Brewed to Perfection: Quiet Tea | LeviHan | Levi Ackerman x Hange Zoe | FalBi

Chapter 41: Silence

It had been more than a month since Hange's last letter. Her absence had settled into his chest like a lead weight, and though Levi was a master at masking his emotions, the cracks in his stoicism were beginning to show.

Gabi and Falco exchanged worried glances from their corner of the shop. The tension in the air was palpable.

"Captain seems... off today," Gabi whispered, stacking cups.

Falco frowned. "It's not just today. He's been like this for weeks."

Onyankopon entered the shop, his sharp eyes immediately noticing Levi's drawn expression. He greeted Gabi and Falco with a nod before approaching the counter.

"Morning, Levi," Onyankopon said carefully.

Levi grunted in response, his focus fixed on the task of refilling the sugar jars.

Onyankopon lingered, watching as Levi's hands moved with an edge of restlessness. "Still no news?"

Levi didn't look up. "No."

As the day wore on, Levi's unease became harder to ignore. He found himself glancing toward the door every time the bell above it jingled, hoping for a letter, a messenger—anything. But nothing came.

By the time evening arrived, the shop was empty save for Levi and Onyankopon. Gabi and Falco had gone home for the day, their whispers of concern trailing behind them.

Levi sat at a table near the counter, staring into a cup of untouched tea. Onyankopon took a seat across from him, his expression calm but serious.

"You can't keep this up," Onyankopon said, breaking the silence.

Levi's gaze flicked up, sharp and guarded. "What are you talking about?"

"You're wearing yourself down, Levi. Everyone can see it," Onyankopon replied, his tone steady. "It's been weeks. You're not yourself."

Levi leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "What do you want me to do? Sit here and act like everything's fine?"

"No," Onyankopon said firmly. "But I don't think Hange would want you tearing yourself apart, either."

Levi's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "I don't need a lecture."

"This isn't a lecture," Onyankopon countered. "It's the truth. You're worried, and that's natural. But if you let it consume you, it won't help her—or you."

Levi looked away, his gaze fixed on the window. The moonlight streamed through the glass, casting long shadows across the shop.

Later that night, Levi sat alone in his room, the silence pressing in on him. He stared at the small stack of letters Hange had sent him before the silence began. Her words felt distant now, a faint echo of the person who had written them.

His mind churned with thoughts he couldn't escape. What if something had happened? What if she needed help?

Levi's gaze fell to the crumpled map of Paradis he'd spread out on the desk days ago. He'd been studying it in secret, tracing potential routes, imagining how long it would take him to reach her.

But every time he considered it, her voice echoed in his mind: "I'll be back before you know it."

She wouldn't want him to leave. She'd insist he trust her, that she could handle herself. But the gnawing doubt in his chest refused to be silenced.

Levi rubbed a hand over his face, his frustration boiling over. "Damn it, Hange."

The next morning, Levi was back at the counter, brewing tea with a focus that bordered on obsessive. Onyankopon watched him from across the room, his brow furrowed with concern.

As the day went on, Levi's tension didn't ease. By afternoon, Onyankopon approached him again.

"Levi," he said quietly, "if you're thinking about going to Paradis, you should think carefully about what that would mean—for you, for Hange."

Levi's hands stilled, the teapot he was holding trembling slightly before he set it down.

"I'm not going anywhere," Levi said gruffly, though the doubt in his voice was unmistakable.

Onyankopon studied him for a moment before nodding. "Alright. But remember, she's strong. She always comes back."

Levi didn't respond, but the weight of Onyankopon's words stayed with him.

That night, as Levi sat alone in the tea shop, he allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability. His gaze lingered on the hook where Hange's coat usually hung, the empty space a stark reminder of her absence.

He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. The thought of losing her was unbearable, but so was the idea of leaving her to face whatever lay ahead without him.

For now, all he could do was wait—and hope. But the weight of waiting was heavier than anything he'd ever carried.