A/N: Flashbacks are in italics, bold italics are theme-centric lines, and yeah hope you like it

Am I supposed to be happy?

Never to hear her calling his name cheerfully- never to feel her vibrant presence next to him. Never to have a calm, but comforting hand on his shoulder during the return of yet another failed expedition.

He couldn't. He couldn't be moved. Or at least, he couldn't show that their deaths had moved him in the slightest.

He was Corporal Rivaille, humanity's strongest. If he could not withstand this, then he was a failure of an example to his subordinates.

This should not frazzle him, should not hurt him, should not shatter him.

But it did.

He was not just frazzled. He was not just hurt, or shattered, but rather, something beyond that. He was broken- his mind, his heart- everything.

Her time had stopped- ended. And as of now, he felt like his had too.

He didn't know why he was affected so much by their deaths. Yes, they were all slightly closer to him than were most other soldiers. But they were soldiers, and soldiers will inevitably die. Rivaille was, of course, no stranger to the matter. He had seen almost all of his comrades' fall in battle- he knew better than to expect any one person's survival, much less four of them.

Perhaps it was the unspoken bond of trust he particularly shared with his own squad members. Sure, they were still newbies in his eyes (with only four or less years of experience), but they had escaped death up until then, hadn't they?

So why was it the people he trusted the most to live on, second only to Commander Ervin, were now scattered across the forest trees and floor, powerless?

Why is it that he now finds himself so crippled beyond repair?

With all I ever wanted, it comes with a price.

Her body limp and lifeless, sprawled across the filthy ground- her face smeared with dried blood, up against the tall standing tree, just as motionless as she was. Her eyes were half lidded- but open, nonetheless- reminding him of her seemingly eternally lost liveliness.

She was gone.

Gone as in, no more. No more of her bright and energizing smiles. No more of her girlish laughs that resonated throughout his ears. No more of her constant complaining about how dirty his laundry was, which he found quite unnerving (but secretly, cute). No more her.

No more glassy hazel eyes shining with courage and conviction.

No more flowy, short caramel hair that swayed beautifully in the wind- that he loved to run his fingers through so damn much.

No more Petra Ral.

You said, you said that you would die for me…

"I trust you-with my life."

"So if I were to tell you to take a dagger and stab yourself with it right now, would you?"

"BC-41 or V-42 Stiletto?"

"…Stiletto."

"Thorax, abdomen, pelvic, or extremities?"

"Don't."

"Of course, Corporal."

"Alright, I'll trust you too then. You deserve that much."

"Yes!" She flashed a cheeky grin, eyes brimming with charm.

He remembered her face the very day she promised- no, it wasn't a promise; promises can be broken-the very day she swore her allegiance to him. So full of fearless determination and excitation.

And he then remembered her face the day they had returned from her first mission- full of dread, terror, and sorrow; her eyes reflecting the numerous lives they had lost, her hands trembling in horror.

By the fourth expedition, she seemed to have gotten used to it. But there really was no getting used to it.

Getting used to what? Seeing your comrades getting decimated right before you, while you're unable to lift a finger? Unable to save them? Walking back to the inner walls seeing the expectant faces of their families, families that you've shared hotpot Sundays with, overjoyed that their cherished ones have finally reached the safety behind the walls? Only to know that their child has died-gone missing in action, without even the smallest of solid remains?

No. There was no getting used to it. What she got used to, was hiding those emotions, not letting a few hundred deaths be able to crack her calm exterior.

Yet, even after years of experience, even after the deaths of countless soldiers, she had never shown the absolutely terrified look that tortured her beautiful features on that first encounter with the titans again. That was, until today.

"Corporal Levi! Your orders?!"

The female titan was closing the distance between his squad and herself. Time was running out. Tension was thick in the air and the trust they built up over the years suddenly seemed all too fragile. He clenched his teeth and muttered under his breath,

"Forward."

"Corporal!"

He could see it. He could see the sweat trickling down her slender neck, the completely lost and frustrated expression on her face.

"Move forward!"

If only he hadn't separated from her.

If only that fucking dumb female titan stopped hardening her skin and allowed him to fucking send her to bloody hell. Then she wouldn't be fucking dead.

If only he were there- if only he could have protected her.

If only she hadn't disappeared from his life instantaneously.

If only he didn't treasure her the way he does. Then he wouldn't feel fucking dead inside.

He had promised her father to bring her home.

But maybe that was because he knew promises could be broken.

We made plans to grow old,

Believe me there was truth in all those stories that I told.

"My dad wants me to get married."

Expressionless, he stared at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Married?"

"Hah, yeah." She gathered the sheets around her chest while attempting to sit upright on the bed, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back down, encircling his arm around her waist, holding her tighter.

"Why?"

She let out a small, melancholic smile and studied his well-toned abdominals as well as his beautiful facial features before replying.

"I…I can't do this. I can't live out my life like this- just waiting to die, waiting to become an appetizer for some goddamn titan out there. This-"

Her hand motioned toward the both of them (he assumed she was referring to the more than complicated relationship they shared). "I can't do this either…not here, and not with you."

"…" he was left speechless by the ginger before him.

"Rivaille! You know I can't handle this. Either of us could die at any given moment. This just…it isn't right. I love you- you know that. But that's why I refuse to do this to you. One day, I'll be gone. That day could be today, it could be tomorrow. I can't do that to you. You're humanity's only hope; you're my only hope."

He scoffed at her trivial worries, receiving a blank face from her. "What?"

Rivaille looked at her, eyes piercing with assurance and tenacity. "Then I'll just have to make sure you don't die today, or tomorrow, or ever. Right?"

But he knew that promises were meant to be broken.

"Fuck."

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first SnK fic…I was reading a couple of fics earlier today by DollyPop12 and whoskylie and it really made me want to give Rivetra a try. Because seriously, they're such a nice and angsty ship I want to like, cry myself into a hole.

If you recognize the bold italics, its because they're lyrics from Red Jumpsuit Apparatus' "Cat and Mouse". This was kinda inspired by that because I feel like it perfectly outlines their relationship.

Again, I'm kinda inexperienced in this fandom so sorry if they are OOC. Please drop a review and let me know what you think! Thanks c: