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There is no such thing that hardens a wrought spirit like hope. It is the magic that can combine a nation through simple belief alone, inspiring millions of people to follow an idea in the hope of a better world. It can change a person's mind and body by pushing them past what they thought were their limits to something beyond that. It is what maintains the will of those who don't see a reason to continue living, and it is this uplifting commodity that creates a scar unlike any other when it fades. Hope is the last thing that keeps determination afloat and so it makes sense that the fall would be damaging beyond visual comprehension.

A month had passed since the night when Levi's outlook on life had changed. It was a small shift in his mental processing that he wasn't fully aware of, all he knew at the time was that the world appeared minutely brighter than the one he'd come to know and expect.

He had woken up the next morning to early sunlight curling through the room. The warmth of the sun was accompanied by a fuzzy and overwhelming sense of peace that made him roll and stretch in contentment as he wriggled his toes and admired the feeling of fresh linen. It was a feeling he hadn't known in a long time. He'd laid there for an indefinite amount of time, with biscuit tucked into his side, for once enjoying life while he listened to the muffled world outside his window as it slowly began to wake.

Levi had recalled the way in which he'd notated the night before, exhibiting the same desperate savagery as Kandata had when grasping that spider's thread. Even so, in the morning light of new chances and even newer beginnings, a smile swept across Levi's face as he rediscovered his music scores splayed across the desk. Exhilaration bubbled through his chest as his feet struggled to stay still with the need to do something productive. A new beginning indeed. All thanks to an obscure spark of inspiration, some part of him believed it to somehow be because of the kid who he still didn't know the name of but Levi liked to believe it was just his own motivation making a long awaited appearance.

It was naively foolish of him to think things would get better. After a month he still wasn't getting anywhere. He'd composed and composed, creating five more songs all made from the same inspiration from that night. He clung to the new found insight with ripped fingernails and calloused skin but with the cacophony of ticks from incessant clocks and nothing to validate his hard work the encouragement began to dim along with the memories of what caused his creativity. Levi hated the apparent dependency. He wanted to be capable of using his own mind to make art but his muse lived in whatever happened that day and unfortunately, he couldn't seem to control what sparked his creativity. Though it didn't stop him from being disgusted by his lack of mental independence.

Levi was honestly beginning to think he was going through an early mid-life crisis, which was causing him to have bouts of petulant mopiness. A drastic change in thinking, a loss of interest in things he was fine with before and an unwilling infatuation with a vastly younger man seemed to tick all the boxes. Even Hange was beginning to notice his increased moodiness despite their late nights at the local hospital. Truthfully, it was quite endearing, they tried to cut back on their hours and make sure he was eating something substantial instead of his one meal a day nightly take outs fuelled by self-pity. It was something he really couldn't afford to continue purchasing but cooking was just too mentally taxing. Yet the fact that Hange had to be there to pick up his broken mess of a self at the cost of their education threw in a lovely cocktail of self-hate and guilt to his already fragile mental state, which halted his appetite altogether. It was about a week in when Levi found the deep bags and shallow cheeks harder to ignore. He started to dread reflective surfaces.

Overall, that night might have been a pivoting point in his life but things refused to look upwards. So with this dejected mentality, Levi did his every day five days a week repetition of approaching upcoming or new bars in town, performing in said bars at night for a few hours with bad pay (he didn't dare charge them higher) and occasionally working shifts at McDonald's if they got crowded. He didn't get called in very often because his face unsettled the customers. He was losing his purpose in life after the many years it took to find one and he didn't know what to do about it.

Levi sighed in an effort to expel the emptiness that was slowly becoming as deadly as the worst disease. He was collecting his music equipment that was scattered across the floor of the bedroom that he'd need for tonight's gig, why the bar didn't have a sound system he'd never know. The process was tiring but meticulous and oddly calming in a numbing sort of way. Finally picking up his guitar from beside his desk, he caressed it with fond fingers and warm eyes. He ran a thumb across the strings, strumming them gently in an attempt to draw strength for another hard night and an even harder crowd. His fingers paused above the instrument as he caught sight of his reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

Had he always looked so, defeated?

Hiding under crumpled brows and black hair, weary grey eyes that had been cruelly aged by the world's injustices stared back. Hange was right, he did look unhealthy. Firm muscles once strong were fading from his lack of exercise and his weathered but youthful face was turning into a shade reminiscent of snow. Despite the crisp white shirt hidden beneath a dark blazer, black trousers and fancy, although worn, shoes he adorned, they couldn't draw attention away from the despondent slump of his wiry shoulders. When had doing anything become a chore? He passed a hand through limp hair and watched as it fell lifelessly from his fingers. He exhaled shakily as an unfamiliar emotion squeezed his lungs, leaving him unable to take a deep breath. Tearing his eyes away from the pitiful sight he speedily picked up his rucksack of equipment and flung it over a shoulder. Placing his life long companion into its guitar case, he strode out the bedroom door and down the hall until he heard Biscuit's paws padding against the wooden floor. His steps fell to a pause as did hers.

"When did you start following me, huh?" He asked, fond but slightly bewildered as Biscuit carded herself through his legs, tail high in a question mark. He'd had her for just under a year and she'd always been an aloof little lady, only following when food was involved so this was new. He crouched carefully, holding out his hand to test the waters only to be head butted, vibrations travelled up his arm at her noisy purring. Chuckling at the unexpected affection, he stroked his hand across her body and playfully up her tail.

"I'll see you later Biscuit, take care of Hange while I'm gone." Strangely enough she seemed to heed his remark and trotted off into the living room to probably join Hange on their day off. He felt calmer which he was thankful for, now he just had to survive the night.

"Be back later Hange." Levi announced his goodbye, not too bothered about being heard. It would honestly be easier for both of them if Hange didn't notice his absence but he voiced his departure out of courtesy. An orchestral movement of noises caused Levi to jolt, swiftly turning his head in surprise to catch messy brown hair appearing from the living room.

"Hey wait! I was about to make some pasta, couldn't you be fashionably late?" They looked a tad frazzled, they were obviously in the middle of something and not about to 'make some pasta' but he kept his observations to himself.

"I have to go before eight to set up, it's the place that doesn't have a sound system." He attempted to placate the med-student, after all, he really wasn't hungry. He didn't need mothering and he could tell if he felt unwell, he wasn't that stubborn. Hange just looked disappointed.

"Levi, you haven't had a proper meal since Wendesday night." His eyes did an aborted half roll at the reprimand. He felt guilty, of course he did, for making them worry and essentially forcing them to take care of him because they were a fucking medical student for fuck's sake and that's their job but he was also getting frustrated. He didn't need the help.

"It's Saturday. I know that you've been fatigued and I'm worried about your blood sugars." They'd crossed their arms with a palpable nervousness but were unwilling to back down this time. It seemed that he had pushed them past their point of silence, it gave him a sick sense of satisfaction.

"Levi, for the love of God have a banana or something." His lack of reaction was only making them more exasperated. Facing the door, he attempted to keep his own irritation in check, there was no reason to blow up at Hange for being a friend. He just had a lot of issues which he'd prefer to deal with privately and apparently Hange had a problem with that, despite knowing very well how he tended to cope. He took steady breaths and went through possible options on how he could swerve the likely confrontation, he really couldn't be doing this right now.

"Hange-"

"No, no you're not doing this again. I'm sick of being your caretaker because you're not mentally well enough to do anything. Which is fine, I was fine with that but you're not even trying to get better. At least try!" An ugly feeling ricocheted in his stomach with every harsh syllable. His grip on the door handle tightened to a strength he wasn't conscious of as he fought with the sharpness that danced on his tongue, eager to sliver free. Spite curled darkly around his next words.

"I'll try to be back by eleven, maybe." He ripped the door open, passing the threshold of their rundown apartment and slamming the door behind him, unaware of the indents he left on the inner door's handle. He took a few quick steps to the inadvertent metal balcony and leaned heavily over the edge, needing to escape the shadows in his head. He gazed down with eyes full of turbulence at the lit street lamps shining halos across the dark street. The wind brushed his face and stroked his hair in greeting, like a mother asking where her child had been all day. Levi let his eyes slip shut as he simply breathed and the pressure constricting his chest eased a little in the company of mother nature. Wanting more of that fleeting reassurance he tilted further and further until his bag of equipment began to slide haltingly up his back. He leaned backwards before gravity could claim him, feeling like he did so too soon, his whirling thoughts weren't any quieter and he wasn't remotely close to being calm.

Levi exhaled heavily as if to rid the lingering anger that throbbed lazily under his skin. He knew this would happen, that his sorry state would make their patience snap, but despite predicting this for weeks it was never enough to shock him out of the pit he'd spiralled into. He doubted anything would at this point, all he could do was make sure nothing else influenced his fragile mindset for the rest of the evening. Tonight he was going to be polite and courteous to the manager and the patrons; nothing would piss him off or affect him in any way. With a determination he didn't feel holding his shoulders higher than their recent slump, he made his way down the stairs that clunked under his weight.

He was half right at least, no one pissed him off.