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

Chapter 49: Hange's Strength

Levi sat at the edge of Hange's hospital bed, his head resting on his folded arms. His hand lightly clasped hers, his thumb brushing faintly against her knuckles. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor filled the silence-steady and grounding-though it did little to ease the weight pressing on his chest.

Memories crept in unbidden, pulling him back to the days after the Rumbling, when they had sought refuge in Onyankopon's house. Those years had been a relentless blur of grief, recovery, and survival. Physically, Levi had been a wreck, his broken body a constant reminder of everything they'd endured. Yet Hange had been there, her unwavering presence like a lifeline.

They had shared a room-not because they had to, but because Hange wouldn't hear otherwise. "What if you need something in the middle of the night?" she'd insisted. "And don't give me that 'I can handle myself' crap. You need someone to keep an eye on you."

He hadn't had the energy to argue, and so they'd shared the same space, Hange always close by, tending to his injuries and ensuring he never pushed himself too far. It was comforting in ways he hadn't expected-her warmth, her persistence, her sheer refusal to let him spiral.

One night, the weight of it all had become unbearable. The ache in his limbs was a dull roar compared to the sharper pain of his memories. Comrades lost. Battles fought. Empty days that stretched endlessly. He hadn't felt this kind of despair since the days after Kenny had left him in the Underground. Back then, he'd nearly given up on life, convinced he had no purpose. That same feeling clawed at him now, whispering the same lies, trying to drag him back to the void.

Across the room, Hange had been at the desk, scribbling notes and plans for their recovery efforts, her mind just as restless as his. Her pen moved with purpose, the same fierce determination she always carried, even when everything else seemed to be falling apart.

"Hange," he had said, his voice breaking the silence, low and raw.

The pen stopped immediately. She didn't ask questions, didn't press him for answers. Instead, she crossed the room in a heartbeat and sat beside him on the bed. Her hand rested gently on his shoulder, and that simple gesture had been enough to break him. He'd leaned into her, his head falling against her shoulder as his body shook with silent sobs.

Hange hadn't said a word at first, letting him cry-a rare and vulnerable thing for Levi. She had simply been there, steady and grounding, holding the pieces of him together when he couldn't do it himself.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

"You don't have to figure it all out tonight," Hange had replied softly, her tone gentle but firm. "And you don't have to do it alone."

Those words had been a lifeline, anchoring him when he'd felt like he was drowning. Hange had seen him at his lowest, at his most broken, and she had met him with nothing but understanding. She hadn't pitied him-Hange Zoë didn't have an ounce of pity in her. Instead, she'd shown him that even when the weight of the world threatened to crush him, he didn't have to carry it alone.

She had always been like that. She shouldered burdens that would have broken most people, carrying them quietly so others didn't have to. He admired that about her, even as it frustrated him. Staying with him for those years, focusing entirely on his recovery, had been a sacrifice he could never fully repay. But Hange never made it feel like a sacrifice. To her, it was simply what had to be done.

Levi exhaled quietly at the memory, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Damn you, Hange," he muttered under his breath. "You never know when to quit."

It wasn't long after they'd settled that she began pushing him into physical therapy-an idea Levi had resisted with everything he had. "I'm fine," he'd growled one afternoon, glaring at her as she handed him the schedule the doctors had recommended. "I don't need some damn exercises to prove I'm still useful."

But Hange, in her infuriating way, had stood her ground. "You're not fine, Levi," she'd said, her tone a mix of sternness and care. "And you can't keep pretending you are. You need to start walking again. Even if it's just with a crutch. I'm not going to let you sit in that wheelchair forever."

He had scowled, his pride prickling at her words, but she didn't back down. She never did. And somehow, he had found himself following her lead, stumbling through those early, agonizing steps. She had been there for every painful stretch, every slow, halting move.

"One step at a time, Captain," she'd tease, her voice light but full of encouragement. "I'm right here."

And she had been. Always. Catching him when he faltered, steadying him when frustration bubbled over. She had never let him fall, never let him give up.

But even before those days, Hange had been a constant thorn in his side-the most annoying person he'd ever met. Back in the Scouts, she was loud, chaotic, and completely unfazed by his sharp edges. She asked too many questions, poked at things better left alone, and had an uncanny knack for getting on his nerves.

He'd never forget her reaction after his first mission -the one where everything had gone to hell. Isabel and Furlan were gone, and the weight of their deaths hung heavy on him. He'd barely dismounted his horse, exhaustion etched into every fiber of his being, when Hange bolted toward him, completely oblivious to his mood.

"Levi!" she'd practically shouted, waving her arms like a maniac. "That was incredible! Did you see yourself out there? You were unstoppable! Like-slice, slice, kick!-and then that spin! Amazing!"

She'd even started mimicking his movements, throwing imaginary punches and kicks into the air, completely oblivious to the stares from the other Scouts. Levi had just stood there, reins in hand, staring at her like she'd grown a second head.

"Are you done?" he'd muttered, his voice dry.

"Not even close!" she'd replied, grinning from ear to ear.

He'd rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as he walked away. But even as he turned, he'd caught her reenacting his sword swings out of the corner of his eye, her commentary growing louder as she pretended to take down imaginary Titans. "And then-shhhk!-two Titans at once! What a legend!"

Now, as he sat beside her hospital bed, Levi couldn't help but marvel at how that same, impossibly annoying person had become his future. Somewhere along the line-he couldn't pinpoint exactly when-he'd realized that Hange was the one person he didn't want to lose. She saw him in a way no one else ever had, not as a weapon or a soldier, but as a person worth believing in.

"You've done more for me than I ever deserved," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "Now it's my turn."

He leaned forward, resting his head on the edge of the bed. The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the silence, and he let its rhythm anchor him, a quiet promise that she was still here.

"Focus on getting better," he murmured. "I'll take care of the rest. Just... don't leave me."

For now, it was enough to stay by her side, to hold her hand, and to remind her in whatever way he could that she wasn't alone.