Chapter Text
Levi sat by the window, the wooden armchair creaking under his weight as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. The room was cold, as were most rooms in this part of town. He didn't bother lighting the small stove unless it was necessary, preferring the chill that bit at his skin, keeping him alert and connected to the world outside.
Through the window, the streets bustled with an energy he still couldn’t quite comprehend. The town center had transformed into a lively hub of noise and laughter, especially now as the town eagerly prepared for a celebration he’d never heard of before -Christmas.
Levi turned his gaze back to the square outside his window, the scene bustling with life against the crisp evening air. Children ran down the cobblestone streets, their laughter echoing like a melody between the buildings, scarves trailing behind them like colorful banners caught in the wind. Merchants called out from their carts, their voices rising above the chatter of the crowd as they advertised shiny novelties, candied apples, and sweets wrapped in paper as bright as the excited eyes of their young customers.
Levi’s gaze drifted to the center of the square, where the townspeople gathered around a towering fir tree that stretched high into the chilly, cloudy sky. Golden ribbons shimmered as they were carefully draped along the branches, while clusters of children handed up handmade garlands of dried fruit and berries. Nearby, laughter and hushed cheers filled the air as two men on a precarious ladder wrestled with the crowning touch -a gleaming star that caught the fading light.
Around the edges of the square, small wooden booths stood in neat rows, forming what Levi assumed was a winter market. Merchants busied themselves arranging their wares -hand-knitted scarves, intricately carved wooden toys, jars of honey, and baked goods that filled the air with their tempting aroma. Thick garlands intertwined with twinkling lanterns adorned the booths, lending the scene an enchanting charm.
Christmas, Levi thought, the word foreign in his mind, its meaning wrapped in layers he hadn’t untangled. The voices of people passing by seeped through the thin walls, murmuring plans for gatherings, laughter shared among friends, and the anticipation of warmth and companionship. A heaviness settled in his chest, so familiar it had become like an old wound. It had been nearly five years since the end of the Battle of Heaven and Earth, and yet this world -a world filled with festivity and joy- felt almost surreal.
Reconstruction had taken years, each step fraught with difficulty, with only small portions of the world managing to find a fragile semblance of stability. Even now, peace hung by a thread, a delicate balance that could tip at any moment.
The initial efforts to rebuild had been grueling. Entire swaths of land were left desolate by the Rumbling, their surfaces scarred and lifeless, requiring monumental work to even begin rehabilitation. People were forced to congregate in areas that had somehow escaped complete devastation -small, scattered spots that had survived the destruction, like stubborn embers refusing to go out.
The place Levi now called home was one such ember. It wasn’t a sprawling city or a bustling metropolis but a modest settlement nestled among cliffs overlooking the ocean, dense woods, and winding streams flowing from distant mountains -streams that somehow still brought life in the form of crystalline waters. Unlike the barren lands beyond, this area had miraculously remained intact -green, alive, and fertile. The contrast was stark. Beyond the edges of this haven lay nothing but dead earth, miles of cracked soil and the haunting remains of former civilizations. Efforts to rehabilitate these wastelands were underway, but the process was neither simple nor swift.
This small settlement, though, became a beacon of hope for survivors. At first, it was discovered and claimed by what was left of Marley. The once-dominant nation had been brought to its knees, nearly obliterated by the destruction. What little remained of its infrastructure was in shambles, its people struggling to stay afloat amidst the wreckage of their former glory. The survivors left behind in the destroyed regions had no choice but to venture out, searching for habitable land that could sustain them. That search led them here -a place that, despite its isolation, showed promise. Its soil was fertile, its waters clean, and its natural defenses, with cliffs and streams, offered a sense of security.
But it wasn’t just Marleyans who came. As word of the settlement spread, other survivors from nearby nations -whose homelands had also been swallowed by the Rumbling- began to arrive. They spoke in strange tongues, wore unfamiliar clothing, and carried their own grief, yet they all shared a common goal: the need for a home. They brought with them not just their belongings but also their resilience, their determination to create something from nothing.
At first, the Marleyans who had claimed the area were hesitant to welcome these outsiders, seeing them as strangers intruding on what little stability they had managed to build. But reality left them little choice. Marley’s remaining resources were limited, and the newcomers brought valuable skills, knowledge, and hands willing to work. Over time, necessity gave way to cooperation. The settlement grew into a patchwork community of different faces, languages, and cultures, united by the shared effort of survival.
Now, years later, the settlement was a fledgling town, alive with activity. It was far from perfect -its scars still visible in its rudimentary streets and modest buildings- but it stood as proof of what could be achieved when people set aside their differences to build something new.
The town, though still in its infancy, had a certain charm that grew with every passing day. Its streets were rustic, with uneven gravel making up most of the paths. The exception was the main street, which was neatly paved with cobblestones, a symbol of the town's gradual development and pride. Along this central street, all the shops were gathered -general stores with large glass windows displaying everything from fabrics to tools, a blacksmith's shop with the sound of hammer on iron, and a bakery whose warm scent of fresh bread could be smelled from a block away. There were also a few cafés with outdoor tables, where the townspeople gathered to share stories over hot drinks.
At the center of the town stood a wide square, a gathering place for all. In the middle of the square, a towering fir tree stretched toward the sky, its branches heavy with festive decorations during the winter months. A few fountains lined the square, their crystal-clear water flowing in gentle streams, while benches were placed in the shade, offering a spot for people to rest. Stalls occasionally popped up on weekends, selling local produce and crafts, brightening the space.
On either side of the main street, houses stood in perfect rows. Most of them were modest, single-story homes with tiled roofs or simple wooden structures, but every now and then, a two-story house would rise above the others, a sign of someone who had either arrived with more resources or had managed to build something larger. These homes were clustered together, some with small gardens, others with chickens pecking around their yards.
The side streets were a combination of quiet homes and lively taverns. A few bars, tucked into the narrower alleys, spilled out into the streets at night with the sounds of laughter and music. The smell of stew or roast meat often wafted from the open doors, drawing in those who needed a moment to unwind.
In the distance, beyond the town’s edge, the stables could be seen, housing the few horses and draft animals that the settlement relied on for transportation and farm work. Barns and millhouses were scattered near the edge of the forest, the steady sound of grinding grain mixing with the rustling of the trees.
At the bottom of the cliffs, down a steep path, was a small fisherman’s station. A few boats sat along the shore, weathered by years of use, while nets were left to dry in the sun. The sea, its deep waters still a mystery to many of the town's residents, provided fish and other resources.
To the south, farmland stretched for miles. The rich soil allowed for the growth of crops, which fed the growing community. Farmers worked tirelessly in the fields, their efforts providing sustenance for the entire settlement. It was a community united by survival, its growth consistent and promising, though the scars of the past still lingered in the air.
Levi knew all of this had been possible, partly, thanks to his squad -the brats he’d had under his wing for so long. The brats who, despite all they’d lost, had poured their hearts into helping this shattered world piece itself back together. Even now, they remembered the man who had once been their captain, even though his strength was now limited, his glory a thing of the past. They still came to him, with the same respect and fierce loyalty they’d held in the days of the Scouts.
It was their determination, their refusal to give up, that had driven much of this progress. They had faced the impossible time and again, and when the chance came to embark on new adventures, they seized it. Through their diplomatic efforts, they worked tirelessly to tie together what little was left of the world, bridging the gaps between survivors and fostering cooperation where division once ruled. It was because of them that places like this settlement could exist -a beacon of hope amidst the ruins of the past.
Levi allowed himself a small, rare moment of pride. Those brats, the ones he’d scolded, trained, and fought alongside, had carried the weight of the world on their shoulders and still found the strength to forge a future.
His old squad… He hadn’t seen them in months. They were far too busy on diplomatic missions, traveling between what was left of Marley, Paradis, and scattered enclaves where humanity had rebuilt. They were trying to weave together fractured alliances, each mission a gamble at regaining trust and building a future. The distance was both practical and painful. He missed them -Connie’s infuriating optimism, Mikasa’s quiet strength, Jean’s never-ending arguments. He even missed the lost soldiers who had once looked up to him with eyes full of questions and dreams.
A flash of movement caught his eye, and he realized two youngsters were chasing each other through the stalls -Gabi and Falco. They still visited him from time to time, their youth and determination a reminder of the resilient spirit he had once fought to protect. But today, their absence stung. He swallowed against the emptiness that filled his room, the silence almost mocking him as the world outside hummed with life.
He turned his eyes back to the window. The tree now stood fully decorated, its lights yet to twinkle as dusk began to settle over the town. The world outside grew quiet as the minutes passed, and for a moment, Levi allowed himself to linger in the memory of a different time. A time when they all fought side by side, the banter and fellowship helping them survive days when survival seemed impossible. He would never say it out loud, but he missed them. He missed the way they pushed him, the way their loyalty bound them together even as everything else crumbled around them.
Levi exhaled, his breath fogging the window as he straightened up, pushing the memories aside. There was no point in dwelling on them. That life, that world, was gone. He turned away from the window, each step drawing him back into the present. His knee protested with a dull ache, a familiar throb that reminded him of battles fought and won. It wasn’t perfect, but at least he no longer depended on the wheelchair as he once did. The treatment that Gabi and Falco had insistently pushed him to undergo had proven effective enough, granting him a semblance of independence.
He limped into the kitchen, the small space filled with the faint scent of old wood and tea leaves. He filled a kettle with water and placed it on the stove, preparing to go through his usual routine, making himself a cup of tea before retiring for the night, only to wrestle with sleep that never came -and when it did, it was nothing but turbulent.
He poured the hot liquid into a cup and carried it to the living room, sinking into the plush armchair that sat next to a modest iron fireplace and an unlit lamp. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The tiny house, a mercy granted by the new government, was positioned near the heart of the city, just by the central square. From here, he could hear the distant sounds of people living their lives, a contrast to the silence that filled his own.
Setting the cup down on the small side table beside him, Levi reached for the radio, a gift from Gabi and Falco. It clicked on, emitting a soft crackle before the melody of a holiday song filtered through the room. He leaned back, the warm steam of the tea curling up to meet his face. The music wrapped around him, soft and gentle, a lull that tugged at his senses.
The notes of the song mixed with the faint laughter outside, blurring the lines between present and memory. For a moment, he allowed himself to drift into the world within his mind, where the faces of those he missed the most flashed by like ghostly echoes. He saw Hange grinning with wild eyes, Armin with that unwavering hope, and Erwin, with his dignified stance and piercing gaze that seemed to see straight through everything.
Levi closed his eyes, letting the weight of it all settle in his chest. The world was moving on, building itself up again brick by brick. But for him, the rebuilding felt different, lonelier -a new kind of battle, fought in silence.
And in that silence, the soft notes of holiday music mingled with the warmth of the tea and the hushed murmurs of the city beyond his window. The tension in his muscles eased, and before he knew it, his eyelids grew heavy, the armchair cradling him as he drifted into slumber. Levi hadn’t meant to fall asleep. It was a rarity, almost unheard of, but here he was, slowly slipping into the world of dreams -a world where the present vanished, and the past, long gone, became solid once again.
In his dream, the world was as he remembered it. He was in his uniform, the stiff fabric stretching across his shoulders as he walked down the familiar hallways of headquarters. The sound of his boots against the stone floors echoed with each step, accompanied by the gentle clink of the tray he carried. A kettle, steam curling from its spout, and two cups sat atop it, steady in his grip. The scent of strong tea filled the corridor as he made his way to the commander’s office. He could almost hear the familiar rustle of papers, the muted sounds of conversations, and the occasional laugh from his subordinates in the distance. It was a time when things made sense -a time when he was surrounded by those who shared his burdens.
He reached the door, the soft click of his boots growing quieter as he approached. Without thinking, he raised his hand and knocked, the sound bouncing off the stone walls.
Nothing.
He knocked again, a little harder this time, but there was no response. "Oi, Erwin, open up!" he called, his tone growing impatient.
He could still hear the voices of his squad -Connie and Sasha laughing, Eren calling Jean something offensive, and Jean firing back with a retort. The sounds came from far away, from nearby; they echoed around him, behind and in front. In the distance, bells rang. Bells? Strange.
He knocked again. Nothing. What the hell is this old fool doing? He thought, irritation bubbling up. Probably fell asleep on top of the damn papers again, overworking himself as usual.
"Erwin!" He called out again, though his voice was tinged with an unusual tension. Why was he so anxious? He missed him, that was clear, but it was more than that. Why did it feel like he hadn't seen Erwin in so long? He had seen the commander just last night, hadn't he?"
He knocked again. Still, no answer. No sound. His heart tightened. He could see the commander in his mind, greeting him, that soft, reassuring smile playing on his lips. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to see him, to meet those eyes once more. The ones that always held him in place, that never failed to understand. He missed them -more than he realized, more than he was willing to admit.
Another knock. Nothing. Only the distant sound of bells ringing.
Levi stood there for a moment, staring at the door, the weight of the kettle in his hand. His brow furrowed. Why am I knocking? he thought. He’d never knocked before.
His fingers reached for the doorknob instinctively, and just as his hand grasped it, the dream shifted, the world around him blurring as he was pulled awake with a jolt.
Levi’s eyes snapped open, disoriented. The familiar hum of headquarters faded away, replaced by the quiet stillness of his small living room. The weight of the kettle was gone, replaced by the cold, hard reality of his new world. His breath was shallow as his heart beat loudly in his chest. That wasn’t real.
He let out a frustrated breath and rubbed his face, trying to shake off the lingering haze of the dream. The warmth of his tea was long gone, the silence of the room now deafening.
And then he heard it -a sound. A faint knocking. His ears strained to catch it, unsure if it was real or just an echo from his dream. Silence followed, stretching unnervingly thin, as if the world itself held its breath, save for the distant tolling of bells. Those damn bells, he thought.
Levi stilled, his body tense as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. The knock came again, louder this time, sharp and insistent, cutting through the stillness like a blade.
It was coming from the door, his door.
He sat up quickly, only to feel the stiffness in his back and the sting in his knee, his body protesting after having fallen asleep in the cold. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of streetlights streaming in through the window. Outside, the world had fallen silent, the streets empty and shadowed.
What time was it? The bells tolled again. Midnight. He ran a hand over his face, shaking off the remnants of sleep. He hadn’t meant to doze off for that long. The knock came again, louder, and he pushed himself out of the armchair, wincing as his knee protested. The ache was sharper after being stationary for so long. He limped towards the door, each step echoing in the silence.
"Hold on a damn minute!" he barked, his voice gruff, trying to regain his edge. The small entryway beyond the door felt distant, a boundary between him and whoever stood on the other side.
The knocking stopped just as he reached for the handle. He flipped the light switch and swung the door open, prepared to spit out another sharp remark. But the words caught in his throat, dying as he took in the sight before him. The figure standing in the dim light of the entryway made his heart stutter. Blue eyes, wide with a hint of uncertainty, met his gaze. Blond hair, the color of sun-touched fields, graced a familiar face that seemed both foreign and achingly familiar.
"Hello, Captain," the voice sounded melodic in the still night, almost angelic, as if carried by the very air itself.
“Armin,” Levi breathed, barely louder than a whisper, the name cracking through the silence like a match struck in the dark.
Levi blinked, the shock still lingering in the pit of his stomach as he stepped aside and motioned Armin in. The younger man offered a small, tentative smile and nodded in greeting.
Without another word, Levi guided him inside, his steely eyes catching sight of the case Armin held tightly by his side. The corners of it were worn, and Levi’s mind raced with questions, but he pushed them aside for now. The chill of the winter night followed them into the room, wrapping itself around them. Armin shivered, rubbing a hand over his arm.
“It’s cold in here,” Armin muttered, a slight tremor in his tone. “I’m freezing.”
Levi’s gaze flicked to the unlit fireplace. “Sit down,” he ordered. “I’ll get the fire going.”
Armin opened his mouth, stepping forward. “I can do it-”
“Did I ask you to do it?” Levi snapped, a hint of his old irritation seeping into his voice. “I’m not a cripple. Sit your ass down.”
Armin’s eyes widened for a split second before he nodded, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips, fully aware of the captain's pride and choosing not to challenge it. He took a seat on the armchair Levi had just vacated, the warmth from where the man had been sitting still lingering. The case rested at his feet, a silent companion that seemed almost as restless as its owner.
"Captain, why are the bells ringing so late?" Armin asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Did something happen?"
Levi scoffed shaking his head. "It's that fucking nutjob at the bell tower," he muttered. "I’ve heard he’s lost his mind or something." He paused, eyes darkening. "Either way, he never misses ringing those damn bells at midnight."
Armin tilted his head, curious. "How strange," he murmured.
Levi shrugged dismissively, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What else would you expect from a lunatic?" he replied, the words biting, as if he’d heard it all before.
The captain crouched by the fireplace, fingers working methodically as he arranged the kindling and lit a match. The fire flared to life, painting the room with its warm color. The shadows danced across Armin’s face, making him look both older and younger at once. Levi straightened, the warmth from the flames seeping into the room as he moved to the kitchen.
“I’ll make us some tea,” he said over his shoulder, already filling the kettle. The routine felt anchoring, a momentary distraction from the mountain of questions brewing inside him. The water hissed as it hit the bottom of the kettle, and he placed it on the stove before turning to Armin. “What are you doing here? And… this late at night? I thought you were on one of your missions...”
Armin’s gaze fell to the floor for a moment, his fingers tracing the edge of the case. When he looked up, the weight of his next words was clear in his eyes. “I quit,” he said simply, the admission hanging heavy between them.
Levi’s brow furrowed, and for a second, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly. “You what?” he asked, voice low and cutting as the kettle started to hum behind him.
“I quit, Captain,” Armin repeated, firmer this time. The flicker of the fire reflected in his eyes, a distinctive blend of exhaustion and determination. “I couldn’t do it anymore.”
Levi limped back to the small living room, the steady thrum of pain in his knee a familiar companion. He lowered himself onto the sofa with a quiet grunt, facing Armin, who sat comfortably in the armchair. Levi’s sharp eyes roamed over the young man’s face, searching for any sign of distress, any hint of hesitation that might explain why he’d made such a drastic decision. But all he saw was an unusual calm, an almost serene expression that set Levi’s mind spinning.
“What’s this bullshit about you quitting?” Levi muttered, the edge in his voice softened by curiosity. “You seemed so damn proud of that diplomatic work.”
Armin’s lips quirked up into a small smile, and he let out a light laugh. It was a sound Levi hadn’t realized he missed. “Oh, I’m still going to be involved, just not on the missions themselves. I don’t think I could ever detach myself fully,” Armin said. His eyes reflected the fire’s glow, warmth dancing in his gaze. “But I’ve left the traveling to others. They’ve got a handle on it now, and, to be honest, they’re enjoying it.”
Levi raised an eyebrow. “Those brats enjoying work? Now that’s hard to believe.”
Armin’s smile widened, and he shifted in the armchair, leaning forward slightly. “Well, visiting bars in new cities, meeting interesting people… That might have more to do with why they’re enjoying it so much.”
Levi scoffed, opening his mouth to throw back a sarcastic remark, but Armin lifted a finger, stopping him in his tracks. “But still,” Armin said, more seriously this time, “they’re great at what they do. Better than I ever imagined they’d be. They’ve got a knack for making connections, for bringing people together. They deserve the spotlight now.”
A brief silence settled over the room, interrupted only by the soft hum of the kettle and the crackling of the fire. Levi’s eyes softened, studying Armin’s expression more closely. It wasn’t just calm; it was the look of someone who had found a new purpose, who had chosen peace over obligation. Levi couldn’t help but feel a pang in his chest at the realization.
“Why now?” Levi asked quietly, leaning back against the couch and crossing his arms.
Armin looked away. “Because I needed to come home,” he said softly, eyes drifting back to Levi. “I needed to be here.”
Levi's eyes narrowed as he tried to process Armin’s words. “I don’t understand. All you ever wanted was to see the world beyond the walls, and now...”
Armin’s smile wavered, and a shadow crossed his face. “I have seen the world,” he said, voice quieter now. “What’s left of it, at least.” His gaze dropped to the floor, the weight of those memories visible in the way his shoulders slumped. But then, as if shaking off a dark cloud, he straightened and looked up at Levi with determination. “But now, I feel like it’s time to settle down. To find my own space in this world, one I can choose for myself. Moving from place to place was incredible, you know? That kind of freedom -it felt amazing. I saw so much, experienced things I never imagined, and learned more than I ever thought I could. I can even understand bits and pieces of different languages now! Can you believe that?” Armin chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with nostalgia before his expression turned thoughtful.
“But... for a while now, I’ve started to feel like something’s missing. As much as I’ve loved exploring, I’ve found myself yearning for a place to return to at the end of the day. A place that’s truly mine -always there, always the same. Somewhere I can feel grounded -a place where I know I’ll always belong. You know what I mean? I want a place I can call home.”
Armin’s gaze turned wistful, his voice softening as he continued, “A home with a little front yard and a cozy fireplace. I want to cook my own meals and, who knows, maybe even learn to make something as simple as jam.”
Levi’s eyebrow shot up. “Jam?”
A light laugh escaped Armin, soft and genuine. “I don’t know, just something simple. I want a simple life. Now that there’s no constant fear and the world is finally beginning to settle, I think it’s time.”
Levi’s expression shifted, the lines of his face softening as he regarded Armin. “Where are you going to stay?”
Armin’s fingers grazed the edge of his case, a nervous gesture that caught Levi’s attention. He looked back up, meeting Levi’s eyes with a hint of vulnerability. “Well… Uhm… I wanted to ask if I could stay here… Just for a little while,” he added quickly, seeing Levi’s surprise. “It won’t be forever, I promise. Just until I can find a small place to rent.”
Levi studied Armin, the sincerity in his request and the hint of weariness that even the fire’s light couldn’t mask. A strange warmth unfurled in the captain’s chest, one he hadn’t felt in years.
After what felt like an eternity, Levi grunted, turning his head away as if to hide the emotions that flickered there. “Tch. You’d better not make a mess of the place.”
Armin’s face brightened, a wide, genuine smile spreading across his features. “Thank you, Captain.”
Levi looked back at him, the corner of his mouth lifting just a fraction. “Don’t thank me yet, brat. If you don’t behave, I can still kick you out, you know.”
Armin giggled, a sound so soft and melodic that filled the the room with its gentle lightness. Levi’s lips twitched, an involuntary smirk breaking through his usual stoic expression. It lingered for a moment, the sweetness of Armin’s laugh tugging at something deep within him. The heaviness in the air gave way to a warmth that settled in his chest -a warmth that, for the first time in years, made Levi feel like he was home.
The jarring whistle of the kettle interrupted the tenderness of the moment. Levi shifted to get off the couch, but before he could brace himself, Armin shot up from the armchair, practically bounding into the small kitchen.
“I’ll do it!” Armin exclaimed, a bright enthusiasm in his voice.
Levi scowled, half rising before sitting back down with a huff. “Brat, I told you, I’m not-”
“I know, I know,” Armin interrupted, rolling his eyes. “You’re not an invalid. But you’re giving me asylum, Captain. Let me do this for you.”
Levi grumbled under his breath as Armin disappeared into the kitchen. It was tiny, barely more than a corner nook, but as Armin moved through it, taking in the modest cabinets and well-worn counters, a warm smile settled on his face. The space was unpretentious and humble, yet it felt lived-in, comforting. Homey.
He poured the steaming tea into two mismatched cups and returned to the living room, handing one to Levi. The captain’s eyes followed him, taking in the easy way Armin settled back into the armchair, the younger man’s gaze sweeping over the room, filled with restless curiosity.
“Stop staring, you’ll go cross-eyed,” Levi muttered, the gruffness in his tone softened by a hint of tenderness.
Armin cradled the warm cup in his hands, his gaze drifting around the cozy room. “It feels so warm in here,” he remarked softly, his eyes flicking to Levi. “And so... clean. But of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, Captain.”
Levi snorted, shaking his head, but there was a faint trace of satisfaction in the way his shoulders relaxed. “Naturally.”
Armin’s eyes continued their exploration. The house wasn’t large, but it was comfortable. The living room area had a sofa and a single armchair set in front of a window that overlooked the main square, where the faint glow of street lamps could be seen outside. A small iron fireplace stood in the corner, its black surface polished to a muted shine. Near the archway leading to the kitchen, a small wooden table sat with two chairs tucked neatly beneath it. Beyond that, a short corridor led to a modest bathroom and the only bedroom in the house.
As his gaze wandered, something on the shelves lining the back wall caught his attention. His eyes widened, and a bright smile lit up his face. Setting his cup down, he sprang from the armchair and made his way over, carefully picking up a small vase that rested there.
“You kept it...” Armin murmured, turning to Levi with a spark of surprise and delight.
Levi’s expression barely shifted, but his voice held an unmistakable warmth. “Of course I kept it. You gave it to me, didn’t you? What did you expect me to do, throw it out?”
Armin held the vase close for a moment, his smile softening as he looked down at it. “I just... I didn’t think it mattered that much to you.”
Levi met his gaze, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “You brats never understood. I don’t keep things that don’t matter.”
Armin looked at Levi for a moment, his stare unreadable yet undeniably warm. Then, with a careful touch, he returned the vase to its spot on the shelf.
He wandered slowly around the room, his eyes taking in the small details -the neat arrangement of books, the precisely folded blanket over the back of the sofa, the faint scent of tea and firewood lingering in the air.
“Your home’s really pretty, Captain,” Armin said after a moment, his tone sincere and tinged with admiration.
Levi shrugged, his eyes flicking to the fireplace as if brushing off the compliment. “It’s just a house.”
Armin turned back to him with a contemplative smile. “Maybe to you. But it feels... safe. It feels like you.”
Levi’s gaze darted to him for a split second, a rare softness flickering in his expression before he covered it with a gruff scoff. “Don’t get sentimental on me, Arlert. It’s a pain to clean, that’s all.”
But as Armin settled back into the armchair, sipping his tea with contentment, Levi felt a warmth he couldn’t quite put into words -a warmth that made the small house feel a little less empty.
Armin’s lips curved up in a small, playful smile. He looked around again, taking in the sparse decorations and simple furnishings. “You know,” he started, glancing back at Levi, “this place really needs a Christmas tree.”
Levi’s brow knitted, a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betraying his thoughts. “A Christmas tree?” he repeated, the words sounding foreign and almost absurd on his tongue. He scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’re caught up in that Christmas nonsense too. Next, you’ll be saying you expect some fat bastard in a red suit to squeeze down the chimney like those idiots out there believe.”
A light chuckle escaped Armin's lips. “No, not quite that,” he responded, eyes sparkling with delight. “But people around the world have been celebrating Christmas for centuries! It’s a tradition that’s outlived so much -wars, hardships, everything.” His gaze drifted toward the big fir outside, its branches swaying gently in the breeze, and he gestured toward it. “A lot of people here celebrate it. We should too. It’s... different, you know? We didn’t grow up with it, but the stories I’ve read -it all feels so warm, so hopeful. It’s… magical, in a way.”
Levi made a sound halfway between a grunt and a sigh, his skepticism slipping through. “Magical,” he muttered bitterly.
Armin leaned forward, the earnestness in his eyes unmissable. “Come on, Captain. We should celebrate Christmas too… A night that represents love and peace -it sounds… I don’t know, sweet.”
“Sweet,” Levi echoed, his voice softer now, as if the word held an unfamiliar weight. He looked away, pretending to be annoyed, but an unacknowledged truth hung in the air between them.
Armin’s eyes lit up as he continued in an enthusiastic tone. “And Christmas trees -they’re beautiful, with the little ornaments, the twinkling lights, the decorations. And don’t even get me started on the food! Imagine if it snowed -staying inside by the fire, drinking hot chocolate…” He glanced at Levi’s raised eyebrow and corrected himself with a small laugh, “I mean, hot tea.”
Levi watched Armin’s face, the way it glowed with a rare spark of excitement, and huffed. “Fine,” he he conceded, giving in. “We’ll get a damn tree. But don’t expect me to decorate.”
Armin’s eyes lit up as a wide grin spread across his face. “Really, Captain? Can we really have one here?”
Levi’s gaze grew tender as he took in Armin’s hopeful expression. He exhaled, almost resigned. “I guess, if you’re going to be living here, we might as well.”
Armin beamed, the warmth in his smile infectious, making the small room feel a little brighter. “Thank you, Captain. You won’t regret it, I promise.”
Levi’s lips quirked into the faintest semblance of a smile, one so fleeting it was almost missed. “We’ll see about that,” he said, taking another sip of tea as he looked out the window, the twinkle of lights outside now holding a different kind of glow.