Chapter Text
It's the first winter after the War ended. After long bitter years, the Peace Accords was finally signed at the height of Summer. The ballpoint pen was a new invention and had been around for just a year. Maybe if it were invented earlier, they would've signed for peace much earlier as well. Levi laughed at himself at his ridiculous thought. This new scent of peace had made him go mad. Well, crazier than usual, maybe. He must admit, a war-ending pen sounded better than the actual bombs that won them their war.
But Peace was Peace, even if it remained a tentative one. Small skirmishes along the border. Boatloads of homeless people. At least, in this sleepy student town, life was as normal as it could be. Hopefully come Spring everything would be better.
First, though, they would have to survive the winter, this unseasonably warm winter, when the thermostat struggled to get below zero most days. Though it did make for some amusing fashion choices.
Though not freezing all the time, it was really wet and windy. Wicked winds and nonstop drizzle whenever it failed to snow. When it did snow, it was only enough to create slush that was tracked into the shop with every new customer.
It was a little past nine at night when Levi's patience finally snapped.
Isabel was at the cash register, taking orders from the latest customer. Some coffee, a sweet pastry and a savory sandwich. He was tall and broad like an oak tree, with windblown blonde hair to match windblown dark trenchcoat. Wet pant hems, and wet shoes the size of little boats. Levi's eyes followed a trail of sludge and mud all the way back to the entrance, where glass doors rattled fiercely against the howling wind outside.
Levi huffed all the way to the cleaning closet, reached for some rags and his mop.
"You know what? I'm closing up the shop," he told Isabel, who was putting together a sandwich tower.
There's still ninety-plus minutes left on the clock, but Isabel saw the trail of mud from the door to the counter, and from the register to the farthest corner of the shop where the customer now sat. She gave a small shrug and said, "Fine." Business was already slowing anyway, the shop's empty except for this one customer, who was the first since the past half-hour.
"Thanks, boss," Levi said with mock deference, earning him a slap on the back that propelled him toward the door. With a flick of his wrist, the square sign on the glass turned from "We're Open! Step On In!" to "Go Away! We're Closed!". He flicked the lock, just in case an illiterate customer tried to push in.
Their conversation must've reached the man, who had been in the middle of taking out a stack of papers from a battered bag. It was fascinating to see the movement being aborted, now the man was pushing papers back into the bag. The man turned to them. "I'll just have my order to go, then," he said in a nice deep baritone.
He was trying to push paper into his bag, and push himself up off his seat at the same time. Levi's eyes were too glued on the movements of mud-caked shoes to notice anything else. "No, sit down!" he yelled from his side of the store, perhaps with too much force behind his words. "Don't move!"
As though someone used to receiving orders, the man stopped completely. Halted everything he was doing and froze mid-gesture.
Levi was across the store in a blink of an eye, throwing the rags onto the floor next to the man's feet. "Put your shoes on these," he told the man, clutching his mop like it was a loaded shotgun.
The man's shift from statue-frozen to movement should've been awkward, but there's an efficiency about it that fascinated the hell out of Levi. He also realized how blue the man's eyes were, the same eyes that looked down at muddy shoes on rags, and traced back up the tiles. Eyes that widened in realization.
"Oh, sorry about that," the man said, contritely, now rubbing the soles of his feet vigorously on the rag, manipulating the piece of cloth so it could reach the sides and tops of well-worn shoes. Then he leaned down, angling one hand to reach dirty cloth when everything tumbled onto he floor--his bag, his papers, some pencils spilling off one pocket, and one fountain pen out of the other. Damp trenchcoat that had been slung across an empty seat was pulled down as well, tangled as it was around the bag's frayed strap. "So sorry," the man mumbled, tumbling out of his chair to collect everything as fast as he could...
...with one hand.
Why didn't he see it before? Levi wondered. He who prided himself at being attentive to the goings-on around him. Now he saw the way the right sleeve of his cotton shirt was pinned up to a stump that had been cut above the elbow.
He ditched his mop with a clatter and kneeled next to the man to help. Isabel came over with a tray of the man's orders and placed it on the far end of the table. She crouched down to help as well.
Between the three of them, they managed to get the papers squared off, pencils and pen corralled before they could roll too far, trenchcoat dusted and folded neatly on the back of an empty chair, with the bag leaning against it. Shoes were cleaned as much as they could be, mud mopped and rags disposed off, then it's everyone back to their battle stations, so to speak.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Levi saw the man staring down at the tray of food and coffee in front of him, as though the one mug and two plates held poison of various kinds. But he kept his mouth shut and his head down, finished his mopping, instead.
"Maybe I'll just have these to-go," the man finally spoke up, angling his upper body to face the counter where Isabel was standing.
"Are you in a hurry to go anywhere?" Levi cut in, before Isabel could say anything, his voice muffled from being inside the broom closet.
"No. Not really. But you said you're closing up."
"We're technically open until ten thirty, but that's ninety more minutes of potential muddy boots that Levi here can't stand anymore," Isabel said from where she was boxing up leftover food from the display case.
The man looked contrite and shifted his legs beneath the table. "Sorry about that."
"Yeah, well. You're not the only one," Levi huffed as he emerged back out with a clatter. "The welcome mat is not just for decoration you know."
Erwin was the man's name, Levi learned from the order slip in his hand. One extra large long black coffee, one pain au chocolat, one egg and cress sandwich. He bundled Erwin's order with the other salmon-colored slips and tied them all off with a rubber band. Not bad for a day's work, he smiled, finger tapping over the good round number written on the tally sheet stuck on top of the bundle. Isabel was at the register, counting the money.
Leaning against the counter, careful not to leave fingerprint smudges all over his gleaming hard work, he examined Erwin's straightbacked profile. Levi admired that graceful bowing neck, those long fingers of his left hand was wrapped around a long pencil, and the sparse movements of pencil across paper held down by a plain block of wooden paperweight.
It's eleven fifteen, now. Isabel had taken away the man's mug and two plates a while ago, but told the man he could stay if he wanted to. As long as he stayed put and not bother their cleaning, Levi had added. The man had smiled gratefully and gone back to his writing.
Levi wondered if the man was from the Polytechnic up the road. He wrote almost continuously, long and an awful lot on each paper. Either he was writing an essay, or he was grading a particularly crappy set of papers. He would wear down the black end of each pencil to the wooden part before switching. He didn't have a sharpening tool with him, though he seemed to have an endless supply of pencils in his bag. A good tree's worth, on Levi's estimation, especially since each paper needed at least two pencils.
Erwin looked a bit older than most students that came into the shop, Levi thought, even older than the egghead doctorates he'd seen. But, now that the war's over, more older people were going back to school again. Or, maybe Erwin was a lecturer, or just someone who worked there. He also wondered about the arm. Was it from the war, or was it something else?
His train of thought was cut short when he heard the money drawer clicked. "All done, Iz?"
"Yeah, good takings today," she replied. She slipped a few colorful bills out of the stack of money and offered them to him.
"Nah, keep it. For the baby," he said, waving her off. "Or for Farlan's meds."
Isabel hesitated as she always did, even though it had been a while since Levi came in to help with work around the shop and declined payment every time. But she relented, as always. She said, "Fine. But take the food with you," as she always did. "You'll tell me if you need..."
"Yeah, yeah," he said, already putting his share of the food inside his duffel bag, next to the two thermos of tea, which he would not open until the morning, when they would be very strong and very bitter.
"You know, you're still welcome to stay once Farlan's back in commission again, right?" Poor poor Farlan, she thought, as she stuffed money into a bank's pouch and filled the deposit slip that came with it. One arm and one leg, on opposite sides, in casts after a nasty fall. One minute he was up a ladder fixing the rain gutter, the next minute he's down on the ground in a tangle of broken limbs. That he didn't break his neck was a miracle she was thankful for each day.
"He can't even change the baby's diaper without getting winded, Iz. We'll talk again when he's better," Levi said, straightening up, He looked around and smiled. "Anyway, I've always liked it here."
"Yeah," Isabel said, her smile mirrored Levi's, but sunnier. She looked down and saw that she was standing right where she stood when Farlan proposed to her all those years ago. She looked up the first menu board that Levi had ever put up, now worn wood and flaking paint. If she looked around, she'd find a lot of memories. And sometimes she did--early in the morning, once prep's over; in the lull between service; late at night, before locking up.
Soon, Levi and one-armed man--Mr. Erwin, she reminded herself--were outside, waving at her and wishing her goodnight. She locked all the doors, switched off all the heaters and lights, and went up the back stairs to where Farlan and the baby were already asleep, curled around each other in their bed--a big puppy and a small puppy.
Out of her window, she watched Levi and Mr. Erwin walk to the bank across the road, where Mr. Erwin hung back while Levi pushed the shop's money pouch through the overnight deposit slot embedded into thick brick wall. She watched the the two of them talk, one tall and one short, facing each other under a street lamp that flickered. She didn't stop watching until they parted abruptly--not even a handshake, she frowned--walking to the opposite ends of the road.
The shop was open until ten thirty every day, but customers--mostly students--had stopped coming after nine thirty, at most, since the honkatonk down the street started opening its doors at quarter to ten. Lines were already long way before then.
In no time at all Erwin became a Regular, with a capital R. The kind of regular who arrived at the same time, ordered the same things, sat at the same place, did the same things where they sat, and left the same time. Thankfully, he also took Levi's words to heart and conscientiously wiped his shoes clean on the welcome mat before entering.
Even so, Levi didn't learn anything much about Erwin other than he was indeed a lecturer at the Polytechnic, and part of the Built Environment department. He taught general entry courses like maths, but also land survey techniques for urban settings. This last one seemed to be his passion, judging from the way he lit up when he spoke about it. He had many ideas about rebuilding bombed out towns and cities, of which there were many after the War.
Levi heard a lot about it from the students who came in, talking and bragging among themselves. They wanted to be engineers and architects, they wanted to graduate quickly and make a killing in the property market. Well, that's one way to make a living, Levi thought, more power to you.
But Erwin didn't seem at all like his money-minded career-driven students. The way Erwin spoke, he sounded like those ivory tower philosophers or pro-bono activists. All higher purpose and greater good wide-eyed idealism.
Levi couldn't decide which one's better. But, one thing he knew: Levi loved to listen to Erwin speak about his vision. How he enthusiastically spoke about them even at the smallest prompting. He looked so different when he spoke this way, Levi marveled, like he finally came alive. The way Erwin talked made Levi believe in a future--a good one.
But those occasions were few and far in between. Because Levi enjoyed his silence and would never start a conversation if he didn't have to. Because Erwin was too polite to start a conversation for fear of encroaching someone's personal time and space.
Sometimes, Levi wished Erwin would stop being so polite and encroach already. Sometimes, Levi wished he could just drop his mop and just ask. It's just words. They couldn't hurt to ask, could they?
So, there they were, three weeks and one day later.
At nine Erwin would come, wipe his shoes five times on each side on the welcome mat. Maybe a tad bit overzealous, but Levi appreciated the hell out of this gesture.
Erwin would push the door open, then quickly push it close again. Cold air never came with him, warm air stayed inside.
When he got to the cash register, Isabel would always beat him to his order, "One long black. One pain au chocolat. One egg and cress, coming up," she'd say.
And Erwin would answer, "Yes, that's right." Followed by a "How's your day?" followed by several crisply folded bills and a "Keep the change."
Levi's job in all this was to entertain Erwin. Because, except for the first day when he tracked mud all the way to his seat, Erwin preferred standing just to the side of the counter waiting for his tray.
"Are they really good?" Levi asked, as he stacked dry mugs next to the coffee maker.
"What?" Erwin sounded rather distracted.
"The food. Do you really love those things, or are you just one of those people who does everything a particular way?"
"Like you and your cleaning?" Nowadays, Erwin was also a bit more unapologetic with his ribbing. Only a week ago, teasing Levi's cleaning habits would never cross his mind, let alone his lips, just in case Levi took it to heart. But Levi knew those words were not malicious, and said in good faith.
After all, Levi liked how those eyes twinkled mischievously. He sometimes wished he was a Literature major, so he could wax poetic about those eyes just once.
"Yeah, like me and my cleaning," Levi answered instead, with a prodigious eye-roll. "Are you neurotic like me?"
"No. I just like them." A pause. "I mean they're not bad." A longer pause. "Okay, so maybe I also like structure."
Levi snorted. "Structure? Is that what they call it nowadays?" Nevertheless, he arranged one steaming mug and two food-laden plates on a tray just like so, in a way that would balance well for Erwin's one-handed carry.
Once Erwin got to his chair, it was the end of their conversation.
At ten thirty, Isabel would collect the tray, mug, and plates, and invite Erwin to stay if he wanted. Erwin would say thank you and tuck his long wool-clad legs under the table much closer together, so Levi could sweep and mop around him.
At eleven thirty, Erwin would walk Levi across the street--like a shield against sparse late-night traffic, like a shield against muggers--to the bank's overnight deposit dropbox.
Levi did bristle, at the thought of being protected like a damsel in distress, but "I know you can deck someone at fourteen paces, Levi," Isabel had said one day when Levi complained. "Just think he's extra protection for my money, okay?"
He admitted that those long legs must be useful to chase muggers down. One-armed, Erwin wouldn't be of much help other than to hold the mugger down while Levi punch the shit out of this imaginary person.
Feeling slightly empowered, but also slightly guilty about joking about Erwin's disability (only slightly, because he really didn't mean anything malicious with it), Levi always kept his trap shut all the while and let Erwin accompany him across the street every time. He learned to tolerate it; Erwin was warm and Levi got cold easily, anyway, no matter how many layers he put on.
Then, they would chat a while under the flickering gas lamp standing in front of the bank. And they would part ways.
That's what they always did. Until one day they didn't.