The Perfect Brew (RIVAMIKA/LEVIMIKA)

The Perfect Brew

Quiet.

A wash of white glow.

Then, the frigid cold air.

His eyes peeled open, bringing an end to a rare peaceful dream of summer sun and golden fields that had become a normal sight in a post-war world. A slow breath left his lungs; he blinked at the window of his room that had been left cracked open since the night before. What happened after that...? He figured he had fallen asleep waiting for his housemate to come home the second night she had been gone.

Covers thrown off, clothes on, a black silk patch pulled snug against his right eye, he made his way down the small hallway of his London flat, which was granted to the veteran Captain Levi as reward for saving what was left of the world from the rumbling just half a year ago. He peeked to his right of the hallway at what would have been an empty guest room, until Mikasa had moved in. The lights were still off. Did she not come home again?

Home.

Housemate, roommate, whatever title they now were to each other — Mikasa was a good one in his home.

She was a simple woman, in the most pleasant ways that anyone could be simple. And it seemed that adjusting to life after war had gotten easier for her — she helped with groceries, she made nice enough meals for them on the nights Levi didn't cook, she was always home at a decent time. She contributed fairly to monthly costs, she was very clean to his standards, though not surprisingly so considering the years she'd spent under his wing. And most of all... Well, she wasn't bad company.

It was strange, though, not seeing Mikasa for two days after she had uncharacteristically left that early December morning. It was never his business where she would go, what she'd be doing, who she'd be with. And although he'd never ask, she at least always made it a point to leave a handwritten note in the kitchen.

But there was no note this time, no previous conversation that might have given Levi an inkling to her whereabouts. And he would be a fool to not admit he didn't worry at all, even if he knew he didn't need to. Was she in danger? No, Mikasa Ackerman held her own in a world of war — what more in this quiet, warless life?

Is she... seeing someone? He shook off thoughts of Mikasa bringing home a filthy man who wasn't worthy of her. At least he could rest assured that her next man of interest likely wouldn't be someone who wanted to commit genocide on the world. Is that too high of a standard? He scoffed to himself.

Still, whether their living situation was permanent or not, how the hell Mikasa ended up accompanying him to London would always be a blur; living in the spare room of his house was even more so. Did he accept her in as an act of pity? Was it because he felt like he owed her, for not being able to kill Eren himself, to take the burden from her hands?

Was it an act of pity for her, or for himself?

Who knows. He continued down the stairs.

Months ago, Mikasa had been asked to relocate to Hizuru to claim her rightful place in the royal family. Kiyomi may have been a greedy woman, but it was clear that despite Mikasa having lost almost everything, especially Eren, she still had a place of belonging far across the seas, to live a life of luxury and comfort. By far, she had the easiest and safest choice to make out of anyone else. And yet...

Captain, where will you go now?

London, I suppose.

London sounds nice.

There wasn't much exchange between them after that. Armin, Annie, Connie, Jean and the others headed off elsewhere before he left; some had even planned on staying in Marley and building a life there. The chatter around these new lands garnered hope, excitement for the world they had saved from destruction.