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taomyou · 3 months

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a sip of sunshine - chapter one (B)

!! minors dni !! pairing: levi ackerman/reader word count: 20,191 sypnosis: Life is not easy, and Levi’s made peace with the fact that it never will be. And, yet, as the days pass and he comes to enjoy the company of the baker across town, he learns that the sun will always continue to shine, no matter how unworthy he feels to bask in its warmth. - or, Levi learns to be okay with drinking shitty tea. tags: postcanon, canon universe, birthday, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, found family, survivor guilt, eventual romance, eventual smut, character study, grumpy/sunshine, hurt/comfort, bakery, tea, meet-cute, no y/n, pov levi ackerman, not beta read a/n: no smut in this chapter, will be in chapter two. also sorry this took a while to crosspost www. this chapter is also being broken up into two parts because it exceeds the text limit, this is the SECOND half (,,>﹏<,,) accompanying playlist || ao3

chapter one: white peony beauty, bashfulness | shame, apology

There’s not much said, only instructions from you to him.

“Could you hand me the butter? It’s at the back of the fridge, on the left.”

“Could you pass me the sugar?”

“Could you preheat the oven for me? 180, please.”

“Can you hold this for me? I’m sorry.”

The air is neither sociable nor somber, only still as he moves in tandem with you. He’s careful not to spill, not to slip, not to speak too harshly, and you keep your eyes downturned as you work, mixing and sifting and measuring.

You have a smile on your face whenever he glances over to look at you, but it doesn’t reach your eyes in the way he knows.

After you put the batter into the oven and the ganache is in the fridge and Levi’s gathered all the sugar and water and butter and eggs and vanilla you need for the frosting, you and him are stood on opposite sides of the same counterspace, neither of you daring to look up.

Your eyes are kept down as you slowly pour hot sugar syrup onto egg yolks, arms tense as you mix, switching back and forth as you tire of the other. There’s the sound of the whisk hitting the sides of the bowl, a scraping of metal on metal, but the kitchenette is still dead silent as you start to add in cubes of butter and continue to mix.

It becomes too much for him, and he gets up, careful not to hit you as he sneaks behind you. He goes to the sink, full with bowls stained with chocolate and spatulas made of rubber, and he turns on the water. As the water continues to run and he continues to scrub at streaks of batter left behind, he hears the sound of metal on metal stop, and he looks over his shoulder to see you looking at him already, your hands still.

You smile at him, “Thank you for washing the dishes. You don’t have to.”

Of course he has to.

“I know that.”

“And you’re still doing them.”

He looks back down briefly and puts a sieve in the drying rack. “Yeah.”

Your smile reaches your eyes, finally, and you laugh, shaking your head as you look back down and mix slowly. “Sorry I’m so quiet, I don’t really know what to talk about.”

“That’s okay. Me neither.”

You hum and tap your whisk on the edge of the bowl, getting off the excess of buttercream. “What’s she like?”

“Who?”

“Your mother.”

Levi quiets, going back to looking at the sink and watching how the water splashes against the metal basin. “Was like.”

There’s a pause.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay.”

Another pause.

“Are you okay making a cake for a dead woman?”

“She’s still your mother, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then, there’s your answer.”

The oven beeps, telling you that the cake has finished baking, so you tap your whisk against the rim of the bowl and hand the dirtied utensil to Levi, who puts it into the sink. You put on a pair of cloth oven mitts, take out the cake, and set it on the counter to cool.

Levi rinses the leftover frosting from the whisk before bringing the sponge to it. “Did you still want to know about her?”

You take off the mitts and put them back in the crevice of the oven handles. “If you don’t mind telling me. If you don’t want to, I get it. I hardly know anything about you to begin with.”

“Yeah.” Levi holds the whisk under the water, washing the soap away. “I don’t know anything about you, either.”

“All the more reason to talk now, I guess,” you say, taking the bowl of cream you’d just made and opening the fridge to cool it alongside the cake and other parts. “I’m going to take a break on the couch. Sit with me?”

He knows he shouldn’t.

He knows he’s already in too deep, and that knowing you—you knowing him—is the last thing he needs.

But, looking over at the drying rack, full with kitchenware and other miscellaneous appliances he doesn’t know the names of, he thinks that…

Maybe, he can do it.

He can know you, and that will be enough.

To know you, in the moments you’re together, and to forget you when you’re not.

He’ll keep you away during the night, when he’s at home alone and sat at his dining table with nothing but a cup of his tea. He’ll keep you away during the mornings, when the sun has gone so deep into sleep that he has no choice but to see the darkness of the lives lived past.

The last two moons will not have gone by for naught—they’ll remind him to keep his distance, but in the ways his soul demands to be hidden.

He can allow himself this, at the very least.

To know you, in the moments you’re together.

He puts the whisk, now cleaned and glimmering underneath afternoon sunlight, onto the drying rack, letting it drip dry, and he nods, walking over to join you on your couch.

When he’s sat enough, the plush of the cushions flush against his skin, he clears his throat. “What do you want to know?”

“About you, or about your mother?”

Levi isn’t prepared to talk about himself.

“Her.”

“That’s not really up to me to decide,” you muse, stretching out your tired arms. “Whatever you have to say about her, I guess.”

He finds quickly that a lot about her, tells of him.

“Well, she’s dead.”

“I’ve gathered that much. I’m sorry, by the way. When did she pass?”

“I was a child when it happened. Don’t really remember much besides her face.”

And the feeling of sitting alone on the floor, waiting for her to wake up again.

And the feeling of putting her clothes over his, trying to feel her warmth again.

And the feeling of his hair, long and covering his eyes because she hadn’t gotten the chance to trim it sooner.

He doesn’t get much chance to think of her, but in spite of the years which’ve passed, he remembers too much.

Yet, still not enough.

“I’m sorry. Must’ve been hard growing up without her.”

“It was.”

. . .

“Is there anything else?”

“Not really,” he sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “Does that make me a bad son?”

“From the way you talk about her, I can tell you love her dearly. That’s more than enough.”

“Maybe.”

. . .

“You have her face, don’t you?” You ask after some pause.

His breath halts. “What?”

Where’s this coming from?

“I don’t know, you just seem like someone who’d look like their mother.” You shrug.

Levi remembers his mother as far more graceful than he ever could be, so he can’t really be the judge of that.

Again, “maybe.”

. . .

“We’re not that great at talking.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

You chuckle, and Levi feels a greater shift in weight as you sink in further, bringing your legs up and putting your knees to your chest. “Okay, then. How about we take turns asking each other about things?"

Easy enough.

“I’m fine with that.”

“You can ask first. You already told me something.”

What is there to know?

“What’ve you been doing, since you aren’t running the bakery right now?”

“I have enough money saved up to get by for a while, so I’ve been taking a bit of a break before I get things back in order,” you muse. “Still baking, obviously. Don’t really know what else to do with my time.”

“No hobbies?”

“No, not really any time for that when you run a bakery. There’s a little field for all the tenants in the building, so I garden there when I can, but that’s about it. I’m pretty boring.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I’m just as boring,” he says plainly. “Your turn.”

“You already told me, but do you really do nothing with your day?”

“Yeah. Just the normal shit like gardening, cooking, cleaning.” A pause. “I go out sometimes. Go to see old friends, or they’ll come to my place. Help out around the house, have dinner.”

“That sounds nice. You live in a house?”

“Yeah, on the other side of town.” Another pause. “How long have you lived here?”

“A long time. Fifteen years, give or take. I opened the bakery a year after. What about you? In your house, I mean.”

He counts. “Almost four years, not too long.”

“Not from here?”

“Something like that,” he says, looking over and out through the window. “Do you like it here?”

“It’s alright, I don’t really mind it. The people are nice, weather’s good,” you yawn, soaking in sun as you stretch lengthwise. “As long as I have my bakery, the rest is irrelevant.”

He won’t comment on the fact that, right now, underneath the two of you, there’s a barren eating area and display case that’s destroyed.

“Do you?” You ask.

“Do I what?”

“Do you like it here?”

“It’s nice enough. Haven’t explored much, but I’m content.” He thinks of the sky, the sea, the earth. “I hate the birds, though.”

“Oh? How come?”

“...I just hate them.”

You giggle, bringing up your hand to your face. “Fair enough, they are pretty annoying. At least you’ve got a bakery you can frequent on the Wednesdays you feel like doing anything but nothing,” you tease, looking over at him. “Plus, no birds here.”

His eyes meet yours, and he feels a quiet bloom in his heart. “That, I do.”

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

Along goes the rest of the afternoon, filled with mundane, meaningless questions as such.

It’s surprisingly easy—how conversation flows after the initial awkwardness, knowing that conversation is happening purely with the intention of knowing as much as possible, in as little time as possible. It’s a catching-up on lost time, and a surprising rekindling of the level of comfortability which’d existed and quietly bloomed in the months spanning before this.

It’s not a lot, but it’s enough.

He learns that you always have a cup of tea in the morning, never at night, because you know you’ll have to get up early and can’t afford to miss out on any sleep.

You learn that he refuses to let anyone else clean his bathroom, because he knows that they aren’t going to do a good enough job anyway, and it’s a waste of cleaning solution to have someone do it half-assed.

He learns of how your bakery came to be, how you’d struggled to find investors when you were younger and eventually just decided to take out a loan and hope for the best.

You learn of Gabi and Falco formally, and how they’d gotten dirt on the floorboards of his house yesterday because they were too eager to come inside and show him the centipede they’d caught from the garden.

At some point, you have to get back up on your feet to assemble and decorate the cake, and although there isn’t much that Levi can necessarily do to help, he stands on the other side of the counterspace and watches as you work.

“What kind of cake is this?” Levi asks, speaking softly to not disturb you as you make careful cuts along the lines you mark on the sponge.

“It’s called an opera cake.”

An opera cake? Like, those fancy singers?

He supposes it’s fitting. His mother used to sing him goodnight, all those years ago.

But, still, “I don’t think I’ve seen it before in your display.”

“I don’t sell it in the bakery,” you say, pulling away your knife and turning the sponge to get the next side. “I hate making it.”

“Then why are you making it right now?”

“...It’s the fanciest cake I could think of.”

“Go figure.”

“Well, I had to pull out all the stops.”

“And why is that?”

You close one of your eyes to get a more accurate look as you start the next cut. “Today is important to you, I can’t have you taking home any ordinary cake.”

. . .

“I appreciate that.”

“I know.” You open both your eyes again and slice a bit faster, still careful not to nip your fingers or chip the stone countertop. “Uh, my turn again. What’s your favorite drink?”

Well, he can’t say it’s tea. He’s gone this long without ever giving up on that white lie.

“Water.”

“How… health-conscious of you. Trying to make it to a thousand-and-one?”

“Shut up.”

You roll your eyes, and you put down your knife. You gently pull away the trimmings of the cake, and you hold out a piece for Levi to nibble on. “Here, tell me what you think.”

He takes it, and he takes a bite. “It’s good.”

“Aw, no ‘this is the greatest thing I’ve ever eaten in my life?’”

“Maybe when it’s put-together, but, for now, no.”

“I never knew you were such a critic,” you sass, turning around and opening the fridge to get something else. “It’s your turn, by the way.”

With your back turned to him, he sees the ribbon in your hair again, and it sways back and forth as you muse to yourself what you’re talking out of the fridge.

“Your ribbons,” he starts, “why do you…”

“Why do I use ribbons all the time?”

Levi nods slowly. “Yeah.”

“Personal question?”

“It’s personal?”

You chuckle slightly, and you turn back to him with the bowls of ganache, buttercream, and coffee in your hands. “It’s a bit of a long story, are you alright listening?”

Levi’s brows furrow.

How could the origin of this trait of yours be that personal?

Again, he nods slowly. “Only if you want to answer.”

“Might as well, right?” You hum, and you reach up to grab a cake board from one of your upper cabinets, and you set that down on some clear space on the counter. “Well, the short story is that my mother was a seamstress, and she’d always sew bows and ribbons onto my clothes when I was a kid because I thought they were pretty.”

“Was?”

“She was a seamstress when she was alive.”

Oh.

“You can ask about her later, if you want.”

Levi nods curtly. “Go on, then. With your… long story.”

You put the slab of cake onto your knife, and you transfer it to the board before turning to grab a spatula from the drying rack and a pastry brush from a drawer. “Long story being that my younger sister was a really sickly child. We were really close, but it was still really hard to see her so sick.”

“That’s tough.”

“Do you have a sister yourself?”

Isabel.

“Yeah.”

“I guess maybe you’ll understand, then,” you take a brush soaked with coffee and run it along the cake. “Anyway, our parents died when I was a teenager, so I had to take care of my sister by myself.

“And I remember her first birthday without them, I got a teddy bear for her. Got it all wrapped up in this huge box, put a ton of bows on it that I got from the store, and I gave it to her as soon as she woke up. I was so excited because I’d just gotten a job as a waitress at a nearby restaurant and finally had the money to do something extra for her.

“And, I don’t know why I didn’t consider it? Maybe because our parents never had the money to get us presents and I’d never really thought about it before, but she just… couldn’t open it. Like, she could peel off some of the tape, but her fingernails were really weak, and she was too drowsy from the medicine to handle a knife if I gave her one to cut it open.”

You grab hold of the spatula again, and you take a dollop of cream and plop it onto the coffee-soaked layer. “I ended up opening it for her, and she was super happy to have a new friend, but I remember thinking about how my friends from school would talk about how great it was to open presents on their birthdays and tear at the paper, and I felt bad that my sister missed out on that feeling.

“I asked around afterwards to see if anyone had anything else I could try, and the lady who owned the restaurant I worked at showed me how she wrapped presents for her husband who lived in hospice. She’d put a ribbon on the box, and if you pulled on it, it’d just tear off the rest of the paper.

“I used that way of wrapping for my sister when I had the next excuse to get her something—it’s been so long that I don’t remember what day it even was, but she was so happy—and I guess it stuck? I was already kind of obsessed with ribbons to begin with, so I just learned all these ways to tie it, and I’d show her too.” You’ve finished spreading the cream evenly, and go on to put another layer of sponge.

“She died a few years later, I moved on with my life, and now it's just a habit.”

You awkwardly smile. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

It was.

“It’s fine,” Levi says. “Are you doing okay now?”

“Yeah, it’s been a long time.” You take your brush again and put on more coffee. “It gets easier, too.”

“What does?”

“Living without people you love. Can you hold this bowl for me?”

“Sure,” he says, taking the bowl of ganache from you, and when you motion for him to tip it slightly, he does. You let a bit of it fall onto the coffee-soaked sponge, and Levi frowns. “Does it really? Get easier.”

“I think so,” you muse. “What other option is there? Being sad forever?”

“That’s one way to put it,” he says softly.

“Everyone’s different, so there’s not really any measure on that sort of thing. But it’s hard to move on if you’re always stuck in the past,” you hum.

What if he doesn’t want to move on?

““You can put that down, now. Thank you.”

“Okay.”

You transfer another layer of cake onto the stack, and then another level of coffee soak, and for the rest of the time you assemble the cake, neither of you speak. What else is there to say after learning something like that?

Though, the inner musings of your grief become louder when, after you take another break and chill the cake in the fridge before you send it off with Levi, you sit at the dining table and slowly unravel a spool of ribbon to start wrapping it up in a box. Levi sits across from you, watching as he usually does as your hands unravel the color and cut strands to lace through the slits.

There’s a faint sad smile that he’s never truly been able to understand before on your face as you carefully set down tape to keep everything in place.

“Oh, shoot! I forgot!” You tug on all the ribbons you’ve just put down, opening the box all over again, and you get up and rush to the fridge to grab something. Levi watches in confusion until you come back to the table with a piping bag, and you steady it in your hands. “Just ‘Happy Birthday,’ right?”

Levi nods, but right before you can put chocolate on chocolate, he interrupts again. “Could you write something else, too?”

“Of course!”

He tells you, and he sits up a bit straighter to peer over the edge of the box as you pipe out the cursive lettering.

Happy Birthday, Mommy

You repackage the box again, needing to cut a few more pieces of fresh tape, and you put it into a cloth bag. And, like those many weeks ago, you move around to the back of Levi’s wheelchair with the cake and a spool of ribbon, and you tie it up onto the handles and secure it in place for him.

You walk him down back through the door from which you’d both came, and after making sure that the cake absolutely will not fall on the commute back (and he's discreetly slipped the proper amount for a cake into the pocket of your apron), you stand up straighter again and hold the door open for yourself, waving goodbye to him.

“Come back again soon, I’ll be waiting for you!”

Can't exactly come back when the bakery isn't... open.

“How soon is ‘soon,’ exactly?”

You lean against the doorframe, looking off and down the street. “I should be open again by the end of the year, maybe?”

The end of the year?

“It’s only May, you need the rest of the year?”

“I guess that isn’t really ‘soon,’ huh?” You halfheartedly jest. “You saw when you passed through, everything's wrecked. Nothing I can really do to reopen quicker, I only have myself to get things back in order.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Huh?”

And with the musings of his heart, he watches as the sun reflects from your eyes, glassy and shining, and he speaks from his soul once more.

“You have me.”

It goes without saying that, to Levi, that means you'll only have him in the moments you're together—in the moments that he's able to give even half of himself to you—but you'll still have him, even if only to rebuild the bakery and the part of your soul that's asking for purpose in the same ways that his is.

He can only hope that it's enough.

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

In the early summer, the days bleed together, unified only by the long stroke of orange and dandelion yellow across a sky that’s grander than the opera.

Levi, just as he had in the late winter and early spring, returns to the bakery every Wednesday.

Only, instead of coming to have a slice of cake and people-watch for hours on end, he wears shoes with thick soles so he can sweep away broken glass and step over broken wooden tables, and instead of you having a cup of tea next to him, you’re looking through catalogs of furniture to order new chairs and tile for the chipped floor.

And, unlike when he’d been with you in the bakery kitchen that one morning many moons ago, it’s not quiet. Between the crunching of plywood and the flipping of checkbook pages, he continues to learn more about you, and you him.

He learns that you cannot stand the look of white lights, and that you’d much rather work in darkness than be without muted yellow glow.

You learn that he’s very particular about the way he cleans windows, and that he always ties a cloth over the lower part of his face to keep from inhaling dust.

He learns that your nose is especially sensitive to sawdust, so he tries his best to sweep slowly to keep you from sneezing.

You learn he hates, among (many) other things, the smell of mulch and compost, but he tolerates it because Onyankopon insists that the plants need it to grow, and you tell him you can take out the trash at the end of the day while he gets ready to leave.

He learns that your favorite desserts are cannelés, but you hate making them so you don’t sell them in the store.

He’s never had one, nor can he really pronounce it correctly, but he tells you he’ll visit one of the other shitty bakeries in the area to find them for you one day.

You learn that his favorite flavor of the cakes from your bakery is lemon and mint.

You promise to always keep one in the display, just in case he decides to buy one out-of-the-blue when you reopen.

In earnest, it becomes easy for him to let himself fall into the dynamic once more, with even greater grace.

On this particular afternoon in the late summer, you’re standing up on top of a chair, using a paint roller to get the corners of the wall, and Levi’s holding the chair steady like his life depends on it.

“Can you hurry up? The longer you’re up there, the more likely you’re going to fall.”

“You don't think I'm scared of that right now too?! I’m trying, I don’t want it to look too patchy!”

“Who the fuck is going to care if the corner is the same shade of paint?!”

“Me!”

Levi sighs. “Okay, okay, whatever.”

After a bit more struggle from you, you get off your tip-toes and slowly bend down again to get off the chair. With a shaky hand, you try to find the back handle of the chair to hold onto, but Levi just holds his hand out to you to make it easier.

You take it, and he feels a spark.

He ignores it, but you don’t.

“Did you feel that?”

Levi clears his throat and lets go of your hand, as well as the chair leg he’d been gripping onto for dear life. “No.”

And though his heart seems to be stuck in place, you move on quickly and stretch upwards, now looking up at the spot from the ground, and you put down the paint roller onto the tray. “I think we’ve done enough for today.”

“All we did was repaint a singular wall and decide what tables to order,” Levi deadpans.

“Which, I think, is good enough!"

"You haven't even marked the order in your notebook yet. You're gonna forget."

You sigh wistfully. "I'll get to it eventually, just not right now."

“If you’re tired, I can keep cleaning down here. I don’t mind.”

He’d literally just gotten here an hour ago, he is not about to go home and do… whatever else it is that he has to do today.

“Actually,” you start, looking past him and at the door. “I was thinking we could go out and do something today.”

“Like…?”

“I made reservations at a restaurant, but other than that, we’re free to do whatever we’d like. Obviously, I won’t keep you too late, but I was hoping you'd come along."

A reservation?

Levi raises a brow. “What’s the occasion?”

"What're you talking about?"

"A reservation is a bit much for an 'impromptu' outing, so what's the occasion?"

“Today’s the summer solstice!”

Levi wasn't particularly aware, but the sun did seem to be up higher today than usual. “And that’s important because...?”

“What's unimportant about the longest day of the year?"

"Everything."

You laugh, and you go to grab the sunhat you'd brought down to the bakery today. Looking more closely now, you're dressed a bit more nicely than you normally are, in a long sundress and shoes not quite meant for fixing up a storefront still covered in sawdust. "Well, there hasn't really been much to celebrate lately, so we have to make unimportant days like this mean something."

"If you say so," he grumbles. Seriously, what's all that special about the solstice?

"Besides, if the sun is out longer, that means you can stay later than usual today!" By now, you've got your hand on the door, and you tilt your head towards the door. "Do you wanna come, or are you gonna stay and mull over what kind of wood the tables should be?"

"Yeah, yeah, one second," he sighs. "And you know I thought walnut was the best."

"You still had to go through the catalogue, like, three times, before agreeing with me on that!"

He grabs his cane, and he follows you out the door, the brightness of the afternoon assaulting his eyes and forcing him to narrow them for a second. "Whatever, let's just go."

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

More or less, it's an... interesting time.

You drag him to a restaurant a few streets down, pointing out buildings to him as you pass them by and telling him what they're for. The place isn't all that crowded to begin with, so Levi hardly knows why you'd put in a reservation in the first place, but you seem to be having a decent enough time making small talk with the hostess as she leads you and Levi to a table by an upstairs window. Thank goodness Levi's dressed somewhat appropriately in a black turtleneck sweater and slacks; the people here, even if they look nice enough, are dressed pretty well, and it seems to be on the higher-end of luxury scaling.

It does faintly bring red to his ears to hear that you'd made the reservation for both you and him, being so confident in telling the hostess that the two of you were together. It tells him he's doing enough—enough that you're secure enough to be inviting him at all, and secure in the thought that you have him.

The hostess leaves two menus at the table booth, the two of you now seated across from each other. "Someone will come by to get your order soon!"

"Thank you!"

The both of you grab a menu for yourselves, and Levi frowns when he sees the prices. "Why is everything here so fucking expensive?"

You hum, flipping to the next page. "Don't worry about it, I got it covered."

"You paying for me is worse than us just running out before the bill comes."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Who said anything about that?"

"Great, so we really are going to run out on the bill," he sighs, bringing his menu back up to cover his face. Thank goodness he'd brought enough money with him.

After a few moments wherein you and him are reading through them, you pull down Levi's down to make eye contact with him. "And you can't just choose the cheapest thing on the menu and hope that I won't know that's what you're doing."

"You can't stop me from ordering the," he scans the page, "children's bowl of salad greens."

"Ha, ha, very funny, Levi. Pick anything but that."

"And what if I actually want that? How dare you deprive me of my," he looks back down at the menu, "artisanal assortment of seasonal vegetables, including but not limited to spinach, lettuce, kale, and cabbage."

"Come on, just get what you want! Really, I got it."

Levi sighs. At this point, he knows there's no point in questioning you, even if you aren't making any sense.

A waiter comes by to take your orders, and even though Levi's got no idea what you have cooking up, he orders whatever looks appetizing to him in the moment. The waiter takes away your menus, and you lace your fingers together underneath your chin, leaning forward and looking at him. "So, Levi?"

"What?"

"Do you have to get home early today, or do I get you all to myself until sundown?"

"I don't really have anything to do, so I guess the latter."

"You don't sound all that enthusiastic," you tease, playfully kicking his foot underneath the table. "Tired of me already?"

"I never said that," he deadpans. "You know how I talk by now, you know what I mean."

"Just poking fun at you," you smile. "Is there anything you wanna do for the rest of the day after we eat, then?"

"How should I know? I hardly ever go out."

"Would you mind following me around all day?"

No.

"Aren't you already dragging me around?"

You chuckle. "Yeah, you're right, sorry about that. I probably should've asked you earlier if you wanted to do anything today."

"It's fine, I don't mind."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I trust that you know your way around this place better than I do, anyway."

"Probably, but I don't have any ideas of what to do for the rest of the day, so I guess we'll just go where the wind takes us."

"Sounds good enough."

The waiter returns with two glasses of water, and you tap your cup against his in cheers before taking a sip. "Got any plans for this week?"

This is a pretty routine question, with an equally routine response.

Levi shrugs, reaching over to pull his glass closer to him. "Nothing much. The wind has been a pain, so I have to redo some of the fencing around my house tomorrow."

"Aw, at least the heat hasn't been too bad this year, so it can't be that bad to be working outside. Are Gabi and Falco going to come over to help you?"

"Yeah, but I know they only wanna help so they can force me to get ice cream for them afterwards," he sighs.

You smile. "They're just kids, you can't blame them."

He rolls his eyes. "I can if they do a shit job."

"Well, if they don't do a shit job, I can show you this ice cream parlor down the road later! It's good, I used to go there a lot. Maybe you can take them there."

"Maybe," he takes a sip of water. "Is it expensive like everything else is around here?"

"It's a decent price, I wouldn't worry about it," you wave him off. "Doing anything else?"

"You know as well as I do that I'm boring as shit, so no. You?"

You hum, looking off and out the window. "I have to go and collect bank statements before the weekend, but that's about it."

"That's it?"

You roll your eyes with a smile. "Are you the only one allowed to be boring?"

"You just seem more productive than boring."

"Normally, you'd be right, but I can't bring myself to really get anything done right now."

He doesn't need to ask why that is, but he follows your gaze outside and hums in affirmation. "Not judging you."

"I know."

You and him sit in silence for the rest of the lunch spent, only making brief comments about the random happenings you can see through the window. There's a bird that chases after a teenager for a loaf of bread, a fountain that spits water in the center road, a couple of kids who fall into said fountain. When the food arrives, Levi feels slightly uneasy because you still haven't told him what's happening with the payment situation, but as soon as he takes his first bite of the dish, he just lets himself forget about what you're plotting because it's too good to be worrying himself over. You eat in similar quiet, only once asking if he likes his meal, but it's an easy quiet. One that's familiar, that'd been present in the simpler days where you and him would only spend time in each other's company people-watching.

The both of you finish your food with similar-enough speed, and the waiter takes away both your plates before you yawn and stretch out your arms and legs. "I'll be right back, going to the bathroom," you say, sliding out of your side of the booth.

Levi nods, and he looks down into his glass of water once you're out of view. The ice practically refuses to melt, clinking against the sides of the cup as he rocks it back and forth, but it isn't really all that long before you return. He raises a suspicious brow at you, really doubting that you'd gone to the bathroom at all, but before he can question it, there's a small ensemble of wait staff around your table, and a slice of cake is placed in front of him with a lit candle on it.

"Happy birthday, sir!" They all chorus.

"Happy birthday, Levi!" You cheer.

Levi blinks, looking dumbfoundedly at the candle that flickers in front of him. "What? It's not my birthday."

Levi then looks across the table at you, who's got your hands together in thanks, a grin plastered on your face. "Thank you! Sorry, he's just shy."

"No worries! We'd still love to give you a discount for this special day."

Is this your idea of getting the meal "taken care of?"

Good lord.

"Would you like to be sung to, sir?"

Fuck no.

"No, thank you."

You snicker from behind your hand, and after the wait staff (and the rest of the people in this fucking restaurant) wish him another happy birthday, Levi kicks your feet underneath the table again. You yelp, but you burst into laughter as he continues.

He hisses your name under his breath. "I cannot believe you said it was my birthday!"

"Come on! It's all in good fun, and we get a discount!"

"How is this fun? What if I wanted to celebrate my actual birthday here someday?"

"Don't worry, I thought that through!"

He groans into his hands. "I don't even want to know, but I probably should."

"Well, this is practically the halfway point between your birthdays, so this is the perfect time for you to be pretending it actually is because the employees will have six months to forget!"

Ugh, he hates that that makes sense. "I'm never going anywhere with you again."

"You already agreed I get you for the day, so you can't really say that," you laugh. "You should probably blow out your candle before the wax melts into the cake, though."

He sighs, and he brings his hands away from his face to blow the flame. You clap excitedly, as does the table directly next to you, and Levi sinks back into his seat. "Let's get out of here."

"Not gonna enjoy your birthday treat?"

Levi rolls his eyes. "Why, do you want it?"

"I'm alright, I'm too full."

"Well, I doubt it's better than anything you could make, so I don't really want it either."

"Can I have it, mister?" A young boy from the table behind him asks, popping up from behind Levi's seat.

His parents shush him, but Levi just gently plucks off the burnt-out candle and hands the plate to the kid from over the divider. "Sure, happy birthday."

You smile as you watch the exchange, but before you can tease Levi for his soft spot, he gets up from his side of the booth and pulls you up to leave with him.

At least he gets the one-up on you when he forces you to let him to pay for the both of you himself, even if it isn't nowhere as much as it should be if it weren't "his birthday."

When you and him exit the restaurant and Levi's left once again at your mercy, the first order of business is you showing him all the ice cream shops up-and-down the streets. You pull him along as best as you both can go, which admittedly isn't all that fast, but Levi still feels a breeze as he walks alongside you and through crowds of people going about their day. Even though you'd said you only knew of one place, it turns out that the whole town is riddled with seasonal ice cream shops that are jumping at the chance to take advantage of the sunniest day of the year.

You sweet talk each and every one of those employees into giving you and Levi free samples far bigger than they should be (it certainly does help that you tell all of them that you're celebrating a birthday), but after the third time you pull it off, Levi just goes along with it and gently knocks at the back of your knees with his cane once you're safely away and onto the next parlor.

With the sun high in the sky and only a gentle zephyr to carry the scent of summer flowers, it feels like the perfect time to be having ice cream, and even if Levi doesn't really have the heart to tell you he doesn't have a favorite flavor for himself, he enjoys the flavors that you pick out for the two of you so that you can try to guess.

He also tries his best to ignore the twinkle in your eye when you inevitably change samples with him and indirectly kiss, but it's hard to miss the way your smile reaches your eyes as you walk merrily alongside him and muse your joy, completely obvious to the gentle sunshine reflecting from the ribbon in your hair.

At some point, though, the both of you tire of eating so much ice cream, and you find yourselves walking along a strip of small shops facing a stretch of sea he didn't know was even here, shadows following you and telling Levi it's been a few hours since having first gone out. You're at the edge of the town, neither of you having quite ventured so far before, so there's no sense of direction other than where the weathervane points.

"What's next to do?" Levi asks.

"What, you don't wanna try more ice cream?"

"You said you were tired of it not even three minutes ago."

"That's me! What if you wanted more?"

"I'm good, thanks," he says plainly. "And I doubt we'll come across any more shops. We've been at this for hours now."

"Don't say that, this is important!"

"Sure it is," he rolls his eyes. "But, still, where are we going? I have no idea where we are."

"You and me both," you hum. "I don't know, see anything interesting here?"

Levi looks up to see the overhanging signs, lined up neatly at the upper edge of his vision. There's what looks like clothing stores and other small shops, none of which catch his eye, but after a bit more walking, he hears a halt in your step next to him and turns to look back at your form still stood three steps behind.

In the window you're looking through is a cake, put up on display against the glass.

A kid with a chocolate roll in his hands runs past you and towards the other side of the street, drawing your attention to this bakery's doors where people come in and out, arms full with pastries and other things you'd also made when you were still opened. The smell of summer berries and brûléed vanilla sugar are carried by the now-strong summer wind, and Levi's eyes catch sight of yours looking at the sign hung from the awning. The skirt of your sundress billows in the breeze, the fabric undoubtedly irritating the skin around your ankles, but you remain standing there, half-stood between walking forward and backwards.

And he's filled with sadness, watching you as the sun overhead mockingly casts down light onto your figure.

It isn't a tragedy for there to be another bakery here, he knows that. It's a good distance away from yours, and there's hardly any reason to be upset that people are able to get their fill of sugar and spice. There's enough room for everyone to do well for themselves, and he knows the look in your eyes isn't that of jealousy, and the longing therein is not for the height of success this place seemingly has. Even if you'd been envious, he wouldn't blame you. He's competitive in his own right, and perhaps if it'd been under different circumstances, he'd scoff at you and tell you that there's no way this place has better scones than yours.

But the windows have no curtains, and the glass on them is whole. The door isn't locked shut, nor is there a sign hung on it saying it's unsure of when it'll open again. The display case is unshattered, there's a light illuminating whatever's in it. The chairs are filled with people, and the paint of the walls don't need to be redone. Whoever owns this place doesn't spend their afternoons sprawled out on a freshly-dusted table that's the only piece of unbroken furniture left, but, rather, with patrons who praise their craft and line their pockets with petty cash and loose coins.

And all those things together explain the frown that's settled on your features, out-of-place and pulling at the strings of his heart.

So, he does what he has to.

Levi grabs your hand, his cane held half-firmly in the palm of his other hand, and he pulls you away. He pulls you in the direction of the wind so your hair doesn't get caught in your eyes, and he takes you off-balance just enough to force you to follow his guide.

You ask where you're going.

He has no idea where he's going or how far he's going to travel, but all he knows is that he has to get you away from there. Again, it's not like he can move all that quickly, his legs not necessarily made for running, but he does his best, pain permitting.

So he keeps his mouth shut, only telling you that it's a surprise.

You ask what's wrong, why he's walking so fast.

He knows you aren't going to say anything to let on that you're upset or admit you need to be somewhere else, so he makes up some bullshit excuse about everything here being boring and needing to leave for something less mind-numbing.

You stop questioning things when Levi squeezes your hand, though. He probably should've thought to do that sooner.

The wind directs you both to a bench facing the water, faraway from the bakery and out of the breeze, and by the time and you've both caught your breath back and sat down, Levi's still got a hold on your hand, and you can only stare at the linking of warmth where they meet before looking up to his face.

He can see the overglaze in your eyes disappear as you blink and take in your new surroundings, looking past him now and around the area you've found yourselves in. He does the same, wanting to see the same things you're seeing.

The sky above the water is clear, only colored in the blue he's used to seeing on land. There's blinding glimmer from the sun above, and the sea is as clear as it is cloudy with sand. There's kids playing in the sand, burying their father underneath a layer that'd certainly break if he so much as moved a finger. The birds give Levi another reason to hate them (not that he needs any more, but it's nice to have more justification) because he can only watch in horror as they fly over and steal sandwiches from plates left unattended.

It certainly does look different when the sun is actually out.

He looks over at you occasionally, trying to figure out what the fuck he's meant to say after he's dragged you to this random ass bench in the seeming middle of nowhere for seemingly no reason, but you look content enough, your eyes only focused on where the sky kisses the sea, so he doesn't say anything. He looks down to where your hands are, still connected and with a grip gentle enough for either of you to pull away with easy, but when you don't make any movement away from him, he decides he doesn't want to either.

And the two of you sit like this for a while, just watching as the sun seems to endlessly light the world in front of you.

Yeah.

This is fine.

At some point, however many hours later, you pull your hand away to instinctively cover your mouth to yawn, and Levi knows then that it's about time to head back, no matter how sunny it is outside. He forces you to get up, poking you at the small of your back with his cane until you are awake enough to be aware of your surroundings, and you're suddenly back to yourself, teasing and smiling and walking alongside him with a smile on your face.

The two of you struggle with getting back to your apartment, only able to track yourselves using vague recollections of shop signs you'd both only seen once several hours ago, but after a lot of walking in circles (and a quick detour through a farmer's market to get things to make dinner), you finally find yourselves back at your home, Levi taking the opportunity to prove he's not totally inept in the kitchen. What comes as a result is a meal that you insist is fit for royalty, and you and him eat while speaking half-truths over two more cups of tea that go cold before you can drink one of them.

With nothing else to do but to wait for the full feeling in his stomach to pass, Levi finds himself slumped back on your sofa, his forearm over his eyes, you right next to him with a fresh cup of tea to keep yourself from falling asleep. You're quite tired for someone who always seems so energetic, but Levi supposes that a day like that would wear anyone down. He's still not penchant to sleep, though, even with all the movement of the day, but he does let himself close his eyes while he tries to give himself the energy to take himself home.

"You can just go to sleep, you don't have to stay awake," he says quietly, adjusting his legs to lay a bit more comfortably. "I'll lock the door on the way out, I'll leave soon."

You yawn. "I don't want to sleep yet, it's too early. You sure you don't just wanna stay over again? I won't wake you up at 3 in the morning again to make tea for me downstairs."

"I have to fix the fence with the kids tomorrow, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, forgot."

"I appreciate the offer, though."

"Yeah, of course. You're welcome anytime." You hum before stretching and getting up from the couch. "One second, I'm gonna get something real quick."

Levi nods, and he looks out your balcony's glass doors as he waits. There's still plenty of light out, but it's nearing what's supposed to be evening, so he really ought to go soon. Just as he's about to get up, though, his hands about to push himself up off the seat cushion, you're halfway leaned down in front of him with a cake in your hands.

The two of you make eye contact, and you freeze. Levi's eyes flicker back and forth between your face and the cake, a candle lit in the center. You're silent, stuck in place, so Levi takes it upon himself to break the sound barrier.

"Aren't you going to start singing? It's my birthday, you know."

You blink, and, suddenly, laughter sputters from you, and you tip your head back and look up at the ceiling, careful not to drop the cake. Levi rushes to get up, take the cake from you, and set it on the table, and you fall back onto the couch and cover your eyes from the overhead light with your forearm. The rise and fall of your chest as you laugh and try to catch your breath is too much for Levi to watch, so he looks away and stares at the flicker of the candle as it melts shorter.

"Oh, Levi! You're hilarious!"

"I'm really not," he deadpans. "What's this for, anyway? You know it's not my birthday."

You roll your eyes, leaning forward and turning the cake so that it's faced properly towards yourselves on the couch. "So conceited. Who said anything about it being your birthday?"

"You did, all day-" Levi pauses. He looks at the cake, and there, in icing, are the words Happy Birthday.

If it's not his birthday...

"Gonna sing for me, old man?"

. . .

"Today's your birthday?"

"Yep! What, you thought I'd take advantage of that restaurant without it actually being someone's birthday?"

He frowns. Why hadn't you said anything earlier? The entire day, you'd just gone around telling people that it was his birthday, not yours. It makes a lot more sense that you had a reservation for the restaurant, why you cared so much about the other happenings of today, why you wanted to do something different.

He could've done something. Not that he could've gotten you a cake, really, seeing as you're the one who he goes to when he needs that, but maybe he could've-

"I'm waiting," you singsong, leaning over to nudge his shoulder.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"What, so you could get me a cake?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Ah, ah, ah," you wave your finger at him. "You know you aren't gonna win with me, so you can stop with that."

"You still should've told me," he barks. "For fucks sake, it's your birthday."

He's not meaningfully upset, and he knows you know that, but he can't understand why you wouldn't say anything until bringing out an entire fucking cake.

You raise a brow at him, leaning sideways deeper into the couch cushions. "If I remember correctly, you're the one who doesn't care about your birthday all that much, right?"

Okay, well, that might've been true regarding his own birthday, but he's really taken to celebrating for other people's lately, especially with the gradual shift in his attitudes of celebrating things in general. For fucks sake, he's bought, like, twenty cakes from you at this point. You, of all people, know this.

"Okay, and? It's still unfair you spent your day wasting time with me."

You lean your face into your hand. "And it's unfair you've been doing the same with me for the last couple weeks with me, so we're even."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

You roll your eyes. "Come on, Levi, just let me be selfish."

"No, really, what are you talking about? I-" Before he can continue, his eyes drift to the cake (more specifically, to the evershortening candle on it). "Your candle!"

"Oh, right." You tuck a front strand of hair behind your ear before leaning over the table, pausing for a second to make your wish, and you blow out the candle. Your eyes follow the stray smoke as it floats up and dissipates in the air. Levi, though still mildly distraught, claps for you, and you flash him a smile.

You then get up and bring back a knife, two plates, and two forks, and you kneel on the floor in front of the cake while turning it. You'd sat down a bit too quickly, so the ribbon in your hair was brought to the front of your head, so Levi leans forward to pull it back properly and make sure it doesn't get caught on any frosting.

At the feeling of his hands over your hair, you look back at him, and the abrupt movement undoes the ribbon, one end of it held onto by Levi's hand. Levi pauses, unsure of what to do with it, but you only smile at him again before going back to the cake. After a bit more staring at it, you lean to the side to let him see. "That look like a good piece?"

Honestly, he doesn't really know what constitutes a good piece in the first place, but it has a strawberry on it, so he nods, the ribbon still in his grasp. He's still unused to seeing you with your hair down, so he also doesn't really know what to say without sounding like a complete and utter idiot, but you luckily make it easy for him by thrusting a plate with a slice of strawberry cream cake into his hands.

You put down the knife after getting yourself a piece too, and you sink back into the couch happily with a fork between your lips. Levi takes a bite, too, and he wills himself awake to enjoy it properly. He makes no further comments regarding you keeping your birthday to yourself, but when you and him both finish eating, he gets up from the couch and steals your plate from you to do the dishes from this and dinner himself. You try to stop him to no avail, as he threatens to drop the plates to the floor if you try to take them away from him, but you quietly follow him to the kitchenette and sit at the dining table as he turns on the faucet and grabs a sponge, squeezing soap onto it.

He scrubs as quietly as he can, which isn't really all that quiet anyway because the running water is still far too loud, but when he's finally at the point where he can put the sponge down and just wash away bubbles, you yawn again and you look off wistfully, leaning further into your hand as you watch the sun set in the sky.

Well, not really, because it's still very bright outside and the sun is nowhere near actually setting, but it'd ordinarily be around this time anyway, so it feels like it should be.

"Thanks for coming along with me today, Levi. I appreciate it."

"Yeah, I know." He puts a plate onto the rack. "Still don't know why you didn't just tell me it was your birthday."

"I didn't want you to do anything special. You do enough for me as is."

Levi scoffs. "Like washing the dishes is that much work."

You chuckle. "It isn't, but you've been a lot of help. I don't really get much done in the bakery when you're not here."

"You don't?" He thought as much on the front that the storefront doesn't look all that different between the Wednesdays he comes, but he assumed you did other things during the rest of the week by yourself.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't lost sleep over the worry that you'd be alone in the mornings, the time only reminding you of when you used to wake up to start your day down at the bakery, though.

"You can probably read me as well as I read you, right?"

"I doubt it."

"I think you do, since you probably already know this," you muse. "I don't know, it's just hard to do anything on my own about it. It's really overwhelming to think about fixing everything."

"I can imagine," he says, frowning slightly.

There's a brief silence as you get up to get the cake and bring it back to the fridge, and you lean against it as you watch Levi get to wiping dry the rest of the kitchenware.

"Really, Levi. Thank you for coming over so often. I'm sorry I can't give you anything in return."

You think you don't give him anything?

You probably couldn't be any more wrong about that.

"Don't worry about it." He pauses, flicking off excess water on his hands into the sink. "I like being here."

The with you goes unspoken, but he doesn't know if he wants you to know that or not.

Levi turns to look back at you, far closer than he thought you were to him, and he tries his best to match the smile on your face with a softening of his gaze. "Happy birthday."

And maybe because he's already within reach or because you're too thankful for your own good or because the sun has decided he's deserving, you reach out and wrap him in a tight hug, your smile against the skin of his neck as you hold him.

For the first time today, the nagging at the back of his mind is there again, telling him that he's not meant to be held this way. That he's meant to be anywhere else, where the sun is down for as long as he's awake and the sky isn't painted in the same pink that's surely on his face right now.

But, for the thousandth time, he'll ignore that, if only, once more, he can be here with you, to do whatever it is that you wish for, wherever the wind takes you.

And, today, the wind took him to celebrate your birthday with you.

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

The sweet months that became of the summertime fly by, as does the progression of repairing the bakery storefront, and in the autumn breeze, Levi’s heart soars alongside the leaves.

Speaking of much, Wednesday is no longer the only day of the week which Levi returns. After that conversation on your birthday, he's found himself with you for far more days than just the meager third day in the week.

Whenever packages of tables and chairs and tile and floorboard get delivered, Levi comes.

Clear is the sound of delivery trucks which come through the road and drop off boxes much too heavy for the both of you alone, so days consist of dismantling parts, getting them inside, and haphazardly putting them back together. The floor's been repaired for a while now and all the debris is gone, so the two of you will sit on the floor with only a single wrench between the two of you to figure it out. It's not the hardest thing in the world to figure out, but between all the empty-hearted fights over who gets to read the instructions and who gets to use the tools, it takes its time to get completed. In the end, though, it's usually Levi with the wrench, you with the instruction manual, and a kiss to the sky to hope that you're both doing everything correctly. In the moments you have to switch roles and your knees start to hurt after having to get underneath the tables to screw in the bottom panels, Levi is quick to go to the kitchen and fetch you some ice before you're even starting to complain.

Whenever ceramics are set to arrive, Levi comes.

They get dropped off in wooden crates at the bakery's front door, and Levi brings them in on his way inside. You take them from him, hold the door open for him to come through, and the two of you fight over whether or not they deserve to be on display or actually used by customers. The rest of the day is either spent with two teacups between the two of you (always one untouched, but that's not necessarily any issue) and a new dessert you're thinking of putting on the menu, or with a newspaper that Levi brings from the market so you can take turns doing the crossword while the other unpacks the shipments of porcelain.

Whenever it's someone's birthday, Levi comes.

It's never quite sat well with him that he's been asking you to make something for everyone he deems deserving of a birthday cake, but after the first time he'd off-handedly mentioned having to attend a celebration, he just tells you because he'd rather you go ahead and have the cake ready than rush to send him off with something before the sun sets. He speaks very briefly about whomever it is that it's for, but you don't demand any information from him, so it goes without saying that it's just someone important, and you're better off just talking about the weather or how Gabi had made fun of (but still tried to copy) the way Levi'd held his tea-, sorry, water cup while they were out on the benches.

His friends have started to wonder where he gets all these cakes from, all ornately decorated and divine to the soul, but all he can say is that you're closed (for now, and that they should all come by when you're reopened to support you however they can; not that he's ever going to admit to bringing in more customers).

Sometimes, though, when the kids ask, he'll bring them with him, and they'll ask you dumb questions about your life over the cupcakes you make for them while Levi gets to putting up new light fixtures.

Levi's happy they seem to really like you.

Well, not really "seem;" they just do. They love asking him questions they're too shy to ask you in the moment when you're there, and even though Levi's usually quick to shut down any accusations of romance or intimacy beyond what's become of his relationship with you, he answers what he can.

Whenever there's too many bundles of carrots left over and he knows he can't eat them before they spoil, Levi comes.

With the summer warmth, there'd been a great harvest this year, and because all the petals had turned to fruit and vegetable in proper time, there were no issues with allergies to keep him from staying out in the open for too long. He's able to harvest more than enough for himself and whomever he can thrust crates of cabbages onto, but he doesn't really know what else to do with the rest besides bring it to you. You take the fruits and put them into tea syrups and cakes, and if he's brought vegetables, Levi, definitively the better cook between the two of you, will come up to your apartment and make dinners to last you until the next time he's planning to come and bring more squash.

And, still, of course, when it's Wednesday, Levi comes.

There's always something that needs to be done, whether it be cleaning, counting up loose inventory, or finding a new supplier for powdered sugar, so he might as well just continue with the routine that he's not actually supposed to be following. When there's absolutely nothing else to do, Levi sits next to you, shoulder-to-shoulder, and he listens to you explain how the finances work and how the bookkeeping is maintained, two cups of tea in front of you that always go cold. Days spent like that remind Levi that he made the right decision in choosing a life of relative peace in his quaint little house because the stress of having to file every receipt he's ever received would've killed him before he even opened.

Though, he can't deny there's romance in catching you half-asleep and then rushing upstairs to grab a blanket to drape over you, and he can thank the endless rows and columns on numbers marked in your little notebook, written in with ink and doodled in the margins with the same color pen, for that.

But he holds himself steady in the life he's had for the last four years, in spite of the time he now chooses to spend with you.

He still gardens all the same, only real difference now being that he's not absolutely irritated out of his mind every time he has to put on his gloves. He'd almost forgotten the feeling entirely, save for the time when the pale yellow stitch came undone after a particularly lengthy day of raking out weeds, but you'd resewed the slit back together after he'd brought it back to you.

He still sees his friends, seemingly now more than ever with how often they regroup to celebrate birthdays and other anniversaries. Hange's birthday was just last week, and all the kids came together to hold a little gathering at a bar in memoriam, but more than that, they'd met plenty over the summer to exchange food and recounts of new experiences.

He still sleeps in his chair, waiting for the lull of sleep to take him and keep him away from his mind. His inner thoughts have become much quieter, much more muted, but they still haunt him in the ways they're etched into his skin and bone. It feels almost wrong sometimes, how at peace he is when he's done with his day and there's nothing that comes to mind other than what tasks he has for the following day, but he's done a pretty good job at just ignoring the part of himself that taunts him to think too deeply about anything at all.

He still has his tea, boring, bitter, the same as always. There's no desire to deviate in the slightest, even with how hot the summer wind is, and there's no wavering in the lie that he doesn't have tea anywhere but in the safety of his home, under the roof that's never quite felt like his.

But, nevermind the plainness of his life and the relationships therein.

Point being, Levi comes to the bakery often to do the same nothings that occupy the rest of his time.

But, today, it's none of those aforementioned days where there's a new piece of furniture to pick out of a magazine or a new shipment of vanilla sugar to move into containers or a new batch of squash that Levi needs to get rid of or the third day of the week.

When you reopen the bakery, Levi comes.

It's not a grandiose occasion, by any means. Levi comes in only a little earlier than usual (as in, he leaves his home as soon as there's enough sun to make it to you safely), and you let him in as soon as he's there so he can help around while you continue baking and making sure everything's ready for opening. He makes you a cup of white peony tea, only a little less strong than the cup he'd brewed for you his very first night in your kitchen, and you give him a blueberry muffin to snack on while he pours it out for you. He sits quietly, listening as you talk your head off about vanilla sugar and

The week prior, the two of you had celebrated the final happenings of getting the storefront back together and better than it had been before all this ever happened, and along the ways back-and-forth to a restaurant neither of you care to remember the name of, you and him had plastered reopening flyers all over lampposts and bulletin boards; so, it goes without saying that you're expecting a lot of people to come through and see what's new.

What you hadn't expected, though, was for Levi to volunteer and man the register and front of the house while you kept at the baking and brewing in the kitchen. At this point in the late summer and after so many days spent sprawled out on the floor arguing over prices, Levi knows the menu like the back of his hand, and although he can't personally attest to the quality or flavor profiles of any of the teas, he forces you to accept the help because you're stressed enough just seeing the line outside.

The day goes about as Levi expects it to, though.

Far too many things are bought, far too many cups of tea are delivered to tables made of walnut wood, and far too many people come. He recognizes some of them, but he doesn't really have the time to remember whether or not they were regulars before you had to close because there's just too many people to tend to. The line dies down as the time ebbs and flows, but the kids that come by with their friends don't have enough money to get something for everyone, so Levi has to shoo them away after paying for their things himself.

Soon enough, though, after many hours spent wrapping up pastries and trying to make sure that he's as nice as humanely possible to avoid scaring away any customers, Levi's sat on the couch in your apartment while you answer the door, having just finished sharing a dinner he'd slipped away to make while you tidied up downstairs and counted up the day's earnings.

"Thank you so much! See you tomorrow!" You close the door, and Levi looks over at you now that you're coming back to him, holding a basket thinly veiled in colored cellophane.

"Who was it?"

You sit down next to him after putting the basket on the table in front of you, and you stretch upwards and touch the wall above the couch. "My landlady came by to give us a reopening gift."

"That's nice of her, but did you just say 'us?' As in, including me?"

"She knows you, why's that such a surprise?"

Levi raises a brow, leaning forward to try and look through the plastic wrapping. "She knows me?"

"Yes?"

"I only see her when you send me to the garden to get tomatoes and shit, how does she know me?"

"I tell her about you!"

His breath catches in his throat. "You do?"

"She asks about you sometimes, too."

His initial instinct is to assume that those questions are either deeply personal or deeply embarrassing, so he only sighs in muted exasperation.

You join him in looking at the basket, squinting your eyes to try and look past the cellophane. "I wonder what she got us, she didn't mention anything when she gave it to me."

"Why don't you just open it?"

"It's more fun to guess first!"

"It can't be that much of a mystery," Levi rolls his eyes. Looking more closely, he can't really make out anything, but there's a faint outline of some sort of bottle. "Do you drink?"

"Not really, no. You think it's alcohol?"

"You don't?"

"It could be a bottle of sauce or something. I ask her for cooking wine sometimes."

"So, alcohol?"

"You know it's not the same thing!"

"My point still stands."

"Maybe it's some other drink? Or something she'd just put into a bottle to throw us off?"

"I really doubt it, but just open it already."

"Ugh, you're no fun, but okay." There's a really tightly-pulled knot holding together the cellophane, so you get up to bring back a pair of scissors. You slip one of the blades underneath the ribbon, and you snip at it before peeling away at the plastic.

Lo and behold, it's a bottle of dark red liquid. Also inside the basket is two wine glasses and some small jars of assorted expensive spices and homemade jams, but it's more than obvious the primary gift is the drink.

"Huh, guess you were right. Don't know why she'd get this for me when she knows I don't really drink, though." You reach forward and carefully pull up the bottle from the mixed paper cushioning the it in the basket, and you bring it up closer to your face to read the label your landlady had attached to it. "Oh! She made it herself, it says it's pomegranate wine. Have you had that before?"

"No. Not really a much of a drinker myself, either."

"Here, you can read the label."

As you move to hand the bottle to him, Levi sees a little piece of paper attached to the underside of the bottle that he doesn't think you saw, so he points to it before you can pass it off. "What's that?"

You swiftly move your wrist to turn the bottle upside-down, and you gently peel it from the bottle and hold it up to your eyes. Your lips move as you silently read it to yourself, but you fold it and tuck it underneath your sleeve. Before he can ask what it'd said, you hold out the wine to him again with a soft smile and tell him. "Just a note from her to me."

He hesitantly nods, unsure of what that really means, but he takes the bottle from you anyway, and he looks down to read the sticker.

Homemade Pomegranate Wine. Store cold. Faintly earthy, slightly sour, sweet, it reads.

"Are you gonna open it?" Levi asks, putting it back on the table.

"I don't know, do you think I should?"

"I asked first."

"Well," you go to grab one of the two glasses in the basket. "I'd feel bad if I didn't have any, especially since she made it herself."

"Then what's stopping you?"

"I don't wanna pressure you into drinking just because I am."

"What? How old do you think I am, twelve?"

"Don't flatter yourself," you sass. "I was just trying to be considerate."

"You don't need to be, I'm not influenced so easily. Just open the damn bottle."

You roll your eyes. "You've really lost your tact over the last couple months, haven't you?"

"You want me to get it back?"

"No, no! I like you this way," you laugh. "I'm gonna go wash this, then."

You get up to rinse the glass, and he reaches forward to pull the basket closer to him, looking at all the little jars sent from your landlady. Going by the difference in lids (some being blue, some being yellow), he's meant to be the recipient of the spices.

You'd probably told her he's the better cook between the two of you.

The gentle clinking of glass against glass sounds sweet to him as he reads the labels on them, many of them listing herbs and spiced seeds he's never heard of before. It seems that there was a decent amount of effort in finding these exotic seasonings. The jams look nice, too, neatly arranged and filled to the brim with the sugared fruits. You'd mentioned once before that you'd wanted to try having your tea with jam instead of honey, and these seem like they'd paid well with the plethora of teas you have in your apartment cabinets.

You could probably make these jams all yourself, but he knows you think the thought is worth more than the practicality. You hate washing pots after making jam, anyway.

Looking between you and the other glass, Levi wonders to himself if it'd be worth the slight headache in the morning tomorrow to try some of the wine. Pomegranates are a pain to peel open so he seldom eats them, but in the rare occasions that he musters up the halfhearted willpower to do it, they're pretty good. One can only imagine how such a fruit would translate into wine, but him especially when he's only used to the hard-hitting liquors that those brats force onto him during Happy Hour.

You had to close the bakery a bit earlier than expected, running out of time to justify starting whole new batches of what was missing to sell, so despite summer coming to its end, it's still bright enough outside. There's more than enough time for him to make it home, even after having something to drink, and even if that weren't the case, he knows you'd have no problems with him staying over anyway. Ordinarily, he'd do everything he could to avoid that, but you'll have to get up early anyway to prep downstairs. It might be fun to go through that again, too, especially knowing that you'd be enjoying that feeling for the first time in months now.

He gets up and takes the glass with him to bring to your kitchenette, slipping past you as you dry yours. You look at him from over your shoulder, and you raise a brow. "I thought you weren't drinking?"

"Might as well try it."

"Will you be able to get home okay? If not, you can stay here for the night."

"It takes a lot to get me drunk, I'll be fine," Levi says. "And maybe. We'll see how it goes."

"I don't get drunk easily either, but I don't know what this exactly is gonna feel like."

"It's okay," he muses. "It's worth it to celebrate, anyway. You worked hard to reopen."

You smile. "Couldn't have done it without you, though," you tell him sincerely, pushing past his frame to hang the drying towel back on the hook on the wall. "But you're right, we should celebrate!"

After you leave and bring your glass back to the table to open the bottle, Levi turns the faucet on and grabs the sponge to scrub at whatever dust or grime might be on the cup. He can hear you grunting to yourself as you try to pry open the bottle with the blade of those scissors, sighing loudly when you lose grip of it. He rolls his eyes as you continue to struggle with it, and after he's finished washing his glass, he comes back to the couch to take the scissors and pull out the cork himself.

He gets it open quickly and without fuss, and you hold out your glass for him to pour a bit out to try. He does with steady hands, and you put your glass on the table before grabbing hold of the wine yourself and pouring some out for Levi. He nods in thanks, taking the glass, before he can bring it to his lips, he sees you looking at him expectantly, your own glass held out in-between the two of you.

Levi sighs. "Do we really have to?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?"

Levi halfheartedly rolls his eyes before adjusting his grip to be holding the glass by the neck and clinking the rim of his glass against yours, and you smile as he does. He takes a cautious sip at the same time you do, and while the initial sting of sour is sharp on his teeth, his taste buds are more than welcome to their helping of sweet silk. The burn of alcohol is hardly noticeable, and it tastes almost like a juice rather than a liquor.

Maybe he ought to add winemaking to his long list of nothings to do.

. . .

Well, not really, because the process sounds hellish enough from the little tidbits he knows about it, but it's the thought that counts.

"This is good," he mumbles over his glass, taking another sip.

You hum as you savor the taste on your tongue, leaning back into the seat and closing your eyes. "Yeah, I could drink the whole bottle."

"Don't fucking do that."

"You can't stop me," you joke lightheartedly, taking a dramatically long sip. "But don't worry, I won't."

You both make quick work of the wine already in your glasses, and you put your glasses back on the table to hold them steady while Levi pours another round. He's not all that opposed to keep drinking, partly because it tastes divine, partly because he wants to keep listening as you start to ramble about all the things that'd transpired while you were working by yourself during the earlier parts of the day. You're nowhere near drunk, only speaking more freely than usual with a tiny bit more laughter, and Levi lets you go on-and-on, only stopping you when your hand movements get too erratic and he has to steady the hand holding your glass.

"Thank you, Levi!" You tell him every time, completely oblivious to the way he looks at you as you speak nothings.

But, of course, because it's just the nature of an activity like this, inhibition slowly seeps from your souls, and about an hour after initially popping open the bottle, there's a call to unbridled honesty that Levi resists. It's hardly difficult, already knowing that he's not as effected by alcohol as the ordinary person, but you're not as staunchly tolerant as he is. You're just barely tipsy at this point, but, still, Levi puts the cork back in the bottle to keep you from drinking yourself into feeling sick the next morning. The sun is just barely out, but it's started to rain, so he's just decided he's going to leave tomorrow after helping you in the morning.

He tells you as much, and you swirl your glass, now only barely holding a sip left in it, and you tip it in Levi's direction with a lazy smile. "You really weren't lying when you said you don't get drunk, huh."

"Can't really say the same about you."

"I never claimed to be invincible," you grimace.

"Sure you didn't."

"Okay, maybe I did, but I'm still not drunk yet!"

"I know."

. . .

"So, you should open the bottle for me again." You grab the bottle from the table, and you hold it out for him with a big smile. "Please?"

Levi deadpans, unmoving.

"Come on! Just a little more, and then you can hold onto it for the rest of the night."

"If you want it so bad, you can open it yourself."

"If you say so." You reach for the scissors on the table, but Levi takes your hand and pulls it back. You lazily try to tug it away, but he holds it firm. Obviously, not enough to hurt you, but enough that you can't get back to the sharp object. "You just said to open it on my own," you whine.

Levi groans. "That was a joke, you're gonna hurt yourself holding those."

"Then you open it!"

"I already said 'no.' You're gonna feel like shit in the morning."

"I won't!" You hold out the bottle to him again, and when he doesn't take it, you groan, putting it back. "You hate me."

He glares at you. "I just don't want you to be hungover when you have to get up later."

"I know, I know, I'm just kidding." You fold your hands in your lap, looking at the room with seemingly newfound wonder (and as if you don't literally live here). "Do you really not hate me?"

"Do you think I do?"

. . .

"No."

"Then, there's your answer."

After a bit more silence where he lets the gentle buzz settle and you look between the ceiling, the wall, and the bottle of wine that's so far out of reach to you, you speak up again, eyes trained everywhere but on him. "Hey, Levi?"

"What?"

"If I can't have any more wine, can you make me some tea?"

. . .

A bit of an odd request, but sure. Beats out having to deal with a drunker version of you, even if you've proved to hold your alcohol well enough to stay yourself.

He nods, and after you tipsily cheer and throw your arms around him in a loose hug, he pries you off of him and gets up to brew you something. It's quiet again, the only noise being that of the running water, the kettle hum, the opening of a tea tin, and the clinking of porcelain as Levi opens and closes your teapot. You take your turn at looking through the things in the gift basket, careful not to make too much noise or break any of the glass jars, but Levi does hear the faint musings of joy when you see a jam you want to try later.

And maybe it's because he's halfway tipsy or because he's brewed that black tea that he drinks at home or because it's made exactly the way he likes it or because he's so used to the simple sight when it's the two of you, but he pours two cups, and he brings them both to the coffee table.

When you see that he's brought two of them, you tilt your head in confusion. "You didn't have to get me two cups."

"One's for me," he says curtly. Before you have to look down and guess which one he'd chosen to brew, he tells you that it's black tea.

He can be thankful that the faint tipsiness you feel makes you forget that he's been insistent on the fact he doesn't drink tea in the first place, because you just thank him and get up from the couch, slightly stumbling over air as you get yourself to the kitchen. "I'm gonna get some sugar to have with it."

He waits for you to come back, a bit of humming from you and the sound of shuffling feet and the ever-growing pitter-patter of the rain outside filling the space as you get a small dish and tip out a small jar you keep on the counter with sugar cubes. You come back and drop one into the cup on your side of the couch, and you hold out the dish for Levi. "Want one?"

He shakes his head 'no,' and you put it down on the table. Levi touches the side of his teacup, and because it's too hot to start drinking, he gently pulls your hand away when you try to pick yours up. You don't start any fuss about it, though, and you go back to looking in the basket, now at the jars with the blue lids.

You look over your shoulder and hold one up. "Have you used saffron before?"

"Don't think so, no."

"I think you'd like it," you tell him, putting it back in the basket. You pick up another jar, and you bring it up closer to your eyes to read it. "Imported nutmeg seeds? She sure put a lot of effort into this, I better make her something as thanks."

"The ones with blue lids are mine, right?"

"Yeah, I think so, and the yellow ones are mine. Unless you want," you count them, tapping their lids, "ten different jars of jams. This pear one looks like it'd be nice, if you want it."

"I'm good. You should have it, it'll taste good with those croissants you make." He looks out the window and out towards the rain, the shine of the fresh rainwater bright against the long leaves of the plants you leave on your balcony. "Did you tell her I cook?"

"Tell who?"

"Your landlady."

"It's come up before, yeah." After a pause and some more clinking of glass against glass, you continue with a chuckle. "She likes to tease me and say I'm lucky to have a man who can cook for me."

It goes over his head completely what the implication of that statement is, but although he'd been too apprehensive to ask earlier, he figures that this is his one chance to pester you for your opinion of him.

Neither of you are drunk to the point of actual misdirection. If anything, the alcohol has only made you both honest, so this is where he won't have to worry about you needlessly lying to preserve his feelings.

He's wanted to know you've felt about him for a while now. Whether or not that fact has been truly bespoken to him, he isn't sure, but right now, where the world is entirely quiet except for him and you, he decides he has to know.

"What else do you say about me?"

You put down the jar of peppercorns, and you look back at him from over your shoulder. "Hm? What do you mean?"

"You said you talk about me, right? What else do you say?"

"Gotta be more specific than that." You pull away from the table, and you adjust to be facing him on the couch, your side against the back of the cushions. "What do you wanna know?"

And though he'd ordinarily recoil in such an intimate setting, the wine in his veins gives him just enough bravery to watch as your eyes flicker with amusement. His body shifts to mirror yours, knees almost touching as Levi tries to get his side to mold into the plush. "I don't know, everything?"

You lean into your hand. "You think we have the time for that?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

"Because I talk about you a lot."

. . .

"You do?"

. . .

"There's a lot to say about you, Levi."

. . .

"What's there to even say?"

. . .

"For starters, that you're practically live here now. My landlady keeps asking if I need to add your name to the lease."

Not off to the greatest start.

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose. "Seriously? And you let her keep asking?"

"She doesn't really mean it, she just likes to mess around," you laugh.

Reminds him of someone else who liked to meddle in his business.

"Good grief," he groans.

"But, really, what do you want to know?"

What does he want to know?

When he takes too long to think of an answer to give, you take the liberty of continuing however you'd wanted to, powered by only drunken stupor. "Well, you already know I told her that you cook."

"That, I do."

"Where'd you learn, by the way?"

"Just picked it up as the years went by, I guess."

"I'm jealous, you're so good at it, too," you sigh, leaning further into your hand.

Levi rolls his eyes. "As if I don't cook for you all the time."

"And, for that, I love you," you cheer, lazily pumping your first in the air.

And though Levi's heart stops for just barely a second, he knows you're only exaggerating.

Right?

"Hm, what else have I told her," you muse to yourself. "Ah! I've told her you live in a house."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you say wistfully, turning around to take a glance at the kitchen. "I've never been there before, obviously, but I think I have enough of an image to have described it well-enough. I don't tell her all about it, but she probably has an idea in her head."

"How do you know what my house looks like, anyway?"

"You talk about it a lot more than you realize," you tease, smiling.

He raises a brow. "I do?"

"Yeah!" You beam. "Your garden's more of a field than a small plot of dirt, so I can't imagine that you have much directly around you. You don't complain about any neighbors, either, so you probably don't have any."

. . .

"You'd be correct."

"See? And you'd mentioned once that it's made of wood, and the interior is painted blue. I think you said something before about getting some new furniture, too. And you have one of those directional things on your roof, right? The horse?"

"My weathervane?"

You nod, now remembering the word. "That! You said you painted it black, which isn't really practical because it's meant to reflect in the sun, so either you're really stupid, or you have a horse that's that color. Or had, you haven't complained about having to clean up manure or anything, so I doubt you have any farm animals."

. . .

Levi nods. "The latter."

Your half-drunken rambling continues, your hands now moving in tandem with your mouth. "And you have a small, circle dining table," you make the same shape with your hands, giggling. "Well, not that small, but it only fits four people, and you refuse to get a bigger one, so you always have to move stuff around so you can make enough space for your friends to have dinner when they come over.

"In my head, you ask them to push the random tables and chairs together, but you always end up being the one to do it because you're too worried about the floor getting scratch marks," you laugh, tipping your head back. "And you take the phrase 'too many cooks in the kitchen' to heart. Can't get anything done if someone's nagging you while you cook, which is ironic considering I'm sure my kitchen is smaller than yours and you have no problem sharing it with me.

"Oh! And there's that loose floorboard in front of your bedroom door you used to complain about all the time. Did you ever get it fixed?"

. . .

"No."

"Oh. I think there's some leftover wood from when we redid the flooring, maybe you could use that?"

"It's alright, I've gotten used to the creaking." Levi kisses his teeth, and he adjusts to lay his arm against the top of the couch. "You really remember all that stuff I told you?"

"Why wouldn't I? We're friends, aren't we?"

His heart pauses again, this time for longer than a second.

Friends.

You consider him a friend?

He'd felt this same feeling before, hadn't he? Where he'd questioned how you could be friends with him in the first place.

But...

This feels different. The quiet tug in his chest isn't that of despair in the way it'd been before. The hurt shouldn't be there, but it's dull.

Friends.

Is that the correct word for the two of you?

"Hello?" You interrupt him, waving your hand in front of his face.

Levi blinks quickly and clears his throat, and he nods. "Right. We are friends."

It feels wrong coming out of his mouth, but he can't place why. He's long left his guilt over occupying your time.

"I'm sorry, it's probably weird for me to be talking about you so much to someone you don't really know," you nervously smile, tapping your pointer against your cheek.

He raises a brow. "Is it?"

"Isn't that why you're asking me about it? To make sure I haven't said anything too embarrassing?"

"No."

It's weird. He can't quite place it, because even though he knows that the notion of somebody talking about him in any capacity would be irritating otherwise, he can't bring himself to really care in any negative light.

In fact, it makes him... happy. Happy to hear that he exists to you outside of the moments you're together.

And maybe he's selfish in that way—thinking that he's allowed to be happy about it, or that he's allowed to ask more about it.

"I just want to know."

"I suppose I'd be curious too if I were you," you hum. "Maybe, one day, I'll get to ask you what you tell Gabi and Falco about me."

"You could just ask them yourself if you wanted to."

"Bring them by again, by the way. Gabi asked that I show her how to make cookies."

"Okay, I will."

. . .

"Anything else you tell your landlady about my boring self?"

. . .

"I guess that's something else I told her. That you think you're boring."

Back to square one.

"Do you think I am?"

"What? Boring?"

Levi nods, half-afraid you'll say "yes," half-afraid you'll say "no."

He knows it's immature to think that either answer is indicative of any particular shortcoming in your opinion of him. "Boring" is hardly a negative adjective for him to begin with; boring is routine, boring is stable. He knows there's more to life than chasing fun and distractions.

But if you say "no," you're disagreeing with him. Challenging his disposition about himself.

"I don't," you answer.

And, suddenly, he's afraid you think of him in ways beyond his own world.

What's wrong with him? He'd been happy to hear that you talked about him outside of when he'd existed in front of you, but now he's too scared to think about how anything could go beyond that.

But even if he can't understand why, he'll hope his sober self will remember the details of this night and allow him the grace to continue living as boldly as he is now.

Now's your chance, Levi.

"Then, what do you think of me?"

You look up at him from your hand, and Levi watches as you blink at him, and your eyes twinkle with whimsy. "What do I think of you?"

He swallows down a lump in his throat, and he nods.

"Well," you hum as you lean further into your hand once more, and you look beyond him, your eyes only flickering back to him to make sure he's listening. "I think you're...

"Beautiful."

. . .

Beautiful?

. . .

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," you giggle. You move your head so your hair ribbon falls over your shoulder, and you roll the satin between your fingers. "You just are."

Levi refuses to believe you mean that. You don't know what that word means right now. You're drunker than he thinks you are. "You're lying."

"Come on, Levi. You know I'm not."

Looking more closely at your face, the flush on your cheeks is only attributed to the slightly hot summer heat; devoid is significant affect of alcohol. The smile on your face, though small and reserved, still reaches your eyes in the same way he'd learned to love, and in them, he sees no dishonesty.

"I do," he bites the inside of his cheek. Better now, than never. "But why?"

"Why? Hm," you start, eyes turning down to look at your ribbon. "Well, you're hard-working."

"What the fuck does that have to do with beauty?"

"It's moving that you care so much about what you do with your time," you smile to yourself. "Gardening, taking care of your home, helping me around here."

He lights up in embarrassment, and he covers the lower half of his face with the palm of his hand. "I don't think I care that much," he grumbles.

"There's no shame in caring about things."

. . .

"I know that."

"Sure you do," you chuckle. "Well, continuing on, you're brave."

Okay, now you're actually losing him. Again, what's that got to do with beauty?

"How the fuck am I brave?"

"You put up the new chandelier downstairs all on your own!"

He deadpans. " That's your measure of courage?"

You furrow your brows, and you change from looking dazed to halfheartedly frowning. He's about to correct himself and comfort you, but you don't speak at all in the way you look. "It takes real guts to get on the ladder! I used to have to ask an installation company to do the light fixtures!"

"That still doesn't make sense. How does that make me," he hesitates in using the word, even if it's prompted by you to use it for him in the first place. "...That."

"It just does," you hum, now back to having a relaxed smile on your face. "Oh! And you're kind. That makes you beautiful, too."

"Do I even bother questioning why?" Levi sighs. "I don't even think I'm kind in the first place. I'd go as far as to say I'm un kind."

And that's the truth, isn't it?

He's grumpy.

He's needlessly straightforward.

He's hanging onto something that he should've given the grace to leave.

He-

"Well, I don't think a man who's unkind would help raise two children, no matter how well-behaved they are."

"Actually, they were decently rowdy when I first met them." He pauses. "Well, one of them. Falco's always been respectful."

. . .

"Wow, you really showed me, huh," you tease.

"Shut it."

"I mean it! I really do think you are kind."

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

You groan. "Whatever, don't believe me, then. But you aren't changing my mind."

"Why are you so insistent on it, anyway?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I don't think I've met a person kinder than you in my life."

And that's finally enough to make him freeze.

Or maybe he melts; he hasn't been able to discern the feeling. All he knows is that he's caught off-guard, and he's begging you to clarify and set him straight again.

You don't seem to catch on, though, and you just continue, closing your eyes and speaking with a new melody which resonates something deep within his soul. "From the day I first met you, you've always been so nice. You didn't want to take anything for free from me, and you still wanted to buy out the entire display case.

"Even I can tell you're no sweet tooth, but you still came back to have a slice of cake every so often and get something to bring home for your friends. You let me talk your head off at the counter, and you let me awkwardly sit with you and drink tea."

"That's not special. It's just what anyone would do," he asserts quietly.

Right?

"Maybe, but not just anyone would spend their entire summer trying to rebuild a bakery that's, what? An hour's walk away from where they live? And you never asked for anything in return. You just... did it for me. Even though you didn't know me all that well yet, and you'd only learned I was closed that same day, you still promised to come back and help me.

"You came back, and you installed new lights for me. Read the instructions to me when we had to assemble the appliances. Sat with me while I did property paperwork. Let me drag you around and say it was your birthday when it was really mine."

From the corners of your eyes seeps tears, but even though Levi wants to rush in and wipe them away, you seem content in letting them settle there. Time stills as he watches you speak from your soul in the way he'd so desperately wished he could himself.

"And you didn't just help me.

"You came so often my apartment started feeling empty when you weren't here.

"You brought in your own vegetables and fruits from your garden and cooked for me. Hell, you even started leaving extra portions so I could keep eating your cooking on the days you were gone.

"You ate all the desserts I made out of boredom and brought them home to take them off my hands, too, only to come back and tell me how much everyone you gave some to enjoyed it.

"You let me talk about anything, everything, and nothing at all.

"Fuck, you even memorized the prices of everything so you could help me with reopening today."

And, from Levi's heart, something blooms. Like a peony, flowering in a gentle, autumn breeze, he feels something bloom.

"So, you're not allowed to call yourself unkind around me."

Your eyes remain closed, but you've stopped crying.

And, like a fool, Levi can't keep his mouth shut.

"I think the meaning is still lost on me," he says softly, reaching forward to wipe at the stray tears left on your cheeks with his right hand.

"What?"

"Is beauty not a physical attribute anymore? Last I heard, all those things you just described me as aren't physical."

You laugh, Levi feeling your face light up as he continues to swipe away water from your eyes with his thumb. "Even after all of that, it still doesn't make sense to you?"

. . .

"No."

You sniffle, and you keep laughing.

"What?"

"Beauty manifests itself in a lot of ways, you know that, right?"

"I really don't."

"You want me to prove it?"

"I doubt you could."

"Watch." You grab hold of his hand, already within reach, and you bring it down and hold it in your lap. His thumb is still wet with your tears, so you pull the sleeve of your dress a bit longer so you can dry it. "Remember when you asked me for my name?"

He dumbly nods, his eyes following downwards to watch as you hold his hand in yours.

You look down and rub at callouses on his palm, careful not to press too harshly against the flesh. "Even when I didn't know you, I knew you were a hard worker. I could feel your callouses through your gloves."

Flames licks at Levi's heart, and he's too nervous to speak again. Even faintly drunk, he can't do anything against the everpresent feeling of warmth that comes from you.

"Then I learned more about you, and that opinion just strengthened."

"And you think that's... beautiful?"

"Yeah," you drunkenly smile. "I guess that'd be right."

"Then how exactly does bravery translate into something felt?"

You laugh, and you let go of his hand, bringing your right hand back on the top of the sofa backing. "Well, that's a bit more superficial. I just like having someone who can do things on the ladder so I don't have to."

"Of course you do." He supposes there's a sort of appeal in having someone else who can do the things you can't—namely, manual labor—but it still doesn't make that much sense to him.

"And! And! You're brave enough to try all the things I make, so that's gotta count for something, right?"

"Right, because trying a new flavor of cake is so scary," he deadpans.

"You'd be surprised how many people stick to only one flavor," you hum. "But, for you, I guess what that translates to is you not really looking nervous. You look pretty attractive with your whole 'cool and collected' disposition, you know."

"If you say so," he sighs. "What's left, then? Kindness?"

"Sure, you want me to show you?"

"You can try," he scoffs. "I really doubt you could."

No way you'd be able to point anything out about his appearance that conveys that in any meaningful way. His body's worn down, and the only marks of physicality he has left are the absences thereof.

Hard-work?

Sure, that shows up in the way his hands are weathered. He could've figured that out for himself if he really wanted to.

Bravery?

Just as stupid, but it makes sense; he was a soldier before all this.

The ability to climb a ladder without screaming at the top of his lungs is apparently also something of an indicator of this trait in his physical being.

Kindness?

Yeah, no fucking way.

Then, suddenly, you reach outwards to push aside his bangs so you can see his face more clearly. At the touch of your fingers against his forehead, he burns hot red again. Your hand lingers there, pinning his hair to the side of his face.

Fuck, he can barely breathe with you in front of him like this.

"What're you doing?"

"They say eyes are the window to the soul," you say, looking into his.

Mesmerized by the swirl of care in your own orbs, he can't look elsewhere, and he can feel his heart beating even louder in his chest.

"And what about them?"

"You can tell me all you want that you aren't all these things. That you aren't caring, that you aren't courageous, that you aren't nice-"

"Didn't you just say I wasn't allowed to say any of that?" Levi asks abruptly.

You move your hand to gently pinch his cheek, lightly scolding him. "I know you're gonna say it anyway, so I can't stop you."

"I would've listened," he murmurs, putting his hand over yours on his cheek.

"No, you wouldn't have," you giggle.

. . .

Levi sighs. "You're probably right."

"You also didn't let me finish!"

Levi rolls his eyes, trying to ignore the rising burn coming from his chest. "Then finish."

"Well, now I've lost my train of thought. Um..."

"Something about me not being nice."

"Right, right," you hum, and your hand moves to lace itself in his hair.

And maybe it's because he's drunk, or maybe it's because he's waited for this moment for so long, or maybe it's because it's you, but he leans into your touch, begging to feel your warmth.

And with your next words, you give it to him.

"You could say any and all of that, and I'd never believe you.

"Because when I look in your eyes, all I see is someone kind. Someone beautiful.

"Someone who's you."

And, then and there, time stills completely.

The scent of familiar tea, the burn of your hand against his scalp, the feeling of his eyes locked with yours. All of it is so overwhelming that Levi can barely register you moving to straddle him, only to make it easier to hold his face with both your hands. He lets you, his hands moving to rest on your hips, and he stares up at you, a ring of light around your hair from the overhead lamp.

You lean in closer, looking at him with as much intensity as he is at you.

Maybe you really do believe all those things you'd said.

Maybe, through his eyes, you really can see him in the ways he can't see himself.

And, looking into your eyes, he thinks he sees you, too.

The fragment of light that'd always been there tells him what he'd already thought of you. All the ways he'd described you in his dreams could be rewritten into the way your eyes twinkle here, the way they shine. There's a tenderness in the way your gaze softens when you look at him, and it begs him to admit to himself that you're as beautiful as he'd always known you as.

And, in your eyes, he thinks he finally sees the beauty in something as simple as sunshine.

"Is this okay?" You whisper in song, your lips hovering over his.

He nods slowly, his eyes fluttering closed, trying to burn the image of rosy cheeks and a breathless smile against his eyelids. But, although his heart wills him to lean further forward, to press skin to skin, it hits him all at once.

With the feeling of your breath hitting his, your fingers laced in his hair, his heart beating in sync with yours, he's sobered up again, his senses overwhelmed with the revelation that already came to him many moons ago. From the very beginning, when he'd only known you through the ghost of your touch through wrapped presents and lemon vanilla, he'd already known this.

He's not supposed to be here.

The feeling of his blood running cold comes quick, and it freezes him. You're still right in front of him, begging for affection to be returned with the confidence that you express in your touch, but long gone is the warmth of your hands all over him.

What’s even wrong with him right now?

His subconscious mind has been nagging him all this time to stop indulging in the simple company afforded to him by you, and now it demands that he give into it entirely? And, yet, he can't find it within himself to do even that. Even when he's meant to be at his most honest, his system flooded with liquid courage meant to give him the clarity to speak from his soul, nothing comes to him other than the taunting call of a sunless sky, telling him this;

If he were truly, wholly, deserving of this kind of love, wouldn't he be ready to receive it?

In this moment, he realizes there'd been love since he'd first crossed paths with you. His soul spoke for him and told him even your smile showed romance, and, still, nearly a whole year later, his heart still demands to be steeled and kept away from even himself.

His own heart isn't even his to give. He wants to believe that, if he had it, he would give it to you, but he can't know it enough to promise that to himself.

And, as if he'd had any control over it in the first place, the light in his soul is turned off, like a lamp with a bulb that's burned itself to the wire.

The only things that occupy his head presently are questions he wish he'd answered sooner, before all of this. He'd exhausted willpower to question all other beauty he'd encountered in this life, but the prospect of romance seemed so impossible, it hadn't ever been paramount enough to mull over completely.

Who is he to deserve compassion from someone else?

Someone so kind?

Someone so far away?

Someone who’s a friend?

Someone who’s halfway a lover?

Someone who’s as bright as the sun itself?

Someone who’s you?

He’s undeserving of a life like that. He can barely even muster up the courage to will himself to breathe now, the realization creeping up too quickly yet sucking him in with its familiar malice.

He should’ve known that the sun doesn’t shine for someone like him. It'd felt so easy to soak it in, to let himself fall, to find himself here, in the arms of someone so inviting. Even with how beautiful this life is and how much he’s come to own, he’s lost too much to consider himself any more than a shell of the person he was forced to be up until this point.

And you.

Even with how much he's tried, he can't even let you into his heart any more than he had when you'd first met. You've been prying at the cracks with your smile and the taunting second cup of tea you've always got in front of him, and, even right now, your touch is far too gentle, and the only way that it burns is in the way your soul threatens to see his.

But who are you to deserve someone so callous?

Someone so self-removed?

Someone who can't be present?

Someone who can't accept the love you give?

Someone who can't give you the love you deserve?

Someone who's him?

You're undeserving of a life like this.

He can't even will himself to talk of himself in ways any more meaningful than what can be prompted by the falling of the sun in the sky, how could he be anymore than a stranger to you? How could he let you be in the company of a man whose soul is weighted down by an island across the sea?

He can't give you the life in the sun that you want.

Sure, the sun exists in his world.

So does the sky, the sea, and all the other beautiful things that just happen to exist at the same time as him.

But none of those things belong to him, and all that is beautiful in this life is not his. All that belongs to him is a life is marred by the loss of all that he's ever held dear to him, and he knows he can't let you in. His life is tethered to the many pasts he doesn't let himself forget, and even though you try to pull him ahead with you, his heart is somewhere only it knows, close enough to allow him the same pain of heartbreak, but far enough to keep him from feeling it beat in his chest.

Flashes of his past lives lived flicker through in his mind, and they tell him, all along, that he was right to keep you away from his own world, and to only be with you in yours.

And they tell him he was wrong to believe that he would be okay with only that.

He can’t afford to lose you in this way, but this isn't about him anymore.

He can't let someone like you fall in love with someone like him.

All at once, he crumbles, just as your lips graze his and he feels a faint calling to the sun.

He doesn't have the heart to stay there for even a second, knowing that if his body had the chance to remember your touch in this way, he'd never forget it.

And, so, with hands made of ice and a soul as heavy as hand, he undoes his fingers from your hair, and though he wishes he had done that to cradle your face instead, he wills himself to gently push you away.

He wants to keep his eyes closed, but he knows he can't. No matter how badly he wants his last image of you to be that of wine-stained lips and the look of tranquility that graces your being, he knows he isn't allowed the luxury of loving remembrance.

He holds back a quiet sob, and he opens his eyes.

"I have to go," he breathes in broken song. "I'm sorry."

He forces himself to look at you, but though his soul etches the image of a broken heart into itself, he sees nothing.

It's as if the sun had already stopped shining, leaving him lonesome in a land without even the moon.

And he wishes he'd let himself be selfish, if only to remember you as love itself, but it's too late now.

From there, his body moves on its own, the only feeling being the burn that the ribbon in your hair leaves behind when it brushes his arm as he gets up to go, the satin branding shame onto his skin through

He thinks he's careful to avoid knocking anything over as he finds his shoes.

He thinks he puts them on correctly.

He thinks he's already grabbed his cane from the dining table.

He thinks he has everything he needs from here.

He thinks he knows the way home.

He thinks the rain isn't so bad.

All the while, you're calling after him, asking what's wrong, telling him that in his haste to get out the door, he's forgotten to tie his shoes.

Telling him that he's forgotten his cane at the dinner table he'd only mere hours ago set food on.

Telling him that he's forgotten to take his share of things from your landlady's reopening gift, namely the saffron you'd said he'd like.

Telling him that he's forgotten what direction to turn in to get himself downstairs.

Telling him that he's forgotten how harsh the downpour is tonight.

Telling him that he'd knocked over the cups of tea he was meant to share with you.

But he doesn't hear any of it.

What he does hear is you telling him that he doesn't have to leave. In the same way only his soul remembers how you'd looked, it's the same here. He has no idea what you're actually saying, only a dull ring in his ears that tells him he's being spoken to. Words travel through his ears, but never quite reach his head, only wounding his heart in the way his hand feels phantom pain.

But you're wrong anyway, no matter what it is that you're saying.

He does have to leave, and even if you don't know why, he can't let himself be here, in your world.

Because no matter how much his heart yearns to be let into the sun, to be bare without caution, the thought that chases after him remains.

He's not supposed to be here, and neither are you.

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

next part coming soon! thank you for reading (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #tao.levi #attack on titan #levi aot #levi ackerman #levi

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taomyou · 3 months

Text

a sip of sunshine - chapter one (A)

!! minors dni !! pairing: levi ackerman/reader word count: 22,458 sypnosis: Life is not easy, and Levi’s made peace with the fact that it never will be. And, yet, as the days pass and he comes to enjoy the company of the baker across town, he learns that the sun will always continue to shine, no matter how unworthy he feels to bask in its warmth. - or, Levi learns to be okay with drinking shitty tea. tags: postcanon, canon universe, birthday, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, found family, survivor guilt, eventual romance, eventual smut, character study, grumpy/sunshine, hurt/comfort, bakery, tea, meet-cute, no y/n, pov levi ackerman, not beta read a/n: no smut in this chapter, will be in chapter two. also sorry this took a while to crosspost www. this chapter is also being broken up into two parts because it exceeds the text limit, this is the FIRST half (,,>﹏<,,) accompanying playlist || ao3

chapter one: white peony beauty, bashfulness | shame, apology

Though Levi never imagined ever making it past 20, nevermind past 30…

If Levi ever had dreams of what his life would be like when he’d turn 40, he certainly never would’ve imagined this.

This where his days are occupied by nothing.

All his life, he’s had to fight for more—for more resources, for more time, for more freedom. Between fiending for food and fighting to keep himself from crumbling, never was there time to even think about nothing.

And, now, with the War finally laid to rest alongside his fallen comrades, Levi finally has the time to do what meaningless things he couldn’t during his time as his mother’s son and Kenny’s mentee and the Underground’s most notorious thug and Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

For the first time in his life, he’s free.

And because he doesn’t know how to be that, he does nothing.

But that’s fine with him. He’s hardly concerned with the fact that he’s as boring as he always was, and there’s plenty of other parts of this life that hardly make any sense to him.

This where the weather—the sky—is equally as tranquil as the morning birdsong.

He tips his head back to gaze at the sun above often, but he seldom ever finds the clouds he expects to be blocking it.

Instead, he’s met with a sky so painfully big and bright and blue, he fears he may tear up if he looks too long.

Yet, all he does is stare.

The breeze is never still, nor is it harsh, and the air is never as disgustingly muggy as he grew to believe it always was. He’d breathed fresh air when he first came to the Surface, but that feeling doesn’t hold a candle to the now crisp, everchilling wind that clears his sinuses and blows his hair in every which direction whenever he steps outside of the quaint farmhouse he now resides in. There's a weathervane perched atop his roof in the shape of a horse that points him in the direction of the stars, and Levi'd painted it black to match the stallion he'd trusted with his life so long ago.

Though, even if he has come to enjoy the presence of birds as they fly overhead to the south, he’ll never truly get over the stains their shit leaves on his outdoor tables and chairs.

Fucking bastards.

This where the sea meets that same sky he once dreamed of seeing.

Scarcely ever does he ever go to the ocean to view the sky from the sand, but in the rare moments that Mikasa requests his presence at the shore, Levi lets himself get lost in the way the clear blue fades to red and orange and purple and pink as the hours pass. The colors bleed into themselves, yet Levi can still discern where they start and end. Even with only one fully functional eye, he can see the pigmented stains in the sunset.

Sometimes, he’ll see green, but that might just be because Mikasa speaks castles about the emeralds she finds in her memories of Eren’s eyes.

They’d always reminded him of Isabel’s, though, so maybe it’s her that he sees when the sun falls in the west.

Where the sea meets the sky, the waves brush up white water, leaving salt marks on the treads of his wheelchair, and while Mikasa holds her scarf to her eyes as she weeps, Levi wishes he had more time to dream with his friends of what life would be like along this very shoreline. Whether or not they’d enjoy the crisp salt air, he has no idea, but he has no doubt that they would’ve spent all their free time watching this very horizon, waiting for the night to find excuse to take themselves to the bar and drink their hearts away.

He supposes that’s why he refuses to come to the sea alone.

Mikasa shoulders his grief, just as he shoulders hers.

This where carrots and cabbages and all other crops are growing just outside his house, and are brought to life with his own hands and those of his loved ones.

When he’d first moved in, he refused to tend to the plants already there. He was exhausted enough after hauling all of his shit in (which, admittedly, wasn’t much to begin with, but you try to move furniture in a new house with fresh wounds), and he’d be lying if he said he craved responsibility after all his years of leading soldiers to their deaths in the Corps.

But as time went on and Levi realized his hands weren’t as marred by blood as he thought they were, he opened up to the idea, and, one day, he found himself simply accustomed to watering sprouting stalks, taking note of the seasons, and planning his meals around what he could harvest from the earth in his backyard.

It’s hardly easy, mostly because he can barely stand to be hunched over the garden for longer than a few short hours at a time, but he holds himself to it. He hasn’t been as strict with upkeep lately, as it’s hardly worth the effort to keep the plants from browning in the winter, but he already knows what he’s going to plant in the new year.

In particular, Springer forces Levi to keep at it, constantly threatening to buy out the extra farmland from him. Levi knows that piece of shit isn’t rich enough to even own his own property, much less buy out this farm, but it’s motivation enough to know that the soldier-turned-ambassador will risk his safety to push Levi to be consistent in his farming duties.

Gabi and Falco help, too. Those kids are over at his house during practically all hours of the day, fussing about and asking Levi to regale what parts of his life he’s found joy in while they help carry buckets of mulch and water.

He’s grateful that they don’t ask about anything else, but the fact remains that they fucking suck at making marks in the soil, so don’t get it twisted and say that he’s gone soft.

He takes care of this garden because he has to, not because he feels any personal desire to do so.

Besides, Onyankopon took fucking forever to build up all the furrows a bit above ground level to allow Levi the ease of not having to fully squat to reach the earth. Levi refuses to let that labor go to waste and leave the heightened dirt barren.

This where he can lay in a bed that’s always comfortable and clean, never sullied by the sinking weight of the grief he carries with him in the daytime.

Sleep doesn't come any easier now than it did before. When he can’t get his mind to rest easily (which is more often than he’d care to admit), he sits in the chair at the corner of his bedroom with his eyes closed, burdening the wood with the weight of his blood-soaked soul. His mind runs wild in the nighttime nearly every day, replaying memories he only wishes to remember in memoriam of those he’s lost, but Levi refuses to lay between his sheets until he knows he will not dirty them with his sorrow.

He’d already ruined the dirty cot he had as a child with the grief of his mother and her work, the bed he had occupied during his time as a hardened criminal with the blood of his adversaries, the bed he was given in the Corps with the guilt of not being able to protect those he loved. This bed, the one with white sheets and the smell of lavender sprigs, Levi decides, will not be laid in unless he’s sure he won’t ruin it with his memories.

To everyone else, it’s foolish, but after all is said and done, he knows his bed will be there, and though he seldom gets to sleep in it, that is enough for him.

To have a bed, unmarred by the parts of his soul he wishes to save for his conscious self.

This where his tea is always warm, always the same.

Prior to this life, he never thought he’d be afforded the luxury of having something familiar. War changed far too much for a man like him, burdened with the heartache of the world, and to think that he has hot water, the same tea leaves he’d enjoyed in Paradis, and a kitchen where he can sit and watch the steam spill out of a ceramic teapot he’d brought with him from across the sea.

It’s more than enough.

And perhaps it's because, apart from his own memories and the scars that follow, he’s lost everything else reminiscent of his life before all this.

He never dare venture into new blends, new ingredients, new anything—his tea has, and will always, remain the same, because the fear of letting go of the one thing that’s stayed the same is far too great for him to part ways with the mundane routine.

Besides, there’s no guarantee that he’d be able to have another cup of tea to begin with, so he’s better off sticking to what works. All else has changed—why steer from that and disrupt the harmony of what remains of himself?

And, right now, this where he’s forced to take a seat at his dining table during high noon, and Gabi and Falco put two boxes in front of him. On the left, one that’s smaller and wrapped in golden paper, and on the right, a plain, white box that’s about the size of his head, and held together with slotted pieces.

It’s probably housing some sort of baked good—Braus used to sneak back boxes like this when they’d all first arrived in Marley.

All this isn’t to say that Levi is ungrateful in the slightest. The routine, the sky, the sea, the garden, the bed, the tea—all of it, is finally his. He never would’ve imagined they’d one day belong to him, but he’s here now, and this is his life, even if all these things don’t feel like they’re his.

It’s just that he never would’ve imagined that he’d be here, especially as he’s faced with the daunting sight of two children, now taller standing than he is sitting down, looking to him and waiting for him to open… whatever it is that they’ve brought him.

“What are these for?”

“They’re your birthday presents!” Gabi exclaims, a bright smile on her face. The slight movement of her hair as she speaks makes a flower fall from where it’s tucked behind her ear, and Falco rushes to pick it up from the floor and put it back in its place.

After a bit more shuffling, the boy then clears his throat and looks toward Levi, a nervous smile on his face. “We hope you like them. Happy birthday, Levi.”

Levi hasn’t celebrated anything, never mind his birthday, in years. He didn’t even realize it was today himself.

How they even know his birthday, he has no idea, but he supposes that word gets around when you’re Humanity’s Strongest.

More likely, before he’d set sail to tend to his ambassador duties, Arlert found his date of birth during the latest file restoration, and told these two to get Levi something.

Good call on his part. If he’d sent anyone else, Levi’d be quick to turn them away and tell them to spend their money on better things than him.

Not that he doesn’t still think that, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell Gabi and Falco that he doesn’t need anything for his birthday, much-less that he wants to celebrate it in the first place.

He isn’t even sure if he can unwrap these presents on his own—trying to peel away the clear tape that gleams underneath the kitchen light doesn’t exactly sound easy or pleasant, especially considering the fact he’s never tried doing anything like this since losing his right pointer and middle fingers. Hange used to wrap his birthday presents with the strongest industrial tape they could find, and even when he’d had full use of both his hands, he could barely pry the tape off those fucking things.

For a brief second, Levi imagines that if they were still alive, they’d have jumped at the chance to do this for him. To unwrap his presents for him and force him to celebrate his birthday, just like they and Erwin used to before any of the three of them even knew there was a land across the sea. Maybe they’d even joke that they’d be his replacement digits, or try to design something to be that for him, and Erwin would scold them for forcing their ideas onto Levi.

He misses them both a lot.

Levi curtly nods at the offerings on the table, and at the children’s continued and insistent encouragement, he caves and reaches for the first present.

Picking up the smaller wrapped present on the left, from the shape alone, he knows that he’s been gifted a canister of the black tea he buys at the market on the other end of town. It feels exactly the same in his hand wrapped as it does when he holds it barren in his kitchen, and he can feel the faint impress of the metal engraving through the wrapping paper. He brings up the gift to his ear, gently shakes it, and his suspicions are confirmed when he hears the faint rustling of loose tea leaves, a sound more familiar to him than the creak of the wooden floorboard in front of his bedroom that he refuses to fix.

An appropriate gift. He’s nearly out of his current stock of the tea, and with the current winter wind, he’s been too sluggish to get himself all the way to the market across town.

His fingers trace along the edges of the wrapping paper for where it’s folded over top itself, but as he searches for the seam to start trying to pick at it with his fingernails, against the skin of his left wrist, he feels a small ribbon. Holding the box up above his head, he sees that it hangs from the bottom of the gift and seemingly comes from within the wrapping itself.

How odd.

“What’s this?”

“You have to open it! We can’t tell you!”

“Not the gift. This ribbon.”

“Oh! The lady who wrapped it for us told us that it’s so the person opening it doesn’t have to struggle with the paper. She said to pull on the ribbon to open it.”

“Where did you find someone to gift-wrap these for you?”

“Uh,” Gabi looks to Falco, who shakes his head for her not to tell. “She just saw us struggling to wrap it, and she helped us.”

Levi’s best guess is that saying who she is would give away some part of the gifts they’ve brought back for him.

Levi hums as he tugs on the white ribbon gently, holding the canister with his left hand and pulling with his right thumb and ring finger, and the paper comes undone quickly, the ribbon tearing through.

Huh. That was surprisingly easy.

It looks that the ribbon had been attached to the canister itself, and pulling on it brought apart the paper which kept the gift hidden.

He sets aside the wrapping paper and ribbon, both of which are in one piece and will save him the trouble of having to clean up the half-town pieces of tape he expected to collect in his hand, and stares down at the tea canister. He turns it to see that it is, in fact, the black tea he always gets, and there’s a slight tug at his lips at the sentiment that the children take enough note of his tastes to make sure they’d gotten the right blend.

“Thank you, kids.”

They’re hardly kids anymore, both of them fifteen years of age, but he can’t help but see them as the young children he’d met when he’d first reached this land.

They grow up too fast.

“Now the other one!”

Levi carefully sets down the canister, and with his both his hands, he reaches for the other gift they’ve brought him.

Instead of picking it up, he simply slides the box closer to himself. Just as when he ran his fingers over the wrapper canister to find where he could start unpeeling the tape, he feels a ribbon just barely peeking out from the backside of the box. He pulls at it, and as it comes away from the box and takes away torn tape with it, Levi internally thanks whoever it was that packaged this all up.

Gabi rushes to take away the trash in Levi’s hands and from the table, rushing off to put it in the bin underneath Levi’s kitchen sink. She comes running back, holding the flower in her hair in place as she hurriedly takes her seat again, and she motions towards the box again.

Even with his eyes downturned, Levi can feel the excitement radiating off the children, so he smiles to himself as he pulls the top compartment of the box halfway-open, revealing an ornately decorated cake. In curly piped frosting, reads Happy Birthday, and all around the border is a ring of cream that smells of lemon and faint notes of mint.

What odd flavors for winter.

He pulls up the top compartment all the way so he can take out the cake, but before he can take his hands away from the cardboard to start trying to get the cake out, he sees a small pink ticket attached to its underside.

He squints to try and read the words printed on it—Good for one free item! In the bottom right corner is a small logo, picturing a bow, as well as some other lettering that’s too small for him to read.

“So, what do you think?”

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“With the cake…? You eat it,” Falco politely clarifies.

“No, I know what a cake is,” Levi says gently, trying to take out the ticket from the board. He struggles a bit, his nails too short to pull at the tape initially, but he manages to pull it away and holds it in front of himself, reading the words again—Good for one free item! The print he couldn’t read earlier lists the exact address of this bakery. Looking at the logo again, he recognizes it as belonging to the corner shop he crosses to get to the market where he buys his tea. “What’s this?”

“The lady working at the bakery said it was an extra treat for you! We wanted to get you a tea-flavored cake, but she said she ran out for the day by the time we got there, and gave us a ticket to make up for it!”

“Is she the same person who wrapped the tea for you too?”

They both nod.

Levi sighs.

Whoever this woman is must be either too kind for her own good or too stupid for the same purpose. In the first place, a local bakery definitely isn’t well-off enough to be giving away free inventory to people who aren’t regulars to begin with.

Levi puts the ticket into the pocket of his pants, and he tells himself that he’ll stop by to return this to the bakery later today. He has nothing better to do today, as he doesn’t have to water the plants with the expected night rain, so he might as well just make sure that whoever it is that’s foolish enough to give away free shit knows that he won’t be taking advantage of that.

He supposes that today is the day he finally ventures back to the hustle and bustle of the city. It was about time, anyway, so he’s glad he has a reason to now.

It’d be worth it to give thanks for how she’d wrapped his presents, too.

Gabi and Falco both get up from their chairs to go over to his side of the dining table and help him take out the cake from the box, taking more hands than Levi originally thought necessary, and Levi excuses himself to grab cutlery and plates.

As he opens the cupboard to fetch just that, he can hear the two children fussing about, trying to get the cake placed in the dead center of the table, arguing over where the first cut should be made, untying limbs after they help straighten each other’s shirt collars, shouting to tell Levi he needs to start thinking of an extraordinary birthday wish to make up for all the birthdays he hasn’t celebrated.

It’s heartwarming—that they can finally occupy themselves with things other than the perils of war. That they find not only the sea, the sky, and the earth beautiful, but themselves as well.

Levi wishes he could be the same.

The dinnerware and serving utensils he needs in his lap, Levi wheels back to the table, and with the help of the two who’d so graciously brought him this cake, the three cut themselves neat slices of cake. Even though they’d forgotten to bring candles with them for Levi to blow out, they push him to ask for that wish they’d asked him to come up with just minutes prior, and even though Levi doesn’t think the universe is that forgiving, he begrudgingly tells the children that he did.

It’s almost as begrudging as the way he lifts the half-spoonful of cake that he brings up to his lips.

Earnestly, Levi doesn’t have many sweets to begin with. He enjoys candy well enough, especially lollipops, but he himself doesn’t care to learn how to bake or ever make use of the honey that’s been collecting dust at the back of his spice cabinet. He prefers the milder flavors that he knows are safe, that he can’t fuck up.

Which is why it surprises him that he enjoys this cake so much, even with the taste of sentimentality that he knew would be carried along with the spoon.

The taste of lemon is surprisingly faint, only made prominent by the smell of the cake itself, and it doesn’t eat at his taste buds in the way that harsh citrus usually does. Hardly ever does Levi get the chance to taste vanilla, as it’s far too expensive for him to excuse as being a reasonable purchase, but its presence here is welcome as the sweet cream dissolves in his mouth. The mint, which he’d expected to taste like his toothpaste, leaves only a small twinkle dancing on the tip of his tongue.

Yet another reason to go to that bakery—to give his compliments to the baker, whomever they may be.

Though he wouldn’t dare dream of taking advantage of the ticket, maybe he’ll look around, see if there’s anything he’d like to treat himself to. Seldom ever does he have the will to do such, but whatever magic touch this baker has… Levi has to at least try something else of theirs.

With summer having long since passed in the year, it’s been a while since he’d felt so… refreshed, even if just by taking a single bite of this cake. So eager to take another bite, to feel the soft cushion of sponge cake against the roof of his mouth.

Gabi and Falco are both quick to continue digging into their pieces, eating quietly as to not disrupt the quiet that Levi typically prefers during mealtime, so they don’t take notice, but Levi sits with the spoon in his mouth for a long while, waiting for the flavors in his mouth to stop prompting joy in his heart.

They don’t, and Levi only has himself to force open his mouth and pick up another morsel of the dessert.

After everyone finishes their helping of cake and Levi listens to Gabi and Falco regale their past days spent together, both his stomach and his heart are full, and he sends them home with their own pieces of cake to bring back for their other loved ones, as Levi knows that he wouldn’t be able to finish it all on his own anyway. They’re reluctant to go, not wanting to leave Levi by himself on his birthday, but after he insists that they’ve done more than enough for him by spending the sunniest parts of the day with him (and that he’s too old to be taking up their youth), they’re happy as can be, and the two skip off to go bother whomever else their hearts desire.

With his house now empty apart from himself, he goes looking for his winter coat, preparing himself for the decently long trek over to the bakery to return the ticket. It doesn’t take long for him to find it and get it onto his frame, and after taking a pair of fingerless gloves hanging from the wall near the door, he’s ready to go. He checks that he still has that ticket in his pants pocket, and when he feels the rough texture of the fibers, he knows it’s there.

As Levi wheels himself down from the elevated foundation his house sits on top of, he looks upwards towards the sky, and when it’s as beautiful as he’s come to accept he’ll never be able to fathom, he wonders if his birthday wish could be granted.

Was it a waste to wish for something as impossible as peace? To yearn for something he’s never known, even in his dreams? To ask for a life that’s more beautiful than what he can see with his own eyes?

It’s been so long since he’d had to even consider the mere notion of an act like that—perhaps dating back to when his mother would sneak rolls of bread for him and tell him to wish on the singular red-hot coal she’d stolen from the brothel’s kitchenette. Even when he did celebrate his birthday in his years with Furlan and Isabel, and later in his years with Hange and Erwin, he’d never been pressed to want more than what was there.

Maybe he’ll figure it all out someday.

Maybe he’ll suddenly come to know, and, at that point, he’ll only have to reflect to see the beauty that’s become of his life.

Maybe he won’t, and that’d be okay too. It’s not like he knows anything but what he’s lived through, thus far.

But, right now, that’s not what’s important.

What’s important is that he finds this bakery, and he returns this ticket to the woman who was so kind as to wrap his things with ribbon, even if she didn’t do it for him intentionally.

Maybe, then, he’ll have the headspace to know if dreams, just like his to see the clear sky, can come true.

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

By the time Levi reaches this bakery at the corner, the sun has fallen halfway to the horizon, and he can only barely see it above the tallest building in this part of the city. He’d have gotten here much faster if he’d asked someone for a ride by car, but he didn’t think it necessary with how unimportant this errand actually is.

But, because he has truly nothing else of importance he needs to attend to, this is what’s most important to him right now.

No matter, because he’s here already, and though he’d thought the complete opposite would be true, this place is… quite quiet.

Perhaps it’s the weather, or perhaps it’s the time of day, but there’s hardly anyone here, as Levi can only see a handful of people through the large, barely-fogged out glass windows. With how good just that single piece of cake was, Levi had thought it’d be packed.

On the contrary, there’s no line, no hurry, no rush.

When Levi’d been more young and naïve and stupid, he had dreams of opening a tea shop. Something just like this, with huge windows and enough sunlight to read the morning paper from a register that’s spilling over with receipts and drink orders. Even though he’s impartial to people themselves, he’d imagine that, if he had the chance to be anything but who he’s been at every stage of his life, he’d be talented enough with his craft that there’d always be a line out the door, an abundance of people to appreciate what he’d have to offer them.

Maybe that’s why his heart drops, seeing how empty this place looks.

The door stays propped open with a large potted plant, unusually healthy and green for such cold weather, so Levi doesn’t have to fuss around with finding a way to get inside with his wheelchair. He gets inside easily enough, only just barely struggling not to crash into the plant or get any of its leaves caught on the wheels. Now, without the faint fog to cover its interior, he sees all sorts of plants and decorative teaware lined up on a shelf perched against the side wall of the bakery, definitively marking the space as some sort of garden.

No one pays any mind to Levi as he looks around, them all occupied by their own objects of affection, and Levi finds himself going over to a large display case, near empty and only filled with a few stray pastries, of which they all look appetizing and worthy of the money he’d brought along with him in case he’d wanted to buy anything to bring home.

He decides that he’ll get everything that’s left, as he feels compelled to support a business such as this, so undeserving of its low-traffic patronage. It’s only a handful of things; he knows he has enough to afford them all.

At the back wall, he sees that there’s some sort of drinks menu, but that hardly is of any importance to Levi, so he ignores any of its writing and downturns his eyes, going back to imagining how to make use of all the sweets he’s about to bring home with him.

The ship is returning tomorrow. Maybe he can round up those brats he used to call his soldiers, and they can run their mouths about whatever political business they’ve found themselves entangled in (or, more likely, about whatever memories return to them upon visiting the island they’d once called home).

He gently lifts himself up from his wheelchair, trying to peer over to where the front display meets the back kitchen, when he catches sight of a flash of pale yellow, rushing between what seems to be opposite sides of a room he isn’t in. Whoever it is, they turn back and look from over the door frame, and Levi finds himself locking eyes with the stranger, her own eyes blinking in surprise in reaction to his steeled gaze.

She then rushes off to put something down, and she emerges from the back room, a bright smile on her face as she waves at him, meeting him from through the display case.

She’s wearing a pale yellow apron over a plain, long-sleeve white dress, her hair tied away from her face with a ribbon that’s the same shade of white as what’d been used to wrap the gifts the kids had brought him, only hers is thicker and seemingly made of a satin material.

She looks to be about his age, if not only a few years younger, her smile lines and the faint crow’s feet at her eyes being the only signs of aging and a life well-lived. They add a lot of character to her face—her features show love, romance, in a way that’d ordinarily only be made visible through the soul.

Still, her youth is undeniable. Her mannerisms are endearing in the same manner that the sun is bright—unfathomable, unrelenting, without shame.

She’s… beautiful.

Definitively so, with the slight tilt of her head as she greets him, taking his breath away in tandem with his sanity.

“Hello, sir! What can I get for you today?”

Peeling his eyes away from her, he clears his throat, feeling an unusual pause for a second before regaining his composure. “Could I have everything in the display case?”

Her eyes widen, and she blinks. “Are you sure?”

He nods.

“Really?”

He nods again.

She smiles once more, the shine overwhelming even through the frosted glass which separates them, and she crouches down to gather a box, similar to the one that’d kept his cake earlier. She uses steady hands to grab the sweets with tongs, and she motions Levi over to the register once she’s gotten everything in the box.

She reads the total amount to him without needing to input anything on the register, letting on that she’s knowledgeable enough about the price of all the stock in the bakery, and she pulls out a spool of ribbon and a pair of scissors from underneath the counter. Levi hears the quiet snip of scissors as he gathers the money from his coat pocket, and he watches as she laces the ribbon through the openings of the box.

She puts away her ribbon in exchange for a small roll of tape, and when she sees that Levi has already set all the money on the counter between them, she nervously smiles. “Thank you! I’m sorry, just give me one more second.” She focuses her attention downwards again, placing the tape in various spots to keep the box sealed, and she holds it out for Levi to take when she’s finished.

He does, and he places it on his lap, careful to make sure that it’s level and won’t fall off.

She takes the money he set down, and she counts it to herself quietly before inputting something into the register, placing the money inside, and outstretching a silver coin in change to him. “Have a good rest of your day!”

He nods, taking the change, but just as he’s about to leave, he remembers that he has that ticket in his pocket, and before the woman can leave for the kitchen again, he takes it out and sets it on the counter. “I don’t need this.”

She hums in confusion as she looks down at it, then her eyes flicker up towards him. “I don’t recall ever seeing you before, where did you get this?”

“My kids said someone gave it to them as an apology for not having a specific flavor.”

She lights up. “Oh, those two! About this tall?” She motions, showing how tall they are relative to her own height. Levi nods. “They were here in the morning to buy a birthday cake. How’d you like it?”

“It was good,” he says gently. “And thank you for wrapping up their gifts for me.”

“Of course! They’re incredibly sweet, you and your wife must’ve raised them well.”

Levi splutters, and, in surprise, he nearly drops the box from his lap. “They’re not my kids in that manner, I just look out for them when I can.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “Well, no matter, if you have this ticket, you might as well use it, right?”

“It’s alright, I don’t need it.”

“I’m insisting, then.”

“Isn’t your boss going to be upset with you for giving away stock?”

She hums, shaking her head. “I own the place, so I wouldn’t say so.”

Levi frowns. “Can you even afford to give things away for free?”

She laughs, this time without qualm, and she looks off and out the window, scratching at her cheek with her pointer finger. “I guess it does look pretty empty today, huh? I’d sold out of most of today’s inventory in the morning, so if you’re worried about my business, don’t be.”

That’s certainly a relief.

“Besides, I rarely ever hand these out, so it’s alright. And today’s a special occasion!”

“What’re you talking about?”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“Right,” Levi muses, kissing his teeth.

“Just think of it as another gift, then.”

“I still don’t feel right accepting anything for free. Besides,” Levi eyes flicker back to the now-empty display. “There’s nothing else to take.”

The woman turns around, leaning back against the counter to be further eye-level with Levi as she points to the written menu up-top in front of them. “You could have some tea! I’d like to think I’m pretty good at brewing a cup.”

As eager as you sound, that offer doesn’t sound enticing to him at all. He has no doubt that it probably tastes fine, but he has no intention of trying any new tea right now. Possibly ever. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.”

She picks up the ticket and looks, again, between it and Levi. “Well, I can’t force you, but now that I know it’s your birthday, I can’t just let you go home without something special for yourself.”

“Who said all these aren’t?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know they aren’t.”

Levi deadpans. “And you know this, how?”

She hums, leaning forward and putting her elbows on the counter. “You seem like the type to save the best bite for last, but that just means you appreciate your food. You’ll probably invite some friends over and only eat what’s left after everyone picks what they want, right?”

When Levi doesn’t reply, instead only briefly looking down into his lap, she laughs again, standing straight up again.

“Got you, didn’t I?” She teases, winking playfully. “Take a seat at one of the tables, I’ll bring you something from the back.”

“Wait-”

Before he can tell her that he had only planned to come and go, she skips off to the back, and Levi can only watch as the ribbon in her hair trails behind her and leaves behind a white blur.

Well, he guesses he’s stuck here now. He’d feel even worse if he just left, and that poor woman came out and couldn’t find him.

He supposes he was right to think she was both exceptionally foolish, and, more-so, painfully kind.

Levi sighs, and he looks over his shoulder to assess the tables. There’s one at the corner of the room, away from the few patrons here, and he makes his way there. He passes by the shelf of greens and ceramics to get there, and he gets struck by a strong smell of… freshness.

Just like he was when he’d had his cake earlier.

He puts his box on the table and moves himself from his wheelchair to the plush of the seat provided, and he sighs at the change of cushion on his thighs. He takes off his gloves and leans his head on a propped-up left hand, breathing warm and slow to watch the cold air cloud with a slight gale. He faces the window as he waits, watching as people covered up for the winter walk past the bakery, and he pulls his coat tighter as he feels the cold wind as it blows in through the open door.

The baker comes back to the table before he can think too harshly about anything in particular, and with her, she carries a tray with a small packaged sweet and a steaming cup of tea. She places it in front of him, careful not to spill anything, and she smiles down at him.

“Happy birthday! It’s on the house!”

“Thank you,” he replies, awkwardly nodding, and he waits for her to be safely faraway enough from him before he stares down at the tray, watching as the warmth of the tea bleeds up into the air.

Through the clear top of the package, Levi sees a slice of cake, with speckled vanilla cream and berries strewn about. On the side of the package, tied with ribbon, is a small plastic fork. He lifts the slice up, and as he saw earlier with the tea she’d wrapped, there’s a small ribbon hanging from the bottom too.

Next to the teacup, there’s a smaller dish of sugar cubes, as well as two small pitchers of cream and honey. Even more captivating, there’s a small sprig of what looks to be mint. The point where the small stem has been split off looks wet, as if it’s just been plucked from its shrub.

She must’ve broken it off on her way to his table.

He has no intention of drinking the tea, nor doing anything with the additions she’s brought him, so he carefully lifts up the cake slice and pushes away the tray.

Better to leave it noticeably untouched. Maybe she can drink it herself when she returns to clear his table after he leaves.

He peels away the ribbon at the side to get his fork, then at the one on the bottom, and the box unfolds into a sort of plate where the cat sits neatly at the center. A blueberry nearly rolls away and off the surface, but he manages to stop it with the edge of his fork.

He sets the berry back on top of the slice, atop the dollop of cream at the cake’s edge, and he cuts away a piece to pick up with his fork.

Once more, his mouth is greeted with a symphony of flavors, none too familiar to him.

He can’t be bothered to even try to make sense of the way this new sensation feels. It’s divine in a way he doesn’t know how to describe, and his rational mind gives way for his mouth to blindly enjoy the sugar and spice that’s in front of him. Around him, people slowly leave, himself being the last person lost in this cold paradise as he savors the baked good brought to him, but at least he has the shared, lonesome company of the baker running this shop.

She had come out from the kitchen a few times to clean tables and bring dishes to the back, but for the most part, she’d left him alone entirely. He didn’t think anything ill of that—he’d just assumed she was busy taking care of things for the following day’s opening, or whatever else it is that bakers have to handle at the tail end of their day.

Once Levi finishes his cake and gathers his things on his lap, she emerges from the kitchen once more, sending him a smile before going over to flip the bakery’s open sign and move the plant keeping the door open.

He wheels himself over to the trashcan near the door, tossing in the remnants of the cardboard he’d just eaten off of, and he meets her gaze halfway as he goes to leave.

“Thank you, again. For the cake.”

“Don’t mention it,” she muses, going over to hold the door open for him to leave. “I need to close up now, but come again sometime, yeah? I’m open from Tuesday to Friday!”

He nods halfheartedly, and she smiles as she tilts her head towards the direction of the street. He leaves, needing to be careful as to not bump into her hair ribbon as he passes through the door, and he’s off to find home again. The sun, now, is nearer to the horizon, but he knows he’ll have enough time to make it back to the house before dark.

Before he can get too far, though, he hears the bell of the bakery doors reopening abruptly.

“Wait! I didn’t catch your name!” The baker calls after him.

From across the street, he looks over his shoulder and at her, her hair blowing alongside the zephyr. Her hair’s white ribbon flies higher, as its light weight makes it catch wind more steadily, and her cheeks turn pink with the nipping cold.

“Capta-,” he hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek.

Even after all these years, he’s never fully been able to forget his formal introduction.

Maybe he was right to think it wasted to wish for a life simpler than what he’s been given.

“It’s Levi,” he says a bit louder, hoping the wind will carry his name to her.

“Levi?”

He nods.

She then smiles, and she waves at him sweetly, her other hand keeps her hair from blocking her vision. “Happy birthday again, Levi!”

He brings up his hand to wave back to her in polite gratitude, and her grin becomes ever-brighter at the returned gesture.

As he turns away from her and she retreats back to the bakery, he realizes that even with the sun now hiding between the concrete of buildings seemingly taller than the skies themselves, she was so like the sun. So blindingly-so, that he’d forgotten to ask her name in return.

Goddamn it.

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

It’s not too long before Levi returns to the quaint little bakery at the corner near the market.

Once the new year has begun and he’s needed to go stock up on more supplies for his garden, he’s back in that part of town, and after he’s exhausted himself by looking for new gardening gloves and new nails to repair a broken section of the trellis, he’s found himself back here again, looking through the display glass at various cakes and sweets, much more fully-stocked than the last time he was here, and through gentle breeze at the baker who’s currently giving a high-five to the kid in front of him in line.

As Levi waits his turn, he looks through the array of desserts carefully before he decides on a slice of black forest cherry cake. He hasn’t got any clue what that’s meant to taste like, but he doesn’t think he could be let down by anything from this place. Because he has plans at the house later with Onyankopon, Gabi, and Falco to start working on getting the dirt ready for the spring planting, he’ll bring them all back something too.

When it’s his time to get to the baker, her eyes light up at the sight of the man, now dressed slightly warmer with the now-present hot sunrise. She herself is still in that same yellow apron, but she’s now dressed in a long skirt and a frilly blouse.

“Welcome back, Levi!”

“Good morning,” he greets softly.

Still in her hair is her signature white ribbon, and she rests her head on her arms atop the display case as she follows along where Levi’s eyes go. “What would you like today?”

“Could I get a slice of black forest cherry?”

She points to it from above. “This one?”

Levi nods.

The baker hums to herself as she slides open the backside of the display, the pair of tongs in her hands hovering over the assortment of slices before remaining still above the flavor he’s asked for. She squints as she looks at all of them before choosing one awkwardly in the middle of all the others, and she takes an unfolded package box from underneath the counter to put it into.

“Anything else for you? Did you want to buy out the entire display again?” She teases, a playful smile decorating her features.

Levi feels a faint flutter in his heart with her exuberance, but he ignores it and clears his throat, looking through the glass again. “Not today.”

She laughs. “I’ll look forward to when you will, then.”

“Do you have any suggestions? I’m having people over at my house later today.”

She hums, clicking the claws of her tongs together a few times as she crouches down and looks at everything. She accidentally makes eye contact with Levi through the glass here, and she smiles sweetly at him before going back to looking. Her eyes are downcast, blocked by her long eyelashes, yet they still trace sunlight as they move across the sweets on display.

“How about an orange sugar cake?” She suggests, eyes flitting up to meet his. “I think they’re in season right now, they were pretty cheap at the market when I went yesterday.”

They are. Jean had brought over a potted orange treeling just the other day.

“Sounds good,” he says.

She gently tugs on the cakeboard of a pale orange cake, dusted with powdered sugar and decorated with thyme, before pulling it completely off the display and over to the counter, getting a second box that’s much bigger and without cellophane top.

She motions him over to the register, and she goes through the same remembered motions that Levi remembers her making from the last time he’d watched her wrap up his things.

As she pulls out her scissors and ribbon, she tells him the total of the numbers he’d already read on the cakes’ accompanying price tags, and Levi reaches into his coat pocket for the wallet that Onyankopon had gifted him for his birthday (him and the rest of the 104th ended up hosting a birthday party for him when they’d all returned from the Island, those fucking bastards).

“So, what brings you here today?” She asks.

Levi opens up his wallet, careful not to spill anything from his lap as he tries to gather up all the bills he needs. “Passing through to run errands. I figured I’d stop by.”

“Do you live far from here?”

“A fair bit away, but I’ve managed.”

“Well,” the sound of a snip of her scissors, “I’m glad to see you back! I was worried I’d scared you off a bit,” she jokes.

He raises a brow. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

At his usage of profanity, she giggles, amused. “I don’t know, I came off pretty strong when you were here. Sorry about that.”

That much might be true, but it’s not something that’d scare him anyway.

“No need to be sorry. You didn’t scare me.”

“That’s a relief,” she muses. reaching for a roll of tape. “Are you eating your slice here, or will you be taking that home?”

Looking over at the window, he sees too many people moving about. He’ll stay here to avoid the foot-traffic. “I’ll have it here.”

She hums in acknowledgement, and after a few snips, she continues. “No tea again?”

Levi lies through his teeth. “Not much of a tea drinker.”

She pauses to look at him briefly, but then goes back to lacing the ribbon through the folds of the box. “Right.”

. . .

“Do you garden?”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“Your gloves,” she says, pointing with her scissors at the new pair sitting on his lap. “I have the same ones.”

“Oh. Yes, I do.” His hands, already gloved to protect his palms from the grime of the street he wheels through, go to touch the newly bought gloves. He hadn’t ever gotten these specific ones before, but he hopes they’ll be alright.

“They’re a good brand, I like them a lot.”

“Never used these before, I hope they’re good,” Levi says, eyes following her swift hands as they cut tape. “None of them ever feel right.”

“Why do you say that?”

Well, it's kind of hard for gloves to feel comfortable when he’s missing two of his fingers.

The extra unused fabric just awkwardly hangs downwards as he works in the fields of his backyard, and even though he’s found that tucking them inside-out makes them less of a hassle, they still feel disgusting against the skin of the back of his right hand, so he usually prefers the inconvenience. He goes through his gloves quickly, though, as the overhanging pieces tend to get caught and tear on tools and trellis.

“They just don’t.”

Levi puts the money on the table, and he puts away his wallet as the baker counts it out and puts it into the register. She hands him back his change, but before Levi can get to trying to figure out how to fit all this and his other items from the market on his lap, she pulls back the boxes closer to herself and picks them up.

When he looks up at her quizzically, she just smiles softly and tilts her head towards the tables. “Gonna show me where you want to sit, or do you want me to choose for you?”

He feels his ears flush red as he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything stupid, and he looks away from her.

He clicks his tongue to feign indifference, and he brings himself over to that same, unoccupied table at the corner of the room. The baker follows closely behind him, and she places the boxes on the table for him. She excuses herself quickly to go fetch him a fork, as she hadn’t taped one onto the side of his smaller slice box.

Levi pulls the packaged cake slice closer to himself, and he pulls gently on the ribbon underneath to undo the tape and unravel the box, just as he did when he was here on his birthday.

The baker returns, with a fork in hand, and she sets it down carefully on a napkin she’d taken out from her apron pocket. “Enjoy, Levi! Let me know when you’re leaving, so I can help get your cake ready for transport.”

“What?” He blinks.

“You can’t just carry a cake in your lap all the way home, can you?”

He hadn’t thought it’d be much of an inconvenience, but she’s probably right. Getting to and from this part of town is difficult enough as a person with mobility issues, and trying to balance an entire cake on his lap without his hands sounds even more hellish.

“Alright, I’ll let you know, then.”

“Perfect! I’ll see you in a bit!” Right after she turns on her heel, though, she pauses and looks over her shoulder at him, and she turns around. “Actually…”

“What?”

She stretches out her hand to him, her palm-up. “Could I have your gardening gloves for a bit?”

He’s… confused.

“What do you mean, ‘can you have my gardening gloves?’ You said you had your own pair.”

She only smiles, the ribbon in her hair bouncing slightly as her spirit tries to convince him to believe her. “I promise, I’ll give them back to you.”

Well, he has nothing to lose here anyway. If she doesn’t give him back his gloves, he can just go over to the market and buy another pair, or just cut his losses entirely and accept that gardening gloves aren’t worth jack shit.

And, for whatever reason, he feels like he can trust her.

Whether or not he wants to think further about that, entirely up in the air, but for the time being, he picks up the gloves from his lap and hands them to the unnamed baker, who then excuses herself with another smile and leaves for the back part of the bakery.

What a strange woman.

He picks up the fork she’d brought back for him and starts digging into the cake, already knowing to prepare himself for the harmonious musings of flavors he’s about to take in, and he beams to himself when he’s finally got the cake in his mouth.

He’d expected as much, but he’s still going to be surprised anyway.

When he’s finished with the piece of cake, the small lace doily completely free of any residual crumbs, he cranes his head to look towards the kitchen where the baker had disappeared, hoping that she’ll meet his gaze halfway and just come out to help him as promised (and bring back his gloves, but honestly, he has no fucking clue what she’s doing with them, so maybe she doesn’t need to do that).

Lo and behold, as she’s crossing through the space visible from the front of the house, she looks out towards him, and when her eyes lock with his, she pauses, rushes back from the direction she came from, and skips over to Levi, gloves in her hand as well as a decently large cloth bag.

“You about ready to leave now?”

Levi nods.

The baker smiles as she holds out the gloves out to Levi, prompting him to take them back. “Try these on, okay? I’ll get your cake hooked up onto your chair, and you can be on your way.”

She picks up the larger box of orange sugar cake and places it carefully into the cloth bag she’s brought from the kitchen, and she disappears behind Levi to start attaching things to the back of his wheelchair. Levi cranes his neck to try and watch as she works behind him, but because he really can’t see anything even when his entire upper body stretches and turns, he resolves to just do as he’s told and try on his gloves.

He sighs as he lays them both out on the table to see which goes on which hand, but as his eyes regain focus under the morning sun, he’s surprised to see that the right side’s pointer and middle fingers are… gone?

He swears he had gotten gloves that were annoyingly both five-fingered.

He remembers having grimaced as he went to pay for them, knowing that he’d have to go back and try another brand at some point in the future when these would inevitably annoy the shit out of him. Onyankopon would try to cheer him up, the kids would make another joke about how he’s had to spend more money on gloves than on actual gardening supplies, and the cycle would repeat itself until Levi’s too old and brittle to keep tending to the fields.

He holds the glove up to his face, looking closer at the seam where the fabric should be, but he only finds a neatly stitched line which connects the panels of the palm and back of a hand.

It’s stitched in the same pale yellow thread as her apron.

“Did you…”

She laughs from behind him, and he hears a faint rustling of ribbon along with the sound. “Did I what?”

“Nevermind,” he utters softly, and using his left hand, he pulls off his right fingerless glove, picks up the gardening glove again, and tugs it onto his hand.

He closes his fist.

Opens it.

And closes it again.

The gentle compress of the thick fabric feels nice against his knuckles, as opposed to the loose feeling of air he was used to feeling there, of which would both irritate and overwhelm his senses.

“Okay, I’m done!”

Looking back again, he sees that the baker has now stood up, and there’s now a ribbon tied between both handles of his wheelchair, ornately kept together with knots he doesn’t know how to undo. The ribbons are interlaced with the handles of the cloth bag, and it seems to provide extra support for the cake to keep it from rocking about as Levi travels.

She points to the end of a piece of ribbon at the left handle. “Pull on that piece to untie everything, just be careful taking it off your chair because the bag isn’t the strongest without the ribbon to support it.”

Levi’s heart flutters at the gesture, but there’s a quiet sinking which keeps him from being as appreciative as he wants to be.

“Did you get that?” She asks, waving a hand in front of his face.

He blinks, and he dumbly nods. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says.

Before he can stop the words from spilling over, they come out. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

The baker looks at him with confused eyes. “What, do you think you aren’t worth it?”

Yes.

“No.”

She smiles warmly and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s really not any trouble, Levi. I’m more than happy to help out.”

The bell from the door of the bakery rings, alerting her of another customer coming into the building, and she sheepishly smooths out the front of her apron before excusing herself to attend to them.

Again, before he can stop himself, his right hand, still gloved in the dense fabric of the gardening material, reaches out to gently hold onto her wrist.

She looks down at him, seemingly and entirely unbothered by his touch, and she doesn’t move away from his grasp. “Do you need anything?”

Levi’s heart gets caught in his throat, but he manages to speak once more. “Could I ask for your name?”

The question feels fiercely intimate, just as it did when she’d asked for his name, but, here, it feels like such a far leap.

And, yet, she still smiles at him, and she moves her hand so that she’s able to squeeze his palm gently.

When she speaks her name— your name—to him, he catches a peek of sunshine from the corner of his eye, caught on the reflection of the bell.

And he wonders if this is how the sea feels when it meets the sky.

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

“You’re a lot faster than you usually are, Levi,” Onyankopon comments, passing by him on his way back to the house. “Something motivating you today?”

Levi shakes his head. “Not really, no.”

The taller man smiles good-naturedly and hoists up the shovel held over his shoulder. “Well, whatever it is, you’ve been working long enough, so you should come inside with us to have some of that cake you brought back with you. It’s gonna get dark soon.”

Levi sighs, taking the small towel draped over his shoulder to wipe at the sweat that’s built on his forehead. “Yeah, sure.”

Onyankopon picks up Levi’s cane from the ground and hands it to him, the latter thanking him for the help. As Levi reaches for it, Onyankopon takes notice of the gloves Levi’s wearing.

“New gloves?”

At the mention of them, Levi looks down, and he finds himself having to push away the flicker of sunbeam that replays in his mind.

Levi nods, and he slings his towel back onto his shoulder.

“Something like that.”

The next time he sees you, he really ought to thank you again.

It seems this year will have an even better harvest.

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

The next time he comes to the bakery is in another month’s time, just as winter begins to fade into the very early beginnings of spring.

Mikasa’s birthday is tomorrow, and it’s about that time of year that she routinely asks Levi to join her at the beach to mull over life’s happenings. Even worse, Eren’s birthday is just over the horizon, and that’s a tough time for everyone, but for her especially.

Because he knows that it’s hard for Mikasa to even bring herself to eat during these times, her mouth only opening to speak from the heart and weep for love’s past, Levi figures that bringing something sweet for her to pick at as she watches the sun fall is enough gesture to tell her that he wants her to take care of yourself, so that’s why he’s made the trip over here.

It’s also Falco’s birthday tomorrow, and Levi feels so inclined to get the brat a cake to celebrate another year of living. He’s been asking for something new to try from the bakery, anyway, so Levi might as well indulge the kid and let him and Gabi both bounce off the walls with energy.

While he’s here, he may as well extend his gratitude to you, too.

He doesn’t think he’ll need to buy any new pairs of gardening gloves soon.

When he comes through the opened door, there’s a long line, and Levi sighs.

With all these people, he’s bound to only have limited conversation with you, and even though he still doesn’t think himself deserving of the compassion which is extended alongside your time, he’d looked forward to it during the travel over.

He gets in the line, and as it moves fairly slowly, he watches as the display case becomes increasingly emptied. It feels like forever before he’s finally at the front, but once he’s there, he finds it all worth it to see the way your face shines when you see him, warmth radiating from you in spite of the gentle early spring wind.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while!”

He lets the very corners of his mouth upturn slightly, your aura too bright to even be dampened by Levi’s everpresent somber.

“Good afternoon to you, too.”

“Sorry about the wait, what can I get for you today?”

For Mikasa, “Do you have any strawberry cakes left?”

You nod, already starting to reach for one. “How’s this one?”

“That’ll do just fine,” Levi says. And for Falco, “Could I also get a cheesecake, if you have any?”

“You got it!”

“...And could you write Happy Birthday on both of them?”

You hum in confirmation, and while you get to doing that, already knowing to meet you at the counter to pay, Levi pushes himself forward and begins to take out his bills, eyes occasionally flitting upwards to watch as you tape together the box and lace ribbon throughout. Just as you’re finished packaging up everything, you take his money, bill out the change, and Levi’s now awkwardly looking between the boxes and his own lap.

“Hey, Levi,” you call to him, putting away your packing tools underneath the counter. “If you wait over by your usual table, I can get these on your chair in a few minutes. Let me just take care of this line first.”

His eyes widen. “It’s fine, you don’t have to-”

“Are you in a hurry out?” You ask.

No.

“Yes.”

Your face drops slightly, but you still keep the light expression on your features. “Oh, well, alright. Let me go grab a crate, then, that might be easier to manage than just holding onto these.”

You disappear into the back, and you return just as quickly as you’d left, a decently large crate in your hands. You put that on the table while you lower the cakes into it, and after slotting some ribbon through the panels of the wooden crate to keep the cakes from moving too much in transport and taping a few more things together, Levi’s on his way out the door with two birthday cakes secured on his lap, and you’re back to tending to customers with a bright smile, moving your hands as you speak.

Maybe he’s better off not thanking you again. You don’t have the time to be talking to someone like him, especially right now while you tend to other patrons, and even at his grown age, Levi feels too awkward to try and find a way to cooly express gratitude for an action taking place an entire month ago.

As he watches for the leaves on the plant holding the bakery door open, a little pink slip catches his eye from the inner wall facing him of the crate, a short stream of ribbon underneath the tape that holds it in place. He raises a brow, and he wheels himself to a stop just outside the large windows of the building to look at it more closely.

Good for one free item!

Levi looks at you from through the glass, catching your gaze already on him and waiting for his reaction, and he points at the ticket taped to his crate. You sweetly wave at him, but when Levi starts to turn his wheelchair around to try and return it, you frantically wave your hands out in front of you to tell him to just keep it.

And, well.

Considering the fact that he does eventually want to return, this is a good enough excuse to.

He wonders if that’s also what you want, and he can’t help but feel like, maybe, it is; because after he turns to go back on his way home, he can practically feel the warmth of your smile from the sun itself, even when there is an incessant, unrelenting voice at the back of his mind telling him that he’s not allowed to be happy like this.

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

Not even a week later, in the middle of February, Levi is back in the bakery.

The sun is starting to still in the sky for a bit longer than it has been for the past several months, and that means that there’s soon to be many more insects crawling around, of which try to eat at the leaves of the plants Levi tends to in the fields. He’d came to the market with the excuse that he needs to buy insecticide spray that the kids always beg to use (and, no, they aren’t allowed to use it anymore because Levi knows they’ll get so carried away with watching the dispensed mist that they won’t properly use it, and lord knows the tomato plants have suffered enough).

With the pink ticket in the silk of his pants pocket, he comes in through the propped-open door, and he greets you with a wave when he catches your eye from behind the counter.

Thankfully, there’s not too much of a line right now, so maybe you’ll indulge him and keep him company for a bit.

“Good morning,” you greet, meeting him at the display, a bright smile on your face. “What brings you here today? Another birthday?”

“Not today, just stopping by to use that ticket you gave me.” He tears his eyes away from you to look at the assortment of slices available. “Are you busy right now?”

“Not really,” you muse. “Why, do you want company while you eat?”

Levi freezes.

. . .

Is it that obvious?

You laugh, resting your head on the glass top of the display case. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

Right.

“I’ll have a slice of the raspberry cake.”

“Sure thing!”

You hum to yourself as you pick out the prettiest piece for him, and Levi meets you at the register with the pink ticket. You take it from him, making a bit of a scene by checking its “validity” before laughing and putting it into the pocket of your apron, and you lean forward with your elbows on the counter.

“No tea for you today?” You ask.

“No tea. Sorry.”

“Would you mind, then, if I had some while I sat with you?”

His eyes widen.

“You’re actually…?”

You playfully roll your eyes as you turn to go back to the kitchen, presumably to fetch yourself a cup of tea. “You’re pretty easy to read, you know that?”

No, he didn’t know that.

“Sure.”

“I’ll meet you at your table, don’t wait up for me!”

Levi lets out a nervous breath as he picks up the packaged cake slice, and he wheels himself over to that corner table by the window. Once he’s there and has taken a seat in the plush chair, he undoes the ribbon wrapping on the box, and he peels away the fork from the side to rest it on the table as he waits for you to return.

When you come back, you bring back a tray to his table with two teacups in it, as well as a mint sprig between your fingers. You gently pull out the chair for yourself, and you follow Levi’s gaze out to the window as you take sips from your tea.

He looks down at the other teacup there, accompanied by that same small dish with sugar cubes and two small pitchers of cream and money.

“I’m not drinking that.”

You blow away the steam that wafts from your cup, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I know, but just in case.”

Levi’s eyes turn to look at you, waiting for you to start talking as he expects you to, but when his gaze meets yours, you only smile at him before going back to looking out the window, a meaningful, yearning look on your face as you watch city life go about itself.

In the end, he does the same, sitting and soaking in sunlight through the glass. Leaves fall from upper canopies right outside, and Levi watches as they hit the ground softly. Some of them fall onto people’s hair and hats, in which case Levi will hear you giggling quietly to yourself at the charming ignorance of a new accessory, and he feels a quiet flame start in his heart when he sees the way the sunbeam brings glow to your bright eyes.

But that’s not really that important.

You do have to get up at times to quickly tend to customers and get tea brewing for those who order it, but it’s hardly even noticeable to Levi when you do leave because of the trance he’s in as he watches the sunglow.

When Levi finishes his cake and you’re finished with your tea, you get up from the table and smooth out of the front of your apron. “It was nice sitting with you, thank you for letting me.”

He looks up at you and nods. “Likewise.”

“I’ll leave you be, but even though I can’t always give you free inventory, I hope you’ll come back,” you tease, a knowing smile on your face.

Against all better judgment telling him that he’s not meant to be living his life like this, “I will.”

The answer seems to surprise you slightly, as you still for a second, but you just laugh and shake your head, leaning your hand on the table as the other goes to take away his trash and the undrunken tea. “I’ll hold you to it, then. See you around, Levi.”

“Bye,” he says softly.

You wave at him as you begin to leave, but there’s a nagging at Levi’s mind to do what he’d wanted to the last time he was here.

Well, no time better than the present.

“And thank you for altering my gloves!” He shouts after you.

At the sound of his voice, you twirl around to meet his eyes halfway, and his heart just about stops as he watches the ribbon in your hair reflect soft lampglow as it follows the spin of your head.

And it actually does when you beam at him, a dusty pink on your cheeks as your smile reaches your eyes. “You’re welcome!”

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

By the time April comes around, it’s practically routine for Levi to come to the bakery every week.

(He chooses to come on Wednesdays because that’s when it’s the least busy in the week, and he knows you'll be able to sit with him.)

The weather’s been perfect for him to be awake for the entirety of the day, and now that the breeze and temperature have settled enough to afford him a stable harvest without needing much effort on his part, he’s free to do nothing with his time.

Though, he isn’t completely sure if it amounts to “nothing” if he spends his nights either silently sharing grief with Mikasa (and, nowadays, Arlert too) on the sand or turning about in the lounge chair in the corner of his room, trying to find way to bring himself to clear his thoughts to even lay in his bed.

But, he can’t say for sure whether or not it’s worth anything otherwise, so it’s nothing.

Nothing much has changed, anyway, so Levi’s fine with the monotony that follows him around. His weekly visits become intertwined with the routine he’s engaged with in this life, which, then, leads him to spending part of his free time in this little bakery, just barely an hour’s walk away (not that he’s tried to actually walk that distance yet, but the pain in his legs has gradually subsided over the past months, so he’s satisfied enough knowing that he probably could if he wanted to), yet seemingly in a world so different from his.

He sits, watching as the world passes by him in seeming slow motion as he relishes in the serenity of this room. The smell of herbs, freshly picked from the shelf near him, travels alongside sugar and spice, and he’s left to forget that he’s not entirely his own.

In similar manner, it’s practically routine for you to have a cup of tea with Levi with he eats whatever it is that he buys from the display case (or, sometimes you’ll bring out something from the back for him to try—you insist it’s on the house, but he always manages to shove the exact legal tender into your hands anyway).

You also always bring out two cups of tea—one for yourself, one that’s meant for him—but he never drinks from it. It changes every week. Never is the tea the same color as in the previous week, almost as if you’re trying to gauge what it is that he enjoys.

It’s too kind.

He hates it.

And what makes it worse is that you don’t even seem to mind, even though Levi does tell you that he isn’t going to have any, every single time. You wave him off, only to resume sharing the sunlight with him, waiting for your own tea to cool enough to sip.

And he hates that he’s touched by that.

On this particular day, he’s having a slice of apricot cake, you’re having a cup of citrus tea with mint leaves, and there’s that gentle silence that hangs overhead every time this happens.

And whether or not it’s because it’s become so painfully soothing to just sit in silence with you, he doesn’t care to know, but today, by the time he’s finished savoring his piece, there’s a gentle pouring of rain outside.

He’d came much later than usual, as he’d met up with the 104th in the late afternoon to have lunch for Kirstein’s birthday (Kirstein, who’d begged for Levi to stay fully into the evening to join the lot for a night out drinking, but everyone else in their right mind at that luncheon (meaning, everyone but Kirstein and Springer) scolded him for asking that a poor old man like Levi stay out late), so, by now, he knows that even if he were to start heading home right now (in the pouring rain, mind you), it’d be nearing nightfall until he reached his destination.

And, of course, it’s nearing closing time for the bakery, so he’s bound to get kicked out at some point soon.

You excuse yourself after you finish your tea, just as you always do, with a smile and a joke about him coming back the following week, and Levi’s left to awkwardly wait for his mind to come up with a solution to this… relatively minor dilemma, but one nonetheless. The rain only seems to get heavier with each passing second, and his decision to not just brave out the light downpour seems to be hurting him now. Levi’s the only person left in here, everyone else having already left to escape when the rain was light enough to bear without an umbrella.

He supposes that he could find a nearby hostel to stay at for the night. He’s brought his wallet with him, so he’d have enough to get a room for the night, maybe for a hotel if he’s so inconvenienced.

He’s just going to (try to) sleep in the room’s chair, anyway. Doesn’t really matter to him where he spends the night.

When the sun finally falls low enough in the sky to only be seen looking sideways, you come out from the back part of the bakery, go to flip the open sign, and move the potted plant keeping the door open. You wipe your hands, wet with the rain that’d dripped onto the rim of the plant pot, on the front of your apron, and look over at Levi, who feels like a deer caught in headlights.

“...I swear, I’ll be on my way out soon.”

You scrunch your eyebrows. “What’re you talking about? You can’t get home in this rain.”

“It’s not so hard to get a room for the night around here.”

“Sure, but that’s really stupid when you could just stay here.”

He scoffs halfheartedly. “Right, like I could do that.”

When you don’t bite back with another joke, he recoils into himself.

“Right?”

“You’re more than welcome to.”

“Actually?"

You nod, going over to behind the display case to start cleaning. “You’ve been coming here for the last four months, I don’t mind helping out a friend.”

A friend.

You consider him a friend?

His heart feels caught in the downpour, but in the way that it’s swept away without disregard for its intentions.

It doesn’t feel… right.

Is it even fair for him to let himself get entangled like this? To let someone like you , befriend someone like him?

What could he possibly give you?

And, yet, even with the flushing away of his heart, he wishes to find it again, if only to feel the gentle spark he’d felt in it.

“Don’t you need to get home yourself?”

“I live in the apartment upstairs. Not to mention, the nearest place to stay the night is a couple blocks away, I wouldn’t want you to get lost looking for it.”

Oh.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

“...But are you sure?”

You laugh from behind the display, and after having cleared everything from the shelves, you peer at him through the glass. “Yes, Levi, I’m sure.”

Levi balls up his fists in his lap, unsure of what to do.

In the first place, Levi doesn’t enjoy the rain, so walking through it for that long of a distance, especially under this heavy downpour, is entirely out of the question.

Prior to being named Captain, he liked it well enough, and its drip and drop was soothing enough to lull him to a half-sleep even if he was unable to clear his head. He’d experienced his first downpour with both Isabel and Furlan, out in the streets of Mitras scarcely after being coerced into the Survey Corps, so rain was precious to him in the sense that it’d represented what forces had pulled him from his doomed life in the Underground.

But after so many expeditions gone wrong in the rainstorms of Paradis, he’s avoided actually being in it for too long to avoid stirring up painful memories of those times. The splash of rain, the thundering of clouds overhead—they’re the rare pieces of that life that haunt him in this one, even with their objective and sentimental beauty.

But he’d rather that than have to be fussed over by a woman he’s come to enjoy the company of. He couldn’t stand giving the rain yet another moment to ruin.

““I really don’t mean to be an inconvenience, just point me in the direction of the nearest hostel.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Please, don’t worry about being an inconvenience.”

He frowns. “Really, I mean it.”

“I do too.” You get up from your position bent over to clean the display case, stretching your arms upwards.

“Do you seriously trust me not to completely ransack your home?”

“Hm? Where would I get that impression of you? You seem pretty normal to me.”

. . .

That’s right. You didn’t know him in that life.

You know him in this one.

The one he doesn’t feel is his to begin with.

“Nevermind.”

You yawn, and you crouch back down, cleaning cloth in your hand to wipe away condensation on the glass. “Tell you what, I’ll let you help clean the kitchen, and that’ll be worth my ‘trouble’ spent letting you stay the night here. Sound good?”

No.

Yes.

He doesn’t know.

“I’m not an indentured servant, you can’t barter like this.”

You laugh again, the ribbon in your hair bouncing as your body splutters. “Right, I shouldn’t.” Another wipe at the glass. “But, really, Levi. I’d rather you here than out in the rain.”

“You do realize that this means I’d be here the entire night, right?”

“Of course I do, what am I, a fool?”

“Maybe.”

Or, more likely, it’s him that’s the fool.

“Do you need to be somewhere tomorrow?”

For once, he’s honest.

“No.”

“Then what’s the harm in staying?”

Glancing out the window again, he sees that sunlight has nearly disappeared, blocked by both the horizon and the clouds thick in the sky. Looking back and forth between your humming figure and the door, its frame wet with the rain that leaks through the cracks, he realizes that you’re right.

He gets up from the cushioned seat and moves over to his wheelchair, admitting reluctant resolve as he wheels over to you, stopping between the front and back of the house.

He knows he’ll regret this later, when the moon has replaced the star in the sky, and he’s forced to confront the fact that he’s not deserving of this sort of compassion.

But, for reasons unrealized by both him and the gods above, he can’t bring himself to deny the sun, even if he is undeserving of its warmth.

“Where do I start?”

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

Quite surprisingly, the ensuing night is silent.

Levi supposes that he shouldn’t be startled that you don’t talk much; you are still working, to some capacity, and he’s already settled into the fact that you aren’t all that talkative when you’re in his company.

The kitchen is dirtied in fresh flour and dirty dishes—obviously, a mess regardless, but one that doesn’t particular irk Levi, especially considering the fact that you’re the only person who works here—so Levi gets to work on cleaning that, and you’re sat at a table in the front of the house, handling finances and other paper tasks. You have half a sandwich with you at the table, and Levi is given the other.

Thankfully, his legs decide that today isn’t the day to curse him with excruciating pain, so he’s quite quick in getting everything sorted out and cleaned. There’s some things he can’t do, like put away large basins of flour or sugar, but other than a few stray items which only need to be put back in their proper places, the dishes get done, the perishables are put neatly into the fridge, the floor is swept, and kitchen is spic-and-span.

When he finishes, he gets back down in his wheelchair, and he goes to report to you that nearly everything’s done. However, you don’t seem to notice the sound of his wheels as they glide across the tile flooring, seemingly enamored in whatever it is you’re reading while you tap your pen against your lip.

The way you’re sat, one leg bent over the other, face propped up with one hand as eyes follow arcane words on the page, reminds him of how he’d sit at his own desk when he was in the military.

Whatever it is that you’re looking at, you pull your pen away from your lip and sign on a line, then slumping forward and sighing as you turn your head to put it down comfortably.

And, of course, Levi just had to be already looking at you from that position, so when you open your eyes to sit yourself up again, you make eye contact with him through the window of your arm and the ceiling.

Not expecting him to be there, you’re slightly startled, and you immediately straighten your back and sit up. “Oh! Are you finished in the kitchen?”

Levi nods. “I didn’t know where some things were supposed to be kept, so I left them on the counter. Nothing perishable, though.”

“That’s alright. Thank you, Levi,” you yawn and twist your upper body back and forth, holding onto the back of the chair as you turn. “And good timing, I’m about done with bookkeeping, so I’ll head up with you.” You gather together your books and pens and papers, putting them all into a folder, and you motion for Levi to follow you back through the kitchen and through a door which leads to the larger building’s hallways. There’s a set of stairs at the end of the hall, and it seems that’s where you’re leading him.

Levi’s about to comment on the fact that he’s really not sure he’s willing to haul both himself and his wheelchair up an entire flight of stairs, but you stop before you can, and you turn to walk another corner, and the two of you find yourselves in front of an elevator.

You press the button to go up, and you smile down at Levi, your papers tucked underneath your arm. “Sorry I’m not all that talkative after hours, I’m probably not as fun as you thought I was.”

That’s not a problem at all.

“I don’t care.”

When the elevator doors open, you let him on the platform first, and you follow inside to stand beside him and click on the button for the 2nd floor.

You close your eyes on the ascent, and Levi takes this as chance to glance at you from where he is.

Your ribbon sways as you do, humming to yourself as you wait for the elevator to reach the upstairs. There’s a soft smile on your face, flour slightly caught on your nose, and a bit of ink staining the parts of your lip where it’d met pen.

The yellow of your apron is brightened here, white lights of the elevator much more harsh than the natural light of the downstairs bakery. The frills on the edge of its skirt are more starkly defined here, and with the slight movement of your hips, they seem to blow like they’re in the breeze.

In a way, watching you here, he feels the way he feels when the sun starts to go to sleep.

When the system beeps to tell you that you’ve reached your level, Levi pulls his eyes away from you, and he listens carefully as you yawn once more and tip your head where he’s meant to follow you.

When you’re at your apartment door, you take out a key from the pocket of your dress, undo the lock, and you hold it open for Levi to come in first. He does, nodding as thanks, and you close it behind you.

“Make yourself at home, I’m going to take a quick shower,” you tell him sweetly, slipping past him to head for the bathroom.

Levi nods, and he takes a second to just comprehend the fact that he’s even here at all.

Looking around, he sees that your apartment is very… you.

In the past four months that Levi’s known you, he’s hardly learned anything personal. Though he’s gradually become more comfortable in your presence, very little words are exchanged apart from poking fun at each other or talking about things more paramount than life itself. All he knows about you, at this singular point in time, is that you’re incessantly kind, wonderfully talented at baking, and hard-working, but that all seems to show up here, in this little capsule you call home.

From what he can see from his view at the entrance, everything is spotlessly clean. On the dining table, there’s a few potted herbs growing from sprouts, and on the counters of the kitchenette adjacent to the door, there’s an array of various teas, one of which is the kind he himself drinks at home, as well as a dish-drying rack latent with measuring cups and utensils.

Further inwards is a couch with a neatly folded blanket and several pillows, all dyed with pale colors of the sky. There’s a coffee table in the center of the living room, the glass seemingly well-loved with faint stains of hot metal and water spots that won’t fade.

And, just outside your window, there’s an assortment of all sorts of plants, strewn and wrapped around the railing of your balcony. That very first time he’d sat and had his cake while you had your tea, those very leaves fell from there and landed like slow on people strolling through the street below, and, underneath the rain, the greenery reflects moonlight onto the pale, wooden floor.

Levi, conscious of the fact that his wheelchair would ruin the floor if he used it to get around, gets up as best he can and walks over to the couch, planting himself in the cushions and staring up at the ceiling.

He breathes slowly, too cautious to make even a sound, and in the distance, he hears the stronger sound of shower water hitting porcelaine. His mind’s hazy as he’s still forced to listen to the falling rain, pitter-pattering just a few feet away from him, and he has to completely abandon his head to give himself way to not think too hard about what the rain carries with it.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, he’s mastered the art of turning minutes into seconds for himself, and he has no meaningful thoughts between the time you’ve started your shower and now returned with a towel draped over your shoulders.

You’re dressed much more casually here, in a loose-fitting shirt and shorts. It’s the first time that he’s seeing you with your hair down, always used to seeing you with a ribbon tying it away from your face.

He already thought you were pretty enough during the daytime, your hair ribbon blowing in the breeze and the thread of your apron matching that of the stitch on his right gardening glove, but even with how muddled his mind is here, his breath is stolen again by the sight of you here, fresh out of the shower, your hair wet and dripping water onto your garments.

He can only be thankful that you seem too nonchalant to pay any mind to him, blindly walking over to the couch from the bathroom. Once you reach him, you hand him a spare towel as you take a seat next to him, pushing your back up against the couch. “I’m so tired,” you yawn once more, stretching out your legs. “Did you want to freshen up before bed?”

He looks down at the towel, rubbing his thumb against the fibers.

Yes.

But he knows he’s already taken advantage enough of you even allowing him to stay the night.

“I’m alright. You should go to bed.”

You hum next to him, joining in his ceiling gazing. In his periphery, he sees you flutter your eyes closed and relax your face, but he refuses to look too hard.

“Is this about you not wanting to be an inconvenience again?”

Yes .

“No.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Is he that easy to read?

Levi gulps. “Really, you can just go to sleep already. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to offer that you take the bed if you weren’t going to shower,” you jest, chuckling next to him. There’s a shift in the weight on the couch as you slowly get up, and when you turn to face him before heading off to your room, there’s a quiet, shy smile on your face, framed perfectly with moonlight. “I’m going to bed, then. You’ll probably see me in the morning, but if you miss me, I’ll see you next week.”

And with that and a wave goodnight, you’re gone, and all that Levi feels is a soft towel underneath the pads of the fingers on his left hand.

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

After several hours of complete silence wherein Levi only stared up at the ceiling, trying to escape his mind as he forces himself to reassess the feeling of the couch fabric against his aching bones, he hears the opening of a door.

More specifically, your bedroom’s door.

That’s odd on its own. The sun isn’t anywhere near out, and he hadn’t heard any stir from your room to assume you’d had a bad dream.

Levi closes his eyes to feign sleep, but he’s (very) apparently bad at it when he feels a faint breeze as you wave your hand in front of his face. His eyes flutter open, and he’s met with the sight of you, hands now behind your back as you tie on your apron over a long dress. You haven’t turned the lights on, so there’s only pale moonglow to light your apartment, yet his eyes trace your features like a moth to a flame.

“What’re you doing up?” He whispers, his voice scratchy.

You raise a brow at him. “More like, why are you up?”

Couldn’t sleep.

“I asked first.”

You hum to yourself, looking between him and the door. “I have to head down to the bakery soon.”

He looks to the clock on the wall. 3:45 AM.

“This early?”

“Yeah, all those sweets don’t make themselves,” you sigh airily, leaving him at the couch to grab your bookkeeping items at the kitchen counter. “I’m used to it, though, so it’s alright.”

“It still sounds like torture.”

“Your turn now.”

He waits until you’re headed for the shoe rack by the door, faced away from him.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

There’s the faint sound of fabric on fabric as you slide on your shoes, then a slight jangling of keys as you go to the hook by the door to put them in your pocket. You open the front door, and you look back at him over your shoulder, smiling sadly for him.

“Want to come with me, then? I can get you something to eat, if you’re just going to be awake anyway.”

When Levi hesitates to answer, you immediately perk up and wave your hands out in front of you.

“You don’t have to, I just thought I’d offer!”

. . .

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

The when I’m who I am is left out of the question, just as it was the last time he’d asked this, but he’s still afraid you’d heard it anyway.

You groan, throwing back your head as you do so. “You’ve already asked this before.”

That’s because he still doesn’t understand.

“Then you can answer it again.”

“Ok, well now you have to come with me,” you sigh. “Come on, old man.”

He frowns halfheartedly, but he starts to pull himself up from the couch, unable to do away with your offer. “Who are you calling old?”

“Gee, I wonder,” you sass, scoffing. “You’re, like, what? A thousand?”

Maybe it’s because you can tell that he’s upset about something, or maybe it’s because he’s so exhausted that he thinks anything that anyone says is funny.

Whichever reason it is, he’s thankful that you’ve got him smiling, even if only in spirit, and that he’s got enough strength to walk over to you, lightly knock the back of your head, and go put on his shoes.

Might as well just tell you now.

“40.”

“Wow, I knew you were old, but I didn’t think you were that old,” you playfully prod, reorienting his wheelchair so that he can sit in it easier from where he’s already standing. “You certainly don’t look 40, though. Good for you!”

You hold it in place for him, and he rolls his eyes as he sits down. “Yeah, right, and you were born yesterday.”

“If 36 years ago counts as ‘yesterday,’ then, yes, you’d be correct.”

Levi sighs. “Let’s just fucking go.”

You laugh, lighting up the room with sunshine as you shake your head and open the door wider for wider to go through. “Whatever you say, old man.”

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

In the kitchen, Levi’s earnestly caught in a daze as he watches you get everything in order for opening.

It’s calming in its own right, that he gets to watch you do what you love and see the passion with which you move with in your own space. There’s a window just above the sink, and the moon is right there where the sun will rise in a couple hours.

True to your word, you give him something to eat. You set down a loaf of bread, some butter, and a bowl of fruit in front of him for Levi to have as a makeshift breakfast, and while he chips away at it, cautiously taking bites to be polite even if he isn’t all that hungry, he tries to think of how to ask you how he can help.

He wants to help. He really, really does. If for no other reason, his conscience is screaming at him to try and be of help, to find himself reason to say that this could be his in this life.

But you work quickly—too quickly—and Levi barely understands what’s happening as you pull out basins of all these ingredients he can’t name. Things get put in the oven, back in the freezer, covered in thin cloths. You mumble instructions to yourself as you hold what looks like an inventory card in your left hand, doing things with your right, and all Levi knows to do is watch and try to figure out what’s happening.

In a way, he’s not surprised to see that you’re not as talkative as he’d imagine, all with everything that’s seemingly on your shoulders—having to bake an entire day’s worth of inventory all on your own, taking care of bookkeeping, being swarmed with company all hours of the day.

And even though you don’t ask for anything, only smiling at him when you accidentally make eye contact with him between searching for appliances and ingredients, Levi can’t help but feel like he’s bothering you by being here, burdening you with an unuseful presence.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, now having finished a decent amount of the bread and butter you’d given him. It tastes divine, even in its simplicity, but he doesn’t have the heart to finish it.

You hum, not looking up as you turn on the culinary scale on the counter and set a large bowl on it. “Nothing I can think of in particular. Antsy to keep your hands busy?”

No, he just doesn’t want to be dead weight.

“Sure.”

You turn your face away from the counter, yawning before looking behind where you’re standing at some labeled glass containers of tea. “Think you could make some tea for me?”

Would he even know how to make anything but the bitter, boring black tea he sips in the nighttime?

He ought to at least give it a try.

“Alright.”

Your eyes scan the containers before your hand reaches out to grab one, and you lean over the countertop on your tippy-toes to push it across to Levi.

He catches it, and he turns the glass around to read the label. White Peony.

Well, he’s fucked.

“There’s a kettle over by the stove,” you tell him, settling back on your feet and walking over to the refrigerator. “Make some for yourself, too, if you want. I have plenty of other blends on the shelf”

He most definitely isn’t going to brew anything for himself, but he appreciates that, even after all this time, you still extend the offer.

He hates the fact that he still can’t accept it, though.

And he hates that you’re still wasting your effort in getting him to.

He wheels himself over to the kettle, remembering where it’d been last night when he was cleaning the kitchen, and he fills it with water from a faucet marked for drinking. Going back to the stove, he places the kettle on the heated rings, and turning the dial, he lights the flame.

He waits, staring at the flame as it licks the underside of the metal, and he follows it upwards as the water steams from the spout and draws wisps in the cold, morning air of this kitchen. The kettle whistles, and he takes it from the heat to keep it from boiling over.

Near where he’d found the kettle, there’s your personal teaware set, composed with a teapot, two cups, and a tea infuser on a tray. He stands briefly to pull it closer to himself, and after lifting the lid to the pot, he opens the container of tea you’d given him, and he holds it over the pot and the infuser.

He hasn’t got any clue of how much you’d need to flavor a pot, so he takes his best guess and puts in about as much as he would at home with the black tea leaves he uses. He tips it into the infuser, careful not to let any dried petals spill, he closes it, and gently drops it to the bottom of the pot.

He pours the hot water from the kettle over the tea, tipping the spout slowly so as to not splash it onto himself, and he puts the lid back on. On the panel above the oven, just right next to the stove, there’s a small clock, so he watches and waits for the five minutes he thinks it’ll take for the tea to finish brewing.

He looks over his shoulder to see you now, shaping buttery dough and placing it onto trays on the countertop, biting your bottom lip in concentration. There’s a swipe of flour on your brow, as well as some that’s caught on your cheek, but you look so focused that he can only assume that you’re unbothered by it.

He clears his throat to get your attention, and the furrow at your brow disappears as you look up at him. “Your tea is ready.”

“Thank you! I’ll be there in a second,” you singsong, smiling at him. “I hate to ask, but could you pour it for me? My hands are a bit preoccupied.”

He nods. “Sure.”

As he moves the teacup closer to him to remove the infuser and pour it, he hears you finish up with the bun and go over to the sink near him to wash your hands, flicking off the excess water before reaching for a paper towel. Levi’s hands are careful to not spill any tea, and when the teacup is filled he slides it closer to where you are.

He watches as you pick it up to take a sip, and he crosses his fingers in his lap that you like it.

. . .

And, because the universe is out to get him, it’s painfully obvious from the sudden downturn of your smile that you don’t.

You pull the teacup from your lips and cough, putting it back on the counter and burying your face into your elbow.

Levi has no idea what to do, the horror of the situation freezing him in place, and all he can do once the initial shock passes is reach for a napkin on the counter to give to you. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

You take it hastily and wipe at your mouth, pulling it away from your face to see if it’s collected any color. You clear your throat aggressively, and you sniffle. “Wow.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you cough again, “it’s just really strong.”

“I’m sorry, I put in as much as I use when I-”

Fuck.

He catches himself in his lie, and he’s grateful that don’t seem to notice his pause.

“When I make it for houseguests.”

You sniffle again, and you slide the teapot to yourself, opening the lid to see the rest of the brew. “Well, you better stop putting so much, or no one’s ever going to come back,” you laugh.

You pick up your cup again, and before Levi can speak up to tell you that he’d be more than happy to try again under your instruction, you take another sip, wincing afterwards.

“Why are you still drinking it?”

You take another sip before taking it with you, going back to the dough and portioning off another piece to start shaping it, your hands delicately handling it as you pat it down on the countertop. “I might as well, right?”

“I can try again, you don’t have to drink it if you’re worried about me being offended. I know it tastes like shit.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “It’s not perfect, but I don’t mind.”

. . .

You don’t?

Surely, you do, and you’re just not telling him.

He can barely stomach the thought of anything but the tea he knows—the one that’s boring, painfully strong, always the same—how could you be fine with yours being brewed so completely wrong?

“Just tell me how to do it properly, and I will.”

“It’s alright, you already went to the trouble. I can tell you put some love in it, too,” you wink, putting another piece onto a baking tray. You split off another portion of dough. “I can always make another cup for myself later, anyway. It’s not a big deal.”

“But, still, if you could just have a better cup now-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut, holding up your index finger at him. “ I am the king of this kitchen right now, not you, and what I say goes.”

“But your tea-”

“And I say that this tea is completely fine, so shut up, and come help me put these trays in the oven.”

Levi feels a hiccup bubbling up in his throat, telling him to fight harder to make sure that you’re actually fine with the tea he’d brewed for you in his morning stupor, but with the way you’re looking at him, eyes shining with playful willingness, he forces himself to swallow it and just accept that he can’t force humility onto you.

Fuck.

“Fine.”

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

It takes Levi nearly two cycles of the moon to come back to the bakery, meaning he returns in no more than two month’s time later.

Why he takes so long to return, you might ask?

Well, after having completely made a fool of himself by making your tea incorrectly (and the banter which took place in the thereafter), you and him worked in near silence as you got ready to finish getting ready for the day. It’s with conviction that he says he cannot remember most of it, in a rush as you gave him orders to do miscellaneous things around the kitchen and clean up little, unimportant messes.

That much of the morning was normal enough.

And, truthfully, the rest of it was too.

He’d helped you clean tables in the front, loaded up confectionaries in the display case, watered the potted herbs on the shelf with a small watering can you’d kept underneath an awning that collected rainwater. You’d given him a slice of plain cream cake, and he ate it at the table in the corner as you got to putting the potted plant by the door and finishing up with some things in the kitchen. When he’d left, you’d sent him off with a smile, a wave, and a box of chocolate tarts to bring home for the kids, secured to the back of his wheelchair in a cloth bag with white ribbon keeping it stable, and he’d tried his best to tell you in his own way that he was grateful for you affording him shelter for the evening.

Of course, he’d been nervous as all hell all throughout, but he was fine.

Everything was fine.

And you’d never force it out of him, but it was the most at peace he’d felt in a long time, even if he did ruin your morning pot of tea.

So, really, it wasn’t anything that had happened that kept him from you.

What’d kept him from coming back was his own conscience, and its insistence that he needs to distance himself from you, for reasons he can’t name other than the nervous feeling which reaches the tips of his fingers when he thinks of you. He’d done a decent enough job at swatting away the feeling before, but it’s been gnawing at him recently in a way that’s too troublesome to ignore.

In that kitchen, with you, the clock had ticked slowly, just as it always did at that time of day, but it wasn’t at all forlorn in the way he’d learned it to be.

4 in the morning, in his world, is when his eyes will burn, and he has to force himself to search the labyrinth of his mind for happy memories to subside those less so. When his chair starts to feel uncomfortably stuffy, and he has to bear the pain until it’s too much. When he has to take a walk around the fields outside to clear his head, and he has to do it all over again when it’s 4 in the morning the next day.

4 in the morning, in your world, is when you fill the bakery with the homely smell of fresh bread, when cakes get decorated and pastries get put together. When your ribbon blows in the swift morning gale which comes through the lone window—when you’re most at peace, and, surprisingly so, when he is too—, and you get to do it all over again when it’s 4 in the morning the next day.

The evening following that time spent with you, when it’d became 4 in the morning, he had thought of you; tying on your apron with warm hands, watching the moon through glass that’s frosted over in cold, morning fog, wiping fingerprint smudges off of windowpane.

It comforted him—the thought that you were awake, too, only doing things that made you happy.

The thought that somewhere, not too far away from the world he resides in, you’re there in your own.

And he feels like he isn’t welcome there—in your world—even at your best protest.

He’s not supposed to be happy at 4 in the morning, for that’s nothing he’s ever known to be at that time of day.

Or at any time of day, really.

In the ensuing mornings, when the clock would click into place at 4:00, it was all he could think about, all he could remember, all he could feel.

And it feels wrong.

He’s supposed to be acting in remembrance—half-alive and fully-awake as he forces himself to remember his lives past lived, gripping the armrests of his chair and feeling the leather start to peel underneath his fingernails. The solace he’d found in the knowledge that you were also awake when he was eroded in the same manner the moon crescented, and it became something he’d felt shame for.

And he has no idea what to do about it—the comfort which gives way for light to reach his empty heart. He’d already experienced enough while in your presence alone; how could he allow you to do the same and worse to him even during the hours of the day reserved for only the darkest parts of himself?

Levi’s not an idiot. He knows all too well that he’s getting attached.

Which is why he chooses to stay away.

It doesn’t do much. He still thinks of you in the wee hours of the morning, how your hair had fallen over your shoulders when he’d seen it down, how you’d always leave a cup of tea out for him to try, how you’d smiled at him when he’d left that morning. He goes past the bakery every so often, seeing it in passing after going to the market for miscellaneous items he needs for the house.

But he keeps at it, willing himself to stay at his quiet little farmhouse, spending his days doing nothing of importance.

He has his tea, he gardens in the fields and sprays the insecticide he’d bought so long ago, he tries to find sleep in his chair. He makes spinach soup for the kids because they refuse to eat vegetables from anywhere but the garden they help pick from and water, and he’ll send Gabi off with some of the day’s harvest for her cousin. He’d celebrated Gabi’s birthday with her, Falco, Onyankopon, and those tarts you’d given him before he’d left, lit a candle for Moblit on his, and was forced to join the 104th at a bar for Springer’s.

So many things, all amounting to nothing.

But it’s not like he has anything else to do.

And it’s not like you would’ve missed him, anyway, now that he’s stopped coming.

What’s there about a man like him to miss?

But, in the end, he’s bound to routine and its troubles all the same, and his hands eventually find themselves pushing forward the wheels to take him back to the bakery. And maybe he could blame his heart, telling him that he needs to see you again, even if he’s sure he isn’t detached enough yet to brave the sight of you, but it’s truly without intention that he finds himself back here.

He’ll come, say a brief hello, order, and leave. That much should keep his mind at ease, his heart satisfied.

And, besides, today is his mother’s birthday.

In years past, he’d simply pour out an extra cup of tea to share with her spirit, but with how its seemingly become more commonpractice among himself and his friends to celebrate birthdays and other events more formally, he thinks he ought to get a cake for her, and he can’t imagine anywhere else he’d go to fetch that but your bakery.

As he approaches its spot at the corner of the road, he feels a squeeze in his chest, telling him for the thousandth time that he’s not supposed to be here, but there’s a tug on his heartstrings which tells him to suck it up and just brave the worse parts of his conscience.

But before he can even begin to question why, the windows are blocked with curtains he’s never seen closed before, the door isn’t propped open with an annoyingly large potted plant, and there’s not a trace of the life there’d been in the months prior before he’d stopped coming.

He remains still in his wheelchair in front of the closed door, staring up at a small sign hanging from it.

Temporarily Closed!

. . .

He feels no breeze as he rereads the words, over and over again. He knows there’s wind—his hair blows with it, prickling his eyes—but he feels none of it. He only feels as if he’s stuck there, trying to fool himself into thinking he’s misreading the sign.

It’s closed?

Maybe this is the universe telling him that he should’ve found another, more shitty bakery to get his mother’s birthday cake from.

That he should’ve stayed at home in the first place, and that he should’ve just steeled himself for long enough to lose the desire to come back.

That he wasn’t meant to come here at all.

That he’s not wanted here.

That he’s not supposed to be here.

The feeling is nearly as painful as the thought that you’ve closed shop.

What happened to the bakery?

How long is “temporarily?”

Where are you?

What’re you doing now?

How’re you doing now?

Are you okay?

He knows that he has no right to be asking in the first place, especially given the fact that he’s been absent for long enough for this to even transpire.

But-

Actually, no.

He does have no right to be asking those questions.

It’s none of his business anymore. He’s been gone for so long that he has no right to be worried.

He’ll go home, pour out two cups of that same boring black tea, and he’ll mull over all the ways he can try to salvage the faint heartbreak he feels here. It’s of his own doing that he’s found himself having missed opportunity to come here again, and it’s too late.

Just as he’s finally gotten back control of his body and is about to leave, there’s a leaf that falls in front of him, and he takes his hands off the grips of his wheelchair to catch it between his fingers. It feels crisp in his hands, like that pink ticket that’d brought him back here in the first place.

Looking up to see the plant from which the leaf had fallen, there’s long leaves of the plants above the awning and on your balcony that sway with the wind, drawing in sunlight and dripping with water. There’s a glare from a window from across the way, but because of the rust that’s lightly coating the railing, it doesn’t burn his eyes.

And he sees a white ribbon, moving alongside the zephyr.

And because his soul speaks for him, he calls your name.

The two tails of the ribbon get pulled in by hands that’re familiar to him, even after having not seen them since two moons past, and from over the raining, you appear, looking down at him.

There’s an expression he can’t read on your face as you and him make eye contact.

And you disappear, just as you’d came into view.

God fucking damn it.

He knew he never should’ve come here.

He should’ve listened to the better part of his conscience—the part that thinks with his brain, not his heart.

He should’ve kept at building the distance he’d try to foster between the two of you. The one-sided attachment he has to you should’ve been enough to tell him that he’s better off just trying to forget the last five months ever happened.

He should’ve known better.

He lets the leaf in his hands drop to the stone road, and he looks back at the door that’s still just as closed as it was seconds ago.

Well, there’s nothing else to do but go back in the direction from which he came.

He can’t even bring himself to sigh the breath of loss as he grabs hold of his wheels again, reorienting himself to head home.

He’s slow as he moves, pushing forward across stone that’s a bit bumpy and covered with strewn green. He keeps his eyes downward, shame surely evident on his features as he waits for himself to fully gain control of his body and mind again.

It’ll be okay.

He’ll find another shitty bakery to get his mother’s birthday cake.

He’ll stay home.

He’ll not come here again.

He’ll know he’s not wanted here.

He’ll know he’s not supposed to be here.

He’s broken out of his thoughts when he hears the echo of a bell ringing, and before he can look over his shoulder to see what’s the source of that sound, he feels warmth around his chest.

Arms from behind are wrapped around him, firm yet gentle, and there’s a weight on his left shoulder as a head gets placed there. He can hear labored breaths, as if someone had just come running down the stairs. There’s the faint smell of sugar and tea tickling his nose, and he feels the satin of a ribbon falling over into his lap.

”Levi!”

It’s you.

For just a second, his body tenses up, unsure of how to react to the feeling of yours against his.

And, just as soon as he’s finally begun to even comprehend the idea that he could relax into your embrace and let himself crumble under the weight of relief, you pull away from him and move to stand in front of him, your hands on your knees as you bend down to meet him at eye level.

He only knows how to stare dumbly at the you who now beams at him with a smile that reaches your eyes.

“It’s good to see you again, I missed you!”

. . .

You…

missed him?

Levi’s heart drops. “You did?”

“Of course I did!”

. . .

“Why?”

You look at him with confusion. “You came every Wednesday, why wouldn’t I miss you?”

“I’m sorry,” he manages to whisper.

You wave him off. “Don’t be, I’m just glad to see you. What’ve you been up to for the past two months?”

“...Nothing.”

“Oh, come on. An old man like you has nothing to do?” You tease playfully. “No grandkids to take care of?”

He deadpans. “Ha, ha, very funny.

“They liked the tarts you sent me off with, though. They said to say ‘thank you.’”

To the pretty lady who works at the bakery, they’d also said to pass along, but Levi isn’t going to say that.

“Tell them it’s no problem, I’m glad they liked them.”

“I will.”

You chuckle, shaking your head and standing up straight again. “So, what brings you back here today?”

“I was going to get a birthday cake, but the bakery is kind of,” he kisses his teeth, “closed.”

You hum, looking over to the blocked out windows. “Well, you’d be right about that.”

“What happened?”

“What happened to what?” You ask sarcastically. “You mean to the bakery?”

He nods.

You laugh, putting your hands into the pockets of your dress. “Funny story, it got broken into.”

Levi’s heart drops even further. “What?”

You wince, nodding. “Yeah, it was a while ago, not too long after your last visit. The bakery was closed, and some people came through and wrecked everything looking for money. Everything in the front is basically torn to shreds, and there’s still glass on the floor from when they broke the display case.”

“What fucking idiot breaks a dessert display to look for money?”

You chuckle. “The ones that robbed me, I guess. They did some real damage, though.”

“But did they find it?”

“What, the money?” You sadly smile. “Yeah.”

His heart falls to the pit of his stomach.

“...Are you okay?”

“Well, I’m here right now, aren’t I?” You laugh. “But I was out shopping for something when it happened, so I wasn’t hurt or anything.”

Thank fuck, but that's what he meant.

"But the money-"

"It wasn't all of it, just what I kept downstairs. Really, don't worry about me."

He's still going to, anyway.

He frowns. “I’m sorry. That's all horrible.”

You shrug halfheartedly. “I’ve cried about it plenty already, no real point in staying upset. I’ll be able to reopen eventually, so it’ll all be okay in the end.”

How could any of this be okay?

He frowns, hearing that you’d cried.

And it makes his heart heavier, knowing that he’d spent all this time thinking you’d been awake in the mornings baking when you weren’t doing that at all.

Knowing that he’d wasted his time being selfishly obsessed with distancing himself from you, to the point that you had missed him, even when you had plenty of other, more important things to worry about than him not coming back to the bakery.

And he only has himself to blame for him not being there for you when this’d all happened.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks cautiously.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Maybe because there’s a grief in losing your work?

“Having to close, even temporarily, sounds hard.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, I swear I’m fine,” you say, looking up at the sky.

You’re lying.

You don’t say anything else, so Levi’s eyes follow yours to the sky. He himself doesn’t really know what else there is to say, given the gravity of this, so there’s a silence, but it’s not the one that hangs overhead when Levi would come on Wednesdays. This quiet is only there because you don’t want to talk or even think about the bakery, and it’s painfully obvious to Levi that there’s something wrong.

It feels wrong, to say the least, but at least he’s not the one to confront that when, after what feels like a lifetime of cloudgazing, you clear your throat.

“Who’s birthday is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He keeps his eyes trained above, speaking slowly. “My mother’s.”

You hum. “It’s nice of you to think to get a cake for her. You’re a good son.”

Is he?

“I should let you go. I wouldn’t want you to be late meeting her.”

Levi doesn’t want to go, but he knows he has to, if for no reason other than the fact that he knows he’s wasting your time by being here.

“Right,” he sighs. “Do you know any bakeries nearby?”

“I hope you know you aren’t allowed to be a regular customer anywhere else,” you joke. “When I reopen, you better come back and sit at that corner table every Wednesday again.”

He can’t say that he’ll be able to fend off the devil on his shoulder, but he’ll try his best if that’s what you’re asking of him. “No promises.”

“I guess that’s good enough for me,” you smile goodnaturedly, now looking at him. “Well, if you’re looking for a cake somewhere else, what flavors does she like?”

Did like.

In any case, he isn’t sure she’d ever had a cake in her life in the first place to have a flavor to call her favorite.

“I don’t really know. I suppose anything would be fine”

You hum. “You could try the shop three streets down. They have a bit of everything, but it’s kinda expensive.”

He hadn’t brought any more money than it’d cost to get a cake from your bakery because he didn’t want to be tempted to get something for himself while he was here.

“Anywhere else?”

“Um,” you look around, tapping your index finger on your cheek. “There’s a bakery by the clock tower at the center of the city, but I think they’re also pretty expensive because it’s owned by a company.”

He frowns. “Is anything around here affordable?”

You snort. “No, absolutely not.”

“And that’s all the bakeries?”

“...Yeah, at least all the good ones.”

Well, he certainly isn’t going to disrespect his mother and get her a bad cake.

He sighs. “It’s fine.”

Levi can just go back home and do what he always does when it’s his mother’s birthday.

He supposes that it’s tradition begging to be kept, if he can’t get a cake for her. Maybe he can stop on the way back home and grab some flowers instead-

“Actually, when do you have to meet with her?”

“What? Why’re you asking?”

“Ah, well,” you look up to your balcony, “if you could wait a few hours, I can make the cake for you. The bakery kitchen might not be available for business, but the one in my apartment works just as well.”

“What? You don’t have to do that.”

You have better things to do with your personal time than do this for him.

“Well, it’s not fair to your mother that she doesn’t have a cake on her birthday just because some small-time criminals decided to rob my bakery.”

It’s also not fair that your bakery was robbed in the first place. You don’t need to be downplaying how much it’s hurting you to have to close shop.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to-”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” you raise.

Because there is no answer. He’s not going to see his mother, and he’s never going to be able to again.

“...It’s subject to change.”

You smile. “Then it’s settled.”

“What is?”

“I’ll make you your cake.”

He frowns. “What choice do I have if you’re just going to insist anyway?”

“Well, I can’t force it into your hands, but if you came all this way already, then you must’ve really wanted a cake from me, right?”

And what’s he supposed to say to that?

No, I hate your baking, and I would rather go home empty-handed on my mother’s birthday than accept your help.

So he stays silent, and you take that as him giving in, and you flash a smile at him.

“That’s what I thought,” you start, making your way back over to the bakery door. You remain looking at him, one hand of the door handle after you’ve opened it, and he just stares back.

“What’re you looking at me for?”

“Do you want to come up and help? It’s okay if you don’t, I don’t mind delivering it to you.”

His heart breaks.

Why are you trying so hard?

“You’re really not going to change your mind, are you?”

You tilt your head in confusion, ever-oblivious to the storm in his mind. “Uh, it’d be really mean-spirited if I told you I’d make you a cake and then not give you one at all, so no, I’m not going to change my mind."

“I meant about-” he pauses, unsure.

About helping him all the time.

“Nevermind.”

“So… are you coming up or not? I can’t hold this door open forever.”

“You’re really going to waste your time like this?”

He’s sure you have other things you could be doing right now, you don’t have to do this for him.

“Levi, it’s just a cake. You don’t have to worry about the trouble.”

He finds any defense he can.

“But it’s cake for someone you don’t know.”

“I may not know her, but I know you. That’s enough reason on its own, isn’t it?”

“I just don’t think-”

“Levi,” you call, “enough of feeling sorry for me. Are you coming up, or do I need to collect your address to bring this to you later?”

Levi purses his lips.

He has no right to come up to your apartment again, to spend even more of your precious time.

Regardless of whether or not he wants to, he doesn’t know you.

All he does is stare outside a window with you, take advantage of your kindness, and will himself to come there every fourth-cycle of the moon to give himself some semblance of purpose in this life in the form of yearning and cake. He’d stopped, and now he’s back to only find himself begging his soul for the freedom to to feel his heart.

But, in the way you speak, you make it sound like you know him.

And even though he knows you don’t know him any more than he knows you, there’s nothing more he could ask for that could compare to the compassion of your heart, given to him forlorn in the way he’s never learnt it could be, even if his mind and soul are in such discord that they can’t decide whether or not that’s allowed of a person like him.

And, in the way you’re looking at him here, practically holding out a hand to him, he can tell that you need someone.

Even if he doesn’t think he should be that someone, he’ll try his best.

It won’t be worth much, but it’s the least he can do to at least try and justify this decision to the part of himself that tells him he’s better off accepting the fact that he’s so unwholly a person deserving of even trying.

He puts his palms to metal and pushes forward, slipping past you through the gap in the door that you hold open.

He’ll put aside his own selfish, meaningless tendencies, but he can only hope to begin to accept the warmth of someone like you, who shines as brightly as the sun.

“I’ll help.”

｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ

continue chapter one!

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #tao.levi #attack on titan #levi aot #levi ackerman

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taomyou · 3 months

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The universe created men and then created Levi to apologize

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taomyou · 3 months

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mdni!!!!

i posted a postcanon levi fic on my ao3 but i'm too lazy to crosspost so here's the link www

wc: 42.6k+ (chapters: 1/2)

tags: postcanon, canon universe, birthday, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, found family, survivor guilt, romance, eventual romance, eventual smut, character study, grumpy/sunshine, hurt/comfort, bakery, tea, meet-cute, pov levi ackerman, no y/n, no beta we die like men

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #tao.levi

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taomyou · 4 months

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The Affections of an Architect - Chapter 4

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: ONGOING, inconsistent updates Summary: There’s a woman Levi sees every Friday on bus 143, and he thinks she’s really cute. It wouldn’t hurt to keep a paper star from her, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and he falls in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to design the architecture of his dreams. Word Count: 7.5k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking, levi pov (A/N: this fic is available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead! The Affections of an Architect is a spin-off of The Romance of Reimbursements, but can be read as a standalone if preferred. They are the same story, but The Affections of an Architect is written entirely in Levi's POV. The Romance of Reimbursements is already completed, and The Affections of an Architect is currently a side-project that will be updated infrequently.) Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

texts from a friend

Levi looks to the clock perched at the very back end of the lecture hall, and it’s now 2:30 PM.

“We’ve reached time. Remember that your proposals are due before next week, midnight. I’ll also remind you that if you’d like to request any additional office hours, you must email me at least 24 hours in advance. Any questions before we end?”

A student in the back row’s hand goes up. “Professor, do you accept late work?”

Levi recognizes him as the bastard who came during last week’s office hours to aggressively demand that Levi write him a letter of recommendation—two weeks into the course, mind you, and when Levi hadn’t ever talked to him prior to that interaction.

Needless to say, Levi didn’t think very highly of him.

Levi deadpans. “Yes, Forster, I’ve answered this already today. My late policy is also in the syllabus. Anyone else?”

When he’s met with silence, he closes his laptop and disconnects it from the projector. He unclips the small microphone attached to the collar of his usual white dress shirt, and he stores it in its designated drawer underneath the podium. He checks in with his teaching staff to make sure they’re faring alright with their grading workload, and after taking note to email Leonhart another copy of the grading rubric when he’s available, he’s off to go catch the bus.

“Can’t wait to get out of this fucking place,” he grumbles underneath his breath, hiking up his backpack as he goes to open the door and leave.

Why’s Levi so especially bitter today, you might ask?

Well, as it’d turn out, there were plenty of other things that he’s had to worry about over the workweek, and all his frustration has finally caught up to him as he takes the quick stroll from the lecture hall to the bus stop.

He’d gotten everything squared away with his lesson plans relatively quickly, but even though his lectures over the rest of the week went relatively smoothly, he still feels a cloud hanging overhead everywhere he goes. All the grading, all the assignment drafting, all the contracts he has to look over—none of it is particularly harder than it usually is, but Levi’s head is far too removed from the strenuous load after the brief winter break, and his work ethic hasn’t kicked in to where he needs it yet.

If nothing else, work is over now, and he already knows that tonight’s sleep will be especially dreamy. Might as well just toss aside all his problems until he has to deal with them later.

Un(fortunately), Hange texted the group chat on Wednesday to ask everyone (meaning only him and Erwin, seeing as Moblit and Mike are as busy as they always are) to come over tonight for what he presumes is dinner, so he’ll have to go to that, but other than that, he’s free to waste away in his living room and complain about the Frank winning Head of Household during the Big Brother reruns that Isabel puts on.

Ugh, still.

Even though it’s Friday, Levi can’t help feeling distressed. Just last week, he was breathing hot air into the cold winter sky to watch it float away before skipping off to see the unnamed stranger he came to look forward to seeing across the way on the bus, and now he’s caught stressing himself over paperwork and other pro forma bullshit. Even if he didn’t really anticipate any greater interaction than merely getting to hear her greet the bus driver when she’d gotten on at her stop, it was something he looked forward to every week, and he can only barely remember to be excited about it.

At least he’s too wound up in his head to be as anxious about it as he usually is.

No wondering about whether or not you’d think he was too quiet to be worth being acquainted with, no having to think about whether or not he’d have to force small talk to fill the surefire silence. This is certainly better than having to face any gnawing nervousness about seeing you after the awkward mess that was Monday’s lunch hour.

As he steadily approaches the bus stop, he sees that there’s a concerning amount of students waiting there. Why there’s so many of them, he has no idea, but when he’s finally stood in the makeshift line and practically forced to listen to their meaningless conversations, he overhears a group of friends talking about a concert for some artist downtown.

Well, so much for an easy ride home.

Firstly, all these people in an enclosed space? He’s going to have a fucking headache, having to spend the next however many minutes it is that it’s going to take for all these people to get off the bus. Besides, winter get-togethers are enough of a super-spreader event on their own, and even if he’s had to be okay with it, the bus isn’t exactly the cleanest place he could be. It’s a miracle that he hasn’t caught a cold yet, really.

That’s not even to mention the fact that there’s surely going to be traffic in the city, and all the bumps and stops aren’t going to make the inevitable pounding between his ears any more pleasant. The metal of his backpack’s zippers will clang at every abrupt stop, and he’s sure he’s going to want to jump out of the window every time. At any rate, he’s going to have to go directly to Hange’s apartment to make it there on time.

But, almost tauntingly, his subconscious nags at him to wonder… will he even get to see you with all these people there?

Levi’s fairly certain that your stop is before the city’s major stadium, and there’s sure to be other people coming onboard as the bus continues its way through the city. There’s no way that there’d be any seats left open by the time it reaches you. You’d be left holding onto the upper handles until the bulk of people left, but who knows how long that’ll be if the traffic is as bad as he thinks it’ll be?

The bus has now arrived, and even though he’s already making his way towards the opened doors, everyone else around him is scrambling to get their fare situated, and as he scans his own card, he looks back towards the end of the vehicle.

He knows he’ll manage to get a seat for himself, but saving one for you is something he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to do.

Whether or not that’s because his conscience is screaming at him that keeping a seat preoccupied is rude, he doesn’t really care because he’s had enough of his logical mind telling him what to do this week, but would it be appropriate for him to extend the gesture of saving you a seat if he’s only just learned your name not even a week ago?

Nevermind that, would you even want to sit next to him if he’d save you a seat?

And for whatever fucking reason, his mind runs wild with all the ways this simple gesture could be interpreted wrong.

You barely know anything about him, and he’s more than sure that he’s scared you off enough by being so fucking awkward when he came through your office—it wouldn’t be entirely out of the realm of possibility that you’d just rather never speak to him unless in a group setting.

And you always seem so tired after work, no matter how bright you still manage to somehow be—would he be taking advantage of that by leaving the only available seat to be the one next to him? Erwin had mentioned there were some issues at work when Levi had lunch with him on Monday, so he can only imagine what kind of hell you’re going through as another person impacted by whatever company bullshit was going on. You’re probably as stressed out of your mind as Levi himself is.

But at the same time, wouldn’t you appreciate him taking that into consideration and making sure that you had somewhere to sit? Would it be rude of him to not save you a seat at all?

Or, maybe he should save your usual seat, the one across from him?

That wouldn’t be so weird if it weren’t for the fact that it’d mean you’d know that he remembers where you sit. How could he not when he’s seen you there for the last 4 months? But Levi hardly has any intention of letting on that he even acknowledged your presence in the past, so he doesn’t know if he could do that.

Could he even save that seat? He could plant his backpack there as a placeholder, but he knows that it’d be entirely his own fault if it got stolen or pickpocketed or whatever else someone could do to a backpack.

God, he has no fucking idea.

Whether the universe is continuing to torture him or giving him a break, as he takes his usual seat facing the window, he’s not afforded the ability to make any decisions after someone takes their own seat next to him.

So much for expending whatever’s left of his rational mind.

You know what?

He could just give you his own seat. He doesn’t mind that at all.

Yeah…

Yeah, that’s certainly easier than anything else he could choose to do right now.

This could just be passed off as some sort of returned payment for the expressed generosity of giving him that canister of tea. No need to overcomplicate anything and make it seem like he wants to sit next to you.

This is just an act of… modern chivalry.

Yeah.

Levi sighs to himself as he sets his backpack on his lap and rests his chin over its top handle.

It’ll all be fine. It’ll only take a second for him to get up, offer you his seat, and he’ll be on his way to Hange’s apartment to get food poisoning from their cooking.

Now to just hope that you accept the gesture, and he can hold onto an upper handle and act like his nerves aren’t completely shot.

✰

For the rest of the ride, Levi spaces in and out of focus. The tire of working long hours this week is lulling him to a haphazard state of relaxation, and the only things keeping him awake are the harsh jolts he feels when the driver has to brake, and the fact that he has to be conscious of when you get on the bus so he can give you his seat.

Thankfully, there’s a certain four-eyed scientist across the city right now who needs to ask him for a huge favor.

Levi feels a buzz in his pocket, and, desperate for anything to keep his mind off the annoying bumps in the road, he takes it out to see a text from Hange.

Four Eyes - 3:05 PM

Heyyy still coming?? Not bailing on us are you >:(

Levi sighs.

Levi - 3:05 PM

Yes

Four Eyes - 3:07 PM

Ok perfect!!! Listen listen I need you to buy me like a FUCK ton of eggs I think the biggest pack they have at that one store on Rose blvd or road or whatever has 60 in a big pack And some butter :3

Levi - 3:07 PM

Why do you need so many eggs?

Four Eyes - 3:08 PM

Just trust me!!!!

Levi rolls his eyes.

Levi - 3:08 PM

Yeah no Get them yourself I’m in traffic rn

Four Eyes - 3:10 PM

Im still at the lab so i cant >:O How are you even in traffic, aren’t you on the bus? But whatvr!! Ill just ask Astraea to get them for me

Levi’s fingers freeze and his breath halts at seeing your mention over text.

What does that mean, Hange could ask you to get them? Why would they think to inconvenience you with grabbing fucking eggs in the first place?

Sure, you’re their best friend, but it’s not like Hange’s crass enough to just order you around and do their financial bidding.

Unless… you’re coming to their apartment tonight too.

His fingers spark back to life, and they move faster across his phone’s keyboard than he can stop them.

Levi - 3:12 PM

Is she coming over?

Surely, that’s not it. You’re busy enough, Hange is probably just going to ask you to pick something up and drop it off since you’re neighbors. It's not like Hange's that-

Four Eyes - 3:12 PM

OOPS LOL DID I FORGET TO SAY

Hange most definitely did not forget to say. This is the same shit as what happened at dinner—them purposefully leaving out information like this.

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose and hides his face in his hands.

God fucking dammit, Hange.

By now, it’s been a bit past a half-hour since the bus has left the Sina University campus, and as the bus stops to let people on and off, Levi realizes he’s already reached the stop where you get on. The person sitting to his right has now gotten up to leave, and while he was planning to give up his own seat for you, when he sees that there’s no one rushing to take the seat, he hastily moves to put his backpack there to save it for you. He looks around to make sure that there’s no one suspicious of him, or at least side-eyeing him for occupying extra space, but it seems that he’s the only one who’d think to care about that at all.

When he hears you give your routine thanks to the driver, he leans forward to see you, trying to trace the direction of his eyes to follow the walkway that leads to where you are. It’s not hard for him to find you, the silver buckles on your briefcase twinkling against the harsh afternoon sun as you turn to walk down the narrow lane to find somewhere to sit.

As your eyes scan for an empty space to occupy, he tries to make contact with you and offer you the seat next to him. He still has no idea whether or not you’d accept the offer or, even worse, be burdened by it, but the gentle tug of his heart is enough to make him want to try.

It’s only right to extend the offer of a bus seat to a friend acquaintance person he knows, is it not? Especially when he’s due to spend the later part of the eve with you and the rest of the group.

He feels a faint flame of embarrassment in his chest when he realizes your eyes haven’t found his, but as he watches you start to reach for an upper handle, he has no choice but to fan it even brighter.

He calls out your name, as firmly as he can without causing any unnecessary noise, and he starts to feel his stomach turn as he tries to catch your attention. Still, he watches as you seem to ignore him, though your hand halts in reaching upwards for a second, and he, again, has no choice but to try again, this time a bit louder. He calls out your name once more, and his heart just about stops when you turn to the sound of his voice and let a small smile find its way onto your face.

All too fast and all too slow, he watches as you rush past the other people on the cart to get him, apologizing as you pass them. The nip of the cold on your cheeks has turned them faintly pink, and you sigh happily as you nod to him in greeting.

Levi takes off the backpack from the seat next to him and puts it on his lap, and he looks up at you nervously. Your eyes were already on him, looking back and forth between him and the empty seat to his right, and he feels like he can’t breathe.

God, he can only hope that he doesn’t look as stupid as he thinks he does.

“Did you save a seat for me?” You ask, pointing at the space next to him.

He nods, unable to find any words to make himself seem sane enough.

You smile again in response, but before you can sit down, the bus starts moving again, and you’re taken off balance. “Woah!”

Thankfully, you already were turning to have your back against the seat and you weren’t going to bump into anyone, but Levi only has a second to decide what to do to lessen your fall back down.

He quickly slides his phone underneath his thigh to free his hand, and he positions himself to place his hand over the glass window behind you, thinking to lessen the impact on your head. He leaves a bit of space in between his hand and the window to make sure that his hand can fall back gently to allow for a softer landing, and he holds his breath as he watches you fall back into your seat. At the contact of his hand against your head, he lets his hand fall back and hit the glass and feels the blunt force of the window against his knuckles.

As soon as you’re comfortably sat, he pulls his hand away, and he looks back down to avoid your gaze as you quietly thank him for cushioning your head.

He nods in acknowledgement, and he dumbly watches as you put your briefcase onto your lap and take out your phone. He resigns himself to looking away to do the same, unlocking his phone to do quite literally anything he can to distract himself.

God, what the fuck even was that?

He didn’t even get to clarify that he didn’t inconvenience anyone by saving you your seat. Would you be upset with him if you’d made that assumption?

Your shoulders are forced to touch, given the fact that there’s definitely way too many people on this bus in the first place, and even with his nerves totally shot, Levi can feel the heat coming off your body. The bus continues to have as many fast brakes and abrupt stops as it did for the last 30-or-so minutes, so he ends up getting pushed closer to you every time that happens. Neither of you try to make distance between the two of you, probably because it wouldn’t be worth the effort when it’s just going to be closed again, but Levi’s mind goes haywire anyway thinking about all the ways this could go wrong.

Levi tries to ignore it, he really does, but he already knows that the red on his ears is going to be just the same, if not worse, than what he has to deal with on other ordinary, boring Fridays.

His eyes are laser-focused on his notification bar, hoping that someone, anyone, will text him and give him something to occupy himself. He mindlessly scrolls through the local news on his phone, waiting for the cherry red on his face to calm to anything but that.

As the minutes pass with nearly no movement in the road, he sees your phone held out to him. His eyes flicker up to your face to see that you’re looking away, only glancing back to look between him and your phone, so he takes the cue that you want him to see what’s on your screen.

He squints to see the small text, but as soon as he sees Hange’s name at the top of your screen, he knows exactly what it is that’s being conveyed here. He screams in his head that Hange’s done enough meddling, that you absolutely do not need to be dealing with their bullshit request of ordering nearly 8-squared eggs, but because you seem to want to start a conversation with him, he stretches out his hand slightly, asking to have permission to hold your phone.

He doesn’t know what demon it is that overtakes his body in this moment—whether it’s Lucifer, Beelzebub, or Satan himself—but when you pass him your phone, he forgoes reading the conversation to leave you your privacy, and he goes to add himself into your contacts. He’s apparently sane enough to not put anything stupid and self-demeaning as the contact name, but he types in his phone number before practically throwing your phone back at you.

The realization that, yes, he’s just given his phone number to the prettiest woman he’s ever laid eyes on, makes his brain short circuit for a second before he gets a text from an unknown number.

Okay, calm down, Levi, he’s only giving you his number out of convenience. He doesn’t want to interrupt the conversations around him by having one of his own, and giving you his phone number is the next-best option. He quickly adds you as “Astraea” and goes back to the conversation, trying to swat away any bubbling thoughts about you.

Astraea - 3:28 PM

His fingers are nervous as they move across the screen.

Levi - 3:28 PM

Hello I don't think I'd be able to hear you over the people around us

Astraea - 3:28 PM

me neither

His heart relaxes a bit, now with the knowledge that you understand why he gave you his number.

Astraea - 3:29 PM

do you know why there's so many people on the bus today? it's normally never this crowded

Levi - 3:29 PM

There's a concert across town Did you want me to come with you to the store?

He watches you fidget around next to him, faintly biting at your lip as you type back a reply.

Astraea - 3:30 PM

you don't have to

Levi - 3:31 PM

I have to go to Hange's too, so might as well

Astraea - 3:31 PM

i wouldn't mind the company then

When the three dots don’t appear after that message, he figures that conversation’s over.

Though he remains unmoving, you position yourself further forward and rest your arms on top of your briefcase. With his shoulders no longer touching yours, he feels his heart rate slow just enough to let him know that he’s not on the verge of a heart attack anymore, and he’s able to relax a bit. His shoulders aren’t as stiff as they were this entire past week, the stress of everything seeming to fade as the number of people on this damned bus lessens with every stop, until, eventually, there’s no more than a handful of passengers left.

Now that the bus has made it out of down, it’s been moving much more quickly on its route. There’s no longer as many people on the bus, so Levi can see the scenery from the window across from him much more clearly. You’re usually sat on the other side, opposite of where you and Levi are currently, so Levi’s never been able to really see what the terrain on that side of the road looks like.

He hasn’t ever cared to really look before, especially when you’re not here, but it’s quite… calming, he decides. Watching as the colors of the breeze blend together as the bus passes by and blurs the shapes, though, he stills as he gets lost in everything.

Just barely within his peripheral, Levi sees the sign which shows they’ve just reached Rose, and he shuffles about to get his things together and get to the store. He still has no idea what to expect from this all, but you follow closely behind, and after you say a quick “thank you” to the driver, the two of you are off to go and… buy some eggs.

How exciting.

“Just the butter and eggs, right?” He asks, looking over at you now that you’re both safely off the bus. You nod, and Levi leads the way to the grocery store. He tries to match your pace, wanting to be considerate of your time, and he can only hope you’re not too uncomfortable with having to go and be Hange’s goons together.

You end up in front of the store relatively quickly, it not being too far from the bus stop at all. Levi goes to get a cart as you wait by the automatic doors, and though you look confused that he’s gotten one if you’re only to get two items, he puts his backpack in it to prompt you to do the same with your briefcase. When you do, he sees you breathe a gentle sigh of relief, and he gives himself a pat on the back for thinking to get a cart so you don’t have to lug that bag around the store.

Levi’s here quite often as the person in the house responsible for getting groceries, so he pushes the cart to guide the two of you through the store to get what Hange needs. Neither of you make any effort to talk, but Levi doesn’t quite feel awkward about it.

When the two of you reach the self-checkout area, you seem to want to fill the silence yourself. “Do you know what Hange has planned for us at their place?” You ask.

Levi glances over at you and shakes his head. "Not really, they just said it'd be us and Erwin. Moblit and Mike are busy."

You nod, and Levi screams to himself once more—this time, to tell himself off for being too awkward to know how to carry a conversation as simple as this. He might as well have just shut his mouth entirely and not said anything, seeing as he didn’t have any semblance of an answer for you.

You hand Levi the eggs and the box of butter, which he scans both of. Levi goes to his pocket to get his wallet, but as he’s taking out his card to pay, he looks over to see you doing the same.

Before he can say anything, you speak up. "Hange asked me to get it, so I'm paying."

He hesitates at that but puts his wallet away. "Fair enough."

Sure, Hange asked him to buy all of this stuff first, but he doesn’t want to cause any sort of scene here. Not that he thinks you’d be fussy about it, but he doesn’t want to be rude and fight over something as trivial as paying for some ingredients.

You tap your card, press a few buttons to verify your payment, and grab your receipt once that's all sorted out. You put the eggs and butter back into the cart before wheeling out with Levi next to you.

"Do you know when the next bus comes?” You ask.

"I park here in the mornings before taking the bus, so you can come with me," he replies. "Let me take the cart."

"How do I know you aren't going to kidnap me?"

He looks over at you, completely deadpan. "And what am I going to do? Force you to draft a prenup for me?"

You giggle at that, your hearty laughter making faint clouds in the cold air. "Yeah, sure."

You let go of the handle, letting him guide it now, and he directs you to his car, parked in front of the floral shop Isabel’s parents own. "Could I take a look inside?" You ask, pointing over to the shop.

Levi reaches into his pocket for his keys, unlocks his car, and opens his trunk to put away the things you’d bought. He puts his backpack in too, and hands you your briefcase before starting to head towards somewhere he can return the cart.

"Sure."

You smile over at him before quickly making your way inside the small shop, and Levi wheels away the now-empty cart to one of the… whatever they’re called, where you return shopping carts, and he returns to his car.

First order of business: make sure it’s as clean as it always is. From his driver’s seat, he leans over to make sure that the glovebox and other areas are all free of clutter, and he quickly puts away an old birthday card he’d received from his uncle in the mail last week.

Fucker didn’t even bother writing anything nice. Just copied the message already printed on the card, word for word.

He looks behind him in the back row seats to see if there’s any miscellaneous items that need to be put away in the trunk, and when he doesn’t find anything, he breathes easy and goes to turn on his engine, wanting to make sure that the car is warm by the time you return from perusing the flower shop.

Levi takes out his phone as the heaters whir to life, and he grimaces when he sees yet another text from Hange.

Four Eyes - 4:13 PM

Soooooo how’s it going ;)

What the fuck is that winky face for?

Levi - 4:14 PM

What do you want?

Four Eyes - 4:14 PM

WOW OKAY Nvm Are you guys on the way? Im almost home

Levi - 4:14 PM

We just finished getting your stupid fucking eggs

Four Eyes - 4:15 PM

Cool! Take your time!! Haha

Levi - 4:15 PM

… Okay?

Taking that and the cozy warmth of his car as his cue to go fetch you, he puts his phone back into his pocket and goes over to Magnolia Floral Company. Might as well say hi to Isabel, seeing as she’s probably in today.

There’s that familiar jingle from the bell at the door as he opens it, and he sees you and Isabel talking at the further-away counter. The sound gets both your attention and Isabel’s, and the latter of whom grins when they make eye contact with him.

"Hey, Levi!" Isabel greets, frantically waving her arms at him. He stays at the front of the shop, but nods in her direction. He finds you quickly enough, tilting his head towards the door.

"Ready to leave?" He asks.

You nod, scurrying over to where he is before smiling and waving "goodbye" to the girl at the counter.

"It was nice meeting you! Come again soon!" Isabel shouts after you.

You and Levi wordlessly get into his car, and he waits for you to have yourself situated before getting ready to head out.

"Who was that, if you don't mind me asking?"

He puts his car into drive and puts his arm on the back of your seat, reversing out of the parking space. "Isabel's a childhood friend of mine."

"She's nice. Maybe I'll come back to get something for my intern's birthday next month."

The rest of the ride is in silence, apart from the rustling of paper that Levi can’t really understand, but by the time he reaches Hange’s apartment and he’s able to park and see what was going on, he gets his answer when you hold out 3 paper stars to him.

He sees faint black marks along the paper. Did you make this from the receipt you’d gotten at checkout?

He takes it that you want him to have them, so he takes them, silently reaching over you to put them in his glovebox before getting out of the car with you.

You carry the butter and your briefcase while Levi carries the eggs, and you both bump into Hange at the front of their apartment unit.

"Fancy seeing you here!" They jest.

Levi groans. "Can it, Four Eyes."

Laughing, they thrust their keys into your hand. Well, more like their keys were looped on their pinky finger while they carried a huge box, and they awkwardly shimmied their upper body to bring attention to their keys. "Please! My arms are killing me!" They beg. You laugh at them, "missing" the keyhole to prolong their suffering. You do eventually open the door, and Hange breathes a huge sigh of relief once they're inside and can put the box down next to the door. "Thank you!"

"So, what exactly did you need all these eggs for?" You ask Hange, holding open the door for Levi to come in with his arms full. He nods in thanks, but he doesn’t think you see him.

"Just wait!" They say, taking the butter and eggs from you and Levi to put on their counter. "Erwin is on his way!"

Almost as if on cue, Erwin walks straight in, your arm still keeping the door open. "I heard my name?"

Hange claps their hands together. "Perfect! Now we're all here!"

They motion you all over to the kitchen area, where they start setting up a bunch of miscellaneous ingredients. Flour, salt, baking soda—any general baking item you could think of was now on their counter. Levi doesn’t know all that much about baking in the first place, but Furlan’s forced him to watch his fair share of MasterChef.

"Are you finally going to tell us why the fuck you needed us to buy 60 eggs?" Levi quips.

They shush him, continuing to put random bowls and such out, before standing in a power pose in front of the three of you on the other side of their kitchen counter. "Well, since Astraea's offered to teach me to make random desserts before, I thought I'd return the favor! And I think you've all ordered egg tarts before at some point or another, so I'm gonna teach all of you how to make them!" They declare. "Also, I have a company potluck to attend tomorrow, and I thought it'd be fun for us to make these all together!"

Levi, you, and Erwin all look at one another, then at Hange.

"Do you know how to make an egg tart yourself, Hange?" Erwin asks.

"Nope!"

"Do tell, Four Eyes, how we're supposed to learn from you then?"

"I watched a YouTube video at work on Tuesday! I'm sure I got this figured out!"

✰

Hange very much did not have it figured out.

You, Levi, and Erwin followed along as well as you could with Hange, who very much does not know what they're doing. Earnestly, Levi has no idea why he’s even going along with all this in the first place, but something about Hange continuously trying to prove themselves as a well-experienced baker when they’d only watched a 30-second YouTube short at work is too entertaining to pass up.

That, and the fact that there was something strangely calming about watching you form your own tart shells from the corner of his eye.

After about an hour of intense bickering between Hange and any one of the rest of you three, Levi watched in horror as you gently pushed for Hange to let you teach the steps instead. He was sure that Hange would get on the defensive, as they’ve been very overprotective of their supposed “knowledge” in baking this one simple treat, but they surprisingly don’t put up any fight and happily took a seat next to Erwin.

Again, Levi knows fuck-all about baking, but it seems that you know more than enough to pick up where Hange left off. You helped all three of them (and especially Hange) with whatever they needed, whether it was with the pastry shell or the custard, and the tarts didn’t end up all that bad. You got them into the oven and baked well enough, and even though they’re pretty fucking ugly, they end up being fine to eat.

Of course, Levi forced Erwin and Hange to help him clean the kitchen, save for the small area you needed to keep making tarts to have enough for Hange to actually take with them to their party.

While Levi stayed back in the kitchen, Erwin and Hange talked just barely out of earshot, and you silently kept at your baking. Levi sat at the counter, keeping you silent company and cleaning up anything you asked him to, and even though he’d initially been nervous about having to spend the latter evening with you, it's... calming, to watch as you carefully handle dough and broken eggshells.

By the time that everyone’s social battery’s run out, Hange decides that only then is it time to be loud and brash as they always are.

Erwin insists that he doesn't need any to take egg tarts home, but Hange still shoves a decently large tupperware container into his hands and pushes him out the door before he can refuse the gesture.

"Take some for Furlan and Isabel! I'm out of tupperware, so Astraea can wrap them up for you!" Hange says, now pushing Levi and you out the door, him holding a tray of tarts you and him made and you holding your briefcase.

What’s he meant to do now?

You and Levi both look at each other before you start leading the way towards your apartment, Levi then following behind you. You reach into your pocket to get your keys and unlock your door. You step in and take off your shoes, and Levi does the same, closing the door behind him. You walk over to your general kitchen space, pulling out a chair at the dining table for Levi to sit at while he waits for you to wrap up his tarts.

He looks around your kitchen, seeing all sorts of baking appliances neatly lined up against the wall connecting to your countertops. He doesn’t see a tea area, but he assumes that you might just keep that in a cabinet somewhere out of sight.

"Sorry I was a bit quiet earlier," you say abruptly, reaching for something in one of your drawers. "It was probably awkward."

He hums. "It's okay. Figured you had a rough week." Though, you’re hardly to blame for the awkwardness in the first place. He’d be quicker to put that fault on himself.

"What made you think that?" You start digging through another drawer to find something else.

"Erwin complained about some management issue at your firm on Monday during lunch."

You bitterly smile and shake your head, and Levi watches as you move the tray of tarts to where your wrapping things are. Your hands work fast at getting them neatly packaged up, and you place the lot lot into a plastic bag, afterwards going over to Levi to give them to him.

He stares into the bag, and he sees way too many. Did you give him the ones you made?

Looking between you and the tarts, he hesitates. "Aren't these the ones you made too?"

You bring your hand up to nervously rub the back of your neck, looking away from him. "If they're for your friends, might as well gift them the nice ones too," you start. Seemingly embarrassed at your statement, you add on. "Not that yours weren't nice!"

Levi feels a tug at the side of his lips, and he lets out a small breath that’s close enough to a laugh.

“Thank you.”

Just like on Monday, the two of you don't bother saying "goodbye" to each other, only exchanging nods as you open the door for him to go. Before he's completely out the door, though, he feels a tap on his shoulder.

He looks over his shoulder to see you, your face turned away with a seemingly nervous half-smile. “Yeah?”

"Thanks for saving me a seat today. On the bus, I mean. I probably would've lost it if I had to stand."

And, all at once, he’s woken up again. His hands feel brazenly warm, his eyes search for something to catch hold onto, and his heart’s caught in his throat.

It really isn’t that serious. He didn’t even really save a seat for you—he was planning to just give you his own—and he already feels bad for leading on that he’s much more just than he really is.

So why’s he so flustered right now?

The answer is that he isn’t. It’s not like it’s anything new for him to want to disappear into the floor because of you, nor does he think this will be the last time.

This is normal. This means nothing. You’re just being nice.

So he’s going to excuse himself before he makes an even bigger fool of himself.

He clears his throat before replying. "Don't worry about it."

After a good night's rest after a stressful week at work, you stretch yourself upwards and yawn loudly, waking up and fishing for your phone from between the sheets. It's annoying that there's so much sunlight bleeding into your room, but you suppose that's just your punishment for sleeping until the late afternoon.

After rolling onto your stomach and unlocking your phone, you see a couple of texts. Not completely out of the ordinary, but you should answer them now before you forget.

Hange - 9:14 AM

Hey!! Good morninggg THANK YOU for coming over yesterday! These tarts are soooo good I think i'm just gonna buy cupcakes for the party bc i am NAWT giving these to my coworkers Slide me the recipe? ;P

You roll your eyes with a smile before getting yourself up out of bed and over to your bathroom to brush your teeth, typing a response with one hand while you brush with the other.

You - 1:12 PM

you know you're not ever going to make these on your own just come over when you want anything, you know i'll make it for you

You set your phone down on the sink counter as you finish brushing your teeth and flossing, watching your screen to see if Hange'll reply anytime soon, and they do as soon as you're finished with your bathroom business.

Hange - 1:17 PM

Youre the best ily! Omg but speaking of love... Did anything happen w you and levi yesterday o.O

You groan, picking up your phone and taking it with you to the kitchen to get some tea started for your "morning."

You - 1:19 PM

hange you know i'm not interested in ANYONE stop trying to set me up

Hange - 1:20 PM

Yeah yeah you say that now...

You sigh, putting down your phone on the counter and going to fill your kettle. You hear a few other beeps from your phone while you set up your teapot and get your kettle plugged into the outlet, but when you return to your phone, you ignore Hange for a second to reply to whoever else has texted you between now and last night. There's some miscellaneous texts from coworkers asking if you're free to hang out, but nothing really stands out.

That is, until you see a couple of texts from Levi.

That's... something.

You click to open the message as you go to grab the small basket of teas you keep in your kitchen cabinet. You read the message as you bring down the basket and set it down on the counter.

Levi - 10:53 AM

My roommates liked the sweets Thank you again, I appreciate it

It feels as if a small match has just been struck inside your chest, and you put your phone face-down on the counter and groan into your hands.

God, you probably couldn't have come off any more of an idiot yesterday, what with your aversion to looking at Levi in the eyes and just being so painfully awkward, and he's still nice enough to thank you again for some sweets you wrapped up for him?

It really isn't this serious. There's no reason for you to feel so embarrassed that he's texted you to say thank you. There's no reason for you to want to throw your phone down the sink and press the disposal button. There's no reason for your ears to turn hot cherry red at your grown age.

Why're you even so flustered right now?

The answer is that you aren't. It’s not like it’s anything new for you to want to hide behind your hands because of Levi, nor do you think this will be the last time.

This is normal. This means nothing. He's just being nice.

Unsure of what to say in response, you painstakingly look through your teas to find what blend you want to drink today. You settle on some random flowery citrus blend that's been collecting dust, and you put away the rest of your blends before going back to your kettle and teapot and getting everything situated.

Even after you've got your tea in hand and are sat in at your dining table, distantly thinking about what you should make for dinner today, you don't know what to text back, or if to at all.

So you're going to excuse yourself before you make an even bigger fool of yourself.

You clear your throat before you pick up your phone, type a response back to him, and leave it at the table, taking your tea with you to your room to find something else to distract you.

✰

You - 1:43 PM [to Levi]

don't worry about it

✰

Next Chapter - coming soon!

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #tao.levi #levi aot #levi ackerman #fanfiction #navigation #the affections of an architect

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taomyou · 5 months

Text

The Affections of an Architect - Chapter 3

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: ONGOING, inconsistent updates Summary: There’s a woman Levi sees every Friday on bus 143, and he thinks she’s really cute. It wouldn’t hurt to keep a paper star from her, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and he falls in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to design the architecture of his dreams. Word Count: 7.7k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking, levi pov (A/N: this fic is available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead! The Affections of an Architect is a spin-off of The Romance of Reimbursements, but can be read as a standalone if preferred. They are the same story, but The Affections of an Architect is written entirely in Levi's POV. The Romance of Reimbursements is already completed, and The Affections of an Architect is currently a side-project that will be updated infrequently.) Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

dandelion root

After a good night’s rest, Levi wakes up with the sun, his body long attuned to its rise and fall.

Once he’d set the paper star you’d made him atop the cabinet in his room, he didn’t spend much time thinking about his night out. Against his worst judgment, he decided that going to bed instead of pacing his room like a fool was the best decision he could’ve made. He fell easily into his slumber, his nerves calmed with the covers heavy on his body, shielding him from the cold and dragging him to a dreamland only remembered by his subconscious.

Sure, he replayed the sound of your laughter in his head a million times before he actually listened to the lull of sleep, but that’s not any different from any other day that he’s seen you.

Only, now, you’re…

Not a stranger.

But he can worry about that later.

Much, much later.

He rolls over onto his stomach, groaning into his pillow as he relaxes his muscles. He reaches up towards the headboard to stretch his arms, and he yawns as peels the sheets off his body. He finds himself mindlessly getting out of bed, practically a zombie as he goes through the motions of brushing his teeth and getting ready for the day in his bathroom, and he breathes steadily to keep himself from freezing as he finds his way to the kitchen. It’s routine by now: getting out of bed, getting ready in the bathroom, getting the hot water ready for his morning tea.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he stands over the sink to fill up the kettle, and he sets it back down after it’s filled about halfway. He leans back on the kitchen counter as he waits for it to reach temperature, and he stares up at the ceiling.

Just as the kettle whistles that it’s ready, Levi hears the soft pattering of steps coming from the hallway, and he looks over to see Furlan, his hair tousled and a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth as he meanders into the kitchen.

“Morning,” the blonde greets, rubbing his eyes as he leans on the kitchen counterside.

“How many times do I have to tell you to brush your teeth in the bathroom?” Levi grumbles, turning away from his housemate and back to the kettle to turn it off and stop the beeping.

“What, I can’t say ‘good morning’ to my best friend first thing in the morning?” Furlan says, his voice muffled as he tries to keep the suds in his mouth contained as he speaks.

“No, because spending two fucking minutes over the sink to keep your mouth clean is important than talking to me. And stop talking, you’re going to get your fucking spit everywhere.”

“Well, I disagree. Nothing is more important than communication,” he jests, “but I’ll listen to you, just this once. Be right back.” The sound of brushing resumes, as does the sound of Furlan’s feet as they take him back to the bathroom.

Levi frowns, shaking his head as he pulls out the drawer to grab a spoon.

What’s even the point of Furlan doing this so often if he’s just going to go back to the bathroom after Levi scolds him? It isn’t even “just this once;” he always listens when Levi tells him off for brushing his teeth in random parts of the house (which has to happen every single fucking day that Furlan even bothers to get up this early).

Levi reaches over to the teapot that’s neatly set towards the back of the counter, right next to the basket of teas which sit neatly beside it, and he picks up his usual blend of royal breakfast black tea without much thought.

Nothing new, nothing special. He owns so many different teas, but he only really ever reaches for this.

He spoons no more than a coin’s width of the loose leaf into the pot, and he pours hot water onto it, watching as the color distributes in concentric rings.

With mental note to come back to the pot in three minutes, Levi goes back to his room and gets together his things for work. He hardly has to do much—all he brings from home is his work laptop and the wire he needs to connect it to the lecture hall’s projector—but he’s lazy in pulling up his backpack by its hanging strap and dragging it back to the kitchen. He sets it on the ground next to his designated chair at the dining table, and he goes back to his tea to pour himself a cup.

The warmth of the ceramic cup heats the tips of his fingers as he brings it up to his lips, sipping at it to taste the bitter notes, and he brings both the pot and his cup back to the kitchen so that he can review his lesson before lecture today.

He takes his laptop out of his backpack, and as he’s typing in his password and taking another sip of his tea, Furlan comes back into the kitchen, this time without a toothbrush in his mouth and with a better sense of awareness. He stretches as he goes to the fridge, faking a groan of pain as he tries to pry it open.

Levi rolls his eyes, and he sets down his cup to stare aimlessly at the loading screen. With the background musings of Furlan trying to decide what to have for breakfast, Levi scrolls through today’s lessons on formatting (for his Introductory Design course) and viewing planes (for his Architectural Basics course), correcting any stray typos and reformatting the text to be more pleasant to look at. When Furlan finally comes to the table with a cup of yogurt and a too-expensive salad he stole from the work conference he attended over the weekend, Levi’s finished with his own business and pours himself another cup of tea as Furlan regales to him the drama at his office.

It’s largely unimportant, but Furlan manages to keep Levi at the table for about an hour with an update on the woman who works in the office right next to Furlan’s, who, after months of pining for the building’s receptionist, has finally asked her out on a date.

Levi doesn’t care to indulge in matters of the heart when it comes to himself, much-less so to others, but Furlan had pointed out the freckled woman and the blonde receptionist dancing together when Levi was dragged to the company party over the holidays, and Levi’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least interested in hearing that the two have finally stopped dancing around each other.

After Furlan’s done telling Levi how grateful he is that Ymir no longer pesters him for new ways for her to impress Historia when she passes by her on the way in to and out of the building, he resigns himself to getting ready for work, as does Levi, the time now closer to when he’d usually get dressed and out the door.

Levi’s quick to get back to his room and put on his usual ensemble of suit and tie, and he makes sure to check that he’s got everything he needs before heading out. He puts on his usual shoes, and on his way out the door, he nods to Furlan as his goodbye.

He drives himself over to Magnolia Floral Company, just as he does every morning he has to go lecture, and he gets on bus 143, just as he does every morning he has to go to work. After he scans his fare card and nods as thanks to the driver, he finds his usual spot towards the back, and he unhooks his backpack from his arms and sets it down on his lap as he sits.

Because Levi actively chooses to ignore the thought of you that’s forcing its way into his mind as he watches the scenery before him pass through the window that you normally sit in front of, it isn’t long before he reaches campus, and he’s swift in getting off the bus and to the lecture hall.

The walk there isn’t anything particularly eventful—it’s only the second week back since the semester started, and students have already decided that their beds are far more paramount than their lectures, so there’s not that many people around—and Levi reaches the hall just as the previous class leaves.

Now to just set aside his disdain for presentations to lecture for these brats.

✰

Levi sighs as he returns to his office, slumping into his chair as he places his backpack onto the floor next to him. He’s far too exhausted to start working as soon as he’s seated, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to waft away his dull headache.

Starting back up with lecture, especially after the holiday season, is particularly exhausting, and he’s spent after today’s lesson. Last week had been easy enough, with lectures only on the syllabus and other course guidelines, but he was a fool to think that he’d be able to teach today’s lesson thoroughly and efficiently within the short 80-minute lecture time he has for his Introductory Design course held once a week. He didn’t manage to even reach the halfway point of today’s lesson, as it wouldn’t have been fair to skip through material just because he hadn’t allocated the proper time, and now he’s got to beat himself up now.

He’d taught this course and the others last semester, but he didn’t think to adjust to the fact that everyone’s too burnt out from the previous term to keep up with the pace. That’s not their fault nor his, but now he’s got to rearrange all the topics for the coming lectures to make sure that they’re adequately taught.

God, and he’s got to do this for his upper-division course on Architectural Theory now. They’ll probably run into the same issue. And his Architectural Basics class, too.

Fuck.

And, so, he knows he has to lock himself in his office until he gets this done because he knows he’s going to implode if this doesn’t get resolved immediately. Thank fuck he hasn’t taken on any independent projects yet for this year, because who knows how long it’s going to take to go over the entire courses’ presentation material and correct it?

But, first, Levi has to check his emails, because he knows just how frustrating it is to have a professor that doesn’t reply to emails. If nothing else, this is going to be his only “break” during the day, he huffs to himself.

He gets through them relatively slowly, seeing as most of them are asking for information from the syllabus (which Levi sends back a copy of, with the relevant information highlighted), and he stares at emails from other faculty members to try and decide if he’d rather ignore the messages or address them now. For the most part, he takes note of what he needs to reply to later, but he doubts that any of them are going to care that he takes an extra day or two to get back to them. He does get sent a reminder to a brief department meeting he has to attend today, though, so he can “look forward” to that and seeing all those snobs.

In the middle of him replying to an email from a particularly irate student (not that it’s even Levi’s fault they lost their “emotional support water bottle” during lecture—he has no idea how that’s his responsibility when he’s just the lecturer), he feels a buzz in his pocket. Wanting pause, he takes out his phone, and he sees that it’s Erwin who texted him.

Weird.

Erwin hates texting. Not that Levi prefers it to anything else, but Erwin never texts in the first place.

Erwin - 11:16 AM

Good afternoon, Levi.

God, this fucker always sounds so angry over text. Levi knows it’s because Erwin’s simply too much of a luddite to “learn” proper texting etiquette, as is he, but is the period really necessary?

Levi - 11:18 AM

What do you want?

Erwin - 11:21 AM

Would you like to have lunch with me this afternoon?

Levi - 11:21 AM

What? I’m busy rn Are you not at work right now?

Erwin - 11:22 AM

I wanted to grab lunch outside of the office, so I’m at that soup shop that we used to go to during university. Just thought I could get something for you, and we could eat in my office.

Levi - 11:23 AM

???? I’ve known you for nearly a decade and you’ve never once asked me to have lunch with you during work hours Did you want to talk about something?

Erwin - 11:25 AM

Not in particular.

Surely, there’s some other reason that Erwin wants to have lunch with him. What business does he have even seeing him only a day after having dinner together? Hasn’t Erwin talked enough to him already in the past 24 hours?

Levi sighs as he puts his phone on the table and goes back to finishing up that email, pettily omitting the typical “Best” that’d precede his email signature, and he hits send before leaning back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, just as he did this morning while he heated his water.

Sure, some soup would be nice right now, especially with the weather and the headache that’s hammering away at Levi’s skull, but he really has to get this done. He hears another beep from his phone and desperately wants to ignore it, but he can’t hold firm when the incoming ringing cuts through the silence of his office and magnifies the pounding in his head.

He picks it up and groans, putting the call on speaker and putting his phone back on the table before resuming his earlier position, his bangs falling over his eyes as he leans back and crosses his arms behind his head. “What?”

“Levi, did you want the French Onion Soup or the Squash Soup? I’m almost at the front of the line.”

Levi sighs. “I told you already, I’m busy.”

“You’ve finished lecturing for today already, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I’m-”

“Then you don’t have any other obligations at this exact moment. Come on, take your lunch with me today. You love the soups here!”

“What are you, 80? We had dinner literally yesterday, why do you want to have lunch with me so fucking bad?”

Erwin laughs over the line. “Does a man need reason to seek companionship?”

“How many times do I have to tell you ‘I’m busy?’”

“All the more reason to take a break from your work. You know you aren’t going to have much time once the semester starts picking up.”

“...”

Erwin isn’t wrong. Levi was, for the most part, completely devoid of free time last semester, and he knows the cycle will continue again this term if he isn’t careful.

Still, that’s not enough of a reason for Levi to leave his office and go have some fucking soup. He has shit to do.

And what a fucking hypocrite. Erwin is just as much as, if not more, a workaholic as Levi.

“Erwin, I don’t have time to be listening to your bullshit. I’m hanging up.”

Just as Levi leans forward in his chair to end the call, Erwin hums in musing before opening his stupid fucking mouth again.

“You know, Astraea’s in the office today.’”

…

“What?”

Why the fuck is Erwin even bringing you up? Literally how would that be enough to change Levi’s mind about having lunch?

“She works in the same firm as I do, did you forget already?”

“Yes.”

No, Levi did not forget.

“Maybe I could ask her to join us for lunch, would that change your mind?”

…

What?

“Absolutely not.”

He can’t imagine that you’d want to spend your break having lunch with your boss and a practical stranger, only having learned his name yesterday. You probably already have lunch plans, anyway.

“Worth a shot,” Erwin chuckles. “We can just stop by her office and say ‘hi.’”

Even that sounds like too much, especially for Levi’s weak heart.

“What the fuck are you even talking about? How is this important?”

“It isn’t, I just thought it’d be something to consider,” Erwin laughs. “I’m sure she’d appreciate seeing you again, though.”

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Is Erwin fucking with him? Why’s he being so fucking pushy?

There’s no fucking way that you’d be in any way happier with just his presence. He’s only known you for a single day, discounting all the unspoken encounters between the two of you in the bus for the last several months.

Surely, there’s no way that Erwin knows anything. Levi’s never even so much as uttered a word about you, the stranger from bus 143, to anyone, much-less Erwin of all people. Talking about you has never been even a thought in his mind, and that nosy fucker is just as bad as Hange is when it comes to keeping secrets about this sort of thing.

But why is Erwin bringing you up now, as if that’d make anything different? Is this literally just so that Levi joins him for lunch?

“Hello?”

“What?”

“So, no to lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Splendid! So, which soup did you want?”

“No, I’m saying ‘yes’ to ‘no.’”

“Come on, Levi. It’ll only take an hour.”

Levi frowns as he stares at the computer screen in front of him, the pixels taunting him as they burn light into his eyes.

Well, an hour can’t be that much of an inconvenience. Having a decent lunch hour might curb the overwhelming dread he feels for both his lesson plans and the meeting he has to attend later. too.

Levi very well could just reformat his lessons at home. He hasn’t taken on any projects for his private architectural practice yet for this current year, and Furlan and Isabel aren’t due to come home until much later in the day.

He’ll get to see you, too. There’s no need to wait until the tail end of the week to steal glances at you from across the way.

And that’s more enticing than Levi would like to admit to himself.

“I’m at the front of the line, are you absolutely sure you don’t want anything?”

Levi sighs, putting his elbows on his desk and slumping forward, closing his eyes. “French Onion,” he grumbles.

“What was that?”

“I said ‘French Onion,’ fucker.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Levi can practically see Erwin grinning. “Ok, I’m about to order. I’ll pick you up in a few minutes.”

God, Levi’s going to regret this so fucking much.

✰

By the time they’ve finally parked, Levi’s thighs are on fire, practically burned by the heat of the soup.

Levi didn’t say anything when Erwin had first asked that he keep their food on his lap so that it didn’t spill during the drive back to his office. It had felt nice, the warmth very much welcome after the chilly walk from Levi’s office to Erwin’s car, and Levi didn’t mind the sting on his legs for most of the ride. Once they pulled into the parking structure, though, Levi felt like screaming for his life, the boiling soup now too intense even through the fabric of his suit pants.

Levi didn’t say anything, though, and after Erwin opened the door for him and took hold of the bag holding their food, he got up like nothing was wrong and followed behind his blonde friend as he walked into the building. He’s never been here before, so he’s about as blind as a bat as he watches Erwin greet random people passing through the building and leading the way back up to his office, but he’s thankful that everything is so pristinely clean. Not that he expected much else from one of the city’s most prestigious law firms,

Thank fuck that there’s someone else in this elevator that Erwin can chat up.

When the two finally arrive at Erwin’s office, Levi excuses himself to the bathroom, aching to rub at his thighs and get rid of the now-duller scorch. Erwin’s too polite to start eating without Levi present, so Levi already knows he has to be quick. After locking himself in the single-person bathroom (that is, thankfully, up to Levi’s standard for cleanliness) and getting rid of the sting with more than enough freezing water to drown a saltwater fish, Levi gathers his bearings and heads back to Erwin’s office, his only guide back to the room being his own memory.

As he’s turning the corner back into the main area of the floor, he hears the sound of chairs being pulled across the floor, and he rolls his eyes as he watches as the two men responsible for the noise struggle to open an office door and push the chairs inside. They both look around the floor, wanting help in forcing these chairs into the room, and Levi accidentally makes eye contact with the brunette of the two. Levi tries to walk away, but the guy raises his arms and waves them, embarrassing himself and Levi in-turn.

He wants to ignore them, he really does, but he has to walk past this office to reach Erwin’s. He sighs, and he walks over to the pair to hold open the door for them, and they thank him for helping them force the chairs into the room. Levi only nods in acknowledgement, and he’s back on his way to Erwin’s office.

As he’s got his hand on the doorknob, resolving himself to the comfort that awaits him in the form of warm soup that may or may not get rid of his faint headache, he hears the clicking of another door opening and instinctively looks towards the sound.

Further away and across the floor, behind several other faces that are blurred out in his newfound haze, he sees you, the jewels on your hairpin twinkling under the incoming sunlight coming in as you hold open the door for who he’d assume is a colleague of yours. You and the woman you’d opened the door for are silent as you walk off to the room he’d just helped those guys get those chairs into, and you thank your colleague as she holds open the door for you this time.

You sound no different than you do when you’re thanking the bus driver after scanning your fare card, and that forces him into the seat he’s sat at every week when he sees you there.

He’s suddenly stuck in an uncomfortable plush seat facing the west, waiting for the irritating sunlight bleeding over the horizon to be shielded by you. His hand stays where it is, but he somehow feels the abrasive ribbing of the fabric of his backpack on his fingertips instead of the gold-plated metal that’s actually there. His tie feels too tight as he stares at the door, now closed after you slip inside the room, imagining if you leave the bus as gracefully when you reach your own stop after he gets to his.

He’s more than grateful that you hadn’t looked back at him, because he’s more than sure that he looks like a fool right now, his hand still stuck on the doorknob and his head uncomfortably turned to face any other direction than directly in front of him, but he somehow wishes that you had.

Truthfully, there’s no way that you could’ve noticed him—he’s all the way across the floor, and you’d only been walking through the main area for no more than a few seconds—but, for Levi, those seconds seemed to last an hour, the glint of your gems sparkling just like those on those heels you’d worn when he first saw you, and the smile in your voice all the same as you express gratitude for the simple gesture of having the door held open for you.

It’s a strange feeling—that of feeling like he’s somewhere entirely different, knowing that he’s not.

Before he can bring himself back to the reality of his standing, he feels the door being pulled away from him, and he’s forced to come back to the ground from heaven when he looks in front of him to see Erwin, a confused look on his face.

“Oh, was the door locked?”

Levi retracts his hand quickly. “Yeah.” Yeah, that door was definitely not fucking locked.

“I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.” Erwin moves aside and motions for Levi to come inside. “I set everything out on the table, I’m going to grab some coffee.”

“Do whatever you want,” Levi says, slipping past him and going to sit at the desk.

“Did you want anything to drink?”

“I don’t care.”

Erwin hums. “I’ll see what I can find,” and he closes the door, leaving Levi to his own devices.

Levi sighs as props up his head in his hand, closing his eyes and trying to calm his senses.

Now that he’s not in the sky with his head in the clouds, he can finally feel the rapid-fire beating in his heart and the nervous clarity that’s gotten rid of his headache. His thoughts are clear, not that he can really understand them in the first place, and he’s sure that the burning on his legs has been replaced with a fiery red on the tips of his ears. As his mind replays the moment, one-sided and all-encompassing, he has to loosen his tie slightly and let much-needed oxygen flood his lungs. He can’t even bring himself to move his soup closer to himself because his hands are so shaky.

What the fuck is wrong with him? He’s literally seen you every week for the last, like, 4 months, and he had dinner with you literally yesterday. What the fuck was different about seeing you when you’re at fucking work? He already knew he might’ve run into you while he was in the building, why is he so fucking worked up about this?

Yeah, whatever the fuck just happened has to never happen again.

Never, ever, ever.

Yeah, sure, he may be able to act like he’s fucking normal, but he’s not going to test his luck.

When Erwin invites him to go to your office, Levi’s going to make it clear that he has to go back to campus for his meeting. Levi couldn’t possibly make a stop at your office and remain calm—he could barely keep himself from imploding yesterday when he’d met you yesterday, and he’s even worse now that he’s seeing you in… literally the same fucking clothes that he’s seen you wear for the last several months.

Levi knows that stewing in his own thoughts is hardly productive, though, so before he can get too carried away with that thought, Erwin comes back, a mug in one hand and a… yellow canister in the other?

He takes a seat at the table, and he holds out the canister to Levi. “Is this alright?”

Levi takes it, and he holds it up closer to read the small labeling on it.

Dandelion root tea? He can’t recall having ever tried this kind before.

He turns the canister, reading the flavor description etched into the metal: earthy, bitter, slightly floral. Doesn’t sound too bad, but quite niche to keep in the office.

“Where’d you even get this?”

Erwin waves him off, taking a sip of his coffee and putting his mug back on the table. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Why are you being so fucking weird today? Did you get into a car crash on the way home yesterday?”

“Must you question everything?”

“Yes.”

Erwin laughs, reaching over to grab his spoon. “Relax, Levi. It’s just tea.”

Levi puts the canister back on the table, and he rolls his eyes. “If you say so.”

“Did you want to try some?”

“Sure.” He’s just going to force him to drink it anyway, so might as well.

Erwin reaches down into a desk drawer and pulls out another mug, obnoxiously engraved with a huge green “E” on the side, and pushes that over to Levi before grabbing a kettle that’s sitting at edge of the table because, apparently, this guy has fucking everything in his personal office.

“You have a personal kettle in your office?”

Erwin nods. “I like drinking hot water nowadays if I’m not having coffee.”

“Okay, grandpa,” Levi scoffs.

Levi carefully unscrews the lid of the tea canister, seeing as it’s almost full, and he gently tips out no more than a coin’s width of the loose leaf into the mug. As he pours in the water from the kettle, he listens to Erwin thank him for coming and spending lunch with him, but the words don’t quite settle enough in Levi’s consciousness for him to be able to respond with anything other than a nod.

Levi sets a timer for three minutes on his phone, and he pulls his soup closer to himself now that his hands are free to do so. Looking around the desk and trying to find another spoon, his eyes find a small jar filled with red and white paper stars. “Is that what you were talking about yesterday?”

“What is?” Erwin’s eyes follow where Levi’s pointing, and he smiles when he sees the jar. “Oh, yes, it is. Charming, isn’t it?”

Charming, huh? Levi supposes that’s an appropriate way to describe them. He’d assume they’re meant to be good luck charms or something adjacent to that.

Erwin hands Levi the spoon that he's looking for, and the two start to eat, starting in silence as Levi's too exhausted to try and keep up any meaningful conversation, and Erwin knows better than to keep pushing the envelope of what Levi's willing to tolerate after being forced to join him for lunch.

Levi's phone goes off as the tea has finished steeping, and he picks up the obnoxiously big mug and stares down into the tea. He can't really see its color because the inside of the cup is already so dark, but he hopes that three minutes was enough time for it to be properly flavored. He blows the steam off the top slightly, and he takes a cautious sip as Erwin watches mid-bite.

At first, all he can taste is earthy warmth; not necessarily something he enjoys. He sets down the mug, ready to resolve himself to just the hot water that Erwin apparently loves to drink, but before he can pull his hand away from the ceramic, he pauses.

Notes of the promised bitterness cut through his taste buds, then even smaller notes of floral lightness. It feels like his mouth is set ablaze with flavors so familiar to him, but somehow still just as special. He hesitantly brings the cup back up to his lips, taking another sip to see if it tastes better upon this realization, and, to his surprise, it does.

Lunch continues all the same. He eats his stupid French Onion Soup and is eventually forced to listen to Erwin reminisce all the times they'd eat at this shop with Hange when they were all younger and had more time to do stupid, meaningless shit like this.

It almost feels just like back then, except Levi is drinking tea that isn't ordinary or poorly brewed or whatever else makes tea taste like shit. Somewhere amidst the chaos of Erwin unravelling memories that Levi can only barely recall, he pulls out his phone again to take a picture of the canister, thinking that he might want to get himself one.

At some point, they both finish their meals, Levi much less high-strung as the food settles in his stomach, and Erwin gets up from his chair, clearing his throat. "Well, let's go say 'hi' to her!"

"To who?" Levi feigns ignorance.

"To Astraea. Come on, follow me."

Levi remains seated, taking another sip of his tea. "There's no need. She's probably busy, and I have to go back to campus to attend a staff meeting."

"Nonsense, it'll take a minute. I need to drop off the rest of her tea, anyway."

Levi's breath hitches in his throat, nearly choking him. "What?"

"Oh, right," Erwin muses. "I borrowed that tea from her."

"It's not 'borrowing' if you can't return it. If I knew that, I wouldn't've had any."

"It's not an issue, she offers tea to any of the clients who pass through."

Levi sighs. "Still-"

"And, besides, she suggested it just for you." Erwin says it so nonchalantly that Levi nearly misses the "just for you," but when he catches it, he holds in a breath and just looks over at Erwin's figure as he goes to hold open the door for Levi to leave the office first.

...

Well, he supposes that the polite thing to do is at least say hello before leaving if that's the case.

He shrinks into himself as he gets up from his seat, and he follows Erwin as he practically beams.

Before Erwin can knock on the door of that room you disappeared into earlier, the woman that you'd walked with earlier opens the door from the other side, now trapped between it and Erwin.

"Good afternoon, Mikasa," he greets cordially.

The woman, apparently named Mikasa, awkwardly looks up at Erwin. "Good afternoon," she says, then slipping past and towards the general direction of the bathrooms.

Erwin shrugs before going into the office, Levi begrudgingly behind him, hands in his pockets.

Good grief, why is he even here?

Thank goodness Erwin is the one to speak first to you.

“Thanks again for the tea!” he exclaims.

From the corner of Levi's eye, you nod at Erwin from your desk, and Erwin takes that as invitation to go closer to your desk, waving Levi over. Again, he begrudgingly moves to stand next to him.

"It's no problem, I have more than enough to share."

Erwin looks between you and Levi, and Levi assumes that he wants you to greet each other.

You beat him to the punch, though. “It’s good to see you, Levi,” you greet, a small smile on your face as you wave to him from your desk.

“Yeah, you too,” he manages to say, turning away from you to stare at… the wall.

Thankfully, there’s some framed photos that he can feign interest in, otherwise, he’d look like an idiot.

Or maybe he already does. He really doesn’t want to know.

“How’d you like the tea?” You ask.

“It was fine.”

Erwin laughs, the shit-eating grin on his face surely growing. "He loved it! He even took a picture of the label!"

And, right then and there, Levi wants to pummel Erwin into the ground.

Why the fuck would he say that? He probably looks like enough of a loser to you already with how much bullshit Hange feeds you about him, and now Erwin's painting him as a straight-up liar?

"Oh, speaking of, I forgot it in my office. Let me go grab it."

He takes it back.

Now, Levi wants to pummel Erwin into the ground.

How do you forget the very thing that he came here to return in the first place? Yeah, sure, Levi didn't remember either, but he was too busy trying to stop himself from choking on tea.

With Erwin's leaving, Levi and you are left alone for the first time. Well, maybe not the first time; Hange and Erwin aren't there when you're on the bus, but there's other people there too.

Yeah, this is the first time he's ever been alone with you.

And he has no idea what the fuck to say.

"I'm glad you liked it, the tea. It's one of my favorites," you say, cutting through the silence.

Levi hums in response, now forcing himself to look towards you to not be rude. His eyes settle on your teapot, noticing a faint stream of steam coming from the spout. "What tea have you been drinking?"

"Chrysanthemum."

Levi nods in acknowledgement. He enjoys it well enough, omitting the fact that he's only ever tried it a handful of times.

God, he must look so fucking awkward, standing in the middle of the room, and his worries are confirmed when you lean down from your seat and pull open a drawer.

From it, you pull out a basket of teas and set it on the table, and you motion for him to come closer. "You can take a couple to try, if you'd like."

His heart gently flickers like a lighter being sparked to life, but because he is definitely not going to address that right now, he simply follows your direction and steps closer towards your desk, his eyes focused entirely on the seemingly endless array of teas you have at your disposal.

He takes well to looking through your collecting, stopping every couple of seconds to read the labels on the canisters or the packets. There's quite a lot to get through, the basket being about the size of a briefcase, and Levi takes his time.

Mostly because he does genuinely want to see what teas you have, but also because this is great distraction from the presence of you in front of him. Alone. With him.

Strangely, though, his heart calms much more here. His ears, albeit a faint pink, aren't hot with embarrassment, and as he rifles through the tea packets, his fingertips regain touch and can focus on the matte printed logos on the paper.

After a couple of minutes of silence that he can't discern as awkward or otherwise, Levi steps back from the basket, not wanting to intrude your personal space for longer than he should. He doesn't feel that it's appropriate to take anything from you, seeing as you're probably only extending the offer out of obligation, but he did think a lot of what you had was good.

There wasn't anything too overtly outside of the realm of what he enjoyed. Nothing was too sweet, too floral, too nutty. You even have a near-empty tin of the same royal breakfast black tea he has at home.

But, for whatever reason, what Levi noticed most was that most, if not all, of your teas were caffeine-free, something that he now remembers was also marked on the canister you'd lent him.

You're a lawyer, after all. He wouldn't imagine that someone with that stressful of a job could even function without caffeine, even if he doesn't necessarily enjoy it either.

So he figures that's an easy-enough talking point to make this less painfully quiet.

"Why are all of these caffeine-free?"

“My mom didn’t want me getting addicted to it, so I wasn’t allowed any when I loved at home. I think I just grew to be too cautious of it.”

He scoffs. "Can your mom go back in time and raise Hange too?" Oh, what he wouldn't give for Hange to stop bouncing off the walls after they have their morning coffee on the rare occasion that he gets breakfast with them. "They're always so hopped up on caffeine, I don't know how their brain still functions."

You giggle at that, relighting that small spark Levi's felt for just a second minutes earlier. "Even with all the coffee, somehow, I still think that's just how they are."

Levi eyes nervously find place staring at the basket, counting the braided straw to , when, suddenly, Erwin comes back into the room a bit out of breath, the container of dandelion root tea in his hand.

"Sorry I took so long, I ran into someone on the way," he apologizes, putting it on your desk.

With his nerves for the most part gone, Levi looks to you, and he sees that you're looking between him and the canister.

Why you are, he has no idea, but you pick the canister and hold it out towards him.

He stares back at you, confused as all hell. "Are you giving it to me?"

You nod. "Yeah."

Finding reason to reject the gesture, especially after having depleted it mere minutes ago, "You literally just said it was one of your favorites."

"That means I have other favorites," you chirp, smiling at him. "I'll feel better if someone else gets to enjoy it, anyway. Nobody else here appreciates tea."

Hesitantly, Levi takes it from you. He's unsure of what to say to that, as it's equally rude to refuse a gesture after saying something like that, but, again, Erwin cuts in.

"Levi's got an appointment soon, so we better get going now. Again, Astraea, sorry for taking so long!"

You nod in understanding, waving at the two from where you're sitting.

Erwin's the first to leave the room, as Levi lingers a bit, looking back and forth between you and the door.

"How much is it? I can pay you back," he says, deciding to keep his eyes on you. How ironic—he's found himself in the same spot that you did last night, your hands outstretched with more than enough money to pay for the bill, except, now, he's not ready to faint just thinking about your smile.

"Don't worry about it. I'm a lawyer, you think I can't pay for some tea?" He sarcastically laughs at you, trying his absolutely hardest to remain deadpan throughout to let on any emotion at all (because not even he knows what it is that he's feeling). You smile again and motion towards your office door. "Enjoy it for me, yeah?"

Levi nods. "Thank you, I will," he expresses sincerely.

Without saying any "goodbyes," he's soon out the door, and you're finally able to get back to what you were doing before his interruption.

Levi doesn't question why it takes Erwin an obnoxiously long time to get his keys and wallet to drive him back to campus, but he suspects that he just wants to relish in whatever twisted fantasy he's trying to force on him. In turn, Erwin doesn't question what you and Levi had talked about after he'd left your office, but he knows that it has something to do with the yellow canister in Levi's hand that reflects bright light as they walk back to the elevator and down to the parking garage.

✰

When Isabel gets home from school at damn near midnight, she's absolutely spent, her shoulders slumped forward as she waits for Furlan unlock the front door for her.

It's not particularly rare for Isabel to be so exhausted on a Monday, but with all the upcoming senior year projects she has to finish drafting, she had to spend all night at the library, only having just been picked up by Furlan after he'd spent the night out with his coworkers at karaoke. The drive back was especially quiet, given that Isabel's drifting off to sleep and Furlan's voice is gone, but she's just glad to be home now.

When the door's unlocked and opened, Furlan's quick to rush off to the shower, only saying a brief hello to Levi as he takes off his shoes, and Isabel weakly waves to him as she walks to the dining table to sit with Levi.

It's not really unusual for Levi to be up this late, especially with the sure influx of work that's to be expected with the new semester, but she's grateful that he's up so she can complain about her schoolwork and how horrible her professors are. He might not listen all the time, but she appreciates that he doesn't make fun of her for having a tough time. Even if she's practically incoherent as she battles both sleep and the carnal desire to complain, she has to get it out of her system that university is going to be the absolute end of her.

But, first, it's only the polite thing to ask him what he's up to. After all, he's definitely got his own set of complaints for the day, especially after the late night he had yesterday.

"What'cha doin?'"

Levi's hands stop their learned movements across his laptop's keyboard, and he sighs, resting his head in his left hand. "Work."

"Sounds boring."

"It is, but whatever. I'll go to bed soon."

"I need to complain about Shadis though," Isabel whines.

"No, you need to go to sleep. Fuck off."

Isabel yawns, waving him off. "I'll sleep when I want to. Before I talk your head off, did you do anything else today?"

Levi's slow to answer, sighing heavily once again, and he reaches for his teacup, placed a safe distance away from his laptop to avoid getting tea all over it. "I tried a new tea."

"Oh?"

Even though Isabel's brain isn't anywhere near being fully functional, she knows that Levi is annoyingly picky about his tea, so-much-so that all of his friends have made the collective decision to not get Levi tea for any gift-giving occasions.

"And did you like it?"

Levi takes a sip from his cup, and he lazily nods. "It's fine."

He liked it enough to still be drinking it at this hour? "How are you even going to go to sleep if you're drinking that?"

He pauses, swirling the tea in his cup before looking over at the yellow canister set neatly at the end of the table next to the teapot. "It's caffeine-free."

Great, now Isabel's even more confused. Since when has Levi ever cared about his tea being caffeine-free?

But whatever, that's not important.

What's important is that Levi is awake, and apparently not for that much longer, so as soon as he's done telling her about his day (namely, just that Erwin forced him to have lunch with him at his office; though, she doesn't know why he looks so nervous talking about it), she goes on her tirade about her senior project and how miserable of a man Shadis must be to assign so much work at the beginning of the term.

She'll be sure to ask more about that tea at some point later, though.

Because before Levi eventually goes to back to typing on his laptop while Isabel lists all the ways her tuition could be better used to better her university's campus, he gets up from his seat at the table to go brew himself another pot with that same blend of dandelion root tea.

✰

Next Chapter - coming soon!

#attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #tao.levi #levi aot #levi ackerman #levi #fanfiction #the affections of an architect

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taomyou · 5 months

Text

A Clearing of Clovers - Navigation

ONGOING

Author: taomyou

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Summary: When you’re sent to the Kingdom of Stohess to marry their crown prince, you’re promised a life worth dying for. It isn’t until you meet his guard that you realize it might be worth living for, too.

Alternatively, a guide to gardening and other tragedies.

Word Count: 36.9k

Tags: royalty au, reader-insert, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, romance, eventual romance, heavy angst, character death, guard!levi ackerman, princess!reader, gardens & gardening, hurt/comfort, memory loss, repressed memories, protective!levi ackerman, possessive!levi ackerman, torture, violence, assassination plot(s), unhappy ending

Accompanying Playlist

( ♡ ´ ˘ `) read it on ao3

tumblr links (to be crossposted):

chapter 1 ♡ topsoil chapter 2 ♡ trellis chapter 3 ♡ pest (1) chapter 4 ♡ pest (2) chapter 5 ♡ furrow chapter 6 ♡ cultivar CURRENT STAGE chapter 7 chapter 8 chapter 9 chapter 10 chapter 11 chapter 12 chapter 13 chapter 14 chapter 15 chapter 16 chapter 17 chapter 18 chapter 19 chapter 20

note: A Clearing of Clovers will be updated semi-frequently until winter break, as i am a university student with a job. any extended periods of inactivity are not due to lack of interest, but because i do not have time. if you'd like an estimate for when chapters come out, feel free to leave an ask or pm me!

#levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan #levi x reader #tao.levi #levi aot #levi ackerman #levi #fanfiction #navigation #a clearing of clovers

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taomyou · 5 months

Text

The Affections of an Architect - Chapter 2

dreaming

That Friday, Levi does end up falling asleep peacefully to dream of both nothing and everything.

Thankfully, Hange didn’t test their luck again by texting him at intermittent times of the night like they usually do when they’re trying to make plans, and come morning, he was ready for a day full of…

Well, nothing important, really.

After making himself a pot of ordinary, boring black tea, he set out to do what he normally does on days like this: write emails, answer emails, review his clientele list, grade papers, finalize lesson plans, make sure the house doesn’t get robbed, make dinner for the house. It’s not much different than other days he works from home, but because years of school have drilled into his brain that Saturdays are for relaxation, it felt different to be doing all of this on that day.

By the time Levi finished with work for the office and for the house, Furlan came out of his room for dinner and Isabel’s home from her shift at the flower shop, and the three ate their food together in semi-silence, all of them on their phones to catch up on texts and other things sent to them through SNS. Furlan and Isabel occasionally pass Levi their phones to show him videos that they think he’d find funny, but they don’t really get a laugh out of him despite all their efforts.

Hange texted Levi a surprisingly concise plan, telling him to dress nice (in their words, “as if he were trying to impress a lover”) and that Mike will pick him up to go to a restaurant that Levi doesn’t think is any different than the rest of the expensive places in the city. The latter is fine with him—having to find a ride when Isabel needed his car for the day was going to be a headache—and though he does take issue with that first instruction, Levi replied with a brief reaction to their message, which prompted Hange to send him a torrent of other messages asking what that meant; he just turned off his phone as he continued with his meal.

After they all finished and the two friends thanked Levi for the meal, they played rock-paper-scissors to see who had to wash the dishes (Isabel won, 3-0), and Levi retreated to his room to get another change of clothes to bring with him into the shower. He dragged himself to the bathroom and did the usual: squeezing shampoo into his hands, rubbing them together, and bringing them up to massage into his hair. Repeat with conditioner, body wash. The works.

When he finished with his shower, he went back to the kitchen to check up on how the cleaning was going, and though he wasn’t not terribly impressed, he was glad that they’re so happy when he tells them that he’ll take care of whatever they haven’t done yet. After he thoroughly wiped down the counters and rearranged the teas that sit neatly near a kettle that’s far too big for just him to use, he cradled a cup of his boring tea and thoroughly looked over the menu for tomorrow’s dinner as he waited for his friends to finish their respective night routines so he can tell them a hushed “goodnight,” then Levi went to bed himself.

But it was alright. This is normal.

A bit boring, but it’s normal.

Levi never really thought of himself as anyone interesting, and this just about solidified that fact for him. He’s just an ordinary man working an ordinary job in an ordinary house. His friends are anything but that, but they’re a welcome part of his life apart from the mundane.

Though, while he wants to anticipate tomorrow’s dinner as something as normal as the rest of his life, as he drifts off to dream once again, he can’t shake the feeling that it’ll be anything but.

✰

Levi doesn’t really pay much attention to anything as he’s getting ready to go out for dinner.

Currently, he’s stood in front of his closet, mindlessly looking through a seemingly endless array of suits that’re all meticulously ironed and pressed. He has another hour before he has to get to the restaurant, but he’d rather just have this done now so that he’s not scrambling like a fool trying to find any specific piece of clothing. He gets dressed now to be pragmatic, not because he wants to look as “impressive” as Hange wants him to be on this particular night.

Thinking of it presently as he does the buttons on his dress shirt, it really was so bizarre that Hange had made the plans the way that they did. They usually have to pry and prod in their group chat (or in individual messages, the menace), and to not really do that and just present him with an actual comprehensive deliverable is very unlike them.

But whatever.

That’s not really his problem, and it’s already too late to figure out why that is.

After putting on his outfit, he heads over to the bathroom to make sure that he looks alright. When he stares back at himself, he doesn’t feel any way in particular, but he knows that because it’s Hange he’s having dinner with, he’s better off just going along with their stupid plans. From the cabinet under the sink, he grabs a barely-used pot of hair pomade (or whatever the fuck it is, Levi doesn’t really know) that Furlan gifted him for his first day of work at the university, and he takes a bit of the product into his hands to massage into his hair and slick it back.

If nothing else, Hange can’t say he didn’t at least try to do something different with his appearance.

Come to think of it, the last time he remembers using this pomade was that first Friday, months back, when he first saw that stranger.

After checking his phone to see that it’s about time for Mike to pick him up, he grabs his wallet and a house key before going to put his dress shoes on. He trusts his friend to be pragmatic enough to arrive without much fanfare, and while that would be the case, when he opens the door to the knocking that’s surely meant to be from the tall blonde-

“Hi, Shorty! Glad to see that you listened to my instructions! Did you do your hair? It looks nice!”

Levi cringes. “What the fuck are you doing at my house?”

Hange chuckles, moving to drape their arm over his shoulder. “I’m taking you to the restaurant, silly!”

If Levi has to ride in a car with Hange driving, he may as well be dead already.

“No the fuck you’re not.” He swats away their hand, groaning as he pushes them away and closing the door. “Where’s Mike?”

Hange happily shrugs before walking back to their car, ushering for Levi to follow them.

He does so with a visible frown.

The bullshit he has to deal with, being in this friend group.

“Some work emergency, he asked me if I could get you instead.” When they reach their car, Levi stood on the other side with his arms crossed, they laugh at the expression of plain disbelief on his face. “I promise, this was not intentional! I had to call Erwin and tell him that we need to ask if the reservation is still valid without him!”

“Yeah, right,” he barks back.

“Really! You’re a terrible passenger, why would I want to drive you anyway?”

“I’m the bad passenger? You nearly crash this thing every time I’m in it.”

Hange jokingly rolls their eyes at him, taking their keys from their pocket and unlocking the car for the two of them to get inside. “I’ve been getting better! Don’t be so caught up in the past.”

“Ugh,” he groans, getting into the vehicle himself. There’s no real use changing Hange’s mind once it’s set on something. He puts on his seatbelt as Hange starts the engine, nonchalant as ever, and he firmly takes hold of the overhead grip, making a big show of it to Hange’s bemusement. “If you so much as even brake too hard, I will never speak to you again.”

They laugh, putting their arm over the back of his seat to back out of where they’re parked. “If you say so.”

As Hange drives, Levi’s grip on the handle never lessens, but to his surprise, it never tightens, their driving surprisingly less chaotic than it usually is. Before he can comment on that, though, they open their mouth, and he readies himself for them to yammer for the rest of the ride.

“So, Levi,” they start, “how’s your day been?”

“Shit, especially now that you’re here.” He doesn’t really mean that, but he’s sure Hange’s used to his foul mouth by now.

Nine years of friendship really does that to a person.

Hange laughs and takes a hand off the steering wheel to lovingly punch his shoulder, to which Levi just punches back at them even harder (though he’s careful not to hurt them, not that he’d admit that). “I’m happy to hear! My day has been good, too. Ran errands all day, went to the lab to pick up some paperwork, got dressed, came to get you.”

“Sounds boring.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you very much,” they jest, a big grin on their face. “You do anything special today?”

“I cleaned the house.”

Hange hums. “Well, I guess that’s something you’d find special.”

Levi doesn’t mean to be short with them, but knowing his friends and how they get during dinner, they’ll keep the energy high and force him to keep up, and he'd rather save his energy for that than casual banter in a death vehicle. Hange seems to understand, and for the majority of the rest of the ride, there’s only the sound of Hange’s favorite radio station.

In the middle of an especially boring story about stem cell research and as they’re pulling up the valet, Hange turns down the volume of their car’s speakers and clears their throat. “So, are you excited?”

He raises a brow. “It’s just dinner, why would I be excited?” Not that he’s particularly un-excited, but it’s just dinner. He’s been having dinner with his friends for fucking years now, what makes this any different? Maybe if they’re more specific-

“Oh, that’s right!” They gasp in wonder to themselves as they turn the corner. “I totally forgot!”

Ok, he takes it back.

“Four Eyes, what the fuck are you scheming?”

“Oh, nothing.” Hange grins and giggles, slightly tilting their head up to keep the bubbling laughter from spilling over. “I’ll tell you when we arrive, I don’t want to ruin the surprise!”

“Great,” he sighs. “I just love surprises.”

Hange laughs again, sighing happily as they shake their head. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re definitely gonna like this one.”

They both step out of the car once Hange’s paid the valet service and given them their keys, and though the walk is a bit far, Levi’s more than happy to take that over the disaster that would occur if Hange attempted to parallel park on the street.

No one mentions what happened to Erwin’s car that day.

As they walk, Hange complains of the cold despite their many layers, and while Levi knows they’re complaining just for the sake of it, he can definitely see where they’re coming from—his ears have probably been nipped by the cold already, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he turned up flushed by the time they get to the restaurant.

When they reach the doors, Hange finally stops and faces him, a sinister smile on their face.

“Well, let’s fucking hear it.”

They groan, slumping forward in defeat. “Can’t you at least act like you’re excited to find out?”

“No,” he deadpans. “And hurry up, we’re already late.”

“Fine, since you asked so nicely,” they roll their eyes. “I invited Sugar! She’s having dinner with us!”

…

Sugar?

“Who?”

“Come on, you know her! Sugar!”

In Levi’s mind, he searches for recollection of any “Sugar”s in Hange’s life.

“Not ringing any bells.”

“Oh, come on! I talk about her all the time!”

“To me?”

“Yes!”

“Are you sure?”

“My best friend-slash-neighbor!”

“Who?”

They groan. “She’s the one you always say is too good to be true!”

“Oh.”

Her.

Levi knows just as well as anyone that Hange loves giving nicknames to people, no matter how crass they are, and “Sugar” is just the name they’ve given to their neighbor. Her real name, Levi doesn’t know or care enough to ask for, but why’s she coming to dinner with everyone?

Not that he particularly minds—he’s happy fine that Hange feels comfortable enough to bring another one of their friends—but it feels a bit… random to have her come.

But, apart from that, quite honestly, Levi doesn’t think she’s real.

According to Hange, “Sugar” is the nickname they chose because she’s allegedly “so sweet,” but he supposes the name fits anyway because she’s allegedly a baker and allegedly rich enough to moonlight as a Sugar Mommy.

She’s apparently some big-shot lawyer who makes Hange all the pastries in the world, makes a lot of money, and has enough time to help Hange do their fucking laundry. All the stories Hange tells about her don’t seem all that real, because, really, what person is nice enough to help that lunatic put together their furniture at 2 in the morning? No one’s that nice without expecting something in return.

If she’s not a fragment of Hange’s imagination, she’s still definitely not the saint they make her out to be.

Though, while Levi doesn’t really think this person is real, truthfully, invitations to meet her come often, but with the lack of free time in everyone’s schedule, none of the group have ever met her before despite Hange having known her for a couple of years now.

Well, he supposes that this is as fitting enough of a time for him to meet her.

Levi turns away to open the door to the restaurant, not wanting to keep the entrance blocked for any longer than they already have, and gestures for Hange to step through first.

“So, are you excited now?”

Following them inside, he readjusts his outer jacket as the temperature rises just enough to keep him from freezing. “No.”

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind! But, anyway, she doesn’t know I call her Sugar, so I’m going to introduce her by her actual name. Just a heads up!”

“I really don’t care.”

As he lifts his head to find Hange again, though, he’s struck by the slight of…

Her.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

She’s turned away from him, facing someone who’s outside the range of his tunnel vision, but that’s her. Her coat, white as the snow, drapes over her body, and the silk of the black dress that she’s wearing and the satin of her bow look soft under the lights above. Just as her shoes had shined on the bus, the necklace she wears gleams soft glow, and her floral earrings are colorful enough to stand out against her hair.

And that fucking smile.

God, he’s going to fucking collapse.

Even with the distance, there’s no denying that that’s her. Levi’s never seen her without her boring briefcase before, but that definitely is her. The woman he sees every Friday on bus 143 is across the room from him, standing underneath the same chandeliers he is.

And, for whatever fucking reason, she fucking looks at him, and he’s actually going to fucking faint.

Her eyes sparkle, even from the distance from which he stands. Time feels like it stops here, and while he knows better than to be caught staring at a random fucking stranger in public, he can’t tear himself to look away.

And, because the universe actually fucking hates him, Hange skips over to her and gives her a hug, forcing her to break eye contact with Levi. She hugs his friend back in earnest, and even though Hange pulls away, it’s only to pinch her cheeks and tug on them.

“You, hey, you! You look so cute!” They coo, refusing to let go of her. She awkwardly laughs, and Levi realizes that it was Erwin you were speaking to earlier.

Hange motions for Levi to come over to them with an exaggerated wave. “Get over here!”

Wait.

Do not fucking tell him this is…

His feet seem to move on their own, because soon enough, he does come over to the trio, and he’s fucking terrified to hear what’s about to come out of Hange’s mouth.

“Levi! Erwin! This is my friend, Astraea!”

Fuck.

There is no fucking way that Hange knows her. Knows you. Absolutely-fucking-not.

He knows to be cautious of what information Hange tells him. He’s hesitant to accept the information they have given him, but it all lines up.

Every so often, he’ll see you bring sweets onto the bus, probably leftover from what you’d brought to work. You work in the city and have that fucking boring briefcase—you being a lawyer doesn’t seem like such a far-cry from reality. And despite rush and fatigue and whatever else plagues you when you’re stepping on the bus, you always thank the driver without fail after you scan your fare card.

Curse him. He was right.

You are too good to be true.

You nervously wave at both Erwin and Levi (who’s literally about to combust into thin air), and you shyly tuck your hands behind your back.

Erwin’s the first to speak. “Wait, your name isn’t Astraea,” he says, looking between you and Hange.

“No, you wait! How do you know that? Are you stalking me and my dear friend?” Hange propositions, pointing an accusatory finger at Erwin.

Please do not fucking tell him that Erwin knows you too.

Levi scoffs to feign indifference, but really, he thinks he’s going to wither away any second.

Any second now.

“Please, Four Eyes, as if anybody has the time to try and follow you around.”

His heart is racing, but he hopes that no one knows that. Thankfully, you’re looking off somewhere else, and he can at least try to slow the pace of his heart.

It probably won’t work, though.

“Erwin’s my work senior. You know, the one that made me give up my parking spot,” you answer.

How is it possible for someone to sound so good? Dear lord.

Levi avoids looking directly at you by focusing his vision on a random vase at the reservation desk.

Hange laughs fully and puts their hand over their chest. “Small world! Well, good to know we can skip that introduction!”

“That still doesn’t explain the fact that her name apparently isn’t Astraea,” Levi speaks up, rolling his eyes at Hange to try and divert attention away from himself now that it’s his turn for introductions.

"Uh," you start. "When I was a kid, my younger brother was obsessed with Greek mythology. Astraea was one of the first names he learned and he insisted that I was 'just like her,' whatever that meant, so he'd always call me that. I ended up using it for all my usernames because I was so paranoid about people online finding my personal information. Eventually, I got so used to it that I usually just ask people to use Astraea instead of my real name."

“And your brother was right! I took a Greek mythology course in university, and you fit Astraea to a T!”

Levi has no idea why or how he remembers that name, but he did take that course with Hange, and, quite unfortunately, if you really aren’t just a figment of imagination, that name is so painfully befitting for you. If you’re actually the lawyer Hange claims you are, then there’s no other name more fitting than that of the Greek goddess of Justice.

Whatever else it means, Levi will probably spend the next millennia interpreting it for sake of understanding you, but no one needs to know that.

"How come nobody at work calls you that, then? You're close with quite a few people in the office—surely you've exchanged information with them by now,” Erwin asks.

"I ask them not to use it at work since I don't want other people in the office to look me up on social media, but they use it if we're out together." Erwin seems content enough with your answer and finally shuts the fuck up.

Levi still can't bring himself to look at you, and he doesn’t want to even begin to think about any of the possible things going through your head.

Do you even recognize him from the bus? Sure, you two have never talked or even made eye contact before this official introduction, but the bus wasn't really crowded at all. You have to at least know his face, right?

Before he can dwell on the thought, he hears Hange invite Erwin with them to go to the reservation desk to let the waitstaff know that your party has arrived, leaving him alone with you. Because Levi is far too anxious to keep his fucking mouth shut, Levi clears his throat and starts to speak.

For whatever reason, he isn’t stumbling over his words as he speaks, but rest assured—that man’s heart is on overtime.

"So, you didn't know Hange and Erwin knew each other?" He asks, trying to make some conversation to fill the silence now that the other two were away. He makes no move to look at him, opting to keep his eyes on that same fucking vase at the reservation desk where Hange and Erwin are currently standing.

"No, Hange and I don't really talk about our friends all that much with each other. Just stories here and there, you know?"

Levi gives a hum in response as a signal he heard you. God, he can already feel his face turning even redder than it ever has before. The red on his face could’ve probably been written off as sensitivity to the cold winter air outside, but he’s done for if someone notices him having to loosen his tie to give himself more air to breathe.

"Did you come with Hange?" You ask.

"Yes. I was supposed to come with someone else, but he had a work emergency and sent Hange instead. They're probably trying to see if our reservation is still fine now that we're a person short. If I knew that Hange was going to be the one driving me, I would've just walked over here myself."

Fuck.

Levi, just shut the fuck up before you fucking embarrass yourself. You probably don’t even think he’s funny or charming or whatever fucking descriptors that he’d want for himself in this moment.

But apparently, he’s wrong because you laugh a little at his reply.

And he’s never wanted to be more wrong in his entire life.

"That's Hange's driving for you," you start. "Have they ever talked about me before?" You question, deciding to try and gauge his opinion of you from Hange's stories of you.

He cautiously nods, thinking about how not to give too much away. "If you're the neighbor who lets them run around wild with a sugar rush practically every other day, then yeah, they've talked about you plenty," he remarks.

Fuck.

Fuck, that sounded rude.

You laugh awkwardly. "Good to know."

Fuck.

Fuck, that was definitely not good to know.

Before either of you can try and save the conversation, Hange waves their arms high up in the air to get the two of you to the desk where the host is waiting with menus tucked under his arm. You and Levi walk towards them, not much distance between you and him, and the four of you are seated at a fancy booth. Hange and you sit on the same side while Erwin and Levi are seated across from you, with Levi right across from you.

There goes any chance of avoiding eye contact with you.

To buy himself some time away from your starry gaze, he props up the menu on the table to shield his face from you entirely. He has absolutely no need for the menu—he’s already picked what he wanted before he left the house—but if this is what it takes, then that’s what it takes.

It’s laughable, honestly, how fucking pathetic he feels that he can’t even properly speak to a woman just because she’s so…

Levi doesn’t even fucking now. Now is not the time to unpack that.

"Is it alright if we call you Astraea, then, seeing as we're not at work?" Erwin asks, breaking Levi away from his busy mind.

Yes, Erwin. Please fucking distract him.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Erwin leans over to see that Levi’s eyes are still trained on the same line of text on the menu, but Levi could genuinely not care any less. He has to get rid of this blush, and fast. There’s quiet chatter as you help the ever-indecisive Hange choose their entrée, and once they choose what they want, Erwin flags over the waiter.

Thankfully, Hange takes so fucking long that by now, the red on his face has faded to a more serviceable faint pink, and he finally feels okay enough to breathe. After everyone informs the waiter of what they want, he takes your menus away and comes back seconds later with napkins, both cloth and paper ones, and silverware.

And you do something so unbelievably strange: you take your paper napkin, and you start tearing a long strip from it.

"You still make those?" Erwin asks.

You absentmindedly nod, starting to… fold the paper? Levi has no idea what you’re doing, your hands move too fast, but he can’t look away. Thank goodness the action keeps your own eyes preoccupied (i.e., away from him).

"She does it everywhere we go! I have a vase of them at my place, it's a really cute decorative piece to have," Hange praises, looking over at you with their face leaned into their hand.

"I have a jar of them on my work desk, and I've gotten quite a few compliments from clients about it over the years," Erwin adds, now also watching you form whatever the fuck that strip of paper is meant to become.

You finish making the trinket before handing it to Hange, but instead of keeping it, they hold it in their palm and stick their arm out across the table in front of Levi, who dumbly looks between it and Hange.

"Why are you giving it to me?" He questions.

Hange groans and gets up a bit from their seat to get closer to him. “"I have more than enough at home already, and Erwin seems like he does too. Just take it!"

Levi rolls his eyes, again to mask his anxiousness, but goes to grab it from them, placing it down on the table. Looking at it more closely now, Levi realizes it’s a… star?

A paper star?

That’s…

really cute.

Hange turns their attention back to you, eager to get a conversation going at the table. "So now that I know you work with Erwin and I don't need to introduce the two of you to each other, let me tell you about Levi!" They start. "I don't know if you remember, but Levi's the one I call 'Shorty!'"

Mid-breath, Levi freezes.

Great.

He looks outside a random window to try and keep himself from jumping across the table and pummeling Hange into the ground (but, also, to keep himself from lighting up like a Christmas tree because, fuck, that paper star is just about the cutest thing he’s ever seen in his life).

"It's nice to meet you, Levi," you say.

He lets his eyes trail back to you before scoffing and going back to looking outside the window. "Thanks, Four Eyes, for introducing me as a Shorty," he sarcastically says. There's a pause where nobody speaks before Levi opens his mouth again. "And is it really your first time meeting me if we see each other on the bus every week?"

You awkwardly laugh. "I guess not, but it's nice to finally know your name."

So you do recognize him? Go figure.

He nods and looks over at Erwin whose eyes were already on the raven-haired man.

"What are you looking at me like that for, fucker?"

Erwin chuckles at that, giving his friend a good-natured pat on his back. "C'mon, Levi. Be a bit nicer," he lightly scolds.

"Yeah, Levi! She's probably already terrified of you!" Hange adds.

Levi makes eye contact with you at that, trying to gauge your own opinion of him.

Again, he hopes that he’s wrong.

You raise your hands slightly up off the table in defense. "It's fine, guys! He's right, we do see each other every so often. And the client I had last week was far scarier than Levi, I think I can handle him," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Hange laughs at that, as does Erwin. Levi tries not to offer up any sign he thought your comment was funny, but he can’t keep the frown on his face for much longer afterwards.

Until the food arrives, you and Erwin discuss some matters from work. You seem to feel a bit guilty for having brought up that you had a bad experience with a client, since Erwin now wants to send it up to HR or some shit. Hange is listening along to and actively participating in your conversation, giving their own opinion or cracking very, very bad jokes here and there while Levi remains quiet.

Whether or not he's listening, he couldn’t tell you. Everything seems to go in one ear and out the other.

The food arrives just as you and Erwin finish talking about work. As the four of you eat, the conversation is shifted once again towards Levi and he’s forced to steel himself to keep from sinking into the floor.

"So, what do you do for work, Levi?" You ask nicely, probably trying to find a way to include him.

His eyes don't come away from the plate of carbonara in front of him, too nervous to accidentally make eye contact again, but that doesn’t seem to bother anyone. "I'm a professor at the University downtown," he says monotonously.

"Levi, please! Give her something to work with! Astraea, he teaches architecture at Sina University on top of doing freelance work!" Hange praises.

Hange, for the love of everything good in this world, please shut the fuck up. Sure, that might be true, but he doesn’t need them to advertise him like he’s the country’s hottest bachelor to someone who’s actually the newest addition to the wonders of the world.

"It's really impressive that you're a professor. You probably take the bus because of how shit the parking is, right?" You ask.

At the mention of the parking conditions, Levi finally looks up from his food to scowl at the thought of that travesty.

Alright. If nothing else, he won’t fuck this up. He’s ranted about the parking to practically everyone under the sun already (so, maybe 3 people?), surely he can’t make a fool of himself here.

Maybe you’ll even find him a bit less pathetic than you probably already do.

"The absolute fucking worst. I thought I was safe because I have a staff parking pass, but no. Those childish, good-for-nothing brats would even take the last parking spot right in front of my fucking eyes," he griefs.

And as if you’re imagining that yourself, you let a full, hearty laugh escape your mouth. You don't bother covering your mouth as you laugh, and while Levi would ordinarily never care about such a difference, he does now. He realizes that, up until this, you’ve been doing that—covering your mouth when you express joy, as your laughter and voice is much louder than it had been—and he hadn’t been able to notice because he was too shy to even look at you. He has to bring up a napkin to his face to keep anyone from seeing him smile break exterior, but to know that you’ve lit up at mention of his prior misfortune makes it all the worthwhile to have experienced it.

Erwin and Hange join you in your jovial giggling and they both chastise Levi for slandering the poor students, but he can’t really give a shit about that when all he hears is your twinkling laughter in his ears.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly—much more smoothly than he anticipated, considering the fact that he’s been slapped in the face with the realization that the stranger from bus 143 was never actually as much of a dream as he’d made her out to be.

She was even better.

Everyone contributed in some way or another to the steady conversation, and the anxious feeling you’d brought Levi over the course of the last couple of months dissipated the further into the night he got. He didn't get to learn much more about you, though. The conservation turned over to Hange, who mostly talked about work and their coworkers, but everyone at the table knew more than enough about their antics to be able to comment on the stories they were telling. Even Levi let a small smile slip onto his face every once in a while.

Though, as dinner comes to an end, Hange suggests that the four of you let the waiter do a credit card roulette to end the night, and even though he and Erwin are used to this, Levi’s concerned when you nervously pick at your nails to figure out what to do.

"Whenever we hang out, we let the waiter blindly choose which card to pay the bill with. If you're not up for it, that's fine, but it's always a great deal of fun," Erwin says, explaining what the three of them are about to do.

"It's fun for you guys, I fucking hate doing this," Levi grumbles.

Hange laughs at that and hunches over, hand to their chest. "Good one, Levi! Astraea, don't listen to him! He's only salty because his card always gets chosen!"

You smile at Levi sympathetically (and he feels his soul leaving his body, but that’s besides the point) and move to your purse to get your own card and hand it to Hange, deciding to join in on the "fun."

Hange cheers at your participation, and so Erwin again flags over the waiter to choose between your cards.

And, again, because the universe hates him, it's Levi's card that gets chosen. He sighs in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Hange breaks out into yet another fit of laughter at his misfortune.

At least that grants him opportunity to hear you laugh again, even if it is accompanied by Erwin’s and Hange’s hollering.

Before the receipt comes back and Levi is able to sign off on it, Hange suggests that the rest of you leave for the waiting area to avoid the guilt of seeing Levi cover such a large bill, but you decline and say you'll keep him company. Levi’s pretty confused, but he doesn't protest because he’s too scared he’ll say something off-putting, and so Hange and Erwin scurry off to the front of the restaurant to wait while you and Levi sit in silence.

When the waiter comes back with the receipt and places it on the table, you grab it before Levi gets the chance to sign his name.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You hold out your pointer finger to him, effectively shushing him as you look at the total and dig into your purse. From it, you pull out what looks like enough money to cover a decent chunk of the bill, and you hold it out in front of Levi and give him a tight-lipped smile.

"I feel pretty bad about having you pay for my food when you don't really know me," you reason, still waiting for him to take the bills in your hand.

He’s pretty caught off guard, but he makes no move to take it from you.

"You and Erwin probably didn't know I was coming until a day or two ago anyway, so think of it as me apologizing for intruding on your plans."

Plans? Please, even though Hange tried to masquerade this as an actual plan, this dinner was purely a ploy to get him to meet you.

Instead of taking the money, he stands up and leans over to grab the receipt tray from you. Sitting back down, he signs his name and motions for a waiter to come over. The waiter looks a bit confused as to why you have so much money out when the bill was already paid with his car, but he thanks you both for dining with them and leaves. Levi looks at you for what feels like an eternity before he speaks up.

"There were no plans to intrude on. Hange texted us on Friday at damn near midnight to tell us we had to come to dinner with them and their friend on Sunday."

He throws in that he always knew that there’d be someone new to meet so as not to further upset her for the impromptu appearance, but it seems to still confuse you because you just blink as silence shrouds over you both again. You avert your eyes away from him, and while he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to be as cautious as he’s been otherwise, he feels bad that you’re not fully convinced that your presence wasn’t unwelcome.

"My best guess is just as good as yours as to why they decided to introduce all of us so suddenly," he says, trying to ease your confusion.

Truly, he has no idea why Hange’s chosen now to introduce him to you, but knowing Hange, it could’ve just been because a fortune cookie told them to.

"Still, I feel pretty guilty that you're paying," you say softly, your cash still outstretched to the man in front of you.

He sighs at your words. "Don't feel bad about it, I don't mind," he starts. He sees that you're still unwavering in your resolve and continues. "But I appreciate the gesture. If you're so worried about it, let the waiter play roulette with your card again next time," and with that, he pushes your hand back towards you.

He feels no spark, but rather, a brief warmth as he touches your hand, so he pulls away quickly so as to not raise suspicion. He’s already too flustered to be like this, so that explains why he’s so forthcoming with his words, but next time? Next time? Fuck, is he already thinking that you’d be meeting with this group again? Would he even be opposed to that?

Levi doesn’t know, but, again, now is not the time.

Finally, you put your money away and get up from the table. "Alright, I'll do that then," you say.

He nods in return and starts getting up himself, looking at the star that’s left on the table as he starts moving. Once he's up on his feet, you start heading over to where Hange and Erwin should be. All the while, Levi's eyes linger in the direction you’d both just came from, and to break him away from that, you tap his shoulder to get his attention.

"Did you forget something at the table?" You ask.

He hesitates a moment before nodding, saying a quick "go ahead" to you before walking back to where the lot of you just sat.

Certainly, nothing bad would come of keeping a paper star from you, right?

He quickly picks up the star, careful not to crumple it by keeping it in a loose fist in his pocket, and he returns to you to continue the trek over to Erwin and Hange. He doesn’t remember the walk being so far, but he probably could chalk that up to the fact that he was in a much heavier daze earlier. He still is, to some degree, but it’s a much lesser one now.

When you’re close enough, Hange tears you away into a hug, and Levi goes over to Erwin to nod at one another. Simple enough. Ordinary enough.

Hange then tears Levi away, and to his chagrin, they just laugh at him. “So, what’d you think? Do you finally believe me when I say she’s the sweetest?”

He says, “no,” but, truthfully, he might believe that sentiment.

“Is it alright if I bring her along for more outings?”

“...Sure,” is the response he settles for. He can’t exactly say “yes” when he thinks he’s on the brink of death just thinking of your briefcase, nevermind your fucking smile, but he doesn’t want to say “no” either.

But thank fucking god Hange doesn’t analyze his answer any further and instead scurries off just as quickly as they came to go and bother Erwin instead.

You’re pushed over near Levi in the ensuing rotation, and you bring your hand up to give him a wave. He gives a nod in return, which he hopes you take as his own way of saying goodbye.

"You know Hange's gonna drag you around everywhere with us now, right?"

You chuckle at that and look up at the dark sky above you both. "Yeah, but I think I'll manage."

Because he thinks he’s already out of your line of vision, Levi lets his expression get just that tiny bit more peaceful, and he joins you in looking up at the sky.

“Is this a dream?” He mumbles underneath his breath, careful to be quiet enough to keep the sentiment away from you but loud enough to reach the stars.

After one last goodbye to everyone, you walk over to your car parked a little bit down the road, Erwin walks across the street, and Hange and Levi head over to the valet area. When the car comes back to them and he can finally sit down and position himself where he’s comfortable with the star in his pocket still protected, he lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

On the drive back home, Hange thankfully is quiet all throughout, the only noise again coming from the radio that’s now talking about kidney stones or something else disgusting, and when they reach Levi’s house, he thanks them for not crashing the car.

What he should’ve known, though, was that after he’s finally finished getting ready for the night and gotten into bed, he’d be thrown through another barrage of texts from the mad scientist.

So much for them being quiet. They were just trying to appease him in the moment so they could bother him now.

Four Eyes - 11:05 PM

Hey Levi!! So.. about Astraea haha You sure you’re cool if she starts hanging out with us?

This question, again?

Levi - 11:09 PM

Why don’t you ask the group chat, Four Eyes? Why do I have to decide

Four Eyes - 11:09 PM

Just answer the question!!! >:(

Ugh.

Levi - 11:11 PM

I don’t care if she comes with us, but tell her to lay off on the reimbursements

He doesn’t want to have to be in that position again—seeing you upset, no matter how vaguely, and thinking that you were intruding and had to reimburse him for the time spent.

Four Eyes - 11:12 PM

WAIT WIAT what do you mean reimbursements? Is that because she’s a lawyer? What the flip are you talking about

Levi sighs, rolling over onto his stomach to send his final text of the night.

Levi - 11:14 PM

Of course you’re too fucking stupid to know what that means

He puts his phone underneath his pillow and lays himself face-down, groaning. There’s a heat that creeps its way back up to his ears and cheeks, just as it does every time he thinks of that really cute stranger from bus 143, but for the first time, he doesn’t feel the need to try and get rid of it.

Suddenly remembering the paper star that's still in his coat pocket, he bolts straight up out of bed to go and get it, afraid that he might accidentally forget it and wash the coat with it still inside, and he carefully places atop of his cabinet before retreating back to bed, relieved that he remembered to do that before losing it. He sighs as he stares at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take him again, but, for whatever reason, he doesn't want this momentary dream to end—the one he's been forced into in his reality.

But, while he anticipates a hard road ahead of him in trying to keep himself in check, he’s glad that, finally, it seems like his dreams won’t have to be just dreams.

✰

Next Chapter

#attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #tao.levi #levi aot #levi ackerman #levi #fanfiction #the affections of an architect

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