Without Ever Knowing
She lay staring at the ceiling, her eyes tracing the cracks in the old wood. It had been a long time since she had the chance for a good night's rest. So much had happened, and there were still many questions to be answered.
But she couldn't sleep.
I'm sorry, Hange. He didn't make it back.
She had already figured it out, of course. She wasn't stupid. She already knew, okay. She knew. But looking up at Erwin, who'd stood rigidly before her, face calm, but eyes brimming with too many emotions to decipher—made it clear without a doubt;
She'd lost another good friend. They'd lost another good soldier. One of the best.
The tiny fraction of hope she still had been holding onto, was crushed then. It was stupid maybe, it was perhaps useless, because even though she knew; she hadn't been able to let go.
What if, what if, what if— Always the stupid what-ifs.
And now, laying on her bed, staring dry-eyed at the ceiling, the emptiness she felt was overwhelming. In the morning, everything would be back in place, of course. But now, in the dark of the night, she couldn't help but feel.
Tonight, she couldn't help but imagine.
000
She knocked softly on the door. A tired voice answered her. "Yes?" And she pushed the door open.
Levi was seated at his desk. A pile of paperwork on the right corner, a cup of tea on the left.
"Hey," he greeted her. And she wanted to say something, maybe even give him a smile. But the gravity of it all pulled the corners of her mouth downward.
He frowned and turned toward her. And so she blurted out. "Can I just stay here for a bit, I can't sleep." She cringed. It sounded desperate, even to her own ears, but she was just so tired—so exhausted, but she still couldn't sleep.
A moment of silence passed.
He studied her, eyes flashing with something she couldn't quite decipher, then wordlessly he gestured her to come inside.
He waved a hand toward the bed. "You can lay down if you want. I still have some paperwork to finish."
Gratefully she sat down, the springs squeaking under her weight, but even just sitting was too tiring, so she lay down, curling up and staring at flickering shadows of the candles on the wall, listening to the scribbling of a pen on paper. It was comforting.
Her thoughts drifted off again, balancing her in a state between sleep and awareness, a few tears trailing down against her will, wetting the pillow beneath her cheek.
At some point, the bed behind her dipped, and a blanket was softly pulled over her. She shivered a little at the warmth.
A hand rested on her shoulder for a moment before disappearing again.
And she let herself drift off, lulled to sleep by the scribbling sound of pen on paper.
I am sorry, Hange. Mike was a good friend—a good soldier. One of the best.
To be honest, I'm not really sure about this one, but I have been wanting to write this for a while. I hope this is alright.
Mike's death was so sad and cruel. The anime also did a really great job of portraying the brutality of that moment.
Hope you enjoyed this small story.
All the mistakes are mine.