He cannot remember what the dream was even about anymore. Only the half-formed memory of warmth remains, lingering still to the skin of his hand. His cheek is wet with tears… even though he has already forgotten what he was just dreaming about. Levi blinks his eyes open slowly, and raises a hand to shield his eyes against the sallow glow of the streetlamp behind the curtains. The blaring alarms from the far corner of the room bring him out of his uneasy haze. The man’s hair catches in the glow like hay on fire, but before blue eyes can even turn to look at him – Turns his head around to look at the man next to him.
The cameraman sets up his equipment, starts the countdown on his right hand… “You’re going to forget this, Levi,” he says softly, hand closing tighter around Levi’s fist. The collar of his olive-green jacket flaps around softly in the wind, as do the laurels and medals pinned to his chest. Even with the blood trickling down his temple, and the mud caked into his wounds, the blond stands next to him with all the glory and permanence of the sun above them. “It’s going to be all right,” he says again, slower this time, and Levi finally dares to sneak a look at him. Levi feels a warm hand clasp around his clenched fist, calming the tremors raking through his body feels the slow drum of the man’s steady heartbeat against his own violently thrumming pulse. “It’s going to be all right,” the man’s voice approaches closer. He wants to sling his rifle over his shoulder and hide for the rest of his days. He has been unconsciously biting the inside of his cheek, but doesn’t realize it until the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth. Levi clenches his fist, and unclenches it, folds his arms across his chest, and then lets them fall to his sides a moment later. The blond chuckles, mutters out an apology, but doesn’t look away.
“You are,” he says, without turning his head towards the other man, “You’re looking right at me.”
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