There's a moment where they just stare at each other. Heartbeats.
When did he get so damned tall? At least the angle is familiar, but just like in moments that occasionally happened with Hange, the gap of years between them suddenly seems so vast. Of course Levi has marked all these differences before - not just how much Jean has physically grown, but the changes in his temperament, the wisdom and thoughtfulness that can only be gained through experience. All of the lessons learned, no matter how painful - some of which Jean often says came from him.
Years he doesn't have.
What sort of shitty lesson did he impart this time?
Levi forces his throat to unstick.
"Jean...-"
The relief in the younger man's voice and on his face is so unexpected he hasn't even processed it--
-- and then Jean crosses all of those years and that scant distance between them--
...there's arms around him.
Levi freezes.
There's a flash of a thought - intrusive, instinctive, ingrained - too close a knife is coming for your back knee to the groin break the hold fight flee free
But he's already let himself be thought, without hardly thinking about it. Because it's Jean, because if he's going to drive a blade into him he fucking deserves it for losing control, because-
...what?
It doesn't make sense.
It doesn't make any fucking sense.
The words catch up to him. The embrace. That look. The sound of his voice.
And whether or not it's deserved, relief crashes into his guilt like rapids over stone.
Levi exhales the breath caught in his chest, soft and shuddering, and slowly wills his stiffened limbs to work, wrapping his arms around Jean in turn, one hand resting carefully at the back of his head.
He closes his eyes against something gathering at their edges, and mutters quietly against his shoulder.
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When did he get so damned tall? At least the angle is familiar, but just like in moments that occasionally happened with Hange, the gap of years between them suddenly seems so vast. Of course Levi has marked all these differences before - not just how much Jean has physically grown, but the changes in his temperament, the wisdom and thoughtfulness that can only be gained through experience. All of the lessons learned, no matter how painful - some of which Jean often says came from him.
Years he doesn't have.
What sort of shitty lesson did he impart this time?
Levi forces his throat to unstick.
"Jean...-"
The relief in the younger man's voice and on his face is so unexpected he hasn't even processed it--
-- and then Jean crosses all of those years and that scant distance between them--
...there's arms around him.
Levi freezes.
There's a flash of a thought - intrusive, instinctive, ingrained - too close a knife is coming for your back knee to the groin break the hold fight flee free
But he's already let himself be thought, without hardly thinking about it. Because it's Jean, because if he's going to drive a blade into him he fucking deserves it for losing control, because-
...what?
It doesn't make sense.
It doesn't make any fucking sense.
The words catch up to him. The embrace. That look. The sound of his voice.
And whether or not it's deserved, relief crashes into his guilt like rapids over stone.
Levi exhales the breath caught in his chest, soft and shuddering, and slowly wills his stiffened limbs to work, wrapping his arms around Jean in turn, one hand resting carefully at the back of his head.
He closes his eyes against something gathering at their edges, and mutters quietly against his shoulder.
"...I'm sorry."