Jar of Sand [Levi x Reader] [Contest Entry]

                “Corporal, Corporal!”

                A raven-haired man looked up from his desk, impassively looking at the new arrival in his office.

                “Ever heard of knocking, [l/n]?” asked Lance Corporal Levi, glaring at you. But his sharp stare could not wipe away the huge grin on your face. When you got this excited, there was no stopping you; you were simply in the clouds. Levi had known you long enough to recognize the grin you wore when this happened. Isn’t that the result of him unconsciously developing a favourite amongst the cadets?

                In your right hand you waved a small, tiny object and as you leaned into Levi’s personal bubble. Any other cadet that would’ve done would probably be kicked into the nearest wall or sentenced to a Herculean chore, but not you. Not [f/n] [l/n], who had settled in a crevice in the Corporal’s once-icy heart. Sometimes, Levi thought you had developed into something that mattered a little more than a superior’s favourite, but he had shaken off anything of the like. He could not afford that.

                But your hyper personality, your infectious grin that only Levi was half-immune to and your constant whir of your curious mind? That, Levi could afford. You were something of an indulgence for Levi.

                “Look at this Corporal! I nicked it when no one was looking while everyone was cleaning the storage rooms down in the basements,” you announced, wiggling a glass bottle in Levi’s face. It was like one of those glass bottles they sold for fifty cents in the market to put pills or small amounts of medicine in. But this particular one you had in your hand held something quite different.

                Levi opened his mouth to scold you on the act of stealing but stopped; no one would really mind if one, tiny glass bottle was missing.

                “What is that?” asked Levi, taking a slight interest to the contents of the bottle. He prodded a pale finger at the coloured substance inside the bottle. It was coloured in pinks, purples, blues and greens, seeming like it was some type of fine grit.

                Your grin widened.

                “Hanji says it’s ‘sand’, Levi! That stuff where it’s near that huge expanse of salt-water? That’s this stuff!” you replied excitedly, and with an almighty heave, you pulled open the cork.

                “Oi, brat, don’t get it all over my desk,” warned Levi, but you grabbed his hand and poured some of the sand into his palm. Resisting the urge to recoil and just pour it away, Levi winced and stared at the coloured sand in his hand.

                Your big, excited, [e/c] eyes stared at Levi’s face for a reaction, and it was clear that you wanted to make Levi happy. Unfortunately, Levi was not an expert in positive emotions.

                “Look’s fake,” he stated, and you blinked.

                “Yeah, but it’s the closest thing I have to the outside world!” you protested. Levi hummed in assent, and pinched a small amount with his other hand. Rubbing it between his fingers, he frowned.

                “It’s rough and a little sharp on the edges…” commented Levi in monotone. “A little like…”

                “…dirt.”

                Silence ensued at the ‘d’ word, and you waited for Levi to shove you out of his office with the sand. You quietly berated yourself for not making that connection, and you instantly paled.

                “Er – yes – I suppose – a little bit—um–” you stuttered, but Levi simply nodded and funneled the sand in his palm back into the bottle.

                “Interesting,” he mused, and he looked up at you with his grey eyes. “Thank you for sharing that with me [f/n].”

                Suppressing the urge to explode on the spot from his thanks (which was a rare thing in itself), you beamed.

                “You’re welcome, Corporal!” you answered, saluting. He snorted.

                “Now quit bunking off work and get back down in the basement,” Levi ordered, and you laughed.

                “Don’t tell anyone okay?” you whispered, corking the bottle. Putting your finger on your lips, you did a mock shushing gesture, before grinning. Levi’s expression was pissed; he didn’t like you acting all bossy and superior.

                You exited his office; bottle clutched tightly in your hand, and didn’t know that Levi could hear your whoops of excitement and happiness down the hall. Picking up the quill he had recently put down, Levi stared at the half-filled parchment on his table.

                “The outside world, hm?”

                “What the f*ck is this?”

                “I’m sorry Levi…”

                “I asked you what the f*ck this was?” Levi repeated, staring at Hanji. Over her arm was a green cloak with the Wings of Freedom on it, tattered. Spots of blood darkened the colour of the fabric, mingling with the blots of mud and water.

                “This is not funny Hanji. I can stand your shitty pranks, but this has crossed the line,” warned Levi, but Hanji shook her head.

     Standing from behind his desk, Levi bent over to feel the fabric of the Survey Corps cloak, before tearing it of her arm and examining it closely. Shuffling the fabric to the bottom right corner, he inhaled sharply.

                There it was.

                The frayed ends of your cloak.

                It was a habit of yours to pick at the threads on the green cloak before an expedition or something important or nerve-wracking. You always picked at the fabric near the bottom-right corner of your cloak. This was definitely yours.

                Levi looked up to Hanji, expecting a grin, or a snarky laugh, followed by a ‘got you!’ But there was nothing but solemn, respectful silence. 

                “Get out,” whispered Levi, throat dry. Hanji perked up, not hearing what the raven-haired man said.

                “GET OUT!” yelled Levi, and Hanji stumbled to exit Levi’s office, shutting the door behind her. Levi’s breaths were laboured, like he had just run laps around the base. Slumping down in his chair, he stared hopelessly at the cloak on his lap. Unable to bear it touching him, Levi threw it on the surface of his desk, covering his eyes with his hands.

                Clink.

                Pausing in leaning back into his chair, Levi lifted his hands off his eyes slowly, staring at the cloak. The fabric moved in the breeze that came from the open window behind Levi, and it hit the edge of Levi’s desk.

                Clink.

                Pulling the cloak towards him, Levi examined the outside of the cloak, ignoring the heart- jolting bloodstains or the significant frayed edge. There was no hard material on the outside of the cloak, so Levi turned it around.

                A small, hand-sewn pocket was on the inside on the cloak, roughly executed thread-work holding the extra fabric in place. There was a tiny bulge, and intrigued, Levi flipped open the pocket flap, and picked out the object in the pocket.

                It was a small glass bottle… filled with sand.

                A rush of memories came back to him, and Levi groaned. Your voice rang in his ears, seemingly far away, like you were calling his rank from down the hall. As he put the bottle down, the flashbacks faded, and he looked at the bottle like it was something cursed.

                Cursed it might be, but Levi felt like he needed it; tied to it.

                Your cloak would be burnt in exchanged for your unfound body, your belongings given away or burnt. So this bottle… was probably the last thing left.

                The last thing left of you.

                Of you, and your dream of the outside world.

                Levi didn’t remember when he had started to obsess over the jar.

                Was it when one of his colleagues almost tipped it off his desk and sent it crashing? Hanji had raced into the scene, holding off a murderous Corporal, who was glaring down on the unfortunate soldier. She helped him scrub of the blood under his nails later.

                Or maybe it was when he had started to keep it close. On the corner of his desk, standing on his bedside table, always within arm’s reach. Just about when he had started to ignore the questioning looks of Erwin, Hanji or Mike as they glanced at the ever-present glass bottle?

                But it was clear. The sight and the mere presence of the bottle was becoming an addiction to Levi.

                Soon, the bottle occupied most of Levi’s thoughts; you had begun to clog his mind. Your face, the fading ring of your voice, your actions; Levi desperately clung to them, fearing that his memory of you would slip away. It was just a fragile substitution, a medium of his petty wish, to hear your laugh, your smile, your voice and your actions again. But somehow, the jar held his hopes and memory of you, just as it held the closest thing to your dream of the outside world.

                Bittersweet was the effect the bottle had on the dark-haired man; in return for letting Levi hold onto it as a remembrance to you, it reminded him of your death. Because however protective Levi seemed to be towards the object, no one knew that he was slightly fearful of it. Humanity’s Strongest scared of a small, glass bottle? Most would scoff. But the man found himself fearing the feel of the cold glass on his skin, as it always brought the memories of you rushing back.

                The memory of a bloodied cloak with a frayed bottom-right corner.

                As the time of Levi’s ownership of the bottle lengthened, his fixation with the bottle grew. Ignoring the pangs of regret and sorrow at the touch of the cold glass, Levi wore it around his neck. When you had been alive, you had threaded a string through the cork, allowing the holder to wear it around their neck. The habit of wearing it around his neck became consistent, and now Levi hardly took it off, with the exception of when he was bathing or in the shower.

                It was stupid, Levi often berated himself, that he would wear a constant reminder that would cause him grief and regret. Because after all, it was only a glass bottle that cowered under his cravat or beneath the folds of his shirt. And he tried to convince himself that the object was indeed, only that.

                But it wasn’t.

                The bottle became a glass dummy of the being that was once [f/n] [l/n]. Instead of a favourite cadet, he had a favourite object. Levi never said it out loud, or shared it with anyone, but he liked to think that sometimes, the bottle was you. Not in the sense that you were hanging from his neck, but more that you had never left his side in the first place.

                If the jar was close, you were too.

                If the jar still existed, you did too.

                Yet again, the jar found a way to spite him. Levi had already figured out that the sand inside the jar was fake, as Armin, a well-educated cadet, had told Levi that the sand on a natural beach would not be bright pink. At first, he didn’t mind; the jar was still there. But his sleep-deprived brain made connections with this random memory and that obscure fact; those faded words and this insignificant object.

                ‘Fake was the sand in the jar and so was the dream you had of exploring the outside world.’

                Constantly, Levi shook away this thought, but it became more and more real.

                The only way to relieve himself of this torture was to fulfill it.

                Fulfill your dream of reaching that wide expanse of water.

                Your dream had suddenly become his.

                A warm breeze blew in his face, as Levi stared impassively at the scene that fell out before him.

                Blue, huge and glistening, the waves rose and fell, making the rumbling splashing noises of water. The water disappeared over the horizon, and it stretched out to the sides as far as Levi could fathom. 

                They had done it.

                They had reached the sea.

                With each gust of wind, small or blustering, a salty scent carried with it; a strange, mind-boggling smell in Levi’s opinion. It wasn’t easily described, except that it was… well… salty. But there was something more to it, and even if there were no words to it, it was still there. Levi relished this unknown feeling, inhaling the smell deeply.

               Everything he could smell, touch, see and hear, that was what made up Levi’s first time at the beach. Near the sea. It was the very scene of his dream come true.

               As much as the sight, sounds and smell of the watery expanse relaxed his tense shoulders and tangled into his senses, Levi was grudgingly still on the lookout for Titans. Alas, the expedition team had made it out to the sea, but it was far from the eradication from the Titans. They were in luck that they could spread out and regroup when they encountered the humongous beasts, and made it to this place, but the casualties were still rising, as selected members had been sent out to check the missing or the dead.

               The journey back to base was going to be just as hard.

               But Levi tried not to think about it, and watched some of the recently promoted cadets run in the water, squealing as another soldier chased them. There was a group of men, woman and young adults alike that were bent over the water, having a tentative taste of the salty substance.

               Levi watched in amusement as they spat it out.

               Small troops of soldiers were sifting through the sand, picking at shells or stones that were tiny marvels to them. Pockets bulged full of these small treasures, and Levi wrinkled his nose in the foreseeing of sand all over base.

               Sand.

               That reminded him.

               Reaching under his cravat, Levi pulled out a small bottle filled with colourful, vibrant sand; so unlike the pale brown of the grains that made up this beach. Exhaling heavily, Levi examined the contents, and allowed himself a small breath of laughter.

               He felt happy. Very, very happy.

               Because while the sand in the bottle was clearly coloured or fake, this whole experience, Levi actually being at this beach and seeing the sea, it meant that your dreams were not fake. The bottle seemed less heavy than it usually was, and feeling a burst of inspiration and giddiness, Levi pulled out the cork of the bottle.

               Pouring the half-fluorescent grains into the surface of the beach, Levi kneeled down to press some of the dry, natural sand into the bottle. Corking it again, he examined it. It was now a coarse brown with fewer colours than its predecessor, but it felt more whole.

               It was real.

               Real like your dream of the outside world.

               “Look at me [f/n],” Levi said into the open air. “I made it.”