"Why don't we make a deal?"
Those words. Those six little words, one monumental sentence which forever changed the trajectory of his life. Plucked up from one hell, thrown cruelly into another. Different life, different players of an equally fucked up game. Just as hellish.
Though perhaps not intentionally, not without regret. As much as he told himself that word didn't exist in his vocabulary, how could it not?
Those six words spoken to him by Erwin. Spoken to him with his face full of dirt, clothing torn and pride demolished. With the sounds of Isabel and Furlan's struggles filling his ears, attempts to pull themselves free from the soldiers which held on tight. Spoken while Levi glared up into those hellish blue eyes, teeth ground together as he swore revenge; swore to kill the man who dared corner him like a caged animal.
Later to find he had been living like a caged animal all along. Still so, years later when above the ground. Just blindly, tethered to the very man who saved him in a way which took everything. But that was okay, something which he felt no anger or hostility towards anymore. Because in the end, it took everything from him as well.
Erwin.
This world, his life, his hopes and fears. Took everything in an instant, one so foolish now with the clarity of many years to look back at it and wonder why: why did he choose to let Erwin die? Why had he ever considered forcing him to live?
Why did it ever have to fall on him to choose in the first place?
A relationship so complicated to explain, so complicated to sort out for himself that it left Levi's mind boggled. Wondering where he went wrong, if he went wrong. Where they would be today, if… no – pushing that thought from his mind. What ifs were dangerous and far too powerful over the weak; and regardless of all his strength, his accomplishments, of how the others all looked at him – a terrifyingly amount of time in life, Levi felt exactly that.
Weak.
Unable to save him. Unable to understand if he wanted to be saved. Dying a martyr, a sarcastic chuckle escapes Levi's lips. You would love that – wouldn't you, Erwin?
Unspoken bonds and promises, unspoken about how much one meant to the other. Reciprocated, Levi believed. No – he knew. It was exactly that: one equally important to the other. Forced to do things in life one shouldn't have to for another human, yet Levi knew how much Erwin cared. Sometimes the world creates monsters from necessity, sometimes it's hard to recognize the ones you love for exactly that. A monster.
Another chuckle, perhaps a good person with monstrous moments – that's his preferred way to think of it. One more, though this laugh is far less filled with amusement, instead gloom and depression upon realizing another which bears his last name who likely clings to that sentiment as well.
A good person. Monstrous moments. That is all.
A lump in his throat and so he swallows, willing his mind to clear these thoughts of the past. They're never particularly useful, always leaving him stuck. Feeling caught, unable to move.
"Why don't we make a deal?"
Who knew if there were more consequential words spoken before in this world. To Levi, there were not. Yet suddenly, the moment he has that thought, he knows it to be a lie. For there certainly are…
"I will take down the Beast Titan."
Heavy. Who knew words could leave a person feeling so very heavy? So very tired.
And mostly, so very sad.
Hand furiously digging through my bag as I stand under the small light placed above the door, rooting for the key in which I've been given in order to let myself in before the shop's hours. It's been a few days now of me coming to paint here, shapes of a mountain slowly emerging from a mess of rough and rudimentary lines. Very slowly… I did warn him.
Ah, there it is. I notice my fingers are a little less shaky today, a little less nervous as I slip into the small shop and lock the door behind me. Perhaps because I've been coming here for nearly a week now or perhaps because I know there's no one inside. Though the conversation has been uncharacteristically smooth, words seemingly flowing from one of our mouths throughout the day.
Quite funny, actually – one will say something and then silence fills the space between us for up to an hour at times, then an answer is slowly called over as if it had been mere moments. Somehow, it works well that way. Our minds immediately picking up the conversation again; to anyone else it would look absurd, like a random calling out of words – surely this cannot be a conversation. But it works.
I guess I've made a new friend, just as strange as I.
Well, is that what we are? I suppose we must be, glancing down at the tiny key placed within my hand. For I am not an employee, though I did my best to provide a description of a certain tea once to an elderly lady. Eyes squinted, doing her best to read the tiny label so I offered to read it for her. Levi promptly came over to snatch it from me, claiming the label was useless in truly describing the tea.
"But why are they on there, then?" I later asked him.
"They come from the manufacture." He frowns while placing the tin back on the shelf. Apparently, much more adept at describing a tea than the one who made it and hey, it must be a fact because just in the short week I've been here, there are many repeat customers.
Placing the keys back in my bag, my mind pulls to the present moment where I shrug and decide that yes, we are friends. Why would he give a key to someone who wasn't? Because regardless of my mere attempt at helping out that day, I am no employee.
Blinking up at my work, I sigh and wish for it to start looking more like a mountain and not a mess but that's the process, truly. It always looks a little wild – and to be quite honest, like shit – before all of a sudden morphing into something which the average eye would nod and concede yes, that does look like a mountain.
I mumbled something yesterday about just that, how you can't judge the final results by the beginning and he merely stared at me for a few moments before nodding and calling over, "I wasn't judging."
Wasn't judging? Isn't that just something we all do, instinctively? I've found myself becoming increasingly curious about this man the last few days, wondering how such an unusual person can exist over here and I'm just meeting them. He's not a particularly easy one to get to know; though nor am I.
He likes tea. He enjoys cleaning, was a soldier. He's not judging.
The small list of facts which I've acquired and then I find myself wondering, what would his list look like… the list of tiny truths he's learned about me?
After a quiet hour of adding to my pile of strokes and lines, I hear the tiny bell above the door jingle and turn around to see him nodding towards me, his morning greeting, so I send one back in return. "It's getting colder out there." I call out while staring at the newly turned leaves outside. Oranges and reds slowly claiming the withering greens bring a smile to my face; I do love Fall.
No answer – not that I was particularly expecting one. He walks over to the register and begins to prepare the place for opening while I turn back to my work. Silence fills the air for quite a while until the bell rings out a customer and I hear him answering a few questions about a specific tea.
Once they leave, he comes over to offer me a freshly brewed cup and takes a seat down in the chair closest to where I paint, calling over "You're right, it is."
Holding back a soft chuckle, I think back to what I had last said… Ah, it's getting colder out there. Turning to look at him with a smile, "Do you like Fall?"
"Does one like seasons?" He slightly raises an eyebrow as if I've amused him.
"Wha-what?" I startle. "You don't prefer certain times of the year over others?"
A shrug of his shoulders, I suppose no – he does not.
"Don't you have seasonal teas? Summer teas? Winter teas?"
As if I've never said such a preposterous thing before, he narrows his eyes and answers "I stand by these teas just as much in the summertime as I do in the winter. Why would one enjoy a tea for only a quarter of the year?"
Well, he has a point. Shrugging my shoulders, I nod and take a sip of my tea. Apparently, the one I'll be served here from the springtime through to fall. Back to painting, another customer enters and my ears drift off a little more than necessary in listening to their conversation. His words are like poetry when suggesting a strain, it's pleasant to listen to.
He said something similar the other day: the noise of my brushstrokes are calming. A tiny smile as I think about how much more comfortable we seem to be in the silence. Well, not quite silence I suppose; words are not the only sounds which can bring a person solace. Sometimes, it's simply the mere presence of another. Sometimes, it's the little things. The very little things which bring delight.
The next time we speak is when he's letting me know he'll be stepping out for a bit over lunch. Seemingly unbothered in sticking with regular hours, I watch as he flicks the sign over to CLOSED and heads out. After a few moments, I'm suddenly noticing that I'm missing another dish to wash my smaller brush and so I head out back, confident that he must have paper cups somewhere in here and just not the ceramic mugs which are served to the customers.
Opening a few cupboards, I stumble across something which I wasn't meaning to find but curious eyes can't help but stare. Though I do feel a little guilt for quite possibly snooping, it was just laid out in the open and not hidden very well. A train ticket. Unstamped and dated a week ago, destination to one of the secluded villages only a few hours away, along with a green stoned pendant resting by its side. A curious thing, my finger brushes against the smooth stone before a noise from behind causes me to startle.
A clearing of the throat… he's back.
"Oh, hi." I blink a few times before motioning towards the ticket and necklace. "Sorry, I was looking for paper cups and came across this."
No answer, just a stare before he walks over to another shelf and pulls out a stack. "Thanks," I nod while walking over to grab them. "Um… I wasn't trying to be nosey but… that train ticket, you never went. Was there a trip you were meaning to take?"
Still, no answer and I notice his eyes have become slightly more narrowed, slightly more irritated as he stares out at me. "I ask because I just… I hope I haven't been the reason for that. I can paint anytime if you need to go?"
No answer. Heavens, I've upset him… A quick turn, he goes back out into the shop and for the rest of the day and I'm left missing the few words which would typically be spoken as it appears I'm being given the silent treatment. Missing the sound of him confidently telling customers about the tea because his voice is curt and cranky in the few recommendations he does make. Desperately wondering what I've done, desperately wondering if apologizing would make it better or worse. Instead, I just remain silent. Silent because I'm awful at this, human interaction.
It never gets better, awkwardness filling the air as I indicate I've finished for the day and will be leaving. Barely a nod is given from his place behind the counter as I slip out of the door, rushing home with a little more urgency to plop down on the sofa and run through how best to get out of this mess. Determined that a poor apology is better than none at all – because truly I mean it, I am sorry to have upset him – I vow to do as such tomorrow morning.
I'd made a friend. It's been years.
I wish not to lose them.
The next morning, I watch with nervous eyes and trembling fingers as he walks into the shop. Preparing my planned apology when suddenly, I find myself being given one instead. "I shouldn't have reacted that way." He mumbles with lowered eyes.
"I shouldn't have been snooping through your things." I offer a weak smile in return. "Though I truly wasn't intending to, I was honestly looking for cups."
I watch as he nods and prepare to get back to my painting yet he starts speaking again. "I've never travelled. This is only the second place I've ever been and… I read about this shrine where they say you make offerings of old mementos belonging to those you've lost."
"Oh!" I nod, "You mean the Kasuga Shrine, I know exactly the one."
He hums, "I bought a ticket to go; that pendant belonged to someone… someone who was important to me." Shrugging his shoulders, "Didn't have the courage to follow through with it."
Oh… my heart drops a little. "I thought of going there a few years ago," I whisper back, "but I also never found the strength. I only have a few things left of my husbands and…" a deep sigh, "it's hard to part with them."
Levi's jaw tenses and I'm wondering if this is where our conversation will end, yet he continues once more. "They were… I guess the closest thing would be service accomplishments. This one belonged to a man that I watched die… a man who I was responsible for allowing to die."
His face looks pained, mind pulled back to an earlier hell so I clear my throat to capture his attention. "I'm sure it wasn't. Your fault, that is."
"It was." Levi mumbles back. "I had a choice between two soldiers and I chose the other. Used to think it was his time; now I have no idea."
"I'm sorry," I lower my eyes. "I can't imagine. Was he… a close friend of yours?"
Levi's eyes flick up to mine as he furrows his brow a little as if in thought. "I don't know what he was, anymore." He frowns, "Perhaps he was. Perhaps it was more than that."
A soft sigh, I lightly nod my head. "Those are the trickiest of relationships."
He hums, quietly agreeing before nodding towards the shop's door. "I should get back to work."
My face blushes a little as I mumble the same.
Returning home that evening, immediately I draw a bath and feel muscles relaxing as I lean back into the warm water to soak. Unable to stop thinking about what Levi had told me earlier; unable to stop wondering what that would feel like: to be someone which he considered a close friend – or perhaps something more, he had said. How does someone get so close to one who pushes away?
Merely a curiosity, nothing more. Certainly not a wish to actually become close to him. Certainly not. Merely an interest, a wondering. Finding it a little hard to believe, that's all.
By the time the water's run cold and my fingers run wrinkly – well, the one which hadn't been clasped onto a wine glass, at least – I slowly peel myself from the tub and make my lazy way to the bedroom. A robe wrapped carelessly around my body as I slowly lower down to the closet floor; a familiar place, yet one I've not visited in quite a while. Can't tell if that's a pleasant thought or a painful one, if I'm being honest.
Which I so rarely am, these days. Honest. A sarcastic chuckle, more of a sharp breath out. In regards to feelings, at least. Those seem to be the most difficult times to bare honesty.
Hands grab at the familiar drawer, the one which is barely empty yet my sweaters and shoes are crammed into the other ones nearly falling down to the floor in a chaotic mess but I'd never replace this drawer. This one is special. Slowly and shakily peeling back the plastic bag – yes, I've stored it in here for a purpose. It keeps the scent; a little, at least. I'm desperate.
A black pocket square. Not a particularly nice one, not a particularly expensive or fashionable one. Just a plain black pocket square which belonged to my husband – one of the few pieces I have left of him; and most importantly, one which I've held, stained with a few too many tears than I care to admit, one in which I've fallen asleep in this very spot with arms wrapped tightly around it. Where I find myself this evening, a few less tears but arms just as tight. Thinking back to the pendant, thinking back to how I understand the need for secrecy.
Someone walking in upon this closet to find me foolishly clasped to a pocket square? Oh, no – I most certainly would not like that. So, yes… I understand just how very much privacy I've intruded upon and I wish to make it just a little better but have no idea of where to even start. So, I merely fall asleep. Wondering if he'll be speaking to me tomorrow when I show up to paint. If his honesty will have catapulted him back into silence. Truly, I wouldn't blame him. It's a scary place to be living in: an honest one. Out there for everyone to see – admittingly, I'm not the best in that particular area.
Hopefully, he'll be speaking to me tomorrow.
A new day, a new hope that somehow we can just slip back into the past by a few days and pretend this all hadn't happened. A silent chuckle as I realize oh how much more I could do for us if granted the wish to slip back into the past. Mind quickly pulled to the countertop which he stands behind, nervous eyes watching as his bangs loosely sway from the cast-down position of his head, diligently working away in sorting out labels, measurements – those sorts of things.
I attempt to slink by, knowing that darn little bell has revealed my whereabouts and also knowing he's far too stealth for me to dare consider being able to surprise but nonetheless, my footsteps are significantly lighter than normal. Desperately just looking to avoid another awkward confrontation, truthfully.
"Lilette."
His voice sounds pained. Tense. Am I getting fired? Heart begins to skyrocket as I find myself foolishly wondering, can one be fired if never hired?
"Hi." A voice far too quiet to contain any sort of bargaining in this impending dismissal walks over to give a far too weak smile. I'm nervous, it spills out from me. Even if it hadn't, though, I'd wager he'd know. Seems to be one who can easily pick up on those sorts of things in people: weaknesses. Another thought I'm unsure… frightening or merely a fact?
"About yesterday," he looks pained. Face tensed into practically a symphony of pain: eyes narrowed – no eye contact, of course – lips angled slightly downward into a frown, cheeks taut. "I apologize for oversharing."
Curt, clean and to the point – exactly that way I would imagine an apology spilling out from those lips, yet wondering why in heavens I'm receiving one this morning. "Levi!" I take a step forward as he takes one to retreat, pulling his attention back to me; his eyes to mine for the first time this morning. "I – I should be the only one to apologize for what happened."
Still pained, still tense as he merely nods a little and begins to resume in his retreating.
"It, um…" clearing my throat. "It didn't feel like that, by the way." He looks at me with minimal confusion and so I clarify. "Oversharing, I meant. It… didn't feel like that. I appreciate you telling me. Truly, I do."
Less tense, or still tense but less taut? Sometimes I get wrapped up in the semantics but nonetheless, his face looks less uncomfortable. The important part, almost a smile upon those lips. Almost – not quite, but that's okay. Almost a smile upon mine in return.
Mind filled with too much adrenaline from what I dare say feels like a bonding moment, filled with far too much optimism as I take a deep breath to suggest the very unlikely… but you never know. "We could go one day?"
"What?" He halts, now the tenseness has spread to his body – worse than before, even – so I should really just stop talking or try to play this off as if I've suggested a casual walk in the park but oh no, I continue. "To the shrine… if you wanted to, we could go some day…?"
No answer. Heavens, Lilette, cut your losses! Shut the hell up and end this conversation now. Unfortunately, I continue. "Wouldn't even need to buy a train ticket," a weak smile is offered. Please take pity upon me and pretend I've never mentioned this. "We could take my car?"
Ah, I've done it. There it is: the silence. The painfully awkward silence as he freezes for a few moments before walking away to take his spot behind the counter and I take mine upon the back of the shop. Still provided my weekly wage in tea, yet served quietly and with clear absence of any conversation, of anything really. Not even a nod.
I have a habit of placing my foot in my mouth, of taking things too far. Talking not enough or too much, a speciality which feels anything less than special and one I would hurl away in an instant. A deep sigh, my eyes flick back to him and wish I had just left it at the first part of our conversation.
A very, oh so very long day slowly passes. Occasional chatter fills the store only when customers come in. Am I the world's slowest painter or did I accomplish nothing today, merely standing in thought while desperately attempting to solve this mess. A sharp clearing of his throat indicates it's closing time, I need to leave and so I grab my coat after closing up the paints. Turning around to find him standing there with a strange look upon his face.
"Okay." A quiet mumble sent my way. Confusion at first but then eyes widen, is this what I think it is? "When would you like to go?" His eyes raise up to meet mine.
"Oh," I blink a few times, dumbfoundedness slowly washing away. Or perhaps not as I find myself shrugging my shoulders and smiling, "Now?"
It's nearly three in the afternoon, a two-hour drive to the shrine sounding a little ridiculous for it to just be done on a whim but suddenly he's nodding and I'm finding myself mumbling about returning to my apartment to retrieve a memento. Suddenly he's following me and I'm glancing back from the doorway to plea an excuse the mess. Thankfully, not entirely that messy because another thing I can tell is that a mess most certainly would not be excused.
My eyes linger on him standing in my living room a little longer than what is likely acceptable, mind unable to wrap around seeing him in a place which is so… different and mine. The brain does that, doesn't it? You can see someone everyday: see them in a setting which is normal – the tea shop, the cemetery… Okay, perhaps those two don't sound normal per say, a little odd combination I suppose which forces a chuckle, but then to see them all of a sudden in your house. It's startling, to say the least.
"I'll just be a moment." I bow, pulling myself to the closet and finding legs trembling as I stare down at the place where I've stashed the pocket square. Unsure of how long I end up frozen in here, no comprehension if he's called my name for the very fact that my heartbeat seems to have resettled to inside my ears. Its furious pounding blocking out nearly everything with the exception of a very frantic thought, repeating over and over that I'm not quite ready to forfeit something so…
I can't. Not the pocket square.
Hands reaching in another drawer, pulling out an old and worn leather wallet. This will do… Leather holds less of a person's smell, hence…
Not the pocket square.
"Okay!" I rush back out to the living room, finding my guest to be browsing through my bookshelf with a curious look. "Sorry for the wait." I smile apologetically.
"No problem." He softly nods, a shaky breath as he clears his throat to mumble, "Shall we?"
A nod of my head. We shall.
The car ride isn't quite as painfully awkward as I expected it to be. I'd forgotten how comfortable we both find the silence when it's not driven by anger or frustration, yet merely in the absence of a need for words. Part of me wonders if the shrine will be a difficult walk for him, stealing a glance over at his cane, knowing that he already looks a little bothered in not being able to share some of the driving. Not that it bothers me – I never did any of the driving before and so truthfully, I sort of like it.
"Thanks for this." He mumbles over while stretching his neck.
"It's not the nicest, but beats a train – hmm?" I smile.
"No, I mean…" his voice dies off, but I know what he means. For suggesting this, so I quietly whisper over… "You're welcome."
Two hours later, we arrive at the entrance way and both let out shaky breaths while glancing ahead at the crowd before us, preparing to enter. Well, a group of five – not likely a crowd in the true sense but in moments such as these, it might as well be.
"Let's do this?" I force a weak smile while stepping out of the car. Eyes shifting over to his as nervousness begins to wash over me until I see his steady nod. His voice calming the tingling sensation in my fingertips as he answers, "Let's."
Thankfully, it's not a long walk yet one which seems to be never-ending. Almost as if some infinite time loop has been established here which causes one step forward to place us two back. Or perhaps it's just the heaviness which has settled within my knees, causing legs to move at an alarmingly slow pace.
"I'm nervous." Words barely whisper out from my mouth as I feel that familiar need to turn and run. Almost considering it, hips almost shifted backwards as I suddenly have a warm hand pressed against my lower back – not quite an arm around the waist which I am thankful for because surely that would have me half way back to my car in this moment, more of an encouragement. A friend lending a bit of strength to the other as we make the final climb, make the final few steps to place us standing before the shrine with wide eyes and shallow breaths.
Gulp. I glance around at the others placed along the temple, attempting to pick up their actions as to replicate them. What are we supposed to do, now?
"I think we place the items in this basket." He points towards something while looking at me, "Then they're burned."
"Oh." I nod, not having realized I said that aloud. Or had I? Perhaps he just knew.
A deep breath, this feels real and heavy. Far too real. I'm panicking a little and so he takes pity upon me, opting to go first when he pulls out a small patch of green cloth before gently leaning forward to place it on the platform.
Brow furrowed, I look at him in a bit of surprise. Not the pendant… something else? I've caught sight of that color before, that material – I know what it means. It's from them, the… oh heavens, I can't remember what they call themselves but it's from over there, from Paradis. Part of their military – a cloak, I believe.
Not the pendant.
Now I have my answer: what side were you on.
"I…" He shifts uncomfortably, eyes no longer able to hold mine as he mumbles over, "couldn't… part with it just yet."
A soft and understanding smile stares back at him as I pull forth the wallet, mind pulled to the pocket square tucked safely back at home. "I understand," quietly I whisper while reaching out for one of his hands, fingers instantly returning the light pressure I place in gripping hold of them. "…Me too." Couldn't part with something just yet.
Difficult to explain the feeling which washes over me as we stand there, releasing the items to be thrown into the bright flame before us. As we light incense, as we listen to the shaman's prayers. Hard to explain the comfort I find from the feeling of his hand held tightly onto my own, of the warmness which emerges upon feeling a light pulsing of his fingers, questioning if I'm okay to leave.
Yes, I nod. I'm okay – feeling the sentiment to be true until we're half way back to the car and I find tears suddenly cascading down my face. "Overwhelmed," I quietly mumble, palms furiously wiping away what I wish for him to not see and yet I'm caught off guard by a soft fabric brushing against my cheekbone, eyes pulled to the white handkerchief which he's pulled out. Dabbing away the visible pain while suggesting we stop at a nearby café before our drive home, some time to rest and recover. I smile, thank you.
"What can I get you?" the server calls down while pulling out a tiny notebook.
"Um…" Heavens, my voice sounds shakier than I care for. Something warm, something soothing… something familiar. "I'll take one of these," I smile up towards her with a finger loosely pointed towards a fruity tea, wishing for my companion not to judge me too harshly for it.
"Sure thing." She nods before turning towards Levi. "What would you like?"
A little silence. "…I'll have the same."
"I'll be right back." The server nods before walking away.
Eyes flash up to him, I part my mouth open a little in shock. "Did – did you not see what I ordered? Levi, you should change it." I turn in my seat, eyes searching for the woman to call her back over. "You won't like what I –"
Suddenly cut off by the feeling of his hand grabbing mine, another squeeze – a light one to pull my attention back to him.
"I know what you ordered, Lilette." He softly chuckles and I find myself mesmerized at the smoothness of my own name upon his lips.
"Wha-why? You hate that kind of tea." I blink, confused and disoriented. A little scared for the answer, I suppose.
Levi merely shrugs his shoulders, pulling his hand back from mine before sending me a tiny smile. Eyes serious and genuine as he mumbles over something about 'trying to make you smile' and 'even if it means drinking one of those god-awful teas.'
"Oh." I whisper back in stupor. Entirely caught off guard by the sentiment. To make me… smile?
And, it worked. Before I knew it, a genuine smile had slipped over my lips and I found myself wondering… why?
Why would he care so greatly to see such a thing? To see me smile.
Not realizing that's been entirely what I've been attempting this entire week. Entirely the reason I suggested this trip in the first place…
To see him smile.
Perhaps a good thing that it's left unnoticed, perhaps something I'm not yet able to recognize or comprehend in this moment. Perhaps the reason I find myself lightheartedly laughing and sipping tea with him for the next hour, tear free. Care-free.
Two people sharing a pot of tea at a shrine meant for fallen lovers, friends, family. With soft smiles, just two people sharing two cups of tea.
It's kind of lovely.
Author's Note:
I think Levi & Erwin had something special. Undefined and complicated, perhaps unspoken – but special.
Thank you for reading & I hope you've enjoyed