#stohessfics

[stohessdistrict4]

The first time he saw him, he thought he’d finally lost it. He had just cut down a 5-meter class, the rain spraying silt into the air to mix with the titan’s hot blood when he’d seen him, standing there, watching.

He was of average build, shrouded in a long black trench coat, similarly black, too-large umbrella held low to cover his face. The rain fell at his feet, mud clinging to the man’s polished Oxfords, rainwater dripping past the umbrella onto his gloved hand that lay limp at his side.

He stood there, beyond the walls, a silent watchman, a voyeur of humanity’s destruction, as if he was merely waiting for a carriage. And Levi would turn away from what was surely a mirage of the rain and shadows, contorted into some twisted folktale character.

But then Levi would see him again, rain cascading in rivulets from his too-large umbrella, one black-gloved hand wrapped unmoving around its curled handle, perched high upon a tree branch. Levi’s gear would carry him by, but he would turn midair to look, to spare a precious glance at the man with the umbrella.

He began to associate the man with Death. That was the only time he ever saw him, his black umbrella an omen of destruction. He appeared on every mission, standing off to the side, never interfering or showing his face. Sometimes he caught a flash of a dark umbrella in a crowd, and like a madman would seek him out, driven by curiosity and confusion and, even, fear. But whenever he got close, the sun would be shining brightly, and there wouldn’t be an umbrella in sight.

The haunting figure seemed to contrast Erwin. While the man with the umbrella was darkness, Erwin was light. Erwin was hope and all things beautiful, with shiny golden hair, deep blue eyes, and tender smiles. He was like a shining beacon, the sun and the stars beside the man with the umbrella, cold and still and void.

It was raining hard that night, puddles collecting on the streets, mucky water kicked up by carriage wheels and horse hooves. The rain fell in sheets, and Levi found himself standing on the other side of the street from the man with the umbrella, his own grey umbrella trying to shield the rain.

The man with the umbrella was still, frozen like a statue, but his clothes rippled and undulated in the strong wind that buffeted them from the east.

“Who are you?” Levi called from across the street, but elicited no response. When the next carriage rumbled between them, the man disappeared behind it, and Levi was left alone, cold and soaked.

He caught glimpses of him still, over the next few months. His trailing black coat, his gloved fingertips, his umbrella. Some days he found himself wildly curious about the man. Others, he convinced himself he had never really been there at all. He had things to do, missions to accomplish, real, tangible items that required his complete attention and so he banished the man from his mind, and focused on what was.

And yet one night as he tossed in his bed, a storm raging outside (he had never much liked storms anyway, nor beds, nor the oppressive darkness of a cloudy night, followed by the damp, moldy stench after rain) and thought of the man with the umbrella. How no one else seemed to see him. What Erwin might think of him if he knew he was losing his already feeble grip on sanity.

But then he thought of Erwin’s lips, Erwin’s smile, his laugh, how he liked his whiskey, his coffee, his ink. How he’d look at Levi when he entered the room and how it made his stomach churn. And he would fall asleep to secret thoughts of Erwin’s lips on his neck, his breath in his ear, and think that sanity was overrated anyway.

He woke one night in a brilliant white void, bleak bright nothingness stretching in all directions. A few meters away from him were a couch and an armchair, angled a bit away from each other, and a tall metal cart on wheels. 

He crept towards the sitting area, walking around the other side to stand behind the couch. It was worn and well used but not tattered, a dark green with a tacky gold striped pattern. The armchair matched.

He blinked and a man was sitting in the armchair, completely drenched with water and gasping for breath. Levi flinched hard, and automatically ducked behind the couch, out of the man’s view as he clutched desperately at the armrests of his chair with shaking pale fingers. 

For a moment it was only the man’s gasps that filled the room and the steady drip of water from his pant leg to the floor.

Then, somewhere on the other side of the couch a door opened and was gently latched shut again. The impersonal click of dress shoes sounded against the hard white floor. Someone walked closer and sat down heavily on the couch, placing a dripping black umbrella to rest against the side of it.

“Where am I?” the man in the armchair asked, his voice quivering. “Who are you?”

“You’re in the After, my friend,” the man on the couch replied. “You are dead.”

“You- you killed me,” the man on the armchair accused, panting, his chair sliding back with a resonating screech on the cold floor.

“Why don’t you sit back down, friend; take a deep breath and we can have a little chat? We need to do your exit interview.”

“You’re Death, you’re-”

“I said sit back down.” The man on the couch’s voice echoed unnaturally around the room, and the other man gasped again, sitting back heavily on the armchair.

“I understand that this must all be very confusing for you, Patrick, but all will make sense soon.” Death’s voice was smooth and calm again. It made the hairs on Levi’s neck stand up. “I do not decide when you die or how, but I do decide where you go once you die.”

“Where I go?”

“North, or South.”

“You mean heaven or hell?”

The man on the couch’s smile was apparent in his voice. “Now you’re catching on. Your file is still being reviewed, but why don’t we start your interview now, my friend.”

The man stood, and Levi pressed himself against the couch to not be seen.

“On this screen, we can see all the good moments in your life, the bad, and the very bad.” A switch flicked, and the man sat back down on the couch. This time he leaned back against the seat, and Levi caught a glimpse of curly black hair over the top.

Keep reading on ao3

Title: The Man With The Umbrella

Words: 4,616

Genre: Canonverse