a mark in the dirt where the shadow was, then waited for ten or so moments before tracing the new shadow, connecting it with his first one. The top scratch would be west, the second, east.

Hesitating slightly (he wasn't sure if this would work, anyway) he carefully got up, cautious of his burning muscles, and started walking towards where 'east' was, praying to whatever god was out there that he would get back somehow.

~X~

The journey back was a big mess inside Rivaille's head, leaving him with nothing but the aching memories of bleeding legs and sore arms all the way. He slept with both eyes open, hyper aware of all the sounds around him in the area-the further he got, the more vegetation he saw, and the presence of another color was enough to lift up his spirits, if only slightly.

The road he went on was reversibly free of titans, save one that he barely managed to get away from near the mountains(who knew that Rivaille was that talented at climbing trees?) His leg was stubbornly useless, but healing bit by bit with time; he tried his best to keep it from getting infected, and it, in turn, gave him another chance to survive in the wilderness. He didn't even want to look at the filthy state that his clothes were in, ragged, dirty, and dirty, and whatever pride he had left vanished in a flash the night he had caught a rabbit and almost ate it raw.

The animal had been wiggling in his grasp as he snarled in its face, seeing a thousand hims reflected in the dark, opaque eyes, such a feral expression in his expression that he almost didn't recognize it as himself. It was only then that he dropped it in shock, the true message of that he was trying to do settle in his brain.

The rabbit ran, and never looked back.

Little by little, his sense of reason was vanishing, and it was only the crossed wings that he carried around with him as an invisible burden that kept him shackled down and chained from flying like Icarus.

He lived on the plants that he could forage; the idea of starting a fire was unbearable now, and every time he would lay down to sleep, looking up at the careless spill of stars in the sky, he would always think of Eren, Irvin, Hanji, Mike, Petra, Aruruo-but mostly Eren, eyes blending in perfectly with the twilight that was above.

Slowly, his mind was coming to terms with the fact that Eren could indeed, be gone, be forever lost from the world and sky, and there were nights where he would simply lay on his side and look at the empty space beside him, tentatively reaching out a hand and tracing a cheek that wasn't there, whispering I'm sorry over and over again to the screaming silence that listened.

He had no idea how close he was to the walls, but it seemed to him that no matter how much he walked, the further he got, always the same thousand years away from his destination.

Eren, Eren, Eren, he repeated in a litany in his head, another voice crowing-"You see? This is why you shouldn't get attached."

~X~

Eren scrambled over himself on the journey back, running over fields of crushed flowers and impatiently hopping over streams, showing none of the safe calm that Rivaille had presented, only one thought in mind-to get to the walls and join Rivaille in their triumphant(humiliating) return.

(He reached the wall three days before Rivaille did.)

The closer to the walls he got, the quicker his heart beat, a quick thump in his chest as he compleated the thought of seeing Armin, of seeing Jean, of seeing Mikasa, of seeing Rivaille again, and he couldn't help his exhausted face into anything but the most ridiculous grin that he could muster as the walls came into view.

He pounded on the gates without patience when he got there, mind fixated on the fantasy that they would all be waiting, because they just had to, there was no way-

Guns were pointed at him the moment he stepped in.

Eren froze, legs stiffening and arms tightening in reflex. What the-

"Freeze!" A miltary police roared, raising his arm. "You, Eren Jaegar, are charged for the murder of Lance Corporal Rivaille on behalf of the goverment-"

Wait-Eren screamed, throwing his hands to his head. It wasn't-is he-murder? He pounded the cobblestones in front of him, wailing and shaking Rivaille can't be dead

HE CAN'T

Another frightful roar, this time growing in pain and volume.

HE CAN'T

The only thing he heard through his blur was a frantic cry of-"Constrain him!" before he lost all sense.

THIS IS NOT A DRILL YES K.K HAS UPLOADED THIS IS NOT A DRILL *dies*

First of all, I OFFER UP MY HEART TO ANYONE WHO WANTS TO KILL ME FOR THIS CHAPTER, IT IS PURE CRAP I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW I'M SO SORRY *cries*

I'm so so so so sorry for leaving this hanging; I was honestly super busy with school and it just went up from there in terms of laziness and just...I don't even know XD *cries more*

Sorry if this chapter seems really rushed; the tsunami was honestly the worst idea I've ever had and it was so hard trying to reverse that damage _

So, as seeing that the manga updated with new information that wasn't known when I started, I've decided to do something to organize everything for my own benefit~
So,

1. Levi will still be referred as Rivaille for the duration of this fic (although he will most likely be mentioned as Levi in the fics that I haven't started yet...although Rivaille is such a pretty name~)

2. The headcanon for the titans that I have are pretty lose, so I'm pretty sure I can alter it bit to canon (Why does the mangka do this *head bang*)

Anyway...I hope this chapter wasn't too much of a disappointment

Reviews will make Rivaille and Eren climb the wall *throws potato*

Well...until then~~!

Ja ne,

K.K