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

Chapter 50: The Slow Return

The hospital room was still, save for the steady hum of machines and the faint rhythm of the heart monitor. Levi sat hunched in the chair beside Hange's bed, his hand lightly resting over hers. The harsh tension that had held him captive since the attack was beginning to thaw, replaced with a cautious, fragile hope.

The doctors had told him not to expect much yet. "These things take time," they said. But time didn't matter to Levi. He would wait as long as it took-hours, days, or even months. The only thing that mattered was that she woke up.

A week passed in a blur of sleepless nights and restless days. Levi remained steadfast, his focus unwavering as he sat by Hange's side. The others visited in shifts, bringing food and updates from the outside world, but Levi barely acknowledged them. His world had narrowed to this room, this bed, and the faint sound of her breathing.

It was a quiet morning, the sunlight streaming softly through the thin curtains, when he felt it-a faint twitch against his palm.

Levi's eyes snapped open, his body jolting upright as he stared at her hand. His heart thundered in his chest, the moment feeling almost unreal. "Hange," he said, his voice rough. He tightened his grip on her hand. "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

For a moment, there was nothing, and then-slowly-her fingers curled weakly around his.

Levi bolted upright, his crutch forgotten as he limped to the door. "Doctor!" he barked, his voice echoing down the corridor. "Get in here!"

The hurried clatter of footsteps followed as a nurse and doctor entered the room, their expressions shifting from professional concern to cautious optimism as they examined Hange. Levi stood back, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eye locked on the bed.

Finally, the doctor turned to him, her tone carefully measured. "She's responding to stimuli. It's a good sign."

"When will she wake up?" Levi demanded, his voice sharp, though the tension betrayed his worry.

"It's hard to say," the doctor replied. "These things happen gradually. But this is progress."

The following days tested Levi's patience in ways even the battlefield never had. Hange's movements became more frequent-slight shifts of her fingers, faint murmurs that didn't form words-but she still hadn't opened her eyes. Each tiny sign of life lifted his spirits briefly before the waiting pressed on him again.

The others did what they could to lighten the burden. Jean brought tea from the shop, along with his unsolicited opinions about improving its layout. Connie attempted awkward jokes to fill the silence. Onyankopon and Pieck took turns convincing Levi to take brief breaks to eat or stretch his legs, though he always returned within minutes.

At night, Levi sat alone, the dim glow of the monitors casting faint shadows across the room. He talked to her, his voice low and gruff, recounting stories from the shop and their friends.

"Jean's rearranging everything," he muttered one evening, resting his elbows on the bed. "Says it'll boost business. I told him if he touches my counter, I'll break his hands."

He paused, glancing at her still face. "You'd laugh at that. Probably call me an ass and say he's just trying to help."

Her fingers twitched faintly in response, and Levi's lips quirked into the faintest smirk. "Guess you agree with him. Traitor."

The days blurred together until, one night, Levi sat slumped in the chair, his head resting on the edge of the bed. His exhaustion weighed heavily on him, but sleep was an elusive comfort. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors seemed louder in the stillness, each sound marking another moment of waiting.

A faint rustle broke the silence. Levi lifted his head, his heart leaping as Hange shifted slightly beneath the covers. He leaned forward, his breath catching as her lips parted, and then-

"Levi..."

The sound was barely more than a whisper, but it sent a jolt through him. He surged upright, his hand tightening around hers. "Hange," he said, his voice raw with disbelief and hope. "I'm here."

Her eyelids fluttered, her brow furrowing as though she were struggling to focus. "Levi," she murmured again, her voice weak but unmistakable.

"I'm here," he repeated, his voice steadying. "You're safe."

Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, before they found him. A faint, tired smile curved her lips. "Took you long enough."

Levi let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his grip on her hand firm but gentle. "Tch. You're one to talk."

The doctors arrived quickly, their relief evident as they confirmed that Hange was stable and regaining strength. Levi stayed close, his sharp gaze flicking between them as they worked. Every confirmation of her improvement chipped away at the tension that had gripped him for weeks.

When the room was quiet again, Hange's voice broke the silence. "You've been sitting here the whole time, haven't you?"

Levi didn't bother denying it. "Had to make sure you didn't pull any stunts."

She chuckled weakly, the sound raspy but familiar. "Can't make any promises."

"Idiot," he muttered, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips softened the word.

The following days saw gradual improvements. Hange's voice grew stronger, her movements less labored. Levi remained by her side, his usual stoicism tinged with a quiet protectiveness that didn't go unnoticed by the others.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily," Hange teased one afternoon, her eyes brighter than they had been in weeks.

"Didn't say I wanted to," Levi replied, his tone soft but firm. "But don't pull that stunt again."

"No promises," she said with a lopsided grin, earning a dry snort from him.

As the sun set outside the window, casting the room in a warm orange glow, Levi sat back in his chair, his hand still resting lightly over hers. For the first time in weeks, the weight on his chest began to ease.