A/N: one word: Angst


When Hange stepped over the threshold that late evening, leaving behind the crisp air of night, a sight greeted her - one she had not witnessed in a long time. Levi did not go for something more than his beloved black tea often, after all. And even if he did, then not till the point of being wasted. The state that left you sprawled on a cold floor, the possibility of doing things that you would certainly regret in the morning scaringly high.

However, Hange supposed that at times you did things that fucked you over. She was no stranger to self-destructive behavior, after all.

She stepped closer, boots squeaking on the wooden floor of the small apartment. The wood was newly cleaned, scrubbed, and waxed, the fresh smell of lemon prickling her nose.

There were more ways than one alcohol left you hanging after its effects took hold. Laughing at every silly little thing, or sick to the stomach, or in a way that-

Hange kneeled next to the slumped figure, reaching out a hand, her palm meeting the too-hot forehead, skin damp with sweat. "Levi?" She licked her lips. After a too-long moment of deafening silence, he finally opened his one good eye, staring at her through the haze of whiskey and poorly masked misery. She swallowed. "Are you alright?"

It was a stupid question considering the sight before her, but-

"I don't know." Suddenly his hand found her arm, fingers digging into her skin with a force that had her wincing.

"Levi-"

"I don't know." He cut her off, desperation oozing from the words. "I-" Levi blinked, fingers tugging her closer, his tongue going over a deep split in his lip that the cold of winter had caused. He clung to her uncharacteristically. They were pressed together into an awkward embrace, but she held him close, the faint scent of sweat and the familiar shampoo in her nose.

"Hange, it hurts."

The admission was so quiet Hange for a short moment wasn't sure if she dreamed it. But this was real and not a nightmare she could push away and down together with all the other stuff that kept her awake at night. Normally, even when drunk, he was aloof, cold even. But this was different. And she wanted it to stop - put it away and make it all alright and keep him from breaking in tiny little pieces. It was too vulnerable - too painful. It hurt.

The tears when they came were no surprise. Soundless but harsh and piercing all the same. And Hange just held on, like she always did. Like she always had done, many, many times before. She hugged him even closer and shut her one still functioning eye, fingers stroking the trembling back in her arms.

"I know."