ackerman brainrot

You stirred slightly, caught between the haze of sleep and wakefulness. Warmth surrounded you, and your cheek was pressed against something solid. A steady, rhythmic sound filled your ears—Levi’s heartbeat.

It wasn’t until your hand shifted against his side that realization hit. Your arm was draped across him, your body curled into his. You froze. His arm is also draped over your back, hand resting on your shoulder, vaguely reminding you of how he held you from the back last night.

Levi’s breathing was slow and even, his chest rising and falling beneath your palm. He was still asleep, his face relaxed in a way you rarely saw. His brows, which were almost always furrowed, were smooth. His lips, slightly parted, showed none of the sharp remarks or dry humor you were used to.

You wanted to move—needed to—but your body betrayed you, unwilling to disturb the rare moment of peace. Levi looked genuinely asleep, which was rare. So instead, you lingered, your mind racing. It felt so natural, so familiar, and yet… it wasn’t.

The spell broke when a sudden weight landed on the bed, startling both of you.

Levi grunted, his brows knitting as his eyes flickered open.

Before you could so much as untangle yourself, Earl, your adorably sassy cat, pounced directly onto Levi’s chest, his tail whipping against your face.

“What the—” Levi’s voice was rough, his expression dazed as Earl began sniffing his face, completely unbothered by the chaos he’d caused.

“Earl!” you hissed, finally pulling yourself away from Levi, your face burning. You grabbed the cat, holding him up in front of you like a misbehaving child. “Really?” 

The black cat hangs in the air, swaying slightly in your hands, completely unmoved by your scolding. In honesty, you were thankful for the cat getting you out on what was supposed to be an awkward situation of waking up.

Good job, Earl. You thought. 

Levi sat up, raking a hand through his mussed hair, his silver eyes narrowing at Earl. You had to look away from him, hoping he didn’t notice your eyes shifting quickly from his sexily messy hair and toned arms that’s fighting peeking through the sleeve of your shirt that shifted down when he ran his hand through his hair. 

“Is he always this… invasive?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, setting Earl on your lap. “He’s just excited to eat. He likes to make sure everyone knows who’s in charge around here.”

Earl, as if to emphasize your point, let out a demanding meow before jumping off the bed and trotting out the bedroom, clearly demanding breakfast.

Levi sighed, standing and stretching, the hem of his shirt lifting slightly as he did. “Might as well feed him before he gets ideas.”

“Sorry about that,” you said sheepishly, moving to follow him.

Levi glanced at you, his tone dry but not unkind. “Waking up to your cat attacking me is definitely a first.”

You laughed again, grateful for Earl’s impeccable timing. Whatever awkwardness lingered from the moment before was replaced by a quiet, easy rhythm as the two of you prepared yourself for breakfast. 

After the two of you are done with your morning routine, which thankfully you have a spare toothbrush for Levi, the both of you headed to the kitchen. You brought out Earl’s food, laid them out on the counter and opened the fridge, eyes shifting to Levi who quietly followed you to the kitchen.

“Can you feed him while I make breakfast?” you ask, eyes hopeful.

Levi stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, giving Earl a scrutinizing look as the cat meowed expectantly by his food bowl.

“Alright,” he muttered, reaching for the bag of cat food on the counter. “What’s the serving size for this tiny menace?”

“Two scoops,” you said over your shoulder as you pulled out a carton of eggs.

Levi measured out the food with precision, his movements sharp and efficient, as though he were handling something far more serious than feeding a cat. Earl, meanwhile, paced in impatient circles, tail flicking as he let out tiny, demanding meows.

“Pushy, aren’t you?” Levi remarked dryly, crouching to set the bowl down. Earl immediately dove in, devouring the food like he hadn’t eaten in days.

You chuckled from the stove. “He’s got a big personality. Much like someone I know.”

Levi straightened, ignoring your comment and brushing his hands together as he leaned against the counter, watching you work. “Didn’t think I’d be running errands for a cat this morning,” he said, his tone teasing but light.

“Consider it your rent for staying over,” you quipped, cracking an egg into the pan.

He raised a brow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “So I get breakfast and a deal on rent? Generous of you.”

You grinned but didn’t reply, focusing on flipping the eggs. The kitchen is filled with the soft sizzle of butter, the smell of toast warming in the toaster, and the quiet hum of your coffee maker brewing fresh coffee while you told Levi to make his own tea that he found on your cupboard. Well, not before voicing out 

“Why does this can of tea have dents on it?” He asked, amused and holding up the can that you bought when you first saw Moblit. Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed at the thought coming back. 

Levi didn’t say much as he moved around the kitchen, tidying up stray items as though it was second nature. He wiped the counter, straightened a dish towel, even refilled Earl’s water bowl when he noticed it wasn’t full. It was kind of funny that you had to say something.

“Do you ever sit still?” you asked, glancing at him from the stove.

“I do,” he replied, his smirk deepening. “Just not when there’s chaos around.”

“It’s not chaos,” you protested, gesturing vaguely around the kitchen.

He gave a small shrug, though his expression softened slightly. “If you say so.”

A comfortable silence settled between you. Levi poured your cup of coffee while you plated breakfast, the two of you moving in sync despite the tight space.

When you finally set the plates down on the table, Levi handed you the cup of coffee, his eyes flicking briefly to yours. “Not bad teamwork.”

You smiled, sitting down across from him. “Earl’s happy, and breakfast’s ready. I’d call that a win.”

Levi gave a soft hum of agreement, picking up his fork. For a moment, it felt easy—like you were two people simply sharing a quiet morning together. It’s like you two were actually friends.

When the two of you were done eating and after winning over Levi as he insisted on washing the dishes by basically having to push Levi out of the kitchen, you place the last of the breakfast dishes in the sink, wiping your hands on a towel as you glance at Levi. He’s still seated at your tiny kitchen table, tea cup in hand, looking unusually relaxed for someone who had a night like his. Earl brushes past his legs before hopping onto the counter, and Levi glares at the cat briefly before returning to his tea.

“So,” you begin, leaning against the counter, “Hange and Moblit’s wedding is coming up. Do you have your gift figured out yet?”

Levi takes a slow sip, barely acknowledging your question. “No.”

“Really? You’re usually so on top of things,” you tease.

“I don’t waste energy on people’s weddings until I have to.”

You chuckle, crossing your arms. “Fair point. But the gift is important, you know. It’s Hange and Moblit. You can’t just show up empty-handed and scowl in the corner.”

Levi raises an eyebrow. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“Good, because I don’t think Hange would let you live it down,” you quip, walking over to sit across from him. “What are you thinking of getting them, then?”

His gaze shifts to you, expression unreadable. “What do you usually give people who spend their free time terrorizing the streets of Paradis with ‘scientific breakthroughs’?”

You laugh at that, shaking your head. “True. Hange’s one-of-a-kind. Moblit too, honestly, for putting up with her. I guess… something meaningful? Or fun?”

Levi huffs, setting his cup down. “Meaningful. Right. You’re not thinking of one of those ridiculous photo albums, are you?”

“Excuse me?” you say, feigning offense. “Photo albums are sentimental and timeless. Better than, I don’t know, a plain frying pan.”

“High-quality cookware isn’t plain,” Levi replies, deadpan. “It’s practical. They’re starting a household.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, leaning back in your chair. “You think Hange’s going to care about pots and pans? Are we talking about the same Hange?”

Levi doesn’t reply immediately, but the faintest twitch of his lips betrays him.

“What about you?” he asks after a pause.

“What about me?”

“Do you have a gift in mind?”

You hesitate. “Not really. I’ve been busy. Haven’t had time to think about it.”

Levi leans back, arms folding across his chest. “Then figure it out now. We’ll go pick something out this afternoon.”

You blink, caught off guard. “We?”

“Yeah. You clearly need help.”

“And you don’t?”

Levi shrugs. “I’ll manage. But since we’re both clueless, we might as well waste time together.”

A smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. “Fine. But if you even look at cookware, I’m dragging you out of the store.”

“You can try,” he replies smoothly, finishing the last of his tea.

After a while following the conversation, Levi heads home for a bit, wanting to get a proper change of clothes before heading out to your gift shopping. You also took the time to prepare yourself for the day ahead, showering with all your might, choosing a good casual outfit for half an hour, and putting on proper makeup. 

The early afternoon sun filters through the streets as Levi picks you up from your apartment in his car. 

As you arrive at the center of the city, the marketplace buzzes with energy, shoppers weaving in and out of storefronts, vendors calling out to passersby. It’s a lively scene, a stark contrast to the quiet of your apartment just hours ago.

“Alright,” you say, clutching your bag as you walk beside him. “First stop?”

Levi glances around, his expression unreadable but his pace unhurried. “You’re the one who hasn’t thought of anything yet. Pick a store.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a gentleman, truly.”

He doesn’t reply, but the corner of his mouth twitches, and you count that as a victory.

After a few moments of scanning the shops, your eyes land on a boutique with quirky home goods displayed in the window. You grab Levi’s arm without thinking, tugging him toward it.

“This one!”

He stops just short of the door, eyeing the display. “If this is another shop full of useless junk—”

“It’s not junk,” you insist, dragging him inside. “It’s artsy. Hange would love it.”

The interior of the store is as whimsical as its window promised—bright colors, mismatched shelves, and a faint scent of lavender in the air. You immediately start browsing, your eyes flitting over ceramic planters shaped like animals, colorful tapestries, and handmade journals.

Levi follows, his hands in his pockets, clearly unimpressed. “You think they’ll actually use any of this?”

“Hange? Definitely,” you say, picking up a set of oddly shaped wine glasses. “What about these? Functional and fun.”

Levi raises an eyebrow. “They look like they’d break if you breathe on them.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible,” you mutter, setting them down.

As you continue browsing, Levi’s attention is drawn to a small shelf near the back of the store. You glance over, curious, and find him inspecting a sleek, minimalist tea set.

“For Moblit?” you guess, stepping closer.

Levi shrugs, his fingers brushing the edge of the teapot. “He might appreciate it. Keeps him calm when Hange gets… Hange.”

You smile, trying to picture Moblit carefully pouring tea while Hange rambles about her latest experiment. It’s almost too perfect. You also remember how Moblit told you when you first met that it was him who got Hange to actually drink tea. The memory warms your chest, knowing that Moblit is such a good match for your friend.

“I like it,” you say, surprising him. “It’s thoughtful. Let’s keep it in mind and go around one last time.”

He nods, setting the box back down with care as you walk around the store once more to see what else you haven’t spotted.

After deciding that the tea was the best choice, the two of you exit the quirky boutique, armed with a small bag containing the tea set for Moblit and Hange, to be named a gift from Levi. He carries it in one hand, his other tucked neatly into his pocket as he scans the street ahead.

“Alright,” you say, squinting in the sunlight, “one gift down. Now we just need something from me, and something that screams Hange.”

“Nothing screams louder than Hange herself,” Levi mutters, earning a chuckle from you.

As you walk, you glance over at him, curiosity bubbling up. “So… how did Hange and Moblit even happen? He wasn’t around when I left, was he?”

Levi hums, thinking for a moment. “No. Moblit came a little after you left. Fresh out of college, I think. He started working as Hange’s assistant when she was still with that research company.”

“Wait, assistant?” you interrupt, intrigued. “Like, lab assistant?”

“More like someone to keep her from burning the place down,” Levi replies dryly.

You laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Levi continues, his tone casual but laced with a hint of fondness. “They were… chaotic. Moblit was constantly putting out fires, literal and otherwise. But he stuck around. Hange tested his patience in every way possible, and he still showed up every day.”

You nod, smiling at the thought. “So, what, one day they just realized they liked each other?”

Levi shrugs. “Something like that. I didn’t ask for details. One day they were working late nights together; the next, he was the only one who could drag her away from the lab. Took a while, but they figured it out.”

“Sounds like a rom-com,” you muse, hands in your pockets.

Levi glances at you sideways. “Maybe, if your idea of romance includes a lot of yelling and broken glassware.”

“That just adds spice,” you tease, nudging his arm.

He scoffs lightly but doesn’t argue.

As you round a corner, your eyes catch on a brightly lit storefront across the street. The garish neon sign leaves little to the imagination, and your lips curl into a mischievous grin.

“Hey, Levi,” you say, feigning innocence. “What about that place? Think Hange would get a kick out of something from there?”

Levi follows your gaze to the adult shop and stops dead in his tracks. His expression twists into a mix of annoyance and disbelief.

“No,” he says flatly.

“Oh, come on,” you press, barely suppressing your laughter. “It’d be hilarious!”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s so on-brand for her!” you argue, crossing your arms. 

Levi shakes his head firmly. “You can go in there yourself if you want. I’m not stepping foot in that place.”

“Wow, way to be a team player,” you tease, giving him a playful nudge as the two of you continue walking.

“I’m already regretting this,” he mutters, though you catch the faintest hint of a smirk on his face.

The store bell jingles as you and Levi step inside the eclectic shop, a place so jam-packed with trinkets and oddities that it feels like stepping into Hange’s brain. You take a deep breath, the faint scent of sandalwood incense mixed with dust bringing an odd comfort.

“This might be it,” you say, spinning to face Levi.

He scans the chaotic layout of the shop, shelves stacked precariously with knickknacks and books. “This is it? You dragged me here for this?”

“Oh, don’t start,” you say, giving him a playful glare. “You’ve been way too grumpy for someone having a shopping day with me.”

“I didn’t realize I signed up for chaos,” he mutters, though he trails behind you as you dive into the aisles.

You scan the shelves eagerly, your fingers brushing over odd gadgets, vintage postcards, and bizarrely specific books. Levi stands a step behind, hands shoved into his pockets as he glances around disinterestedly.

“Look at this!” you exclaim, holding up a miniature plasma ball. “Hange would love this! She’d put it on her desk and zap it every time she had an idea.”

“She’d break it within a week,” Levi says, unimpressed.

“True.” You laugh, setting it back down and moving further into the shop.

Levi, seemingly resigned to his fate, picks up an intricately carved paperweight shaped like a hyena. He studies it for a second before showing it to you. “This isn’t terrible.”

You squint at it. “Is that because you think it’s practical, or because it reminds you of Hange?”

He shrugs, putting it back without answering, but the slight quirk of his lips betrays him.

Eventually, you stumble upon a small section of quirky inventions. Your eyes land on a device labeled “All-In-One Enthusiast’s Gadget: Compass, Thermometer, and Laser Pointer.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, grabbing it off the shelf. “Levi, look at this!”

He leans in to inspect it. “What even is that?”

“Perfection,” you reply dramatically. “Hange could use this for literally everything. Getting lost on one of her field trips? Compass. Want to mess with someone’s cat? Laser pointer. Need to check if it’s too cold for a jacket? Thermometer!”

“Or,” Levi says, taking it from you, “she’ll use it twice and lose it.”

“That’s… also valid.” You laugh. “But isn’t that the fun of it?”

He sets it back down and picks up a hardcover book titled “Wonders of the World: Unexplained Phenomena and Curious Discoveries.” He flips through the pages, his brow furrowing slightly.

“She’d like this,” he says simply.

You peer over his shoulder, nodding. “You’re right. She loves this kind of stuff. Aliens, strange artifacts, ghosts… She’d devour this.”

“Finally,” he mutters, heading toward the counter with the book.

“Wait!” you say, grabbing the gadget and rushing after him. “We’re getting both.”

He gives you a flat look. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” you tease, grinning.

The clerk wraps up the items, commenting on your “unique taste.” Levi pays without hesitation, ignoring your protests.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say as the two of you step outside.

“Think of it as compensation,” he says dryly. “For dragging me into this circus.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “You’re too kind, Captain Grumpy.”

As you walk, your attention catches on a wedding display in the window of a boutique. The mannequins are dressed in elegant white and black, surrounded by glittering décor. You slow your pace, drawn to the scene.

“They really went all out,” you murmur, your eyes lingering on the intricate details.

Levi pauses beside you, his gaze following yours. After a moment, he speaks, his tone softer than before. “People are different in relationships.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sudden comment.

“Some change to match their partner,” he continues, his eyes still on the display. “Others… lose themselves trying to keep the other happy.”

Your chest tightens at the subtle weight of his words. You can’t help but wonder if he’s hinting at your past together, though he doesn’t look at you or elaborate further.

“Which one do you think you are?” you ask, your voice almost a whisper.

He turns to you then, his expression unreadable. “Neither.”

You don’t press him, and the two of you walk in silence until you reach another store.

“Well,” you say, forcing a lightness into your tone as you point at the boutique across the street. “Should we pick something up for the honeymoon? I’m sure they’d appreciate something… educational.”

Levi follows your gaze, his eyes landing on the unmistakable neon sign of an adult shop. His response is immediate.

“No.”

“Come on, think of the laughs!” you say, grinning at his deadpan expression.

“I said no.”

You laugh, raising your hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. No fun.”

His glare softens as he shakes his head, and for a brief moment, you catch the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Let’s find something else they won’t want to throw out,” he says, leading the way into the next store.

The day stretches into evening, and the vibrant streets of Stohess hum with life as you and Levi step out of the last shop, your shopping bags rustling. In the end, you settled on also giving them a personalized wooden cutting board with their name carved on the corner and on the sides, “may you be filled with the most powerful form of energy—love.” 

The golden glow of the setting sun bathes everything in a warm hue, and your stomach growls, breaking the momentary quiet.

Levi glances at you. “Hungry?”

You nod sheepishly. “Starving. All this gift-hunting works up an appetite.”

“Yeah, who was the one ridiculing kitchenware this morning only to end up with a cutting board?” Levi teased, earning a glare from you. 

He points down the street toward a cozy-looking restaurant with glowing lanterns strung outside. “Let’s eat there. It’s quiet.”

You glance in the direction he’s pointing, nodding in agreement. “Alright, but I need to grab something first. Go ahead and get us a table—I’ll be quick.”

Levi narrows his eyes slightly, skeptical. “What do you need so urgently?”

“Just some essentials I ran out of at home. It won’t take long, promise,” you reply, already stepping away before he can argue.

He sighs but doesn’t press further. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

As Levi makes his way into the restaurant, you slip down the block to a nearby flower stand you’d spotted earlier. Your eyes wander over the small yet colorful selection until a simple bouquet of blue hyacinths and white orchids catches your attention. They’re elegant and understated, much like the man they’re meant for.

“This one, please,” you tell the vendor.

The vendor, a gentle old woman, smiles. “Nice choice.” 

“Perfect,” you murmur, paying the vendor before hurrying back—well, before stopping by one last store, that is. 

Inside the restaurant, Levi sits at a window-side table, glancing at the menu with his usual calm demeanor. The warm glow of the lanterns outside casts soft light across his face, making him look more relaxed than usual. When you approach, flowers hidden behind your back, his eyes flick up, noting your arrival.

“Took you long enough,” he remarks, his tone laced with mild exasperation.

“I come bearing peace,” you say with a grin, revealing the bouquet.

Levi blinks, momentarily stunned. “Flowers?”

“For you,” you say, setting them gently on the table in front of him. 

He stares at the flowers for a beat before letting out a quiet sigh, though there’s a faint hint of color on his cheeks. “You’re unbelievable.”

“In a good way, I hope,” you tease, sitting down across from him. “Did you know men rarely get flowers?” 

He picks up the bouquet carefully, his fingers brushing against the petals. “I do. And they’re… nice,” he mutters, setting them aside with practiced nonchalance. “Thanks.”

You can’t help but smile at his reaction, knowing he’s not the type to gush over such things. The server arrives, and the two of you place your orders, the warmth of the restaurant and the soft glow of the evening making everything feel a little more intimate.

“So,” Levi begins once the server leaves. “What was so urgent that you had to leave me standing here like an idiot?”

“Already told you—essentials,” you say lightly. “The flowers were just an extra.”

“Hm,” he replies, though his expression softens ever so slightly as he glances at the bouquet again.

The small, cozy restaurant Levi had chosen was warm and inviting, with the scent of freshly baked bread and simmering herbs wafting through the air. The two of you sat by the window, the quiet hum of conversation around you providing a pleasant backdrop.

“You’re predictable, you know,” you tease as Levi scans the menu.

His eyes flick up to meet yours. “How so?”

“Always going for the places with minimal crowds and simple menus,” you reply, gesturing around the understated interior.

“Simple is better,” he says matter-of-factly. “Less room for error.”

You roll your eyes, grinning. “Right, because a chaotic place would just ruin your whole day.”

“Exactly,” he deadpans, but the faintest twitch of his lips gives him away.

The server arrives, and after placing your orders, you lean back in your seat, folding your arms. “So, do you ever relax, or is this just a lifelong state of being?”

Levi raises an eyebrow. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Fair point,” you concede, chuckling. “But seriously, don’t you ever just… let loose? Try something new, something out of your comfort zone lately?”

He considers this for a moment. “Define ‘letting loose.’”

“I don’t know, karaoke? Trying spicy food? Wearing something other than black?”

“I’ve done all those things,” he counters, taking a sip of water.

“Wait, you’ve done karaoke?” you ask, incredulous.

You remember back in college, he would just sit in the corner whenever you and your friends would have karaoke night. 

“I was coerced,” he admits, looking vaguely annoyed at the memory.

“By Hange, I bet,” you say, laughing.

“Who else?” he mutters, shaking his head.

The conversation drifts to lighter topics as the food arrives, and you find yourself relaxing more than you’d expected. The two of you share observations about the other diners, recalling old inside jokes, and even debating which of the dishes you ordered was better.

At one point, Levi surprises you by asking, “So, what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve done recently?”

You blink at him. “Ridiculous?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning back slightly. “Something impulsive. Out of character.”

You think for a moment, then grin. “I once sang the entire theme song of a kid’s cartoon during a work karaoke night. Sober.”

Levi’s eyebrows lift. “Why?”

“I panicked,” you admit, laughing. “It was the only thing I could think of under pressure.”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “You really are something else.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re impressed?” you tease.

“Don’t push it,” he replies, but there’s an unmistakable warmth in his tone.

When you are done eating, the server clears away your plates, leaving the two of you nursing your drinks. The warm, ambient lighting softens Levi’s sharp features as he leans back slightly in his chair, fingers loosely clasped around his glass.

“Do you miss it?” he asks suddenly, his tone casual, but his gaze steady.

“Miss what?” you reply, sipping your drink.

“Working for your old boss. You spent years there, didn’t you?” he asks, swirling the liquid in his glass.

You tilt your head, studying him. “Why the sudden interest?”

He shrugs. “Just wondering if you were happy back then.”

The question catches you off guard. You shift in your seat, glancing out the window briefly before returning your focus to him. “It was… different. I mean, Vanessa was a great boss, and I learned a lot.”

You pause, setting your glass down. “But yeah… I do,” you admit, the words coming out softer than you expected.

Levi raises an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Why?”

“She wasn’t just my boss,” you begin, leaning back slightly in your chair. “Vanessa was like family to me. Her house… her world… It felt like a second home. After work, we’d have these barbecues in her backyard, nothing fancy. Just her kids running around, her husband trying not to burn the chicken, and me trying to keep up with her stories about law school.”

Levi listens quietly, his fingers resting lightly on his glass. “Sounds… normal. Too normal for someone who was running herself into the ground.”

You smile faintly. “It didn’t feel like work with her. She was always pushing me, yes, but she made me feel like I belonged. When we celebrated wins, it wasn’t some formal dinner with suits and speeches. It was burgers and laughter. She’d pop open a bottle of champagne for even the smallest victories and let her kids spray me with the hose afterward.”

He hums, his expression softening, though his voice remains steady. “You were happy.”

“I was,” you admit, staring at the table for a moment before meeting his gaze. “She saw me through some tough times. I owe her a lot.”

“Does she know that?” Levi asks, tilting his head.

You chuckle. “Oh, she does. She likes to remind me every chance she gets. She even jokes that I’m a daughter she didn’t ask for but is stuck with anyway.”

Levi’s lips twitch, almost forming a smile. “Bet you were more trouble than her actual kids.”

“Probably,” you admit, laughing. “But she never made me feel like it. She just… had a way of making everything feel manageable. Even the messiest cases.”

Levi’s gaze lingers on you for a moment, as though he’s weighing something in his mind. Finally, he speaks. “So why leave all that behind?”

You pause, the weight of his question settling heavily in your chest. “Because I had to,” you say quietly. Leaving Trost felt like the right thing when she asked you to. Something was pulling you back in Paradis, no matter how… scared you were. 

He doesn’t press further, and for that, you’re grateful. Instead, he shifts the conversation slightly, his voice casual. “And those barbecues… were they a regular thing?”

“Every couple of weeks,” you reply with a nostalgic smile. “She’d always say, ‘Lawyers need to remember they’re human too.’”

Levi leans back, studying you. “Maybe she had a point.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you implying I’ve forgotten how to be human?”

“Not completely,” he says dryly. “But you’re getting there.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

The playful banter feels easy, almost natural. For the first time in a long while, you sense a sliver of your old self shining through. Levi’s sharp wit and steady presence ground you, even as the conversation drifts into lighter territory.

You laugh softly, changing the topic with something you recalled. “You know, one time, Earl accidentally jumped into a Zoom meeting with client.”

“Your cat had better networking skills than you,” Levi remarks dryly, though the faintest smile plays at his lips.

“Apparently,” you quip, shaking your head. “But those moments were rare. Most of the time, it was just work, work, work.”

Your companion tilts his head. “What about work? Was it fulfilling?”

You blink at him, a bit thrown by the unexpected depth of the question. You take a moment to think, swirling the remnants of your drink. “Well… there was one time Vanessa let me lead a case solo. It was a small one, but I was terrified. I stayed up all night preparing. When I won, she told me she was proud of me. That meant a lot.”

Levi nods, his expression unreadable. “Sounds like she saw something in you.”

“She did,” you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips. “More than I saw in myself at the time.”

A comfortable silence settles between you for a moment before you glance at him, tilting your head. “Why are you asking me this, anyway?”

He shrugs again, leaning back in his chair. 

“Just trying to figure out if all that time away was worth it for you.”

Your chest tightens slightly at his words, and you look down at your glass, tracing the rim with your finger. “I’m not sure yet,” you say quietly, then force a lighter tone. “But hey, at least I got to meet some interesting people. Like that client who tried to pay me with chickens.”

Levi raises an eyebrow. “Chickens?”

“Three of them,” you confirm with a grin. “And they weren’t even food. Just… alive. In cages.”

He snorts softly, shaking his head. “You have a knack for finding the weirdest situations.”

“Or they find me,” you counter, chuckling.

The moment feels lighter again, the tension dissipating as you trade a few more jokes about your bizarre work experiences. But beneath it all, you sense an unspoken understanding between the two of you—a recognition of how much has changed, and how much still lingers.

By the time the check arrives, you feel lighter than you have in weeks. As you step out of the restaurant, the conversation continues with the same easy rhythm, and you can’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, the space between you and Levi isn’t as wide as it once was.

As the server sets the check on the table, you reach for it before Levi can. 

“I could’ve gotten that,” he protests, narrowing his eyes at you.

“You bought some of the wedding gifts,” you counters flatly, tucking your card into the black folder. “Consider us even. Also, I’m not that broke.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn't argue further. The meal had been better than you’d expected—both the food and the company. As you shrug on your coat, Levi glances at the bags holding Hange and Moblit’s gifts.

“Do you have gift wrap at home?” he asks.

You pause, blinking at him. “Uh, no. I was just going to buy some tomorrow.”

He shakes his head as he stands, adjusting his jacket. “That’s a waste of time. I have everything at my place.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You have gift wrap? Since when are you so prepared for weddings?”

Levi smirks faintly. “I’m not. But Hange made me wrap some ridiculous thing for her last year, and I still have leftovers.”

You chuckle, imagining the scenario. “Of course she did.”

“Come on,” he says, grabbing the bags. “We’ll get it done tonight.”

“Are you inviting me over to your place to wrap gifts?” you tease as you follow him outside.

“It’s practical,” he replies simply, leading the way toward his car. “Unless you’re planning on hauling this around tomorrow.”

You hesitate, not entirely sure if you should. But his tone is casual, and the evening had been nice. To be entirely honest, you also didn’t want to part with him yet. “Okay,” you agree, stepping into the passenger seat.

After agreeing to stay the night at his place, you told him that you should get some things at your apartment first. 

Levi parks the car in front of your building, throwing the gear into park with an ease that feels second nature. He glances at you as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“You don’t have to come up,” you say, reaching for the door handle.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not carrying all that by yourself.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue, knowing his stubbornness would win out anyway. As you unlock the front door and lead him inside, you feel a flicker of self-consciousness. Was it really casual to stay over at a friend’s place overnight just to wrap some gifts? What are the two of you even doing?

“Give me a minute,” you mumble, stepping into your bedroom to grab a change of clothes and your overnight bag.

Levi remains in the living room, scanning his surroundings with quiet observation. Earl, as if on cue, saunters out from his hiding spot and rubs against Levi’s leg, purring loudly. Levi chuckles softly, glancing down at the fluffy gray cat.

“Hey buddy,” he calls, his voice flat.

You poke your head out of the bedroom, grinning. “Well, aren’t the two of you best buds already?” 

“He’s shedding on my pants,” Levi mutters, though he doesn’t move away.

“He likes you,” you note, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “That’s what you get for feeding him once.”

Earl jumps onto the couch, staring at Levi with curious green eyes. Levi sighs and scratches the cat’s head tentatively, earning an enthusiastic purr.

You smirk, pulling out Earl’s carrier. “Looks like you’re taking him, too.”

“What?” Levi’s eyes widened slightly. For a moment, you feel bad for making him take the cat. He’s probably worried about the mess. But Earl’s a good cat anyway. 

“You can’t expect me to leave him alone overnight,” you say, scooping Earl into the carrier. “He’ll hate me for it. Besides, you two are bonding.”

Levi grumbles something under his breath, but when you hand him the carrier, he takes it without protest.

Back in the car, Earl meows loudly from his carrier, the sound echoing in the confined space.

“He’s dramatic,” you say, glancing at Levi, who looks vaguely amused.

“He fits in,” Levi deadpans, keeping his eyes on the road.

You laugh, leaning back in your seat as you navigate through the city. By the time you reach Levi’s apartment, you’re surprisingly relaxed, the earlier awkwardness replaced by a faint sense of familiarity.

Levi unlocks the door to his apartment and steps aside, letting you and Earl inside. You take a moment to glance around, still impressed by how neat and minimalistic his space is—dark wood tones, simple furniture, and barely any personal clutter. It’s quintessentially Levi.

Earl, now out of his carrier, sniffs cautiously before hopping onto the couch like he owns the place. Levi watches the cat with a raised brow.

“He’s making himself at home,” you tease, setting your overnight bag by the door.

“Better not scratch the furniture,” Levi mutters, though he doesn’t move to shoo Earl off.

You grin, pulling the bag of gifts onto the coffee table. As you do, you notice that he’d already found a place for the bouquet you gave him. It’s already settled in a vase on the same coffee table, the action earning a smile from you.

“Okay, let’s get started,” You clapped your hands cheerfully. 

Levi fetches a roll of brown kraft paper, scissors, and tape from a nearby drawer, placing them on the table with precision. You sit cross-legged on the floor, unboxing one of the gifts. Levi sits across from you, his expression vaguely skeptical as you spread out the paper.

“Do you even know how to wrap properly?” he asks.

“I’m offended,” you say, mock gasping. “I haven’t done this in a while, okay? Don’t worry. Once I get the hang of it, I’m an expert.”

He smirks, grabbing one of his own gifts and starts taking them out of the bags. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

With an exaggerated flourish, you start wrapping the premium wooden cutting board, carefully creasing the edges and taping it with precision. Levi watches quietly, his amusement growing as you fumble with the ribbon.

“Need help?” he finally offers, taking pity on you as the ribbon slips out of your grasp for the third time.

“No!” you insist, stubbornly tying a lopsided bow. “It’s perfect. Rustic charm.”

Levi chuckles under his breath, shaking his head as he picks up the next gift—the boxed tea set that was his first pick for the day. His movements are deliberate, his sharp focus turning the task of wrapping into an art form.

“Well, aren’t you the gift-wrapping expert?” you observe, impressed.

“Had to,” he replies simply. “Kuchel made me wrap gifts for the restaurant staff every year, remember?”

You smile softly, recalling a younger Levi meticulously wrapping presents in the back of the restaurant. You didn’t actually see him do it before but you remember him telling you about it when you asked what he was doing one time. 

“Yeah… I remember,” you respond, making him pause and look at your face. You don’t look back at him, opting to look at the gift he was wrapping, but you can see him scrutinizing your reminiscing countenance. 

As you work, the silence between you grows comfortable. Earl curls up in a corner, watching lazily as you and Levi finish wrapping the gifts. When the last package is placed on the table, you lean back with a satisfied sigh.

“Done,” you announce, admiring your handiwork.

Levi glances at the slightly crooked ribbon on your gift and smirks. “Barely.”

You playfully nudge his leg with your foot. “Whatever. It’s the thought that counts.”

“Oh, wait! One last gift,” you exclaim, grabbing the same handbag that you had earlier in the day. You giggle in excitement, fishing for the plastic bag.

“Aha!” You shout as you find it, taking it out and shoving it in Levi’s face as you wave it around to show him. 

His mouth drops when he realizes what you were holding. The realization makes his face immediately redden and turn away, dodging the item in your hand. 

“What the fuck? When did you even—,” he sighed. “I knew you had a funny look on your face when you said essentials.”

“It’s essential for a young, married couple to find out their tastes in sex,” you argue, grabbing a wrapping paper. “Also, I got a good deal on it. Look? It’s a variety of things, see?”

You point at the box, showing him what’s the inclusion for the box set you bought. 

Levi sighs, closing his eyes. “I don’t even want to think about it. Don’t put that picture in my head right now.” 

You giggled, happily wrapping the gift and adding a note that says “open it on your honeymoon night.”

By the time the last ribbon was tied and the neatly wrapped gifts sat in a corner of Levi’s living room, the evening had begun to fade into night. The soft light from the table lamp cast a warm glow over the room, and the quiet hum of the city outside filtered faintly through the windows.

You stretched your arms above your head, stifling a yawn as you glanced at the clock. “Well, that’s everything,” you said, nodding toward the small pile of gifts. “They’re going to love these.”

Levi stood nearby, carefully clearing the scattered bits of tape and wrapping paper. His movements were precise, almost methodical, but you could tell he was tired. He straightened, his gaze flicking briefly to you. “I think we got too much,” he muttered, making you laugh.

You hesitated for a moment, looking at him as he carried the last of the scraps to the trash. There was something unspoken lingering between you, a quiet tension that had been growing all day. Not uncomfortable, but not entirely easy either—a fragile balance teetering between familiarity and something… unresolved.

Clearing your throat, you offered him a small smile. “Thanks for today. For, you know, coming with me and asking me to do this and… everything else. I had a good time.”

Levi paused by the trash bin, his back to you for a beat before he turned, his expression unreadable. “It’s fine,” he said simply, but his tone was softer than usual. “Thank you too… for the flowers.”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, feeling the sudden need to fill the silence. “Well, I should get to bed. It’s been a long day.”

Levi nodded, gesturing toward the hallway. “Guest room’s ready.”

You turned to leave, but stopped after a few steps. “Levi?” you called softly.

He looked up, his gray eyes meeting yours. “What?”

“I just… I’m glad we’re doing this. You and me, I mean. Trying to…” You trailed off, searching for the right words but finding none. Instead, you settled for a quiet, “Good night.”

For a moment, Levi didn’t reply, and you wondered if you’d said too much. But then his gaze softened, almost imperceptibly, and he gave a small nod. “Good night.”

You retreated down the hall, the sound of your footsteps faint against the hardwood floor. As you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the day settle over you—a mix of warmth, nostalgia, and a faint thread of hope.

Unbeknownst to you, Levi lingered in the living room for a while longer, his gaze resting on the gifts you’d wrapped together and the flowers on his coffee table. 

Levi sat on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the bouquet of blue hyacinths and white orchids on the coffee table. The delicate petals caught the dim light of the lamp, their colors muted yet vivid against the quiet tones of his apartment.

He reached out, lightly brushing a finger along the edge of a petal. His mind drifted, unbidden, to a memory he hadn’t revisited in years.

It was a warm spring evening during college, the kind of night where the air was cool but the sky was clear. He had just won first place in an essay-writing competition, something he hadn’t thought much of at the time. You had, though.

Levi remembered the rooftop you’d both snuck onto after the ceremony, a quiet place away from the noise of the world. He had been sitting on the ledge, his arms draped over his knees, while you rummaged through your pockets with a mischievous grin.

“What are you doing?” he had asked, arching an eyebrow at your unusual excitement.

“Celebrating, obviously,” you had replied, pulling out handfuls of flower petals you’d somehow collected throughout the day.

Before he could respond, you tossed a handful into the air, the soft rain of petals cascading over him. Levi had groaned, brushing a few off his hair, but he couldn’t stop the slight upward twitch of his lips.

“You’re ridiculous,” he had muttered, though the words lacked any real bite.

“You’re a champion,” you had countered, your laughter bright and unrestrained as you grabbed another handful and threw them again.

He had watched you then, your face lit up with joy, your laughter echoing in the stillness of the night. The sight of you—carefree, radiant, unapologetically yourself—had struck something deep within him. It was one of the rare moments when the walls he’d built around himself felt a little less sturdy.

And now, years later, as he sat in his quiet apartment, the memory came rushing back with startling clarity.

The bouquet on the table felt like an echo of that night, a fragment of a past he wasn’t sure he’d ever fully understand. He wondered if you remembered it too when you told him that men rarely receive flowers in their life. He had received a few, especially on graduation and when Stohess Stone took off. But the petals you rained on him that night… that was the first flowers he had ever received. 

With a quiet exhale, Levi leaned back, his gaze lingering on the flowers for a moment longer before he pushed himself up. 

But the memory stayed with him as he turned off the lights and headed to his bedroom, the image of your laughter and the gentle rain of petals lingering in his mind like a soft, bittersweet dream.

The voice is low, almost drowned out by the city noise. You glance up to see a figure standing a few feet away, their face obscured by shadow. For a moment, you’re too tired to answer. Wordlessly, you reach into your pocket and hold out your pack. He takes one, sliding it out with ease.

The man steps closer, just enough for the dim glow of the streetlight to catch their face—a mix of sharp edges softened by something you can’t quite name. They take the lighter you’re holding out from your hand with a quiet “Thanks,” lighting his cigarette with practiced ease.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Just two people standing in the dark, sharing silence and smoke.

“How long has it been?” It’s him who speaks first, staring out into the bright moon.

You don’t answer for a while, contemplating if you’ll answer him or just stay silent and hope that he’ll leave you alone. After almost a minute, you decide on the former.

“Dunno. Like 3 years?”

“Wrong, it’s been four.”

“Four, huh?” you murmur, the words tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, like the cigarette in your hand. You flick the ash off the end, watching it dissolve into the puddle at your feet. “Feels like longer.”

He hums, leaning against the wall beside you. The air between you is thick with unspoken history, but he doesn’t push it—at least, not yet. You risk a glance at him, expecting the same boy you once knew, but what you see makes you pause.

Suguru Geto looks good. Too good. His black hair, once always falling in messy waves across his face, is now neatly tied back. His clothes are clean, tailored even, and the sharp edges of his face, once softened by youthful recklessness, now hold a quiet confidence. He looks like someone who has his life together—like someone who doesn’t spend nights outside clubs, smoking to forget.

The contrast is almost unbearable.

His posture is relaxed, but there’s a tension in his voice when he speaks again. “Didn’t think I’d find you here. Like this.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He looks the same but not quite. Time has softened some of his edges and hardened others. The lines of his face are sharper, his frame broader, but there’s something familiar in the way he stands, hands in his pockets, like he’s trying not to take up too much space.

“And what’s this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you take a drag, trying to ignore how unnatural it still feels.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watches as you exhale a slow stream of smoke, watching it curl into the damp air. “You. Out here. Smoking.”

The words sting more than you care to admit. You glance at the glowing tip of your cigarette, suddenly hating the way it feels between your fingers. “People change,” you say, but your voice lacks conviction.

“Yeah, they do.” He pauses, turning to look at you fully. “But this isn’t you.”

You snort, a humorless sound that feels foreign even to you. “You don’t know me anymore.”

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his tone quiet but steady. “But I used to. And the girl I knew wouldn’t have touched a cigarette, let alone ended up outside some club at this hour.”

You roll your eyes, the defensiveness bubbling up despite yourself. “Well, the girl you knew is gone. Life happened. People grow up.”

“Ha…”

His reaction hangs in the air, heavy and unavoidable. You don’t answer right away, staring down at the puddle again. The reflection staring back at you is a stranger, a reminder of all the ways you’ve tried to erase the person you used to be.

“You don’t get to judge me,” you say finally, your voice sharper than you intended.

“I’m not judging you,” he replies softly. “I just… I thought you’d have more faith in yourself than this.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Faith doesn’t get you very far these days.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The sounds of the city fill the silence: the faint bassline from the club, the hum of passing cars, the drip of water from the gutter overhead.

“I thought about calling you,” he says suddenly, his voice breaking the stillness. “A lot, actually. But I don’t know why I didn’t. I thought—.”

“Thought what?” you reply, crushing the cigarette under your heel.

He chuckles, though it’s void of humor. “That you’d be better off without me.”

The words hit harder than you expect. You glance at him again, searching his face for pity, disappointment, anything—but all you see is regret.

“Why now?” you ask the question quieter than you meant it to be.

Why approach me now? is what you wanted to ask. You couldn’t get yourself to ask him directly but as if he knows you like the back of his hand, he answers the question.

“Because I saw you,” he says simply. “And I didn’t want to walk away this time.”

The honesty in his voice disarms you, cutting through the walls you’ve spent so long building. You look away, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from the weight of his gaze.

“Maybe you should have,” you murmur, but your voice wavers, betraying the truth. And from the way he stays, you think he knows it, too.

He stayed silent as if he’s debating what to say. He looks like he wants to comfort you—or terribly ask what happened to you. Either way, you know that he can’t do it. He can’t get himself to open your wounds up so suddenly when it looks like it’s eating you alive.

For a while, neither of you says anything. The muffled bassline from the club fills the silence, blending with the distant hum of traffic. You sneak another glance at him, and that’s when you notice it—the cigarette in his hand, he hasn’t smoked it once.

The cigarette dangles between his fingers, the faint glow of the ember a stark contrast to the cold night air. He doesn’t bring it to his lips, doesn’t inhale. He just… holds it.

“You’re not smoking,” you say, your voice cutting through the quiet.

He glances at you, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s amused. “Nope.”

“Then why the hell did you ask for one?”

He shrugs, twirling the cigarette between his fingers. “Felt like the easiest way to approach you.”

You glare at him, annoyed at his nonchalance. “You’re wasting it.”

“Not really.” He flicks the ash with a practiced motion, his gaze never leaving yours. “I quit years ago.”

The revelation catches you off guard. “Then why light it at all?”

He exhales—not smoke, just a slow breath—and leans back against the wall, looking up at the faint glow of the moon. “I guess…” He pauses, turning the lit cigarette in his hand, his voice softening. “I wanted to remember what it felt like. Holding this. Being here. With you.”

You flinch, the memory hitting like a slap. Back then, Suguru was the wild one—the one who always seemed to have a cigarette tucked in his fingers or a flask hidden in his jacket. You were the good one, the one who didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t step a toe out of line. You used to lecture him about taking care of himself, about how much potential he was wasting. And now? Now you’re the one standing in an alley with a cigarette in hand, trying to feel something other than regret.

“Guess the roles are reversed, huh?” you say with a forced chuckle, gesturing at him with the glowing tip of your cigarette. “Look at you. Clean, polished.”

You glance down at your cigarette, suddenly hating the way it tastes, the way it feels in your hand.

“Why’d you quit?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

He smiles faintly, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. “Mm… I didn’t want it controlling me anymore. Felt like every bad decision I made started with one of these.” He twirls the cigarette between his fingers, a ghost of the habit he once had.

“Good for you,” you mutter, rolling your eyes a little. You can’t help it. You were jealous.

“What about you?” he asks this time, turning to look at you. “When did you start?”

The question makes your stomach twist, but you shrug it off, exhaling a stream of smoke. “A while ago. Doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” he says, his tone calm but insistent. “You used to give me so much crap for this.” He gestures vaguely with the cigarette, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “What changed?”

You hesitate, the words caught in your throat. What changed? Life? Disappointment? Somewhere along the line, the lines you swore you’d never cross blurred until you didn’t recognize them—or yourself. If Suguru’s bad decision started with the stick in your hand, yours ended with it. Every bad decision you made piled up and up until all you could do was punish yourself in many ways possible. That included this… stupid addiction.

Failure—that’s what you are. And failures… they’re just that.

“Life. Me. You know how it is. One wrong decision after another and next thing you know, you’re exactly the disappointment you fear you’d be.”

“Hm,” he agrees, tilting his head slightly like he doesn’t agree with you.

You roll your eyes, the defensiveness bubbling up. You know what he’s thinking. “You don’t know me anymore, Suguru.”

“No,” he admits, his voice soft but steady. “But I don’t think you’re as far gone as you think.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and unwelcome. You glare at the ground, crushing the cigarette under your heel with more force than necessary.

“Cut the bullshit,” you snap. “I don’t need your words of wisdom.”

Suguru sighs, flicking his own cigarette into the puddle. It hisses softly, the ember extinguished, and he turns to face you fully. “I’m not trying to do anything,” he says quietly. “But I know you don’t need this.”

The honesty in his voice makes something in your chest tighten, and for a moment, you want to tell him to leave. To stop looking at you like you’re someone worth saving.

But he doesn’t push. He just stands there, hands in his pockets, like he’s waiting for you to let him in.

A new cigarette burns low between your fingers, the smoke curling up into the night air like a ghost of something you can’t name. Suguru stands beside you, quiet now, the silence between you stretching long and thin. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he senses you don’t want him to.

The stillness lets your thoughts slip in, unwelcome and relentless.

You think about her—the girl you used to be. The one who would have hated to see you like this. That girl had big dreams and bigger expectations from herself and everyone around her. She thought she could take on the world, carve out a future she’d be proud of. Back then, it felt possible.

But somewhere along the line, it all unraveled.

One bad decision led to another. You chose the wrong major, convinced yourself it would work out. It didn’t. Classes you thought you could handle became impossible to pass. Graduation came late, dragging with it the weight of disappointment. Every failure piled up until it felt like they were suffocating you. It suffocated you until even doing the smallest tasks took too much of your positive energy.

There was so much anger and hatred for yourself that it was either you pull away from everyone… or you’ll have to see them disappointed in you. You chose the former everytime. And that’s why you failed at every aspect of life. Career, friends, family… love. All you feel now is an emptiness that is both heavy and light. Heavy in emotions. Light in meaningful weight.

Everything that was good about you was taken away from you. It’s like someone’s out to get you. It’s like someone’s punishing you to forever be painfully mediocre. Never good. Never bad. God, you feel like a non-playable character in your own life, watching yourself try and try over and over again but it’s like you’re destined to not be somebody. Not somebody’s best coworker. Not somebody’s best daughter. Not somebody’s best friend. Not somebody’s girlfriend. It’s like you’re cursed to not be able to hold on to something that makes you feel good.

You drag on the cigarette, the bitterness of it filling your lungs, but it doesn’t quiet the ache.

If you could go back, maybe you’d say sorry to her—the little girl who dreamed of being someone better, someone whole. She didn’t deserve this. You’d tell her you tried. You really did. But the truth is, deep down, even back then, there was a voice whispering you’d never make it.

That voice had always been there. Back then, you fought it. You told yourself it was wrong. But it had patience. It waited.

And now it’s winning.

The cigarette trembles in your fingers, the smoke curling upward in erratic spirals. You bite your lip, trying to steady your breathing, but it’s no use. The weight pressing on your chest grows heavier, like it’s trying to crush you entirely.

You exhale slowly, staring at the faint glow of the streetlight reflected in the puddle at your feet. For a moment, it feels like you’re staring at her, that little girl that Suguru knew, looking back at you with all her bright-eyed hope and wonder. You wonder what she’d say if she could see you now.

“You’re quiet,” Suguru says, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

You glance at him, startled, and realize how long the silence has stretched. “Yeah,” you mutter, flicking ash off the cigarette. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important.”

He doesn’t believe you—you can see it in the way his brows knit together, the way he studies you like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. But he doesn’t press.

“You know,” he says softly, “quitting wasn’t easy for me.”

You raise a brow, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking what was left of the cigarette in your hand. “There were a lot of nights I thought about lighting one up. Not because I wanted to, but because it felt like I needed to. Like it was the only thing that made the rest of the world shut up for a bit.”

His words hit closer to home than you’d like. You look away, staring down at your own cigarette, now burned to the filter in his hand. “And what changed?”

Suguru shrugs, his gaze steady. “I realized it wasn’t fixing anything. It was just… giving me an excuse not to.”

You don’t say anything, but his words settle uncomfortably in your chest. He crushes the cigarette under his heel.

“You can still fight it,” he says after a moment, his tone soft but unwavering. “Whatever it is. You don’t have to let it win.”

You scoff, but it lacks conviction. “It’s not that easy.”

“I never said it was.” He shrugs, tucking his hands inside his pockets.

You don’t respond, the weight of his words mingling with the lingering taste of smoke in your mouth. Somewhere in the back of your mind, that voice still whispers, still taunts. But for the first time in a long while, it doesn’t feel quite so loud. Maybe it’s his presence, steady and familiar, or maybe it’s just the faintest flicker of hope. Either way, you don’t feel entirely alone. Not tonight.

You feel it before you even realize it’s happening—a tear slipping down your cheek, warm and unwelcome. You quickly turn your face away from Suguru, staring hard at the ground.

He doesn’t say anything, but you feel his gaze, calm and steady, like he’s waiting for you to say something first.

Another tear falls, then another, and before you know it, your shoulders are trembling as the quiet sobs escape you. You clench your jaw, swallowing hard, trying to hold it in, but it’s like a dam has broken.

Suguru shifts slightly, the faint sound of his shoes scuffing against the wet pavement. “Hey…” he says softly, his voice low and tentative.

You don’t respond. You can’t. If you open your mouth, you’re afraid you’ll break completely.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment. The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache even more. “If I said something to—”

“No,” you manage to choke out, cutting him off. Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Just… no.”

He doesn’t press further. He just stays there, silent and steady, his presence grounding in a way you didn’t expect.

Your tears fall freely now, mixing with the remnants of rain on the ground. You haven’t cried in front of anybody in so long. And yet, here you are, crying to some guy who was practically a stranger to you for four years.

“I ruined everything,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Suguru shifts again, and this time, you feel his hand hover near your shoulder before settling there gently. His touch is warm, reassuring. Without a word, you lean in, wrapping your arms around him. He hugs you back with one arm, his hand on your head as he pulls you into his chest. You haven’t been held in so long. You’ve slept so many sleepless nights alone, wondering if the warmth of another person would make you feel better. It never did, not like Suguru’s.

The weight of his words settles in your chest, heavy but not unbearable. You don’t know exactly how this night came to be, but for the first time in a long while, the thought of waking up another day doesn’t feel entirely impossible.

Suguru stays quiet after that, his hand still caressing your hair, offering silent reassurance. He doesn’t try to push you further or tell you everything will be okay. He just stays, letting you cry, letting you feel.

And for now, that’s enough.

“Sir, should I make you morning tea?” 

Connie asked, his voice careful but laced with curiosity. Levi looked up from the stack of reports on his desk, his expression as unreadable as ever. Connie stood at the door, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

Levi’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t need Connie to spell it out for him; he’d already noticed you weren’t here the same time as yesterday. He leaned back slightly, folding his arms over his chest.

“No need,” Levi said curtly. 

Connie raised a brow, clearly intrigued but knowing better than to push Levi’s limits. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

As Connie disappeared out of his doorway, Levi let out a soft exhale and glanced at the empty cup on his desk. The air felt heavier than usual this morning, though he wouldn’t admit it aloud. The truth was, he was actually looking forward to your presence, as begrudging as it made him feel.

For someone so insistent on “making it up to him,” you were a bit inconsistent about showing up with a cup of hot tea in hand, ready to push through the invisible barrier between you two. His gaze lingered on the door, his mind drifting to whether you’d finally decided it wasn’t worth the effort anymore. It’s only been yesterday since your promise, did you already change your mind?

He shook the thought off quickly. It wasn’t his concern if you did. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

It wasn’t until 30 minutes later that the door to Levi’s office creaked open, and he looked up just as you stepped inside. You looked far from your usual self—your shoulders slightly hunched, dark circles under your eyes, and a weariness in your step that you couldn’t quite hide.

“Good morning,” you murmured, your voice softer than usual, as though even speaking was an effort.

Levi’s sharp eyes narrowed, scanning you for a moment longer than necessary. He noted the pale cast to your complexion and the slight tremor in your hands as you placed the tea on his desk.

“From the café you asked for yesterday,” you added, trying to muster a polite smile.

He leaned forward, his gaze flickering to the cup before returning to you. “You look like hell,” he stated bluntly, his voice carrying a mix of irritation and something softer—concern, perhaps, though he hid it well.

You blinked, startled, before letting out a short, breathy laugh. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Levi leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Didn’t realize running late also meant showing up like you haven’t slept in weeks. What happened after yesterday?”

“It’s nothing,” you replied quickly, brushing off his question. “Just… didn’t get much sleep, that’s all.”

He studied you for a moment, clearly unconvinced. “Tch. Doesn’t matter how good the tea is if you’re falling apart while delivering it.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, standing straighter. “Really.”

Levi raised a brow, clearly skeptical, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he reached for the tea and took a careful sip. You waited, holding your breath, unsure if he’d approve.

After a moment, he set the cup down and gave you a curt nod. “It’s better.”

A flicker of relief crossed your face, though you quickly tried to hide it. “Good. I’ll remember that for next time.”

Levi glanced at you again, his gaze lingering. “Next time,” he repeated flatly, though the edge in his tone had softened. “If there’s a next time, get some sleep first.”

You handed him a small smile. “I’ll be here tomorrow, too. Same time—earlier time. Same tea.”

Levi’s brow raised at your declaration, though he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached for the tea again, sipping quietly. 

You lingered near the door for a moment, uncertain whether to leave as you had yesterday. But something about today felt different—or maybe you just weren’t ready to step back into your own world yet.

Instead of leaving, you took a few hesitant steps back into the office, your eyes wandering across the shelves and the framed photos lining the walls. You take your time admiring each picture like it was an art museum. 

Levi watches you from his peripheral, curious to see what you were doing. After a while, he had enough of the silence. He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a raised brow.

“Didn’t realize this was a tour.”

You shot him a small grin, your fingers grazing the edge of a sleek model of what you assumed was the Stohess street layout. “It’s impressive. You’ve come a long way.”

He didn’t immediately answer, but you caught the faintest flicker of pride in his expression. “Took years. A lot of trial and error.”

Your curiosity grew as you continued observing. “This model—was it your idea?”

“Partly,” Levi said, his tone even. “Marketing team thought it’d help investors visualize the growth potential. Turns out they were right.”

You nodded, trailing your fingers over the polished surface of his desk. “And these?” You gestured to a collection of framed photos of Stohess street—before and after shots of the transformation.

“Documentation,” he said simply, though his voice softened slightly. “Reminds me how much has changed.”

You turned back to him, meeting his gaze. “You’ve built all this… from scratch. Do you ever stop to think about it? How far you’ve come?”

Levi’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you thought he might brush off your question. But then he shrugged, looking almost uncomfortable. “I think about it when there’s time. Doesn’t happen often.”

You leaned against the edge of his desk, tilting your head at him. “You should, you know. Give yourself credit. This is… amazing.”

Levi’s gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to stick around to tell me that,” he said, though there was no bite to his words.

“I know,” you replied, your smile softening. “But I wanted to.”

For a moment, the office was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Levi looked down at the tea you’d brought, then back up at you. Instead of commenting on your overstayed welcome, he gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.

“If you’re going to hang around, at least sit. You’re making the place look uneven.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, settling into the chair. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.”

You lowered yourself into the chair across from his desk, shifting to get comfortable as Levi watched you with narrowed eyes. His eyes shift to you from his laptop. “Don’t you have work to get to?”

You shook your head, offering a half-smile. “Took a sick leave today.”

Levi’s brow furrowed, his expression sharpening with concern. “You’re not feeling well?”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Just tired, that’s all. Figured I could use the day to catch my breath.”

He didn’t seem convinced. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his gaze lingered on the faint shadows beneath your eyes. “Tch.”

You tilted your head, confused. “What now?”

“Still overworking,” he said bluntly. “You gotta let go of bad habits.”

Your smile wavered as you looked down at your hands. “I’m not… overworking. I’m just busy.”

Levi scoffed, the sound soft but sharp enough to make you glance up. “Busy? You look like you haven’t slept in days. You don’t need to work yourself into the ground to prove something.”

“I’m not proving anything,” you said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your tone.

“Then what are you doing?” he countered, his voice calm but firm. “Running yourself ragged for what? You can’t fix everything by burying yourself in work.”

His words hit closer to home than you wanted to admit. You shifted in your seat, feeling suddenly exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. “It’s not like that,” you said quietly, but even to your own ears, the words sounded hollow.

Levi sighed, his hand brushing against his desk as he leaned forward slightly. “Take care of yourself, or you won’t be able to take care of anything else. It’s not that complicated.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the rare softness in his voice. For a moment, you considered brushing it off, changing the subject, but the sincerity in his expression stopped you. Instead, you gave a small nod, your voice subdued. “I’ll try.”

“You’d better,” Levi muttered, reaching for the tea you’d brought. He took a sip, glancing at you over the rim of the cup. “Otherwise, I’ll be stuck telling you this every time you show up late with some overpriced drink.”

Despite yourself, a quiet laugh escaped your lips. “Noted.”

You leaned back in the chair, letting a moment of silence settle between you both before speaking up again, your voice softer this time. “Would it be alright if I stayed for a while? I promise I’ll be quiet. Just… not feeling up to being alone right now.”

Levi stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. His hand hovered over the stack of papers on his desk, as if weighing the inconvenience against the awkwardness of saying no. Finally, he let out a sigh, rubbing his temple with his free hand.

“Fine,” he muttered, though the tone made it clear he wasn’t exactly thrilled. “But don’t expect me to entertain you. I’ve got work to do.”

You nodded quickly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite how tired you felt. “Thank you. I’ll stay out of your way.”

True to your word, you remained quiet, occasionally glancing around his office with a mix of curiosity and admiration. The clean, minimalistic décor suited him—everything in its place, not a single thing unnecessary. 

As you sat quietly in Levi’s office, the rhythmic scratching of his pen filled the space like a steady metronome, grounding you in the moment. He worked with a precision and intensity that was uniquely him, his focus unwavering as he sifted through documents and signed off on reports. It wasn’t just the tasks themselves that impressed you—it was the way he carried himself, the quiet command he had over every detail, every decision.

Your gaze drifted across the room, taking in the meticulous organization of his desk, the framed certificates on the wall, and the subtle but distinct logo of Stohess Stone Group etched into a plaque near the window. This wasn’t just an office—it was the culmination of years of effort, persistence, and vision.

And it was all his.

Erwin’s words from last night echoed in your mind, a haunting reminder of what you had learned. Levi had poured himself into this, not just for success, but as a way to cope. To prove something. To build something that might have brought you back. The realization hit you again, heavier this time. Everything he’d created, the street that flourished under his guidance, the empire he now managed—it was all born from a belief that he wasn’t enough for you to stay.

Your chest tightened, the weight of guilt pressing down on you. You’d spent the last few days trying to figure out how to make it up to him, but now… you weren’t sure if you even could. How do you apologize for something that shaped the course of someone’s entire life? For a wound that turned into a foundation, for better or worse?

Levi flipped a page, his expression neutral but focused, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. Did he still resent you? Did he even want you here, in this space he’d built for himself? Or had you already overstayed whatever tentative truce the two of you had formed?

You looked down at your hands, twisting them in your lap. The guilt simmered, pulling you into a spiral of self-doubt. What could you possibly say to him that wouldn’t sound hollow? You’d already promised to make things right, but standing in the shadow of everything he’d achieved, your promise felt painfully inadequate.

The silence was too much, and before you could stop yourself, you spoke.

“Are you happy, Levi?”

The question came out softer than you intended, but it landed sharply in the quiet room. Levi didn’t even glance up, his pen pausing only briefly before continuing its steady movement across the page.

“Why are you asking me that this early in the morning?” His tone was clipped, dismissive, as if brushing it off might make it disappear entirely.

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the edge of the seat. “I just… I was wondering.”

“Wondering?” he echoed, finally looking up. His brow furrowed as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What kind of question is that? Especially from you.”

The way he said “you” stung, but you pressed on, unwilling to let it stop you. “All this,” you gestured vaguely around the office. “It’s… incredible, really. But I just—do you even like the person you’ve become?”

Levi stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a scoff, he looked away, his focus shifting to the window behind his desk. “Tch. What does it matter?”

“It matters to me,” you said quietly, but with enough conviction to make him glance back.

Levi sighed, rubbing a hand across his face before finally answering, his voice low. “It’s not about being happy. It’s about getting things done. Making things work.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He shot you a sharp look, but there was less bite to it this time. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “I never really thought about it. Doesn’t matter anyway.”

You bit your lip, the guilt twisting tighter in your chest. You didn’t say anything after that.

Levi’s jaw tightened, his gaze dropping back to the desk. “Is any of us truly happy?”

You hum, opting to offer him a slightly amused smirk. “Yeah, guess you’re right about that.”

He didn’t respond, but the quiet that followed felt heavier than before. Levi didn’t look at you again, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his pen stilled in his hand.

He was lying. And you both knew it.

“Can I lie down on your couch?”

The next question is the opposite of your odd questions this morning, still odd but humorous this time. Levi shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

For a while, the only sound was the faint scratching of Levi’s pen and the distant hum of office activity. You found the stillness oddly comforting, a reprieve from your own frantic pace. You even removed your shoes, put in your earpods, and scrolled away on your phone. But as the clock inched closer to noon, your stomach growled softly, and you shifted in your seat.

Levi didn’t look up but spoke anyway. “If you’re hungry, there’s a vending machine down the hall or I could ask Connie to get you something.” 

You hesitated, then cleared your throat. “Actually… I was wondering if you’d have lunch outside with me.”

That made him pause. He set down his pen, finally meeting your gaze with a raised brow. “Lunch?”

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a casual tone. “It’s the least I can do, since you’re letting me crash your office. Plus, I’m on sick leave, remember? I could use something decent to eat.”

Levi leaned back in his chair, regarding you with a skeptical expression. “You’re not going to ask me to eat at Stohess, are you?”

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head. “No, no. I’ll let you pick the place this time.”

He seemed to consider it, his gaze narrowing slightly as if searching for any hidden motive. Finally, he sighed, shrugging. “Fine. But if you don’t like it, don’t blame me.”

Relieved, you smiled. “Deal. Just… nothing too fancy. I’m trying to keep things simple today.”

Levi muttered something under his breath about being dragged into things, but you could tell he wasn’t as annoyed as he pretended to be. Instead, he picked up his phone, scrolling through a list of places he knew.

“Alright,” he said, finally standing. “Let’s get this over with. Get up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, standing as well. “You make it sound like a chore.”

“Just don’t make me regret it,” he shot back, but there was a faint softness in his tone that eased your nerves.

Levi didn’t say a word as he grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, slinging it over his shoulders in one swift motion. He looked at you, his expression unreadable.

“Come on,” he said flatly, gesturing for you to follow.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Where are we going?”

“Lunch,” he replied curtly, already heading for the door.

Scrambling to keep up, you grabbed your bag and hurried after him. He didn’t wait, his pace brisk and determined as he made his way down the hallway and out of the building. You noticed how the employees subtly stepped aside as he passed, their gazes respectful, even nervous. It was a stark reminder of the person Levi had become—someone powerful, influential, and commanding in ways you hadn’t fully grasped until now.

The cold autumn air nipped at your skin as you followed Levi down the bustling street. His hands were shoved deep into his coat pockets, his gaze fixed ahead. He didn’t speak, and you didn’t dare break the silence, too preoccupied with your own thoughts.

After a short walk, Levi stopped in front of a small restaurant tucked between two larger establishments. Its unassuming exterior was decorated with warm string lights and a hand-painted sign that read The Midnight Hearth. He opened the door and stepped aside, waiting for you to enter first.

“After you,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind.

Inside, the restaurant was cozy, with wooden beams, mismatched chairs, and the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. It wasn’t flashy or overly modern, but it had a charm that immediately put you at ease.

Levi led you to a table near the window and slid into the chair opposite you, picking up the menu without so much as a glance in your direction. You followed suit, unsure of what to say.

The silence stretched as you scanned the options, but your thoughts kept drifting back to him—his earlier admission, the weight of his words, the lines of stress etched into his face.

Finally, the server arrived, and Levi ordered with a familiarity that suggested he’d been here more than once. He looked at you expectantly when it was your turn, and you fumbled through your choice, your nerves suddenly making it difficult to concentrate.

When the server left, you found yourself staring out the window, the tension between you thick and unspoken. Levi broke it first.

“This place isn’t fancy,” he said, his voice low, almost defensive. “But the food’s good.”

You looked at him, surprised he was even addressing the choice. “It’s perfect,” you said honestly.

He grunted in response, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t expect me to bring you here every day.”

You smiled faintly, the corners of your mouth tugging upward despite the heaviness in your chest. “Noted.”

The food arrived quickly, and for a while, the two of you ate in silence. But it wasn’t the tense kind of silence from earlier. It felt more… comfortable, like an unspoken truce.

As you picked at your plate, you finally worked up the courage to ask, “Do you come here often?”

Levi raised an eyebrow, his fork pausing midair. “Why? Planning to stalk me now?”

You rolled your eyes, a small laugh escaping before you could stop it. “Just curious.”

He shrugged, taking another bite. “Not really. Physically, anyway. Connie gets me takeout when I ask him to.”

You nodded, your gaze drifting to the other patrons. “That makes sense. You’re a busy person.”

Levi didn’t respond, but when you glanced at him again, you thought you saw the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Levi set down his fork, leaning back in his chair as he looked at you with an unreadable expression. “So,” he said, his tone casual but laced with something playful, “do you plan to come pester me every day now?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. “Pester you?” you repeated, feigning offense. “I wasn’t aware I was pestering you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Bringing tea, hanging around my office, asking me philosophical questions first thing in the morning—sounds like pestering to me.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms with a mock pout. “It’s called making it up to you.”

Levi’s smirk grew a fraction wider, though his eyes softened as he looked at you. “Ha,” he breathed out an amused expression, followed by a tone light but probing. “How exactly are you planning to make it up to me, anyway?”

You hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his sharp gaze. “I… I’m still figuring that out,” you admitted, avoiding his eyes as you pushed a piece of food around on your plate. “But I’m serious about it. I want to—no, I need to make things right.”

For a moment, Levi didn’t say anything. When you glanced up, his expression had shifted, the teasing edge replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful. He rested his elbows on the table, his hands clasped loosely as he studied you.

“Well,” he said finally, his voice softer than you expected, “if you’re serious, don’t overthink it. And stop making that face.”

His words hit you harder than you anticipated, and you swallowed the lump rising in your throat. You shake your head, lightly slap your cheeks, and bring out a wide smile. “Fine,” you said.

Levi had to hold back a laugh at your actions. He looked away and gave a small nod, returning to his food without another word. But the weight of what he’d said lingered between you, unspoken but understood. 

And just like that, something heavy, but not quite all, had been lifted off your chest. 

Levi set down his glass of water and glanced at you. “How’s work?” he asked, his tone casual but carrying a hint of genuine curiosity.

You paused, surprised by the question. “It’s… fine, I guess,” you said, shrugging slightly. “Busy as always. A lot of cases coming in this month.”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “Cases keeping you up at night?”

You let out a small laugh, though it lacked real humor. “Sometimes. The tougher ones tend to stick with me, you know? But that’s part of the job.”

Levi studied you for a moment before responding. “Doesn’t mean it’s good for you.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the subtle concern in his voice. “It’s not like I’m the only one who overworks themselves,” you countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Tch.” Levi’s mouth twitched in a faint smirk. “I’m better with it now.”

“That’s… good to hear,” you said softly, lowering your gaze to your plate.

In an attempt to keep the conversation going, you began to tell him about what you do on a daily basis, your new coworkers, and the boss you’re slowly warming up to—Pixis. 

“Pixis Dot?” 

A brow raises from you. “You know him?”

Levi shrugs. “A little. It’s Erwin who knows him.” 

“Oh, that makes sense,” you think out loud. It’s Erwin, of course he knows everyone in the city. 

“So, your coworkers,” Levi starts, his tone neutral as he finishes chewing. “Have they been treating you well?”

You nod, spearing a piece of your meal with your fork. “Yeah, they are, surprisingly. I thought it’d be more distantly competitive. We’re talking about lawyers here, y’know?”

Levi’s lips twitch, almost forming a smirk. “Cutthroat by nature, huh?”

“Something like that.” You chuckle softly, setting your fork down. “But they’ve been helpful—supportive, even. It’s a little shocking how decent they are.”

Levi lifts his glass of water, his gaze steady. “And that blonde-haired man you were with at the restaurant… your coworker?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Blonde-haired man?”

“The one who was with you that night at the restaurant,” Levi clarifies, his tone clipped but casual enough to mask any deeper intent.

“Oh, Nanami?” you say, realization dawning. “Yeah, he’s a coworker. Why?”

Levi shrugs, taking a sip of water. “Just curious. You seemed… comfortable with him.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “Comfortable? Is that a bad thing?”

“Tch,” Levi mutters, setting his glass down. “Didn’t say it was. Just making an observation.”

You can’t help but smirk, leaning forward slightly. “Is this your way of trying to figure out if there’s something going on between us?”

His expression doesn’t waver, though his silence speaks volumes.

“There isn’t,” you continue, unable to resist teasing him a bit. “Nanami’s just a coworker and a good friend—a fellow “workaholic” they said.”

Levi’s gaze remains unreadable, but you think you catch the faintest flicker of relief in his eyes. “Good. I’d hate to hear you’ve developed a lousy taste.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “And what exactly does that mean?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead picking up his fork and resuming his meal. “Just means I hope your taste in men hasn’t gone downhill.”

The comment hangs in the air, laden with unspoken meaning. You bite your lip, unsure how to respond, so you let it pass, focusing instead on the warmth creeping into your chest.

Somehow, your heart swells that he cares about who you’ve been with or who you might be with. There’s been none that mattered, you want to tell him, not much as he did, anyway. But that’d be too much for now. 

“Someone’s been busy.”

You glance up from setting your bag down, only to find Pieck leaning casually against your office doorframe, her arms crossed and her expression entirely too amused. She raises an eyebrow at you, her grin as sly as ever.

“What?” you ask, feigning innocence as you pull out some files from your bag.

Pieck takes a slow step inside, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of your appearance. “You’ve got this glow about you lately. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been sneaking out during lunch breaks. Someone’s definitely keeping you entertained.”

You sigh, shaking your head but unable to stop the faint heat from rising to your cheeks. “Pieck, I’m not sneaking out. I’ve been… visiting a friend.”

“A friend, huh?” she teases, pulling out the chair across from your desk and plopping down in it like she owns the place. “And does this ‘friend’ have a name? Or do you just refer to him as the reason you’re suddenly so chipper these days?”

You glance at her warily. “I’m not chipper.”

Pieck lets out a dramatic gasp, leaning back in her chair. “You’re not denying it’s a him, though. Oh, this is good.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Pieck, please. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

She leans forward, resting her chin in her hand as her grin only grows wider. “So you are seeing someone.”

“No,” you protest firmly, sitting down and opening your laptop. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Hmm,” she hums, entirely unconvinced. “So, you’ve just been casually visiting this ‘friend’ during your lunch breaks, bringing them coffee, and probably making googly eyes while you’re at it?”

You give her a pointed look. “It’s not like that.”

Pieck smirks, tilting her head. “If you say so. But you should know, friendships like that usually come with a free side of unresolved feelings. Maybe even a sprinkle of heartbreak, if you’re lucky.”

Her words strike a little too close to home, and you fumble for a retort. “It’s complicated,” you finally say, hoping she’ll drop the subject.

But this is Pieck you’re dealing with. “Oh, I bet it is,” she says with a chuckle, standing up and stretching. “Don’t worry, I won’t pry—much. But if this friend of yours is the reason you’re smiling more, I say keep visiting him.”

You watch as she saunters toward the door, her laughter trailing behind her.

“And for the record,” she calls over her shoulder, “you really do have a glow. Whoever this is, they’re doing something right.”

You exhale, resting your forehead in your hand. Pieck might be too perceptive for her own good, but she isn’t entirely wrong. Something had shifted over the past week with Levi—though you’re not sure yet what it all means. You don’t know what it is but it’s helping you and your relationship with Levi. Maybe even more for you. Waking up these days feels a lot lighter than it had been for the past years. 

It’s late at night. You’re comfortably lying on your bed on a Saturday when another message came through from Levi. You’ve been texting quite frequently for the past few days. Earlier today, you told him to enjoy the party. To your surprise, he was actually doing the opposite—opting to text you throughout the night to update you on what was going on. 

It’s a disaster here. Moblit’s already passed out, Miche’s running some drinking game like it’s the Olympics. They roped Erwin in too.

You laughed softly, imagining the chaos at Moblit’s bachelor party that Levi was invited to. Another message buzzed through. 

Everyone’s drunk. Connie keeps trying to out-chug someone. It’s pathetic. 

You smiled, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Your mind raced for something lighthearted to say. Finally, you typed:

Just leave when it dwindles down. No use staying if you’re not enjoying.

The response was almost immediate.

Should I? 

You chuckle. It’s been known that Levi would just leave a party if he wanted to. A simple grace of his presence is enough for him to say that he had been to the party and that was that. And yet an idea came through your mind. You hesitated before sending your next message. It was a bold thought, one you hadn’t planned on voicing until you were typing it out.

If you want, you can just steal a few bottles and come over here.

Your heart leapt the moment you hit send. You stared at the screen, fingers tightening around the phone as you braced yourself for a dismissive reply—or worse, silence. But then, Levi’s reply popped up, short and simple as always.

Alright.

Your eyes widened. He agreed? You reread the message twice, waiting for him to backtrack, to tack on some excuse about being too tired or having responsibilities. But nothing came.

Now, it was your turn to overthink. Was this a mistake? What were you even going to say to him if he showed up? Yet, despite the nerves crawling up your spine, a strange excitement settled in your chest.

You texted back quickly.

Let me know when you’re on your way. I’ll be waiting.

Levi’s reply was almost instant.

Sure.

You set the phone down, pressing your palms to your cheeks in an effort to cool the heat that had crept there. You tell yourself that it’s just a casual visit. But you know the truth—you had crossed a line somewhere, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or the worst idea you’d ever had.

In a fit of panic, you actually squeal like a teenage girl as you run to the bathroom to fix yourself. You’re already done with your skincare for the night, ready to sleep. You were wearing a simple white shirt and pajama shorts. You pondered changing to better ones but that would make it more awkward, won’t it? Would he even notice?

A few minutes later, the knock on your door was firm but familiar. You glanced at your phone—he hadn’t texted that he was on his way, but here he was. With a deep breath, you pulled the door open and froze.

Levi stood there, a pack of beers dangling from one hand, his expression unreadable in the dim hallway light. The sight instantly took you back to college: the two of you sneaking out into the crisp night air, a six-pack in tow, finding hidden corners to share quiet moments over stolen drinks. The weight of nostalgia hit you square in the chest.

“You gonna let me in, or should I just drink these in the hallway?” Levi’s voice was dry, but there was a faint flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Oh, right—sorry,” you stammered, stepping aside to let him in. “I wasn’t expecting… well, this.”

He raised an eyebrow as he walked in, glancing around your apartment. “What? You’re the one that suggested it. 

You shut the door behind him and leaned against it, watching as he casually set the beers on your small kitchen counter. He seemed completely at ease, but for you, it was anything but.

“I did,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

Levi turned to you, his gaze steady. “Yeah. Just like old times, huh?”

You smiled, “yeah.”

There was a pause as the memory hung in the air between you. Those nights had been different—easier. Back then, you hadn’t carried the weight of unresolved feelings, unanswered questions, and years apart.

“Did you drink there?” you asked finally, gesturing to the beers.

Levi shrugged, pulling out two bottles and popping them open with the opener you handed him from your drawer. He handed one to you and kept the other for himself.

“A little bit,” he said simply, before taking a sip.

You stared at the bottle in your hand, the cool glass grounding you in the moment. “I didn’t think you’d actually come”

Levi leaned back against the counter, his expression unreadable again. “It won’t be weird if you don’t make it weird.”

You let out a soft laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “No. I guess not.”

“Good.” He tilted his bottle toward you in a silent toast, and you tapped yours against his.

As you took a sip, you felt a small knot in your chest loosen. Maybe things weren’t exactly normal, but for now, they felt… okay. The rest could wait. Tonight, you’re just two friends sharing beer together.

The two of you sat on the couch, each with a bottle in hand. The dim light from the lamp in the corner gave the room a cozy, almost nostalgic glow. Levi had started recounting the chaos of Moblit’s bachelor party, his tone dry but tinged with subtle amusement.

“You should’ve seen them. Moblit thought it’d be a great idea to challenge Miche to a drinking contest,” he said, shaking his head.

You let out a laugh, already picturing the disaster. “I don’t know about Moblit’s drinking habits but I already have an idea how that went down.”

“Moblit passed out after three shots. Miche kept going just to rub it in.”

You laughed harder, covering your mouth as you tried to catch your breath. “That sounds about right. Poor Moblit, though. It’s his party.” 

“He woke up before I left,” Levi muttered, taking another sip of his beer.

The conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself savoring every word. Levi wasn’t one to talk much, so when he did, it felt like you were being let into a part of him he rarely showed.

“So, what about Connie?” you asked, leaning forward. “He’s your secretary, right? I didn’t know he hung with your circle.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Connie? He’s one of Mikasa’s friends.”

“Mikasa?” you repeated, not having heard of that name in a while. She’s Levi’s distant cousin who stayed with him and Kuchel for a short while back when you weren’t even close. She would sometimes visit Levi back in college. 

“Yeah. She introduced me to Connie when I was starting out. Said he was an idiot but dependable. She wasn’t wrong.”

You grinned. “He is dependable, but an idiot? That’s harsh.”

Levi shrugged. “He’d agree. He’s good at his job, though. Took to it faster than I expected.”

“You sound like you’re proud of him,” you teased, nudging his shoulder lightly.

He scoffed but didn’t deny it. “He’s grown up. Better than most of the people I’ve had to deal with in this line of work.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, trading stories and laughter. For the first time in a long time, it felt natural—like the years apart hadn’t created an unbridgeable gap.

As Levi talked about his employees and the antics at the party, you found yourself watching him closely. The way his usually sharp features softened when he allowed himself to relax, the faint smirk that appeared whenever he found something amusing—it all reminded you of why you’d been drawn to him in the first place.

It was rare to see him like this, and you knew it. So, you tucked the memory away, a quiet reminder that maybe, just maybe, things between you weren’t as broken as you feared. On the third bottle, a slight buzz is going on in your head, your laughter turns into hazy giggles, your words slurring a little, and the distance between you and Levi is a lot less than when you first started out.

As the night wore on, you began to notice the subtle signs of exhaustion creeping over Levi. The way his words grew slower, his responses shorter. His eyes, usually sharp and piercing, softened with the haze of sleep tugging at him. He rested his arm on the back of the couch, his beer bottle empty on the table between you.

“You look tired,” you said gently, looking into his eyes. You’re sitting shoulder to shoulder now so your faces were a bit close to each other. 

Levi raised an eyebrow, a ghost of his usual sarcasm in his tone. “Thanks. Always nice to hear.”

“I mean it,” you said, ignoring his quip. “You’ve had a long night, Levi. You should rest.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, shifting as if to sit up straighter, though the motion only seemed to emphasize how drained he was.

You gave him a pointed look, crossing your arms. “You don’t look fine. Stay here tonight.”

Levi blinked, the suggestion catching him off guard. “Here?”

“Yes, here,” you said firmly. 

He glanced toward the door, hesitation flickering in his eyes. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” you replied quickly. “Besides, it’s late. No one’s going to hold it against you for getting some rest.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze meeting yours as if searching for any reason to argue. But instead of pushing back, he sighed, the fight leaving him.

“Fine,” he muttered, leaning back against the couch. “But don’t think I’m doing this because you’re convincing.”

You smiled, hiding your relief. “Sure, Levi. Whatever you say.”

As you got up to stretch while yawning, you caught the faintest curve of his lips. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tell you that, at least for tonight, Levi didn’t mind staying.

“And you’re taking the bed,” you said firmly, standing with your hands on your hips as Levi gave you a flat look from the couch.

“Why? I’m fine here.” He gestured lazily at the cushions, though his tone was more annoyed than convincing.

“You’re not fine,” you argued, pointing at the couch. “This thing is terrible. I wouldn’t let my worst enemy sleep on it.”

Levi arched an eyebrow, leaning back slightly as if testing your claim. The faint creak of the cushions didn’t help his case. “It’s fine for one night.”

“It’s not,” you countered, crossing your arms. “You’ll wake up feeling like you got hit by a truck. Just take the bed, Levi. I’m not going to fight you on this.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed,” he said, his tone definitive. “That’s final.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the armrest of the couch. “You’re not kicking me out. I’ll sleep in the guest room, or on this death trap if I have to.”

Levi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to summon patience. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn,” you shot back. “But I’m not budging on this. You’re tired, Levi. Just sleep in the damn bed.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before finally letting out a resigned breath. “Fine. But only because I don’t feel like arguing anymore.”

“Good,” you said, flashing him a triumphant smile. “I’ll grab you some fresh clothes and blanket.”

As you headed to your closet, you heard him mutter under his breath, something about “bossy” but you chose to let it slide. By the time you returned, Levi was already making his way toward your bedroom, his usual air of composure slightly softened by exhaustion.

“Thanks,” he said quietly as he passed you, his voice low but sincere.

“Don’t mention it,” you replied, watching as he disappeared into the room.

When the door clicked shut, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. It felt good to take care of him for once, even if he’d grumble about it later.

An hour had passed, and you were still wide awake, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. The cushions were too thin, the springs poking through in ways that made it impossible to find a good position. Your back throbbed, and you let out a quiet groan as you rolled over again, glaring at the ceiling in frustration.

You’d insisted Levi take the bed. You were proud of that small victory—until now.

The sound of a door creaking open broke the silence, and your heart leapt into your throat. You glanced toward the hallway, half-expecting to see a shadowy figure, but instead, Levi stepped out.

He was barefoot, wearing your shirt and the pair of sweatpants that you assumed run in his size. His hair was a little messier than usual. He rubbed at his neck, his expression a mix of exhaustion and mild irritation.

“Why the hell are you groaning like an old man?” he asked, his voice low but carrying clearly in the quiet of the apartment.

You sat up, wincing as the movement sent another twinge through your back. “I wasn’t groaning,” you lied, trying to sound casual. “Just… adjusting.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway. “Adjusting to dying on that piece of crap?”

“It’s fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze. “Go back to bed.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he sighed, his voice softening as he said, “You’re clearly not sleeping.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted again, though the wince that followed betrayed you.

Levi watched you for a moment, his sharp eyes taking in your obvious discomfort. Then, without a word, he walked over and stood beside the couch, staring down at you with that same unreadable expression he always wore.

“Get up,” he said simply.

“What?”

“Get up,” he repeated, gesturing toward the bedroom. “You’re not sleeping here.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “Levi, I told you—”

“And I’m telling you to stop being stupid and just lay down beside me,” he cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. “There’s plenty of space, and I’d rather not hear you groaning like a dying cat all night.”

Heat rose to your cheeks at his bluntness. “I—”

“Don’t argue,” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re already making this awkward. Just take the bed.”

You hesitated, your pride battling against the undeniable relief the offer promised. But the way he was looking at you—exasperated but sincere—finally tipped the scales.

“Fine,” you muttered, throwing off the thin blanket you’d been using.

Levi stepped back, giving you space as you stood up. He didn’t say anything as you followed him to the bedroom, and you weren’t sure if that made the situation better or worse.

When you both lay down, the silence stretched out, awkward but strangely comforting. The bed was warm, the mattress soft, and for the first time that night, your back stopped aching.

“Thanks,” you mumbled after a moment, keeping your eyes on the ceiling.

“Just go to sleep,” Levi replied, turning onto his side.

Despite his words, there was something in his tone—soft, almost gentle—that made you smile faintly as you closed your eyes. For the first time in hours, sleep came easily. Maybe it was the alcohol… or maybe it was the pair of arms that wrapped around your waist that pulled your back flushed to his warm chest later that night.