At last, the tears stopped, together with the quiet hiccuping sounds that stabbed her in the heart and made her want to cry too or maybe punch something really hard. And when they finally did, Hange untangled herself from the crushing embrace and helped Levi up and to bed, but not before making sure he drank a glass of water and took some painkillers to go with it. Through her fussing over him, he merely stared blearily at some spot far away - something Hange could not see (however, she could guess). Next, after putting away the scaringly emptied bottle, she threw herself onto the couch in the living room, heart heavy and feeling a tad too cold. She shivered and pulled the blanket a little more around herself. Though Hange had deemed that sleep would be far away after tonight's events, it was mere minutes after lying down before the exhaustion pulled her under and away from the thoughts roaming through her head. And she welcomed the unconscious gladly.

That night, Hange did not dream.

000

In the morning, right when Hange was pocking thoughtlessly at some eggs, Levi made his presence known as he shuffled into the kitchen. She couldn't help but wince in sympathy at his tight expression that surely must be from the monster of a headache he had to be sporting.

She turned back to the stove, gazing down at the white of the eggs sizzling softly in the oil. "Sleep well?" The answer she got was a mumble as Levi settled himself at the kitchen table.

They both stayed silent as Hange continued to prepare breakfast. It was not precisely stifling, but also not their usual comfortable atmosphere. Hange sighed inwardly. Talking would come later (or if it was up to Levi, the not-talking), but first breakfast. Good food was crucial to start a day well. And they both could use that.

They ate in silence. And Hange was relieved to see Levi at least trying to finish the plate of eggs and toasted bread. He also took the painkillers without complaining.

"So." Hange nursed her warm coffee mug between her palms.

"So what, Hange?" Levi did not meet her gaze and instead stared at some stain on the table he certainly would be cleaning later.

Hmm, so they were going the play it like this, huh.

Hange leaned forward, eyeing him and taking in the dark circles under his one visible eye. "I don't take it you drink a near entire bottle of whiskey for the fun of it?" The words came out harsher than intended. And she winced inwardly at Levi's clenched jaw and the few seconds of near uncanny stillness that settled over him. She swallowed. Then he looked away, self-conscious and restrained anger directed inward.

"Levi," Hange's voice softened, guilt curling in her belly at the harsh jab. She unmistakably had struck a nerve there, but she was concerned, the thought of the night before making her sick to the stomach. And okay, she knew she was not the one to talk. Not really. Not with her own hazy nights of too much alcohol and too little sleep, but still-

"You can talk to me, you know." She chose to stare at the drab her coffee had left behind in her mug.

A moment passed.

"I know, Hange." Levi sounded exhausted and spent. "I know."

And they both knew it.

Hange looked his way again. "Yeah. And Levi-"

He held up a hand, the missing digits achingly noticeable, preventing her from talking any further. "But can we speak later about this?" His gaze shifted to somewhere off the side. "I- just- not right now, okay. Please." He met her gaze again.

Right. Not now. Too much. Too raw.

It hurts.

Hange had to swallow around the sudden rising lump in her throat for a moment, forcing away the recollections of overflowing desperation and grief and the smell of alcohol mixed with the fresh scent of lemon and wax. A shiver traveled down her spine. Too tidy and scrubbed, too scattered to be put back together in that moment, too far gone in need.

Hange would be there to piece back the pieces together. She would do it as many times as needed. Again and again and again.

Yeah.

"Yeah," she breathed, swallowing away the acid taste at the back of her throat. "Okay."

"You could have used the bed too, you know." Levi picked at a piece of long-gone cold egg.

"Hm," Hange shrugged. "Your snoring was too loud for me to handle, so I took the couch as a more suitable resting place."

Levi gifted her a stare that would have sent a more sane person running. "I don't snore."

However, Hange was perhaps a bit more on the abnormal side of the spectrum (at least, according to some), so she just smiled.