Chapter Text
It is such a perfect, simple routine for Levi. The needle pierces the spine of the folded folio, disappearing under the sheets until his dexterous fingers align it to reemerge on the other side of the cord, then it shifts over a centimetre to repeat the process. In it goes, back out it comes, around the cord it’s looped, and then it starts again. It took him half a day to learn this technique a few months ago, and ever since he’s been delightedly acquainted with his work.
It eases his mind, soothing him into a simple lull of nothing but sewing pages while the world lumbers on around him.
What is not so pacifying, and in fact is cracking his focus like a pebble against a window, is his handsome blond coworker and those annoyingly perfect blue eyes ogling him shamelessly. Across the workshop and leaning against the windowsill, Erwin is doing nothing but watching with a juvenile grin on his lips.
Levi flicks a quick, stabbing glance his way. “Don’t you have work to do?”
Erwin tosses his shoulders up in a lazy shrug. “Not until you’re finished sewing. This one is our last commission for today.”
“Then you could at least get started on cleaning up the shop. We shouldn’t dawdle—we need to get home and freshen the place up.” Like a machine, Levi fits the next folio gathering atop its family and aligns the needle to pierce the new addition.
“Russell and the others won’t arrive until the evening.” Parting with the image of Levi for a brief moment, Erwin turns his gaze to the outdoors and scans the bright sky overhead. “We have plenty of time until then.”
He’s right: there’s never been a need to hurry since they came here. Days pass like a gently cantering horse, the two men freely following along with them. They work good hours for pay that, while modest, is enough to support their humble lifestyle.
Without a rebuttal, Levi closes his mouth and directs all his attention back to his fingers. In and back out, the needle moves.
Once the whole body of pages is attached to the cords, Levi snips the excess with shears before handing the floppy flesh of a soon-to-be book to Erwin. Now that his partner is finally assigned a task, Levi makes it his own duty to start cleaning their tools and sweeping the floors.
Erwin had little patience for sewing when they started out; he took more easily to the tasks that didn’t require precision and meticulousness. Thus, it’s his duty to vice the bound pages deep between two vertical slabs of the laying press and run a plough across its fore edge, shaving the rough fringes down to a clean border. The plough moves fast under Erwin’s movement, thin strips of paper spitting out as it zips back and forth.
Levi sees the new mess forming beneath the laying press, noting to sweep there as soon as Erwin is finished. While lazily unfolding the damp washcloth he retrieved, he entertains himself with the spectacle of Erwin running the plough. It’s quite magnificent to see the muscles in Erwin’s back purl underneath his white shirt, his biceps thick and suffocating within his folded sleeves. It’s easy for Levi to picture himself on the laying press instead, Erwin using a similar motion to thrust roughly into his backside.
Dismissing the daydream with a guilty huff, Levi comes to his sewing frame and wipes down the wooden rods and screws. They’ve bantered about having sex in the workshop before, but neither man has the level of disrespect necessary to taint the honest, respectable, and historic business they work for. They’ll save their lust for the privacy of their home.
While gathering spare threads to discard, Levi listens to the rhythmic thuds of Erwin tapping the book’s spine with a hammer. They often work in a harmonious silence, sometimes starting small conversations when it pleases them and otherwise content to simply exist near each other. Their employer occasionally comes in, bringing a new set of freshly printed pages or a crate of supplies, though he trusts their diligence and rarely has to check on them beyond that.
The establishment has no other employees—until Levi and Erwin came, the bindery was run by a lone man dedicated to keeping traditional methods of bookbinding alive. Erwin charmed him with extensive knowledge of literature and history, Levi gave an impressive display of diligent and flawless work, and the couple was hired to continue a legacy that the elderly owner was struggling to maintain in his age. They were and are fortunate for their occupation, and the population of their small town came to appreciate the two newcomers that were relatively amiable and respectful in everything they did.
“I’ll sweep, if you’d like to lace the board.” Erwin sets the pages by thin boards waiting to cover them, presenting the task to Levi.
“How generous,” Levi scoffs. “Offering another task you hate doing?”
“Hate is extreme,” Erwin hums. “Though I won’t deny I struggle with threading those stubborn cords.”
Levi passes under him and pointedly sits at the worktable, picking up the materials. “You would actually improve your craft by doing it, you know.”
“Mm, maybe. Fortunately, I have a kind husband who handles the work I don’t prefer.” Erwin bends down to kiss Levi’s scalp, runs fingers through his hair, then steps away to take up the broom.
“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Even so, Levi has to hold himself still for a few moments to allow the heat in his cheeks to dissipate.
Erwin sweeps as thoroughly as Levi had taught him, taking the broom across surfaces several more times than he would’ve normally bothered. They have no overseer, and the owner that does exist is hardly around, yet somehow Levi has slipped into a vague role of supervisor between the two of them. He knows the tools best, he’s always particular about the process and—for better or worse—his reading education is still in progress, so he’s less likely to get caught up in reading the books’ contents as Erwin often has. Erwin takes Levi’s instructions in this shop, though most everywhere else Levi prefers to be the follower.
Levi sews headbands into the book’s short spine edges, bridging the space between the boards. The loose ends of string are smushed against the spine with wet adhesive paste, then the book is set in a paper press and squished underneath a wooden panel. The book is close to completion, though he’ll save the actual cover for tomorrow.
“It’s done for now. Tomorrow, you can work on tooling the cover once I cut it out and paste it against the book.” Levi takes back his cloth and wipes down the workbench, scrubbing off globs of drying paste.
“Oh, I’m delegated to tooling? You know I’m clumsy with those finicky gold leaves.” Erwin opens the rear door of the shop and sweeps his gathering out onto the porch.
“You’re even worse with paring straight lines through leather.” Sidling up to his partner, Levi’s eyes inspect every inch of the floor to check Erwin’s work. “Improve your tooling before you start on practising paring leather. It’s way easier to hide beginner mistakes in one versus the other.”
With a grin, Erwin pushes the last clump of dust outside and shuts the door. “Certainly, sir.”
“Quiet,” Levi grunts, trailing behind his partner as he moves to the entryway of the shop.
They leave the workshop after closing all windows and locking the front door, finishing their shift far earlier than usual. Mr. Bennett permitted it, citing their remarkable work ethic as reason enough to give them time off whenever they desired. Even with just two new men, the quaint workshop completes commissions with much greater efficiency than before.
The workshop is a bit of a walk from their home, but they gladly make the trek every morning and evening. At midday, the cliffside village flutters with light activity, its streets far emptier than the cramped alleys of the city. Men on horseback trot by the couple, sometimes guiding new farm animals behind them, while women walk together to retrieve their children from the town’s only schoolhouse. Erwin’s worked there on occasion, assisting with teaching when the usual instructor fell sick or offering to retrieve new schoolbooks the next time he took a trip to the city.
Levi never joins him, wary of the city like it’s been infected with a contagious plague. He’d rather stay behind and help the farmers till soil, hoping the entire time that Erwin will not run into the law while he’s away. He hasn’t yet, to their blessed relief, and even the informal watchmen of the cliffside town are oblivious to any warnings of suspicious men from the Metropolitan Police. Either the town’s watchmen go unrecognised by the MPs, or they’re too indifferent to the politics of the city to heed their edicts.
The few watchmen Erwin has met are vastly different than the types of men Nile and Kenny were. They’re gentle when they speak, they smile often, and they look at Erwin and Levi the same way they would anyone else. Even though Erwin sees their eyes glance at the matching silver bands on either man’s ring finger, he’s astonished to see them say nothing and simply bid the gentlemen good day.
The smallest symbol of connection had been a momentous step for the couple, one that continues to gnaw at Erwin every passing day. Levi seems indifferent to the display, though Erwin often catches him thumbing the ring incessantly whenever he’s anxious. Erwin took caution in the jewellery at first, sometimes turning his hand to a certain angle to hide the shimmering silver, though as time passed and no rumours were spread, he settled into wearing the band with muted pride.
Should they be questioned, they can easily claim to have wives elsewhere. A useless lie, considering most townsfolk witness them walking home together to a house that’s only owned by them. It is fortunate that they have never needed to employ a fake tale to explain their closeness or their wedding bands.
After a trip to the village shop, Erwin and Levi take the path where the buildings begin to thin and the land sprawls out for the dozen or so houses sprinkled around it. The home they share is farthest from the rest, put aptly distanced away from the town and closest to the seaside cliff the village rests on. It’s a short walk from their back porch to the cliff’s edge, atop which they have spent many evenings lounging with their bare feet dangling over the high, jagged rock face and breathing in the smell of brine wafting from the crashing waves far below. The wind is soft here, the air misted and cool. Levi’s grateful for the environment every time he steps outside.
“They’ll be here soon.” Erwin holds the door open for Levi, as he usually does despite Levi’s complaints, and hands him the sack of produce they purchased an hour ago. “I’ll set to work on the mutton. Put together a basket for them—I believe we have a spare wicker basket in the closet from Mrs. Ferrier.”
“Of course.” Levi leaves their groceries on the dining table, then leaves to the bedroom to find a suitable container for their gift.
Erwin begins by boiling water to prep the waiting slab of meat along with laying out an assortment of vegetables to add to the feast. Meals this nice are rare, but he tries to treat guests well whenever they come. With time to kill, he sits at the dining table and withdraws the single letter they received at their post office.
“Levi,” he says as his husband emerges from the bedroom. “We have a letter from Titus.”
“Good. I’m amazed he hasn’t fallen overboard yet.” Levi puts his eyes only on the clean oranges, apricots, and pouches of cherries he’s loading into the basket, ignoring eye contact with the letter. “Can you read what it says to me?”
“I can.” They’ve done this routine before, and hardly ever does Erwin fail at coaxing his student into an impromptu lesson. “But I’m sure you can just as well.”
Sinking his brow, Levi wedges a new set of bound silverware he purchased a few days ago in between two oranges. “Not just as well. We’ll get through it a lot faster if you read it.”
“What’s the rush? It’s lovely to take our time consuming our colleague’s stories, is it not?” Erwin unfolds the paper and lays it plainly on the table, then rises from his chair to open it for Levi. “Come read this letter for me, Levi.”
Tonguing his canine, Levi shoots an offensive stare at the paper. “Titus uses big words too often. It’s a pain to read his stuff.”
“You’ll never learn without giving larger vocabulary a try. It’s just a matter of phonetics—exactly as I taught you. There’s no word here you can’t read.”
“But—”
“If you’d prefer, we can wait until Russell and the others arrive.” Erwin drifts behind him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure they’d love to hear you read off Titus’s words for them.”
“You wouldn’t make me do that,” Levi dares, shuddering at the thought of stumbling over his words in front of his mates.
“How certain are you of that?”
With his lips set in a thin line, Levi considers the length of Erwin’s determination and concludes that he couldn’t hold a candle to it. Sometimes, it’s damn annoying to have a lover and a teacher in the same person, especially when that person is remarkably talented in bending a subordinate to his will.
But Levi takes pleasure in their battles. Erwin has threatened him with worse, subjecting him to cruel punishments of deprivation or overstimulation for failing to practise his handwriting or forgetting an item on the grocery list he was required to memorise. They agree to these systems often: setting new terms that they both consent to, often with a reward or punishment on the other side. It feels good to Levi to be challenged by Erwin and his mighty wit, and it feels just as fantastic to receive pleasure when it is so appropriately deserved.
If he quits bitching and reads the letter, there’s a good chance his husband will reward him. Keen on earning it, and also avoiding punishment, Levi takes a seat in front of the paper.
“Good boy.”
The fingers he uses to pick up the paper clench into the parchment. He shoves out a sigh.
“Dear Erwin and Levi.” That line is the easiest. He’s seen and heard it numerous times before, and there are no two words he knows better than their names.
The blocks of text beneath it intimidate him, even more so with Erwin’s broad shadow looming over him. He trains his eyes on the first letter and begins picking apart the words.
“I pray this let-ter finn-des—finds you well.” It takes time, but the student works through longer words and corrects words he’s heard and spoken before. “I’ve come to dowb—doubt the…the re-lie-ab—reliability of sho-reh-side—shoreside post offices.”
Two whole sentences down. This work is grating on Levi, far less enjoyable than the simplicity of sewing pages. He would’ve never continued with this if Erwin wasn’t such a persistent teacher.
“Very good,” Erwin praises. “Keep putting together each syllable when the word is longer. You’ll start catching on to syllable combinations soon.”
“Yeah, well—”
“No. Keep reading, Levi.”
Stuck under a firm instructor, Levi takes a few seconds to find his spot again. “At this rate, I may find more suck-ess—success—why the hell do they spell these words that way—”
“Focus.”
“—success in de-live-ring…de…de-live…”
“Almost. Split up the syllables differently. Remember that ‘ing’ is a suffix added on. What word do we start with if it's not there?”
Levi tries that approach. “De-live-er? De-liv-er. Deliver—delivering.”
“There. Perfect. Try the sentence again.”
“At this rate, I may find more success delivering my mess-ages by bottles toss-ed—tossed into the sea.”
Erwin’s grin is damn stupid, but it always takes over his face when he watches Levi read. It thoroughly warms his heart to watch Levi try, to see his husband fight through the world of literacy that’s emerged as his greatest adversary. Levi is a determined man with unshakable resolve, and even in a situation as simple as sounding out words, it’s glorious to watch him fight.
For several minutes, Levi runs his thumb underneath each word he reads aloud, tripping over words with abnormal pronunciations or often putting together syllables poorly. Erwin silently reads with him, waiting for him to reach the end of a sentence before he skims the next one.
April weather has been kind to the Cheviot, with only a few light storms hitting us. There is nothing to do during those downpours but write to my mates, so this may be one of many more letters to come.
I do miss the House. I spend many nights craving the warmth of good gin while my mates share stories around me. I can only hope that you both have ended up as happy or happier than we were back then.
Levi, please continue to take care of Erwin. More importantly, put down your worries and rest often. I picture you hiding the weight of heavy concern you burden yourself with, as you so often did in the House. Allow yourself the right to be lazy. You deserve leisure and happiness now.
Erwin, my former Master and employer, I hope your new life is allowing you to flourish in a way you rarely have before. I can never forget the earnest look in your eyes as you took down the House, and it is a small dream of mine to discover the same satisfaction you seem to have found in Levi. I need not tell you to treat him well, as I’m sure you endeavour to do so every day.
Though society finds us three sinful, I know there are no men with more grace than the two of you. When I return, I look forward to reconnecting with you, wherever you have ended up.
Until then, my friends, I will keep you in my thoughts.
With utmost regards,
Titus Pavlidis
Levi drops the paper as soon as he’s done, taking in a big inhale like he finished a strenuous workout. Almost immediately he’s embraced by Erwin from behind, caught in large arms that hug him tightly.
“Very good, angel. You did wonderfully. Think about how much longer it took you to read the collection of fables two weeks ago; you’ve made remarkable progress in that time.”
“Maybe I’m sick of reading children’s stories,” Levi replies, covering up how utterly embarrassed he is to be praised for what should be a common talent.
“Then I’ll assign you the works of the Bronte sisters next week. They’ll assuredly introduce you to the full range of the English language.”
“Fantastic.” Though, Levi wishes he had kept his mouth shut just once. He’s not excited about chipping away at enormous paragraphs like he just had to do.
Erwin plants a kiss on Levi’s cheek, even as his husband shrivels like a grumpy cat. “This won’t go unrewarded. Let’s tend to our guests—they’ll be here any minute—then I’ll give you what you deserve for your hard work. Is that alright?”
“Yeah. Thank you, Erwin.”
Erwin moves to start a kettle, finding appropriate tea leaves from the rather extraordinary collection they own. He transfers the slab of mutton to the boiling pot and checks his pocket watch to start a mental timer.
Levi puts a few jam jars in the basket, then three bars of soap. Merchandise made by the locals and crafted with far more care than the businesses of the city. Levi could name the exact shop and worker that provided each fruit, cutlery, and toiletry he gathered for his guests.
He lifts his head a second before they hear a knock at the door. “Finally,” Levi breathes with more delight than usual as he drifts to the entrance.
“Levi,” Russell greets warmly as the door is opened for him. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You as well.” Levi instinctually puts out a hand to stop the smaller guest trying to slip past Russell and barge into the home. “Shoes, Jules. Don’t track dirt on Erwin’s fancy new carpet—you’ll make him cry.”
Snickering, Jules picks up Levi’s hand and plants a grinning kiss on his knuckles. “Sure thing, Levi! Thanks for having us over.”
“Don’t make me regret it, rascal.”
Jules toes their shoes off as Russell makes way for Chester, the last of the trio to shuffle inside. “Levi, good afternoon,” he says as he politely slips out of his boots.
“Afternoon, Chester. I can take that suitcase to your bedroom upstairs if you’d like.”
“That’d be great.” Chester hands over the hefty case holding enough supplies for three people on their short trip. “Is Erwin in?”
“Yeah, in the kitchen. Hand me your coats, too.” Levi scoops up the tailcoat Russell offers him, opening a nearby closet to store it. “Erwin, open some windows! That steam is going to heat up the whole house.”
“Erwin!” Chester echoes as he hurries through the living space, finding the dining room and the kitchen beyond it. “You look great, Erwin! How have you been?”
Elsewhere, the two chat. Russell puts Jules’ haphazard shoes in a neat line beside his while Jules loosens the multitude of buttons running down their long, draping overcoat. “Levi, look,” they boast as they shed the garment. They wear a simple dress, one composed of sky blue cotton with lace hems and a frilly white neckline. It has a slight cinch at the waist, but is otherwise homely and modest. “I made this!”
“You made that?”
“Yeah! I became an apprentice for a seamstress a few blocks from our flat. She gives me leftover materials—Russell even bought me some tools to work at home.” They dig through the pockets of their overcoat as they talk, searching for something. “Soon, I’ll make all sorts of dresses and suits for clients. I’ll finally bring in some money.”
“That’s pretty good work,” Levi compliments, and he honestly means it. “Well done, Jules.”
“Here.” Jules hands him a folded cloth, its adornment facing up. “I made this for you.”
It’s an embroidered handkerchief, bordered with eloquently sewn edges and a single initial near its corner. The letter L is sewn in script with deep navy threads, floral decorations hugging it. None of the depicted flowers are specifically magnolias, but in fairness they are too small to really assign a species to.
“It’s not much,” Jules says. “But I’m trying my hand at embroidery. I hope you like it.”
Levi looks up from the gift and, for just a few fleeting moments, lets a small, honest smile play across his lips. “It’s pretty, Jules, and very thoughtful. Thank you.”
With a grin triple the size of Levi’s, Jules giddily picks at the threads of their coat. “You’re—you’re very welcome! I’m glad you like it!”
“Of course I do. Go say hi to Erwin already—make sure he’s not burning the mutton or something.”
Dismissed, Jules drops off their coat and scampers to the kitchen where they enter the conversation, quieting the space where Levi and Russell remain.
“You’re welcome to join them,” Levi says, putting his smile away. “I’ll put your things upstairs.”
Russell passes the staircase Levi ascends and comes to the kitchen, crowding the space with far more bodies than its usual capacity. He accepts the hand Erwin offers, smiles kindly at his ex-Master, and asks about his health.
Jules and Chester are given tools and ingredients to join the crew of chefs, following Erwin’s instructions—which were originally Levi’s instructions—on how to skin potatoes and chop carrots. Russell squeezes by them to take the boiling kettle, moving it to the teapot with leaves waiting inside.
When Levi comes back, Russell has relocated to the small table out on the back porch, the tea set with him. Drawn to the fresh brew, and encouraged by Erwin, Levi steps outside and joins Russell at the table he’s often shared with Erwin.
“It’s tortuous to come back here,” Russell says wistfully. “It makes me miss this view every time I leave.”
Levi sits on an iron-wrought chair, his gaze drifting across the horizon. The empty grassland stretches out until it stops abruptly at the cliff’s edge, beyond which the ocean glitters with the reflection of the evening sun.
“You’re welcome to move out here,” Levi suggests, crossing his legs. “There’s other cottages along the cliff.”
“I can’t.” Russell takes the teapot and pours a serving into Levi’s cup. “Jules and Chester are thriving—Chester’s just been offered a position as an illustrator for a nearby publishing house. And Jules loves their mentor—they’re quite passionate about dressmaking. I want them to keep working on their craft in the city.”
“Fair enough.” Levi grips the cup, the steam kissing his palm. “Have you gotten what you want?”
“Yes, I’m content,” Russell assures. “I make good money at the club and the three of us live well together. Sometimes we go shopping, or drink, or take holidays. Making sure they’re okay…I think that’s gratifying enough for me.”
“It’s good that you’re there for them.” Levi drinks. He’s relieved to know Russell and his family are still doing well—he worried for any courtesan that was left behind in the hunting grounds of the law. “You know you can always come here if something bad happens.”
“Of course.”
They sit in silence for a few minutes, listening to the distant crash of waves and the muffled chattering of the chefs inside. Memories of the past seem to stir between them, but bothering to address them would be trivial.
Instead, Russell glances at the glowing band on Levi’s finger. “I see you’ve exchanged vows, Mr. Smith.”
Levi rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”
“You didn’t take his surname?”
“I…” Levi loses his words when looking at the ring, still unsure of what etiquette he wants to adhere to. Months have passed since they were wed, yet he’s never committed to all customs of a marriage. His surname, even now, is undecided. “My name is Levi. That’s…all that’s important right now.”
“Certainly.” Russell doesn’t push him on the matter. “Was there a ceremony?”
“Hardly. We got our bands engraved before taking a trip to the mountains up north. A gazebo we found worked just as well as any damn church.”
“Just you two?”
“Of course. I don’t need someone else to do a ceremony and tell me I’m married.”
“I’m sure Erwin told you numerous times while you were bent over the gazebo’s railing.”
“Shut up,” Levi rasps under Russell’s chuckle. “He’s a show-off, but he wouldn’t risk that.”
“Either way, it’s lovely to see you two wed. Gives some hope for the rest of our kind.”
Levi scoffs. “Erwin and I aren’t idols at all, much less crusaders. We ran away and hid in the middle of nowhere like cowards.” He tilts his gaze to Russell. “I wouldn’t call what we did inspiring.”
Russell reflects his look, though his eyes are soft with a sort of pleased contentment. “You found a way to be happy—that’s a better rebellion than most protests or wars.”
The thought pokes at Levi’s mind. “Hm.”
“Le-vi!” Jules sings as they crack open the rear door. “Mr. Erwin said we can start eating!”
“Once you set the table,” Erwin’s voice reminds from inside.
“Once I set the table.” Remembering the task they were given, Jules disappears right away.
Sighing, Levi stands and moves to take the tea set’s tray before Russell stops him.
“Let me,” his ex-coworker requests. “Go ahead and get settled inside.”
Levi yields, coming back into the home and taking a place at the dining table they’ve borrowed from a neighbour to hold five occupants. Their usual table is far too small.
Within minutes, the five are seated on either side of the rectangle, nobody claiming the head. They receive portions, Levi the last to claim food, and eat ceremoniously while bantering about their joys and woes the past few months. On Levi’s right side, Erwin relishes a glass of wine and murmurs about the quality across the table to Russell while Levi and Chester compare how far their literacy education has come along. Jules joins in, boasting how fantastic their handwriting has become due to the attention to detail their sewing lessons have given them, but the artist opposite them dares to think his dexterity has left him with rather eloquent script. Levi can’t comment much; his handwriting quality is equivalent to that of a toddler’s in his eyes.
“Russell,” Erwin starts during a lull wherein Levi is serving slabs of mutton. “Has anything come of the House?”
“I haven’t been around to check on it,” he answers. “Though, the papers last week reported a remarkable commercial estate sold for higher than expected. The public auction started low, given the location, but some avant garde aristocrat bought out the competition with a hefty bid. The design and layout interested him, they said.”
Levi glances Erwin’s way, expecting to see a glimmer of intrigue in his eye, but he finds nothing of the sort. Erwin nods without emotion and speaks evenly. “The buyer’s name?”
“Anonymous. Almost like they knew what it used to be.”
“That’s what I said.” Chester points a fork at Russell. “I swear it has to be a previous client. I’m sure as soon as they heard that the former Magnolia House was being sold, they wanted to sweep up a little—well, a huge souvenir. I could name loads of chaps with enough money for that.”
The image of that place falling into the hands of a former client is irksome to Levi. It would take an individual with a certain level of eccentricity and wealth to claim the Magnolia House as theirs—Levi hates to admit who could fit that description.
“I don’t know if it’s been repurposed yet,” Russell continues. “Whoever bought it hasn’t made any grand announcements, and like I said, I haven’t been back.”
“No matter.” Erwin’s done with his line of questioning, content with the answers he’s received.
When they finish dinner, Chester and Russell take dishes to the kitchen while Jules shows Erwin their sewing kit and its eloquent contents. Levi paces the house, locking doors and closing windows as the sun sets beyond them. He takes a few minutes for himself, dressing for bed and idling in the privacy of his bedroom, before coming back to the living room where a young fire dances in the fireplace and the friends pick spots in the room to lounge.
Levi perches on the couch, drawing his knees to his chest and hugging them, while Erwin drapes a single arm across his back. It’s perfect for the two of them, giving Erwin the physical touch he loves without making Levi uncomfortable by displaying excessive affection semi-publicly.
The gentlemen talk late into the night. Chester attempts to sketch the way Jules leans against the fireplace, but they move so often he gives up on that subject and tries again with Russell sitting leisurely in an armchair. Erwin asks about Jules’ mentor or the latest scandal Russell had at the gentlemen’s club and Levi listens to the conversations with half-lidded eyes resting on the dancing flames. He has little to say, but to exist among them is rather gratifying for him.
He finds it strange that this group of sinners is allowed to live so freely. They are condemned, rebuked, and hidden away, but that hardly seems to be the case when they’re smiling softly and enjoying a fire. He had to sell himself numerous times for this, and at the end of it all he’s been granted a life he wishes his mother could have known.
He recognizes that Erwin got his wish after all. Levi’s dedicated to sticking around a while longer, at least until he and Erwin grow old and find some way to be discreetly buried together. After that, he hopes he can introduce him to her—as long as sodomites and prostitutes end up in the same afterlife. She may already know him if she’s been granted the privilege to watch over her son.
Until then, he’s content in his place alongside Erwin. He does not know what he’s done to deserve this splendour, but the time for self-loathing has passed.
The men bid each other goodnight, the three guests going upstairs while the couple plods to their master bedroom. Levi takes Erwin’s hand for the short walk, lumbering along with genuine lethargy that has always eluded him until now. His days are incredibly productive, filled with every delightful domestic task and chore a street cat could dream of, and thus they always end with unique fatigue that he gladly welcomes.
He can feel functions in his body, drooping eyelids and sluggish steps, and he can finally acknowledge them properly. He doesn’t need to sleep lightly in fear of thieves, nor fend off harrowing thoughts of which client is scheduled the next day. In bed, his body is heavy and warm beside Erwin.
Levi is able to close his eyes, murmur a few words of love to his husband, and fall asleep without a single concern pricking at his mind.