**Italics represent flashbacks in this chapter**

Hell. Pure, unadulterated, without a doubt, hell. For this is surely what it felt like, every inch of his body set ablaze in hundreds of thousands of pinpricks, tiny little needles stabbing into his skin over and over. The sound of his horse screaming out in agony, the sound of titans ripping into flesh – flesh which he assumed belonged to himself at the time but would later come to realize they were ripping into their own. Carving a little pouch to carry that fucking asshole…

Bright light mixed in with periods of darkness, listening to the sound of something which almost appeared to be rippling water – or was it merely the rush of his own blood? Slowly trickling out of his body, slowly bleeding out.

Slowly dying.

Thank. fucking. gods. The thought loosely boggled around his mind, an odd sense of relief in knowing that he was finally, finally allowed to just… stop. Allowed to stop fighting, allowed to stop forcing forward. Trudging forward, really – because that's what every step in this miserable goddamn life of his had felt like. Always an uphill battle, never a brief moment to rest.

Endlessly fighting against every odd, always somehow losing more and more of himself with every decision. So, yes. Lying there in the dirt, water – wherever he found himself right now after being blown to bits by goddamn Zeke, it was finally time to close his eyes for good. Finally time to just lie down and die.

…Thank fucking gods.

"Levi?!" A quiet and hissed voice somehow made its way into his unconscious mind, hands brushing over his torso in a way which made him want to grab the person who was doing it and rip them away. Leave me alone, he plead. Just let me die, for fucks sake. Just... leave me alone.

"Levi?!" That voice, he let out an internal groan and a sigh, for he knew exactly who it belonged to. Exactly who was attempting to stop his wounds from bleeding. "I'll be back as soon as I can," they hissed down to him, "don't die!"

Fuck. This battle wasn't finished. His journey not quite over yet, it appeared. Not much of a fight left in him, though promises still left unfulfilled so apparently this world didn't feel even an ounce of mercy for his damned soul. No part of him wanting to pull up from this, no part of him wanting to carry on in what could only be some further twisted version of hell if Zeke had managed to escape and connect with his brother.

But standing before him, even with his eyes still closed, he could tell – was Hange. His friend and comrade since the early days of being a Scout, since when things were only minimally fucked up and not this newly realized purgatory which they stood in now. Standing before him was Hange, weak and wounded themselves, it sounded, desperately attempting to save his life and begging for him not to die.

Only for you, he silently groaned while finding one last little spark to ignite deep within himself. No one else would have brought his miserable soul back from this…

Only for you, Four Eyes.

And you, Erwin. He pulled forth the image of those hellish blue eyes. I have promises to keep… And then I'm fucking done.

Please just, let me be done.

Slight tremors in my fingers as I pick out the soft white fabric from within my pile of freshly cleaned laundry. Easily spotted, as white is a color I find myself buying very seldom. Also, it's been quite a while since I've purchased anything new and so yes, it's exceptionally easy to detect a small handkerchief mixed in among my linens. Mixed in among towels, a few articles of clothing, tangled in within a pair of clean intimates which has me blushing something fierce. Furiously blushing as I wonder if I should handwash it again, left untouched by anything of mine before returning it.

Carefully folding the corners to meet as I fold it into a neat little square. Placed upon my coffee table as I put the other items away into their respective places, coming back to plop down upon my sofa with blank eyes and stare.

It's old looking, yet not worn. Certainly not in poor condition and of course it should not come as a surprise that he is a man who gives great care to his few things. Still crisp white, I softly chuckle in imagining how many times he must bleach it. So much care given to such small little things, how does he find the time?

A sudden thought, I pick it back up to run it through my hands; terribly ruining the careful fold I've done and so it will be required again but I can't help it. Is this from over there? A morbid curiosity about the place, for how could I not? We all do – all of us over here, I imagine. Such strange land; opened up to others yet very small is the list of willing travellers. Too much secrecy, too many unknowns.

Too much damage sent from over there, but then I catch myself and quickly let out a soft sigh as I remember how they'd say the same in return.

Regardless, I wonder if it did… did this come from over there?

So, now I know. And he must know that I know, shouldn't he? Yes, I decide – he must. Though it's hardly something you can simply ask a person. Hardly something you can just drop nonchalantly in a conversation – though heavens, I can't help myself. Mind wondering endless questions, endless curiosities of what it's like. Of what his role in all of this was. He's older, my best guess would place him in mid to late thirties. Regardless of skill and age alone, I imagine he was one of their senior ranks?

Another soft chuckle, I place it away from my mind. For I know entirely nothing about our own military; why would I think myself adequate to dissect that of another's?

He doesn't wish to speak of it, that much is clear. Why do I care so much? Why do I find myself staring at this small piece of cloth as if in a trance? Perhaps I am convincing myself that is the only cause for my fascination, merely wondering where it came from. How many kilometers it's travelled across the sea is the only reason I have another man's handkerchief clasped tightly within my fingers, another man's and not the one stashed carefully away in my closet.

A deep breath, carefully folding the material before it's placed again on the table as I pull myself up to get ready for what is expected to be my final day in the tea shop. It's been a few days since our return from the shrine, only a few final touches required on the mural and then – it's all done.

My need to keep coming back to the tea shop, my daily interactions with him, I suppose. All done. Because how often can a person truly go in to purchase tea – once a week? If that?

Gulp.

Well, that's a good thing – isn't it? I've finished a painting for the first time in… oh gosh, quite a while. I've finished something, it's come to an end. Those are worth celebrating, aren't they? Endings. Means you've accomplished your goal, yet the clear absence of a smile is placed upon my face as I walk over to the coffee table; hand lingering over the handkerchief as I decide that it should be brought back with me today because it's my very last day and if it was forgotten, that would be an entire trip just to the little store in only to return such a tiny thing.

So, yes – I should bring it with me today.

Key in the lock, a little jingle from the bell above the door which I've come to enjoy the sound of its warmth spilling out into the silent air in the mornings, yet what I am not expecting is to find Levi already stationed behind the countertop.

"Oh," I startle a little, hand clasped over my heart. "You're already here." He's early. Why is he so early? "I wasn't expecting you for another hour."

"Looks like you'll be finishing today?" He nods his head towards the back of the shop.

I hum, a little nod and a soft smile. "Yes, I shouldn't be any longer than a half day."

A little flash of what I dare say looks like embarrassment runs through his face. Cheeks ever so slightly flushed as he nods and mumbles, "I wasn't sure if you'd have only an hour, or… less than that."

A sharp breath in. Eyes widen a little before I quickly force myself to look unbothered, natural as I try to – wait a moment,

Is that why you…

No, don't think about it. Push those thoughts entirely out of your mind because there's no point in wondering – Is that why you're here so early? A gulp to clear my increasingly dry throat. An hour early… was it… all to see me?

"I received a new strain yesterday." He clears the air – thank goodness. Holding up a small tin, a raised eyebrow and a half grin asking if I'd like to try it. Quickly nodding my head, pulling off my jacket to settle in for the day, yes please.

"Oh, Levi." I do my best to remain straight-faced, unable to make eye contact because I have a sneaking suspicion he is able to tell when someone lies. "I'm so sorry, I forgot your handkerchief. I've washed it and keep meaning to return it; perhaps I'll have to come by tomorrow or the next day."

Not an immediate response so I dart eyes up to him as he's pouring the tea, knowing I'll likely be safe from being caught when he's pulled into a task and I see something which I'm not entirely prepared for. A tiny smile, I swear it's there. He has a tiny smile on his face and I blush wildly.

"No worries." He clears his throat while pushing over the small cup, "I have many." I nod, staring down at the steam from my tea which dances through the air. Giving both of our eyes a focal point, both of us helplessly unable to stare at one another in this moment.

"Unless," he clears his throat and I find myself shifting up to look at him. "Are you using this as an excuse to continue coming back here?"

"Wha-what?" Heavens, if I thought I was blushing before – I dare not take a glance upon the mirror to see my complexion now.

"For free tea." He softly smirks, sending me something which almost looks like a wink – almost. And suddenly, I find my mouth parting open in astonishment because, he's teasing me. His eyes narrowed, just a little and not in annoyance or anything of the sort. One side of his lips curled, a light flashing through his adorably charming bastard, he's teasing me. And loving it, from the look upon his face. Loving making me blush, me squirm.

Well, this feels new. Doesn't necessarily feel like something he's done before. He's – no, he's not flirting. One can tease their friends, that's all.

"Caught me." I mumble while running a shaky hand over the smoothness of the countertop. Finger tracing the little groove of a particularly noticeable knot, I softly chuckle. "Red handed."

Shit. Of course that only brings his attention down to my hands which are a little too unsteady right now for his eyes to be cast upon; but if he notices, he's kind and merely chuckles before pulling himself back to sorting tea.

This is most certainly, unequivocally, undeniably new. Whatever this is between us, right now. I can hardly handle the heat radiating from my poor face and so I collect my teacup to head back towards the far end of the shop. Back to my safe place, my painting. Brush strokes a little more slower than necessary to make the true twenty minutes of work stretch to that half day I mentioned.

He knows, he must know.

"I don't like where this is going." My husband whispers over to me as my eyes glance down to take in the tenseness of his fingers, the tenseness of his entire body before I shift my vision back up towards the main stage to watch as Willy Tybur continues to captivate the audience with his carefully chosen words, carefully chosen images and shadows projecting across the large stage.

Do I necessarily disagree with my husband? No. I've long since come to understand just exactly how these people use us. How they twist our narrative until it supports that of their own; how they steal our children and force them into their training programs at such an early age it's unbearable; how they steak claim to not only our lives but our hearts, our minds – everything. Truly everything of ours belongs to Marley and so yes, I agree with my husband as I watch the Tybur speech unfold, but no – I do not wish for this conversation to continue.

"We can't speak like this here." I quietly plea, silently staring at him in a way which begs him not to continue. There are whispers of them over here, Eldian restorationists; existing in the shadows, sometimes hunted out and executed by the General and his men, but who's to say how many exist anymore. Sometimes, deep within the safety of our home, my husband mumbles his wishes to join them and I can barely bring myself not to scream in his face of the selfishness, of the carelessness.

Do I support their cause? Yes. Do I ever wish to do something of it? No.

A coward? Perhaps. I care not because this world is cruel and wicked to those who are brave. I have someone I love – that is terrifying. Love is what can be held against you, love is what can be crippling when its harshly ripped away. And so, no… I wish not for us to do something about the injustices of our people over here. No, I wish not for my husband to continue mumbling his concerns in this large crowd.

"Lilette," he frowns over towards me. "This is bad, this story he's chosen to reveal. Why now? Think! They're doing this all to –"

"…that our war with the forces of Paradis Island begins now!"

The last few words screamed out towards the crowd by Willy Tybur before hell breaks loose. Panic, screaming, crying and tears. Aimless running. My husband's hand grips tightly onto my own as we panic, as we furiously run through the crowd in a desperate attempt to break free, to get away.

Which we almost do – almost pulled ourselves from the mayhem when suddenly, a loud boom before our very eyes is caused by the Beast Titan crashing down onto the ground. Rubble from the nearby crushed buildings fall, one large piece in particular crashes down upon my husband's leg which brings him harshly to the ground. His voice hoarse as he cries out in pain, hands brought to his leg so that I'm unable to see the full damage. I cry out in hysteria while frantically scanning the area for someone who can help.

My eyes lock onto a man who has jumped down to land upon the Beast Titan. Locked onto the back of his head, as he faces the opposite direction – faces a few of the Marleyan soldiers with what I imagine is a look of smugness. Who is this man?! I cower, body trembling in fear as I realize one man has single-handedly brought down our most esteemed warrior.

Who is this man?

I dare not take the chance to find out. Another soldier suddenly reaching down to pull my husband from the ground, we wrap his arms around our shoulders and flee through the crowds. Thankfully able to escape, thankfully able to have a surgeon heal his leg over the next few weeks – healed for the most part. Still unable to place his full weight, still unable to run very fast or far. Still able to walk, yet unable to escape a month later when those giant titans appeared from the sea.

As I watch his hand slip away from mine, watch as his leg leaves him unable to run as fast as I… all due to his injury from when the Beast Titan fell. All due to that man.

The one with the raven hair. The one all dressed in black. The one who stood on top of the Beast Titan's body, stood there as if proud and relishing in the hell he'd brought over here.

Who was that man? I wonder if he died that day in the chaos. How poetic such a thing would be, to have died upon the same battlefield as my husband. Unsure of what even his face looked like, I find myself surprised at the static feelings towards him which stay in my heart over the next few years. Anger slowly slipping away for the island, for the soldiers of Paradis as I come to learn it's not merely so simple to label them the assholes.

But that man. That one man… for all he did,

I hate him.

"All finished." I call out while taking a step back, a held breath as I hear him making his way over to evaluate the finished product. It's good, very good and I'm quite pleased with myself actually but anxious to hear him echo the same sentiment.

"It's –" his brow furrows, sending my heartrate to skyrocket as he contemplates his next few words and I'm helplessly preparing myself to be okay after he says he doesn't like it. It's fine, art is subjective – I'm a little out of practice, I warned you. All responses I'm silently rehearsing for when the inevitable comes.

"It's more than I could have imagined." He finally speaks and I'm far too embarrassed at the soar of blood which rushes through up to my face.

"It's not quite as bad as I was expecting…" I softly laugh, encircling myself in self-deprecation. Another specialty of mine.

"No, Lilette." His head softly shakes, eyes still drawn up to the mural. "You undersold yourself. I owe you far more than just tea."

"No you don't!" I burst out into tiny giggles. "A wicked artist would change their price after the fact. Chalk it up to either my poor negotiation skills or the pleasantness of your tea," or your company, "and consider our terms of payment complete."

He lets out a soft chuckle, turning to stare at me in what I imagine is his last attempt to convince me yet suddenly stopped as his eyes trail down to stare at my lips. A noise so strangled escapes my throat, it hardly sounds human. More so sounds like the verbalization of fear as I find myself terrified of what his next movement will be. No, no, no – I'm not ready for this. A large gulp as I watch his hand reaching out, thumb moving forward to swipe against my bottom lip and I'm frozen. Entirely frozen as I feel the warmness from his –

"You had paint on your face." He swipes off a swatch of green, holding the tip of his finger up to demonstrate as he wipes it carelessly on a nearby napkin.

"Oh." I force out, weakly attempting to close my parted lips and push the embarrassingly silly thought free from my mind that he was even considering something else. Relief – surely, I should feel relief because in no way was I ready for such a thing. Yet I am feeling…

Not relief. I don't know what it is; hard to describe but… no, it's not relief.

"You did a really great job." He nods, taking a seat down in a nearby chair to study it further. "You should keep painting, you're very skilled."

"Ah," I blush some more while taking a seat as well. "…Thank you."

That little bell, set off by a customer who has no understanding of the moment they're interrupting as Levi quickly pulls himself from the seat to rush over in helping them. I wait a little, a few moments of listening in to figure out just how long this may take and find myself disheartened upon picking up hints of it not ending any time soon.

Well, entirely no point in my waiting around here anymore and so I begin to collect my things, sending a little wave over to indicate that I'll head out. Watching as he furrows his brow to nod. Slipping out of the door, back into my empty home I crash down onto the sofa and let out a long sigh.

It's over, no need to return. It's strange to consider I had spent entire days this way, alone and isolated in my tiny abode before I… well, before I met him. Perhaps I'll pick up painting, pick it up again just for fun. A quick glance down at these idle hands determines that it wouldn't be the worst thing I could do – no, certainly not. Something to fill the time; I hadn't realized just how very much I'd been craving such a thing.

A quick nap turned into something more, something much longer than I had been intending and so I'm slightly disoriented and hazy when I'm abruptly awoken to the sound of a knock upon my door. One of the neighbours? I yawn while making my way over to the tiny peephole. Light footsteps across the far-too-creaky floorboards as I'm not truly planning to open it… not really wishing to speak with anyone until I peer through to see who it is.

Heart stops. Levi? … Here? Now? …Why?

Holy shit. Quickly fumbling with my hair, whatever the equivalent of bed-head is for depression-filled-afternoon-naps-on-your-sofa.

"Lilette." His voice calls out. "I can hear you breathing in there."

Fuck fuck fuck. "Hi." A hesitant smile on my face as I open the door, doing my best to block the view of my kitchen which is most certainly a little messier than the last time we were here.

"You left." He frowns, leaning against the doorway while staring at me. "I wanted to say thank you."

"Oh, well – you were busy with a customer." I wave a hand, "I didn't want to bother you and figured I'd just stop by tomorrow with – oh, I suppose you could get your handkerchief back now." Disappointment slinks out into my stomach upon realizing I've just given away my one reason to return to the tea shop.

"You can keep it." He moves a little to the left and I know his eyes are taking in the mess but I'm too caught up to care because my brain in spinning…

…I can… keep it?

"I can't let this go," he shakes his head, pulling my focus back to him. "I owe you more than a few cups of tea."

"No, you really don't need to –" I begin to shake my head.

"Dinner?"

Oh.

I like to think of myself as a moderately well-educated individual; and perhaps that's being just a little bit modest because I usually find myself to be more knowledgeable than most, especially in language skills – a little hobby of mine I use to indulge upon as a child, skimming through my father's old dictionary and filling my adolescent brain with words you'd never hear one actually use these days, but I digress –

My point, I know a lot of words; quite a lot of words and yet, Mr. Levi Ackerman, you leave me without them so very often. Embarrassed to find out just how many times the word oh – if you can even call those two little letters such a thing – have stumbled out of my lips these past few weeks.

He clears his throat, "Unless… if you don't want to, it's fin–"

"No!" I quickly shake my head. "I mean, yes – I'd, um… that sounds nice. But you really don't have to! Only if, um – only if you want to?"

"I asked." He stares at me. "So, I want to."

"Right," I softly chuckle while foolishly bringing a hand up to tap against my head. Of course, that makes sense. "Um… when would you like to go?"

His lips curl up into a half smile as he shrugs his shoulders. "How about now?"

Oh, fuck. "Now sounds lovely."

So that is how I find myself running inside to quickly get changed into appropriate clothing – not my pajamas which I am so embarrassingly dressed in at the moment. Nothing too fancy as he's promised it won't be anything very formal, just a quick bite to eat at a local diner; and yet my heart is still pounding furiously as I grab a jacket from the coatrack to walk over and nod, I'm ready.

It's a short walk to the little spot he has in mind, a tiny little hole in the wall place where I've been meaning to try – catching glimpses of it on my walk to the local supermarket. A nod from the owner behind the bar causes me to turn around stare and at Levi with curious eyes. "Do you know him?"

"No." Levi shakes his head with an arm stretched out to direct me. "I come here often."

Do you? A raised eyebrow, wondering if by that he means by himself or…

"Far too often, I'm shit at cooking." He lets out a breath which sounds like a chuckle. "Usually I sit in the window with a book."

Ah. So, he's alone. "Thank you," I mumble as he holds out a chair. Finding all of this to be a little flustering, my mind frantically trying to sort out if this is a – no, it isn't. This isn't a date. "What's good here?" I glance down at the menu.

"Everything." He states with so much confidence that I immediately believe him. Hardly should I be surprised; I imagine if this man recommends a place, it's impeccable. "Where did you learn to paint?"

His question catches me off guard, nearly spilling the water which I've started to sip on. "Self-taught, mostly."

"That's impressive." He leans back in the chair, hands closing the menu as if he's already decided.

"How did you become so knowledgeable about tea?" I throw back while quickly skimming the page to find something which sounds good.

His lips curl into a small smile as he retorts, "Self-taught."

And the rest of the dinner seems to go just like that, one of us asking a question while the other listens. If I were a little more bold, I'd dare say we look like two people attempting to learn more about the other but, who's to say. So carefree and easy, it's almost like I don't have to endlessly fumble with the words in my head for a few moments before finally speaking – something which I rarely find myself able to do with people. Rare moments, rare people. Sitting here in this small restaurant feels as though it ticks off both of those boxes.

"I noticed you didn't sign it." He suddenly looks up at me.

"What?" My brow furrows.

"Your painting, you didn't sign it."

"Ah, no… no I didn't. Felt kind of silly to do such a thing." Bashful eyes glance down to my plate.

"You should come by to add your name. You know, so I don't forget who painted it." I glance up to catch the little look he's in the middle of giving me, the little playful smirk because we both know how unlikely that is: him forgetting… Those eyes almost whispering over, I wouldn't forget you.

"Okay." I concede. "How about tomorrow afternoon?" Heavens, do I sound terribly desperate? Suggesting to see him so soon?

"Tomorrow doesn't work." He frowns and I'm thrown into a pit of embarrassment, about to suggest something nearly two weeks into the future when he continues, "I was going to ask if you were attending the trial, but I suppose I have my answer."

"The… oh, that's tomorrow… is it?" Heat flushes to my face, I can hardly believe the date slipped past me. Not that I was ever truly expecting to go, but I am certainly aware of when one of them occurs. A wave of gloominess seems to always settle over the village, a darkness creeping in until they're over. Over until the next one.

A trial for one of the latest members of Marley – a government official, perhaps? Hard to say. Another one of those men who sat there in their beige suits, ordering heinous crimes. Part of the negotiated peace agreements with the other major Unions involved holding those here in Marley accountable and so a few times a year, we have a public trial set where the general public is welcome to witness the judge's sentencing.

"I haven't been to one before." I whisper over before stuffing my face with a bite of pasta, in desperate need for a change of subject.

"Neither have I." He nods. Silence fills the air for a few moments before he clears his throat to echo words which were spoken to him from me only a few days ago. "We could go sometime?"

Wide eyes, I involuntary smile a little at the cheekiness; at him using my words in offering to go with him to the shrine against me. Shit, he said yes to that. Does that mean I have to –

"You don't have to." He quickly adds, shrugging his shoulders so that we can merely return to this meal when suddenly I notice it: the look in his eyes. He doesn't want to go alone.

"I'll go." A rushed whisper is thrown out of my mouth before I can take it back. "I'll go with you."

"Then come back to add your signature?" He looks up. "Afterwards?"

"Sure," I laugh. "I'll come add my signature, afterwards." Then suddenly I realize that it wasn't merely me who made plans to see him again so soon. It's the other way around, perhaps. Or reciprocated – that's a nicer way to think of it. A less embarrassing way in knowing I'm not the only one who enjoys this man's company.

It's… reciprocated.

"Oh, also Levi is your subordinate now so manhandle him as you will."

"Four eyes…"

"You know it, Levi. My time has come… I want to go out with a bang, so please let me go."

"…Dedicate… your heart."

"Ha Ha! That's the first time I heard you say that…"

"See ya, Hange." Watch over us.

God damnit, Four Eyes. Levi sat within that tiny plane, blank eyes staring out at the group of kids – no longer kids, hadn't been for quite some time but that was always how he'd think of them. As they slammed angry hands against the plane's wall, their own blank eyes staring out the tiny circular windows at the scene below. At the scene of large feet crashing down upon Hange's body, somewhere down there in the cloud of smoke and chaos.

The last one of them to go. The latest one to leave him, to leave Levi hauling through this world on his own. Another glance up at the group before him and sure, he wasn't truly alone in the sense but in another yes, he was entirely alone.

Isabel, Furlan, Erwin, Mike, now Hange. The ones who had seen him in the darkest of moments, the ones given special permission to witness him in the absence of pain. The ones allowed to see his smiles – few and far between but contrary to what most believed, they were there. The ones who shared everything with him. All gone, the very last one to leave was Four Eyes. Hard to believe yet simultaneously not hard at all. They all left, no one made it through this hell with the exception of himself for some cruel and twisted reason.

I'll carry this for all of you, he closed his eyes to pull forth faint images of their faces. Faint images of their saddened smiles, of their loving eyes, opened arms – ones he'd be running into, shortly.

Hopefully.

A few more moments, a few more things to check off the list before he was done. Another glance at the soldiers before him, the very ones he watched grow from clueless cadets to a little less clueless men and women. As they grew, realizing that he was the clueless one all along. That they all were, really. A sarcastic chuckle escapes his lips, gaining the attention of a few of them as he silently relishes in the thought that perhaps cluelessness would be preferred to all of this.

Ignorance is bliss, isn't that what they say? Hell, he'd take some of that. Take some ignorance every now and then.

But no – truthfully, he wouldn't. Weary eyes brought up to the scene before him, brought up to the picture of open sky as they make their desperate way towards that Yeager brat. One more mission, one very last thing for him to do and then it's over, he'll be done.

Don't worry, Four Eyes.

I'll be there soon.

Click clacks echoing through the alleyway from our steps upon the cobblestone street, I steal a quick glance over at my companion and attempt to contain a smile which seems hellbent on appearing regardless of my effort. Walking silently beside one another, arm loosely brushing against arm a few times as one of us embarrassingly mumbles, sorry.

After what feels like only mere moments, we're standing at the doorway to my place and I watch as Levi comes to stand before me. Eyes intensely locked onto my own, a whirlwind of emotions seemingly raging inside – a storm of so many emotions which I've never heard even the slight trace of in his voice, he's just staring. Staring at me in such a way where I freeze a little, panicking as one hand reaches out to grab hold of mine. Fingers lightly trembling against my own as I wonder…

Is he about to –

"I'll come pick you up before the trial? Tea is on the house, afterwards." He awkwardly shifts eyes away from me. Suddenly I am hyperaware of his nervousness, I am not the only one. A soft chuckle on my part, it's reciprocated.

"See you tomorrow, Levi." Before I have a chance to think, the words slip past my lips, "I'm looking forward to it."

He does that adorably charming half smile thing which he always does. The thing which has me shivering a little in fear of just how much it does to me. "For the tea?"

I smile and teasingly wink. "Certainly not for the company."

"Certainly not." He softly exhales a laugh.

Gulp. This is terrifying. Unknown terrain and yet uncomfortably familiar. I force out a whisper, "Good night, Levi."

A few moments of silence until he pulls his hand back to nod. "Good night, Lilette."

And it was exactly that, a good night. A so very good one; shamefully good, in fact. A soft sigh as I run into my place, trembling hands run to retrieve a plain black pocket square before falling down onto the sofa to stare upon the fresh, crisp white handkerchief before me. Fingers grasped tightly onto my old comfort, the one with frayed ends in such stark contrast to the clean hems placed before me on the table – it's just a little too symbolic for my uneasy stomach to handle and I hardly know if I wish to puke or break out into a mountain of manic chuckles.

Yes, it was a good night. Too good and I dare say that I don't deserve it. Dare say that I'm far too excited about seeing him tomorrow. So I lay there, lay there lost in thought with one hand falling limply to my side as I drift off to sleep. Desperately telling myself I'm excited for the tea and not the company.

Certainly not the guilt-inducing, far-too-charming-company.

No, certainly not…