SouLala
A/N: This story is a bit of an experiment for me to try and progress a main storyline whilst weaving in a story that in/directly drives Mikasa's and Levi's actions in the main story. Apologies if the characters are slightly OOC, they may be so to account for their college experiences!
I also drew inspiration from two other sources, one being a pretty pub I once visited in Norwich in the UK (the name of which I've unfortunately forgotten) to the song 'Lilac Wine', specifically, the Miley Cyrus version in her series 'The Backyard Sessions' on YouTube. Basically, I ported them into this fic (though the description of the singer is not meant to describe Miley!).
Hope I haven't made the 'story within a story' too in-your-face or too cryptic to understand what happened - let me know if so! Under all other circumstances, reviews are much loved and appreciated 3
Mikasa turns the engine off and clambers out of her car. She shrinks into her coat and exhales, watching her breath unfurl and mist in the cold winter air. She glances up and down the deserted street, bare pavement and closed shops futilely lit by toiling streetlamps.
What a time for Hange to host a college reunion.
Mikasa isn't even sure why she has turned up. She had generally been a recluse and never really hung out with others from her philosophy course aside from Armin and, until recently, Eren. Therefore, the invite from Hange, who had been in the year above, had surprised her. She figures it has something to do with one of the few times she had made the mistake of joining the others on a night out; in particular, with the time she had piggy backed Hange back to their dorm instead of leaving them passed out in a gutter. That, she supposes, had been enough for the auburn-haired eccentricity to consider her a friend. But as to why she is now beelining towards a random bar in the seedy part of Mitras on a cold winter's night instead of curled up on a warm couch with a bowl of popcorn and an episode of Castlevania, she still has no idea.
She whips out her phone and scrolls through the group chat, annoyed. Even the number of people who had initially agreed to come is dwindling dangerously low. Many had been struck down with the seasonal flu, and many more were, at the eleventh hour, suddenly recalling plans with their families or significant others. Mikasa is annoyed when she skims over a hasty apology from Armin detailing how he and Annie were called to Annie's father's house for dinner. Mr. Leonhart is one heck of a high-maintenance father, but Armin is too kind to complain in front of his partner.
Mikasa tears her eyes away from the depressing chat in time to see the SouLala bar, marked by a tacky, flashing, neon pink sign. She has reached her destination. She spots a heavy-set bouncer at the doorway and a couple of scantily clad women in an adjacent alleyway puffing cigarettes with painted lips as languid eyes rove over straggling passers-by in search of some quick cash. But of her former college classmates, neither hide nor hair is to be seen.
She glances at her phone. Five minutes past seven. She had deliberately arrived slightly late in the hopes of avoiding awkward one-to-one conversation, but she had not anticipated being the first to arrive. She considers returning to her car and making a quick escape when a voice halts her in her tracks.
"Tardiness doesn't suit you."
Deafening EDM, flashing strobe lights, and the strong musk of patchouli burn through her memory. Of all the people on the attendees list, this was the one person she had really hoped to not be alone with at any point during the night.
"Hello to you too, Levi," she nods stiffly, turning to face her former study partner. Her eyes drink him in curiously even as she feigns indifference. In college, Levi had been popular with the girls for his youthful face, slim figure, and laissez-faire attitude that belied his brusque mannerisms and brilliant but intimidating mind. Now, his youthful face is filled out, its sharp corners softened slightly by the grown-out bangs of his undercut curtain hairdo, and his once-spindly body is taut with muscle. The lackadaisical air has also vanished from his eyes, leaving twin points of steel determination that she remembers amongst late nights, piles of dusty books, and shots of bitter coffee. She knew Levi was careful about his figure, but she never thought he would improve this much in the five years since she had last seen him.
She notices him appraising her in the same way but with less subtlety. She crosses her arms in front of herself defiantly, blocking his view.
"Who are we waiting on?" He asks, unperturbed by her behaviour.
She scrolls through the chat, counting. "Eight of twelve of us have pulled out. It's just us, Hange…and Eren." Her heart sinks.
"I'll call Hange and ask what freak brain they're analysing tonight." Mikasa recalls Hange switching into psychotherapy after graduating with her philosophy degree. "You call Eren and tell him to drag his ass over here."
Without waiting for a reply, he whips his phone out and dials Hange's number.
Mikasa is no longer on talking terms with Eren. They had been together until a year ago, when she had caught him in bed with Historia. Her relationship with Eren had been nothing special – okay, she admits, it had been quite alright, as far as five-year relationships go – but the wound is still a little raw. She shifts awkwardly as Levi talks.
"Where the hell are you?...It's just Mikasa and me…Can't you just make them hug a blow-up doll or something?...Fine. Good luck."
His look as he hangs up is not one of pleasure.
"Hange can't join us. Apparently a patient suffering with fear of abandonment turned up as she was leaving."
"I knew there had to be a good reason why you mentioned a blow-up doll," Mikasa says wryly.
"Hn." He grunts. "So what about Eren? Did you call him?"
"No, I – we broke up."
"And you still came, knowing you might see him tonight?" She remembers how frustratingly good he is at pinpointing logical fallacies.
"I can handle being in his company for a few hours."
"You refusing to call him suggests otherwise."
"What I do or don't do is none of your business," she glares. "If you're so hung up on it, you call him."
"I'm not close to him."
"Too bad."
She stares down the long look he gives her, and finally he dials Eren's number from the group chat. She hears the faint sound of ringing, but no one picks up on the other side. Levi hangs up.
"I'll leave him a message letting him know we're here. Until then, I guess it's just the two of us."
Part of Mikasa is relieved. Given their history, being sandwiched between Levi and Eren would have made for a world of awkwardness. But the other part of her is screaming fiery hell. The one thing she had wanted tonight was to not be stuck with Levi for any part of it. But now, she might be stuck with him for the whole duration. Surely all the karmic energies of the universe are aligned against her right now.
"Shall we?" Levi jerks his head towards the bar.
Mikasa nods, heart pounding and throat dry.
They approach the entrance. The bouncer checks their IDs and gives them a once-over before stepping aside. On their way in, Mikasa reads a phrase written in pink glow-in-the-dark paint against a dark purple background.
"Welcome to the SouLala bar, a place where souls collide and dreams revive."
"Sentimental hogwash." He scoffs.
She sighs. "Isn't it just."
They walk down a flight of stairs into the main area. Multi-coloured fairy lights are strung across the walls, sparkling across small tables fashioned as wooden stumps and pouffes with toadstool-patterned coverings. On a small stage beside the bar, musicians in medieval garb pluck their lutes, luxurious notes idling around columns wrapped with fake ivy. On the ceiling is an upside-down model of Mitras. Mikasa recognises the downtown area with its dense blocks of skyscrapers, the Mitras river flowing around it, and a short distance beyond the main city, the iconic turrets of Utgard Castle stretching towards her with papier-mâchéd tips. Although a few of the tables are occupied, it is still quiet as the night is young and the partygoers have yet to arrive.
"Wow," she breathes. She hadn't realised there was a gem of a place like this hidden within the dank depths of soulless Mitras. She sends a side-glance at her companion, gauging his mood, but he remains tight-lipped and stone-faced as ever.
Well, if he was going to be taciturn, she was not going to stop him. She saunters over to the table she has already singled out. It is the one in the middle of the room that has the best view of the upside-down model city.
"You know, we could take the table in the corner and be out of the way," Levi says pointedly.
"Whose way? There is virtually no one here," she counters. "Plus, that table is by the window. I don't want to be constantly reminded of the freezing cold, but you can sit there by yourself if you prefer."
"I might just do that," he huffs, but sits down next to her anyway. The tables are low enough to maintain their tree stump resemblance but high enough to lean on without doubling over in discomfort. Mikasa pulls her coat off and places it across her lap.
"Still teetotalling?" She asks.
"Yeah. Don't get why people like poisoning themselves in these shitholes."
"It's a wonder you even came tonight."
"Hange said they would tell me the brand of bleach they use if I came to this stupid social."
"Selling your ideals for a bottle of bleach? Old habits die hard," she teases.
"Maybe they do."
He says this a little too earnestly.
Mikasa searches his eyes for the slightest hint of a death glare. The first time she had seen his signature look was when she had plunked herself down on the seat next to him in the library. The other areas of the library had been jam-packed that evening, and for some inexplicable reason people had been giving this student a two-desk berth. When she had asked him whether he was auditioning for a Stanley Kubrick film, he had made a disapproving noise of surrender and turned back to his book. And as that first night had stretched into weeks, then months, of his company, she had grown used to his idiosyncrasies, and to his death glares. But this look, whatever it is, is not a death glare.
She is no longer sure they are just talking about cleaning products.
"I'll go order drinks," she says, changing subject quickly. "What do you want?"
"I'll take an orange juice."
She saunters to the bar and flags down the bartender, a dark-skinned, handsome fellow in a white collared shirt with frilled sleeves and a velvet waistcoat. A gold earring winks at her from one ear.
"Madam, I'm Adam," he says suavely. Mikasa's lips curve upwards.
"Clever palindrome."
"Clever lady," the man grins handsomely, flashing two perfectly aligned rows of pearly-white teeth. "I would usually say call me Onyakopon, but on busier nights my name gets bastardised and then I become Adam."
Mikasa giggles, surprising herself at the sound. She doesn't laugh easily, but there's something about this place that makes her feel like she's in a different dimension. One where all the corners are soft and the atmosphere hangs light and fluffy like clouds.
"Nice to meet you, Onyakopon."
"So what can I get you?"
"One orange juice and one daiquiri, please."
She watches, mesmerised, as Onyakopon dances across the bar filling her order. First is the ice, scoop spun with a flick of the wrist before plunging into the ice box and unloading cubes into two chilled glasses. Then, he is languidly gliding past the shelves, expertly plucking out the white rum bottle as he does so. He tosses it behind his back and twirls it on the point of his finger, making her eyes round with awe, before expertly measuring its contents out. Then the lime juice and orange juice are brought out with a flourish, and finally, the syrup bottle, its contents compressed into her glass with a firm squeeze.
"Where did you learn to do all that?" She asks as she pays.
"On the job. I've been here long enough to pick up a few tricks," Onyakopon winks. She thanks him and returns, thoroughly charmed, to her table.
In stark contrast to the winsome bartender, her drinking companion fixes her with a sullen stare as she sets his drink before him. He swirls the glass of orange juice in one hand as if it were some vintage wine.
"So, tell me what you're up to these days."
"Nothing much. Just work. And life, I suppose," she shrugs.
"Funny. I'd have thought you had more going on in your life. Of the two of us, you were the ambitious one."
"And you aren't ambitious?" She challenges. "I didn't think you were studying hard just to be top of the year. With Erwin."
"To a certain extent. The course material was interesting. But at the end of the day, I just wanted a stable job."
"Philosophy isn't exactly the best choice of a degree for a stable job."
"It was the least hassle." She thinks back on her fellow classmates who had spent all-nighters stressing and crying their eyes out over coursework and exams. With those words, Levi has surely just insulted at least half of her year. It's a good thing it's just the two of them right now and that she knows him well enough to know he doesn't mean it that way.
She gestures at his expensive-looking suit. "Anyway, it seems like you've landed more than just a stable job."
"I guess by today's standards it's pretty good. After graduating, I got a job in accounting. I worked a few jobs across companies, and I'm now the treasurer of a shipping firm."
"Do you go abroad for business then?"
"Sometimes."
"Where?"
"Mostly around Europe, but we're expanding our business into Asia and Africa. The change of scenery isn't bad, but it's draining for the most part. When people find out you're from Paradis they can't keep their grubby hands out of your pockets. I'd much rather stay in Mitras where I can blend in and be a nobody."
"You want to trade jobs?" She says half-jokingly. "I'm executive of the politics section of the Mitras Herald. Manage a team of executive assistants and reporters, boards of directors and stakeholders, and find newsworthy stories that don't turn the newspaper into a cheap tabloid. On the other hand, expect high pressure, long hours, piss poor pay and no frills."
"You didn't strike me as the type that would go into publishing."
"I initially wanted to try out psychotherapy, but Eren and Armin talked me into my current path. They were always going on about finding truth. I guess I kind of bought into their spiel. It's only good fortune that I actually like my work and am good at it."
"There's the ambition. Not bad for a graduate of four years. I expect you'll be publisher by next year."
"…No." She stares into her drink, ignoring her companion's quizzical look. "Sure, there are some aspects of my life that could be improved, but I'm happy with where I am career-wise. I now know there are things I value above being the highest-achieving person in the room."
Despite growing up in a poor family, Mikasa had been bright enough and lucky enough to be accepted into Mitras' best university. She still remembers showing her father the letter from the post, her heart in her mouth as he read over it with a concerned look. Even with the bursary, the remaining fee had still been substantial, and Mikasa's father had taken on three jobs to scrape up the sum. She still remembers their conversation at the train station.
"I'll come back to visit often, I promise."
"Don't. Remember Mikasa, you are going to college to get top grades so you can earn a good living and make something of your life. Never lose sight of your goal. It is only three years, there will be plenty of time to visit after you have graduated and found a job."
Her father's earnest expression and fierce tone had been enough for her to take his words to heart. And she had followed his advice (almost) unerringly until tragedy had struck in her penultimate year of university.
Levi nods silently. He does not need to ask, nor does she need to tell him. He had been around when it had happened and had seen her at her weakest.
Mikasa tips back the rest of her drink, pushing the memories to the back of her mind. She wonders whether his civility is just a façade to get him through tonight. She likes to think that it isn't.
"I'm guessing you want another drink," he suddenly says.
"…Yeah. You going for OJ again?"
"Maybe. Drinks are on me this time. Another daiquiri?"
She nods mutely.
"Then sit still and try not to cry while I'm gone."
Mikasa watches Levi approach the bar, melancholy momentarily forgotten. Could he still read her moods the way he used to so many years ago? Out of the corner of her eye, she notices the medieval troupe leave the stage. Another group of musicians, headed by a female singer with long tresses, sultry eyes and pouty lips, takes their place. The guitarist strums a soft chord, and the singer begins her song.
I lost myself on a cool damp night
Gave myself in that misty light
Was hypnotised by a strange delight
Under a lilac tree
The atmosphere, tinted by the haunting melody, has Mikasa creeping back into her college days. She thinks about the first few months of her degree. As a starry-eyed freshman, she had spent nights studying in her room and had tackled assignments with fervour, quickly distinguishing herself as the best in her year. Then on an errant club night where she had been dragged out by Hange, she had met a boy with the most vivid green eyes she had ever seen. Later, she learned his name was Eren Jaeger, that he was a philosophy major in her year, and that he loved to party. Those green eyes had instigated a wild goose chase for his attention that had sent her toppling out of the top ten in the mid-terms. She grimaces at the embarrassing memory of weeping over a tub of ice cream at the shame of being an academic failure and the certainty that she would be a spinster forever.
Shortly after, she had gathered her resolve and moved to the library to motivate herself to study. There, she had found Levi, the star philosophy student a year above her. Under his patient guidance, her grades, if not her love life, had rebounded spectacularly.
She looks over at her companion, who is still at the bar and engaged in a seemingly intense discussion with Onyakopon. In typical Levi style, he has the bartender looking extremely concerned. She thinks back on their nights together in the library: the grousing when one of them made an illogical argument, the brusque pep-talks (of which she was more receiver than giver), and the all-consuming debates that turned hours into seconds. There had also been the humanising moments, like the time she had found him dozing in the library with his head on a copy of Seneca's Letters from a Stoic, or the time he had cooked her dinner when she was stressing over a particularly difficult exam. Although Mikasa had found it difficult to juggle her academic studies with her unrequited feelings for Eren, Levi, in his grouchy, lackluster way, had nevertheless made that time of her life special. Knowing him as she did, she found it strange how most people seemed to be afraid of him. He wasn't as intimidating or as foul-tempered as he appeared, if one only took the time to understand him.
I made wine from the lilac tree
Put my heart in its recipe
Makes me see what I want to see
And be who I want to be
She snaps to as the subject of her thoughts returns to their table. "Fairy Oberon over there has a tough time keeping it together," he says, setting her drink before her. Something sparks in his eyes. It reminds her a lot of triumph.
She glances quickly at Onyakopon, who is wiping sweat off his brow with a dishcloth. "I guess he didn't expect an ass to appear."
"Aren't you the poet tonight?" Levi snorts.
She takes a sip of her daiquiri and looks at him, amused. The buzz from the drink flushes her with warmth and emboldens her.
When I think more than I ought to think
I do things I never should do
I drink much more than I ought to drink
Because it brings me back you
As the drums pick up a slow, steady beat, Mikasa puts her hand on Levi's. "Let's dance."
His gaze shifts quickly to her hand before returning to her eyes, the look that reminds her of triumph turning into something more like hesitation. "I don't dance."
"Yes, you do. What about that club night in your last year?"
"You weren't in your right mind then. Someone had to babysit you and keep you from doing something stupid. Not that I made much of a difference in the end."
In her loosened state she has tread a little too close to forbidden territory. Be careful, she tells herself. But surely, one little dance can do no harm. Not after five years.
"I'm in the right frame of mind now," she says. Levi glances once again at the band.
"It's a slow song."
"Then you should be glad for your two left feet." She huffs in mock exasperation. "You know, most would kill to be asked to dance with a beautiful young lady."
He looks at her oddly, and for a moment, she fears she has overstepped. But suddenly, Levi takes her hand and leads her towards the dance floor, which is empty despite the larger crowd in the room. She suddenly feels self-conscious and almost pulls them back towards their seats, but Levi arrests her in place. He moves their joined hands to the side, places his free hand on her waist, and rocks slowly from one foot to another, lulling her into a slow sway. Mikasa closes her eyes, soothed by the feel of his strong, warm body against hers.
Lilac wine is sweet and heady, like my love
Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, like my love
Listen to me, I cannot see clearly
Isn't that she, coming nearly here?
Somewhere amidst the colourful lights and the languorous music, she forgets herself. She leans into her dance partner and inhales his cologne. Her eyes shoot open with the unique scent. It is too little to push back, and too late to be careful.
The fragrance triggers a wave of memories that overwhelms her.
Tears splashing onto a picture of her parents. Emotions and rational thought alike, dissolving into a gaping chasm of loss. Hange and Sasha ushering her into a club as Levi trails behind, grumbling. The loud boom of EDM music pounding her sorrow away. Bitter, burning alcohol dulling her senses. A strong, warm embrace and the scent of patchouli. A surge of emotion, jumbled in confusion. In that confusion, the knowledge of that warm embrace traded for the experience of a stranger's outstretched hand. Eren's hand.
Jean-Paul Sartre would have approved, she muses ruefully.
Lilac wine is sweet and heady
Where's my love?
Lilac wine, I feel unready
Where's my love?
Listen to me, why is everything so hazy?
Isn't that she, or am I just going crazy, dear?
She screws her eyes shut and throws her arms around Levi's neck. She chokes back a sob when she feels his arms encircle her waist, pressing her close and enveloping her further in his nostalgic scent. The truth of the moment, then and now, is something she remembers with terrifying vividness. But what if it is too late to turn back?
Maybe they can stay here, cradled in this pretend happily-ever-after, forever and ever.
But even this wish she is not granted, for the singer concludes her song in a heartfelt exhalation. Mikasa pulls herself away reluctantly as the music dies down and the vacuum fills with sparse applause. The musicians begin a lighter song, and the mood is thoroughly broken.
"Another drink?" Levi asks. She shakes her head. "Let's sit down then."
As they walk back to their table, their phones buzz. Mikasa fishes her phone out of her pocket, aware of Levi's hand slipping from hers to do the same.
It is Eren, replying to Levi in the group chat.
Sorry for the slow reply. Out of town, got called to my parents' place last minute. Have fun without me!
She looks up in time to see Levi reading the same message with a furrowed brow. She anticipates his next question.
"So what happened with you two?"
"We broke up last year. I got over him."
"I figured that much. Did he leave you, or did you leave him?"
She feels uncomfortable with the grilling. But with Levi, it is always easier to answer his questions than to prevaricate.
"I did. I caught him sleeping with Historia – one of the other girls in my year." She pushes away memories of a dark house, soft moans, the rustling of bedsheets, and between them, familiar faces that made her feel foreign in her own flat.
He looks at her intensely. "Sorry about that."
"Don't be. We'd been coming up to five years at that point, so obviously I still hurt a little when I think about it. But looking back, there hadn't been a lot of chemistry between us. I think…I think I had just fallen for a pair of brilliant green eyes and grown comfortable with them. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Surely you didn't only realise this after you broke up," Levi points out.
"Yes. No – I don't know. He was good to me for the most part. I figured he was my second chance at being happy, because I'd already lost my…my best chance." She blushes at the admission. He gives her a cryptic stare and then looks away, as if lost in thought. She wonders whether anything she has said makes sense to him, or if he is now thinking of an excuse to leave the crazy, rambling woman sitting next to him.
She searches for a subject, latching onto one not far-removed enough from her thoughts.
"So, now you know about me…are you seeing anyone?"
His gaze flicks back to her.
"Maybe."
"What do you mean?"
"It's…on and off."
"…Oh." She forces a neutral look. "Is it Petra?"
After that night at the club, Mikasa had spent weeks mulling over her feelings. But when she had finally mustered the courage to confront Levi, she had been unable to find him in their study corner, in the dorms, or anywhere else on campus. Then she had learned from Hange that he had already finished his finals and moved in with a red-haired freshman called Petra. Apparently, they had met at the club after she had gone home with Eren. The discovery had had Mikasa agonising over a world of 'what ifs' before picking up the phone and asking Eren out on a coffee date.
"No. It's another girl." He runs a hand through his hair and stares at a spot on the table. "I know how I feel. Known for a few years now. But she hit a rough spot and then went off with someone else. We fell out of touch until recently."
Mikasa recalls that Levi, whilst usually plain-spoken, becomes cryptic whenever it comes to discussing matters that are sentimental or close to his heart. Like the time she had dragged him to her room to watch Studio Ghibli's heart-wrenching Grave of the Fireflies together. He had insisted that there was a crack in the ceiling dripping water onto his face. She had not needed to question him further. He had stayed resolutely in his seat and kept the box of tissues beside him throughout the film.
Because of that, Mikasa is left to guess at who he is talking about. It sounds eerily like a watered-down (and rather kind) version of what she had gone through, but she doesn't dare entertain the notion. Instead, she tries to play off the tension. "That's a little sentimental coming from you. I didn't think you were the kind of guy who would wait around for a flake."
A troubled look crosses his eyes. "I didn't wait. But that didn't change how I felt."
Another piece of information that fits into her incomplete puzzle. She berates herself for her insensitivity and tries again.
"Do you…want more?" Stop searching for answers you don't want!
His troubled look persists for a few seconds before dissolving into something softer. It looks like a peaceful kind of regret. She searches for the word that describes his look.
"Yes."
She has another piece; the word for his look. Resignation. Her heart flutters and stutters at once.
"If you feel that strongly about her after so long…even after everything that happened between you and her…you should tell her how you feel," she says, her voice just barely audible above the music.
"I told her a while ago. But that made her disappear," he says softly. Suddenly, his hand is on hers.
The puzzle is complete. She trembles at the miracle of a second chance.
"Then try again."
"Will she run away again?"
She inhales sharply and forces herself to meet his gaze. Twin points of steel determination boring into her soul, sifting through the debris in search of her truth.
"No, she won't."
"Not even with the bartender?" He jerks his head at Onyakopon. Mikasa's eyes widen. She imagines him earlier that night, watching with envy as she laughed at Onyakopon's charm and wit.
"You weren't telling him to leave me alone, were you?" She hisses.
"Maybe."
"I can take care of myself!" She says indignantly. Deep down, she loves the feeling of being wanted. But this one is for the feminists.
"I know. At the end of the day, you can decide to leave with whomever you want. But I've decided not to let you leave with someone who could break your heart again."
"Is there only one person on your safe list that I can go home with tonight?"
"Yes."
"Then we are at an impasse." She crosses her arms and tries to suppress her amusement at his irate look.
"How do you figure?"
She blushes slightly. "That person is the only one who could break my heart."
She feels his hand on hers, pulling her into a tight hug. His warm breath tickles her ear, whispering three words that mean something so great that they could not possibly be little. She inhales his earthy patchouli fragrance and is reminded of the knowledge of his warm embrace.
Her heart swells with happiness. She takes his words and makes them her own.
And so it happened, in the magical bar called SouLala, that souls collided and dreams revived.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please leave a review and let me know what you think!