Archive of Our Own

"What?"

Hange watches his fingers tense around his ice cream cup, and her heart gives a sudden jolt.

They've been sitting on her tiny balcony for half an hour, watching the last streaks of red and purple linger in the sky, now on the verge of disappearing completely. The moment had felt so peaceful, so safe, that she'd gathered her courage, unable to keep her feelings from him any longer.

"I'm in love with you, Levi," she repeats, her voice much tighter than the first time. "Been for a while now." She lets her gaze drift away from Levi's blank expression and back to the sky, trying to fight away the unease growing in the pit of her stomach.

"We've known each other for a long time now, haven't we? I always kind of assumed I was safe, that falling in love with my best friend wasn't going to happen to me. Guess I was wrong." She allows a small smile to appear on her lips, one Levi doesn't reciprocate, and her confidence wavers even further.

"You've made me feel loved in a way I'd never experienced before, and you've truly healed something in me through your friendship. But I don't want to assume that it means… that you feel the same I do now." She pauses, and from the corner of her eye, she catches Levi lowering his gaze to his hands, his fingers clenched into fists. "That's why I'm telling you the truth now. Because I want to know… if there's a chance you like me in the same way."

Levi remains silent, his fingers digging into his own palm, so tightly his knuckles turn white. His distant, almost frustrated body language confuses her. Hange had expected him to grow nervous after her confession, or slightly tense and fidgety, maybe with a few awkward, half-finished sentences about how he likes her too, and that they could go out and see if whatever this is between them could become something more.

She'd always thought she was able to read him quite well, maybe even better than anyone else. To her, there had been signs that—at least in her eyes—her feelings might not be entirely one-sided. Otherwise, she wouldn't have dared speak up, not wanting to put the friendship they had built over the years at risk. But it seems that she had completely misunderstood him, and as he finally looks up, and his blue, troubled eyes meet hers again, she almost fears his response.

"I'm sorry. I know this mustn't have been easy for you, and I really appreciate you being honest with me." He's going to turn me down, she thinks. She can already feel it, see it in the way he scratches the back of his head. Something tightens in her chest, so much that it almost hurts. "I… I just can't, not right now. I'm really sorry."

No, those aren't the words she had expected, and the disappointment hits her hard—a sharp, heavy stone crashing into her in the stomach and settling there. How she wishes she were able to turn back time and keep her damn mouth shut.

"I see," Hange says, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. She doesn't know what to say, isn't even sure how she feels about all of this. The emotions are hitting her all at once, making it hard to think straight. She should've prepared herself for a rejection, and definitely shouldn't have listened to that little voice in her head encouraging her to finally make a move. Of course, he wasn't going to fall for someone like her, was he? He deserves so much better, and he probably knows it.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," she finally says, forcing lightness into her voice as she straightens up on the bench. "It's fine. It was presumptuous of me to assume you could. You would never…" She gestures towards herself with her hands and lets out a dry laugh, "… someone like me."

"No, Hange. Stop. It's not that," Levi says, something pleading flashing in his eyes as he leans forward. This time, though, she doesn't dare wonder what it could mean, letting the image slip from her mind, along with any hopes she'd harboured. "It's me, not you. I can't because—"

"—because we're friends and friends shouldn't fall in love. I get it, you don't need to explain yourself."  Hange feels her throat tighten with every passing second, and she takes a gulp of water, focusing on the way it trickles down as she pushes any thoughts to the back of her mind. She needs to hold it together. "It's fine, don't look at me like that. Forget I said anything, okay? Let's pretend this never happened."

Levi seems about to contradict her, his hand moving towards her, like he's about to reach out. But she doesn't give him a chance to speak, afraid of being disappointed again, and shushes him with a hum and a shake of her head, making it clear the topic is closed for her.

His gaze follows her as she escapes into the living room to fetch a new bottle of water, away from his suffocating presence. Tears threaten to spill from her eyes as soon as she's alone, and she presses her fingers against them to ground herself. She bends over the bottle crate to pull out a fresh bottle, the empty one slipping from her clammy fingers and crashing into the crate.

Levi hasn't moved an inch when she returns, his head hanging low, his interlaced fingers resting against his neck. He winces when the balcony door swings shut and straightens up at once. Taking the bottle from her hand, he fills up her own glass first, then his own. His eyes keep searching hers as they sip their water in silence, and Hange wonders whether he can tell she had been crying.

When the silence becomes almost suppressing, she turns on the little radio she keeps on the table, and soft jazz music drifts through the warm summer air as both of them dwell on their own thoughts, sitting side by side yet miles away from each other.

It's Levi who eventually gets up, saying it's about time for him to leave. He helps her load the dishwasher with the plates and glasses they used for dinner, the one he'd cooked for the two of them. Hange tries to protest, wanting nothing more than to curl up on the bench and stare at the stars, with no one around to distract her from the sharp stinging in her chest. But he silently walks through the living room, collecting any stray glasses or plates he can find, which join the rest of the dishes.

They don't hug goodbye at the door—Hange can't bring herself to do so, needing some distance from him in order to breathe, and Levi seems to sense it and doesn't reach out either.

"I'm really sorry," he says, turning around in the staircase, standing one flight of stairs below her. "Can we talk about this some other time?"

"I don't think there's much to talk about," Hange says, tilting her head. A sad expression flickers across his face, and she forces a smile onto her lips for his sake. "We're good; don't worry. Drive safe."

Levi nods and takes one step down the stairs. "Sleep well. And don't stay up too late," he says, unable to meet her eyes when the words leave his mouth.

Hange ignores the flutter in her chest and hums in acknowledgement. Then he disappears, the only sound in the hallway the echo of his footsteps.

From her balcony, she watches Levi leave the house, kicking the curb in frustration as he approaches his car. She understands his reaction; she just ruined their friendship because she fell in love, and this moment will follow them wherever they go. He probably wishes she had kept her thoughts to herself—he won't be able to act normal around her anymore.

The door of his car slams shut, and he hits the steering wheel with his fist. She can't hear it, but she can see it, almost feel the groan he lets out, his arms braced against the wheel as he hides his face. It takes him a long while to collect himself before the engine finally roars to life and he drives away.

Hange stays behind, feeling like the most foolish person on the entire planet.

Things never return to how they've been.

In the beginning, Hange does her best to act as normal around Levi as possible, forcing herself to joke around, poke him in the ribs, and steal his food as usual when they hang out. But it's hard to forget the expression that showed on his face when she had admitted her feelings, the obvious discomfort he hadn't been able to hide from her. It makes her want to disappear immediately, the tension lingering in the air whenever they make eye contact becoming too much to bear, and he gets that look on his face that tells her he can feel it too.

Little by little, she starts skipping their weekly outings with their friends. They have shared the same circle of friends for a long time now, so avoiding him completely is impossible, and she's left with nothing else to do but stay home alone, making up excuse after excuse for why she wasn't going to show up yet again.

She's a bit angry at herself for letting a rejection affect her life in such a way. She should be above that; she doesn't need a romantic partner by her side to live a fulfilled life. But it isn't just the rejection itself that hurts—it's the fact that it's Levi, the one person she has always cared about in a special way, and still does—first as a friend, then as something more. She has never loved anyone that deeply before, and it's exactly that which makes his no sting so, so much.

So Hange stays away as best as she can whenever they're forced to be together, watching Levi from afar, seemingly unbothered as he stands among their friends at the pool table, giving tips on how to make a better shot when he isn't playing. She hates how much she wants to be close to him, by his side.

But avoiding him has become easier than dealing with the emotions that rise whenever she sees him, and she's sure she's doing him a favour as well. Levi doesn't seem particularly eager to be around her either, not treating her unkindly when they do end up talking, but not exactly initiating any interactions either, as though he's worried he might hurt her.

Sometimes, Hange swears she can feel his gaze resting on her, something heavy lingering at the back of her neck. When she turns around, however, he's always occupied with something else, and she knows she's once again letting her imagination get the better of her, feeding her stupid heart with hope when, in truth, there's none.

Of course, her changed behaviour doesn't go unnoticed by her friends.

"Something's up, and I'm tired of watching you wall yourself off from us," Nanaba says one day as she barges in on Hange, who has just settled onto her couch with the unhealthiest dinner combination of the year—pizza, chips, coke, and an entire tub of chocolate chip ice cream waiting for her in the freezer.

Hange really isn't in the mood to bring up the topic again, having reached a stage of detached indifference after many sleepless nights and skipped meals. But when Nanaba threatens to ask Levi what's going on, and Hange can't hide the shocked expression on her face as she grabs her friend's hand and pulls her phone away from her, she knows there's no way around it anymore.

"Are you sure he rejected you?" Nanaba asks once Hange has shared everything with her and they've settled on the couch, each nibbling on a slice of pizza.

"You should've seen his face," Hange replies with a sigh, letting her head fall against the backrest of the sofa. "He was in shock, and definitely not happy about my confession." The mere memory makes her throat tighten, and she clears it to chase away the sensation.

"He might've been surprised, maybe even overwhelmed. That's why he reacted that way. Besides, he didn't tell you he didn't feel the same way." Nanaba tilts her head, her voice insistent. "I've always thought you two matched really well; Mike thinks so too. Why don't you try talking to him again?"

"There's nothing to talk about, Nana," Hange says, the lump in her throat growing again. "He doesn't feel the same way, and that's okay. I'm not going to force him into something he doesn't want. I just wish I hadn't opened my damn mouth—now I've ruined our friendship for good. I should've known better…"

She makes a sweeping gesture with her hand, squeezing her eyes shut as tears threatened to spill. Nanaba is immediately by her side and pulls her into a hug, holding her until the wave of emotion passes.

"I still think you should talk to him," Nanaba says when they have settled next to each other on the couch again, restarting the movie Hange had been watching before—her friend has decided to stay the night. "It can't get any worse, can it? It can only get better. And who knows, maybe Levi will surprise you."

"I don't think I can," Hange mumbles, turning her attention to the TV. "It's just too much."

Months go by, and Hange is convinced that—unlike Nanaba had hoped—there's no hope for her and Levi.

The gap between them grows wider and wider, until it costs both of them too much strength to cross it and reach the other one, strength they aren't able to muster. They attempt to reconnect now and then, but their weekly phone calls turn into monthly ones, until one day, Hange doesn't call, and Levi doesn't text her either.

The next time they meet, neither of them brings it up, and from that moment on, it feels strange to suddenly reach out now that one of their last routines has died out as well. Hange wishes she could've known that the phone call they shared more than two months ago had been the last one. She would've made sure it was a good conversation, one they could look back on with a sense of bittersweet fondness. Instead, they had talked about food places and work and other mundane things—definitely nothing worth remembering.

She starts blaming Levi for anything bad that happens to her, because blaming someone else is always easier than facing her own mistakes. Not directly to him, of course, but in front of her friends, who by now know everything about what has happened—half a year is more than enough for everyone to find out.

Hange's car breaks down; it's because he must be cursing the day she confessed her feelings to him. Her TV stops working; he's responsible for that too, probably sitting on his own couch and thinking gloomy thoughts about her. He haunts her day and nights, even though she's trying really hard to forget him, and it's starting to drive her crazy.

"I regret ever walking up to him on the day we met," Hange says one night, exhausted after a long day at the publishing house, where none of the revisions she had made had been good enough, leaving her in a sour mood. "I wish I'd never met him," she adds stubbornly, her voice muffled against her arms, where she has buried her face.

"You don't mean that," Nanaba says softly, placing a full plate of pasta in front of Hange. It smells particularly delicious, but not even that manages to lift her spirits.

"Oh, I do." Hange sulks for a few more minutes before she's unable to resist the temptation any longer and straightens up to shovel a spoonful of pasta into her mouth. There's a bitter taste on her tongue that has nothing to do anything with the food (Mike's cooking could never taste bad—it's always excellent, better than anything she's ever had at a restuarant).

She hadn't expected that by giving up on being lovers and telling Levi to forget all about it, she was also giving up on being friends, cutting a connection that meant so much to her. Or maybe she had known all along and simply hadn't wanted to believe it, convinced they could go back to how things were after she'd admitted her feelings.

Why was it always her who ended up ruining things? Why couldn't life be on her side for once?

"If I'd known this would be the result," Hange says later that night, holed up in bed as she scrolls through the folder she'd created specifically for photos of her and Levi—the one she hasn't opened in months—"I would've kept it to myself." She lets out a long, weary sigh, hoping that each one will ease the pain a little, until it finally disappears. So far, though, it hasn't really worked.

"I'm sorry that I love you," she whispers, pressing her phone against her chest. "I wish I could change it."

A year goes by, then another, and not much changes.

At some point, Hange isn't sure whether she's mourning her unrequited love or the loss of Levi's friendship—it's probably both at the same time, for the lines are blurring in an awful way. The only thing she does know is that she's still feeling miserable, despite trying to put on a smiling face. She should be feeling better by now, and even though sometimes she does, there are still days when she doesn't know if she'll manage to get out of bed in the morning.

It's so unlike her—the person who has always encouraged others to keep going and preached not to let anyone or anything drag them down. She should take her own advice to heart and stop fussing over things that can't be changed. But maybe a broken heart is much more difficult to mend than she expected, or maybe Levi is so irreplaceably special to her, unique in a way no one else could ever be.

When Hange gets a job offer in another city, she hesitates only briefly before accepting it, hopeful that a change of scenery might do her good. Yes, she'd be leaving her friends behind, making meet-ups much more difficult with three hours of distance between them. But it should be manageble; she isn't going to disappead to the other side of the planet (and it's not like she's been going out that much over the past months anyway). She's more than ready to leave the past behind her.

As soon as Levi finds out about her move—through their mutual friend Erwin, much to Hange's embarrassment, because she really hadn't been able to bring up the courage to tell him herself, not after the silence that had fallen between them—he reaches out to her, asking if she wants to meet up.

Hange agrees, albeit hesitantly, worried that a one-on-one conversation might tear open wounds that are still in the process of healing. After all, they haven't met alone in over year, only occasionally speaking to each other when they're with their friends.

Her heart is beating wildly as she enters the café—one of their old favourites, where they had practically become regulars with how often they'd met there after university. Levi is already waiting for her at one of the tables. He immediately stands up when he sees her, pulling out a chair for her as she approaches.

Shut the hell up, she warns her own heart when it stirs and flutters, momentarily throwing her off balance. He has a girlfriend. Don't you even dare go there.

She found out about his new, now two-month old relationship through Mike, who had happened to come across the two of them at the mall. She seems like a nice girl—Hange has done thorough research across several social media platforms—and she's definitely very pretty, with the sweetest smile Hange has ever seen.

She hadn't been sure whether she thought they were a good match or not. At first glance, the girl didn't seem like the kind of person Levi would be interested in. But Hange doens't really want to think about Levi falling in love, the tiny flicker of jealousy she isn't able to push aside reminding her of feelings she's determined to leave behind. Besides, she had already proven to herself that she isn't able to read him as well as she'd thought. She definitely wasn't going to start making assumptions about his love life, not after everything that had happened.

Still, it hurts a little that he'd been the first one to move on, to put the moment that had driven a wedge between them behind him. If anything, it only encouraged her decision to start a new chapter as well.

The first fifteen minutes of their conversation are very awkward. With so much time spent apart, they aren't sure how to approach each other, an unfamiliarity lingering in the air that makes it difficult to speak freely. After a while, though, things get easier, and Hange feels a spark of their old connection reignite when she makes a silly joke and it draws a quiet huff from Levi. She's relieved that some of her frustration has faded over time, and that looking him in the eye no longer feels as daunting as it did twelve months ago.

He's still the same person she'd been friends with, and yet somehow he isn't. Some things feeling foreign in a way she can't quite put her finger on. His style has changed—the shirt he's wearing is a tad too elegant compared to the T-shirts she'd grown used to seeing him wear—and the whiff of cologne she can smell when he leans forward to hand her the menu is much stronger as well. She wonders whether his new girlfriend is responsible for it.

Eventually, though, their conversation shifts to her upcoming move and the new position at the small publishing house she'd accepted.

"The company I'm going to be working for is actually an imprint of the publisher I've already been at, so it's not like I'm starting from zero. I might even have more opportunities to move up over time," Hange explains, taking a sip of her mocha latte. "The town looks very pretty too; I took a trip there two weeks ago when I viewed a few places to rent. There's even a lake nearby, and if I get the apartment I'm rooting for, I'll have an absolutely stunning view of it."

"That sounds… great," Levi replies, swirling the tea in his cup back and forth before bringing it to his lips and finishing the rest in one gulp. "I wish you all the best with your new position. I'm sure you'll be happy there."

"Thanks," Hange says with a small smile. When she meets his eyes, the hairs on the back of her neck immediately stand up as she notices something piercing in them, something she hasn't seen there in a while.

"Hey, um… you're not leaving because of…" He gestures towards him, then towards her, letting the unfinished question hang in the air like a rain cloud about to burst. "… because of that thing that happened between us?"

"You mean my stupid confession?" Hange's laugh comes out a little too shrill, and she does her best to cover it with a small cough. "Oh please, it's been so long, I'd almost forgotten about it." The lie slips past her lips surprisingly easily, and she can only hope that he isn't able to tell from her face that the exact opposite is the truth.

"So you're okay? We're… okay?"

"Of course," Hange replies, poking him in the arm. The touch is brief, meant to be playful, but the skin on skin contact is enough to send a burst of electricity up her arm, along her neck, and right down her spine again. "I'm doing great. What happened back then was just a brief… moment of confusion. I'm definitely over it, don't worry. We're more than good."

Levi nods, letting out a sigh of relief as his features relax and he leans back in his chair. Still, there's a something in his gaze that tells her he doesn't fully believe her, despite her efforts to convince him otherwise.

When it's time to leave and they hug goodbye at the door of the café, Hange is exhausted. Keeping up a façade in front of one of the people who used to know her best isn't easy, and despite the delicious food and drink, she's been losing more and more energy as time went by. Getting the chance to speak to him again leaves her both fulfilled and empty, and the feelings she thought she'd managed to lock away in a small corner of her heart slowly begin to simmer again.

"Call me if you need anything," Levi tells her before they part ways. "If you need help with the move, or you run into any problems. You can always reach out." The offer is unexpected but strangely comforting, and as she walks away, Hange tries to picture the way his expression had softened when she had nodded and thanked him for his support.

Wanting to sneak one last glance at him, she turns around at the corner, pushing herself up onto her tiptoes to peer over the people walking to and fro. For a moment, she has to squint against the sunlight reflecting off her glasses. She leans to the side, and the white glare disappears. She sees Levi standing at the edge of the curb, lifting a hand in greeting when a car approaches. A woman is sitting inside—the one Hange had found when she'd looked up Levi's girlfriend online—her smile widening as he climbs in.

The sharp pang in her chest is impossible to ignore, and Hange wobbles on her feet, almost losing her balance. She knows she should avert her eyes, for the sake of their privacy and for her own good. But she can't bring herself to do so and remains rooted to the spot, watching Levi lean towards the woman. A wave of nausea washes over her, her stomach lurching the moment their lips meet. She instantly squeezes her eyes shut, but it does nothing to erase the image that has now burned itself into her mind, ready to haunt her for a long time to come.

She forces herself to turn around and starts walking, dragging her heavy legs around the corner and down the street as the last glimmer of hope dies in her chest at the unmistakable proof that he found someone to be happy with. That's what she gets for being nosy.

Maybe it's for the best that she's leaving. She has to move on.

The move goes surprisingly smoothly.

They rent a small moving truck for the day, just big enough to fit Hange's few boxes and the pieces of furniture she's taking with her. Mike drives, and Nanaba and Moblit come along as well as they drive through the snow-covered landscape. By the time the town's church bells ring three times, they've already arrived and started unpacking, their stomachs making themselves known as they realise they haven't had lunch yet.

The rest of the afternoon flies by quickly, spent unpacking, putting everything in its place, and rearranging furniture. Before they know it, night has fallen. Saying goodbye to her friends is surprisingly difficult, and Hange has to force herself not to tear up as she hugs each of them tightly. But it's already far past ten p.m., and they still have a three-hour drive ahead of them. So she watches them descend the stairs with a heavy heart, doing her best to appear cheerful and only allows her smile to falter once they're out of the building.

Levi calls her the following afternoon, and even though she doesn't want to admit it, his voice calms her down immensely. Their conversation almost feels like the ones they used to have three years ago, when she felt like amything was possible as long as he was by her side.

He patiently listens to her worries, shares his opinion, and gives her his advise as best as he can. He manages to distract her when she's about to fall into another thought spiral, and even coaxes a laugh from her when he recounts one of his recent mishaps.

Then, a female voice sounds in the distance, and he apologises as he briefly steps away from the phone. Hange can't help but grimace, knowing exactly who that voice must belong to. Was he currently at his girlfriend's flat? Had he stayed the night? Maybe they've already been living together for months, and she simply hadn't known about it.

She realises how foreign Levi has become to her and how unfamiliar she is with his life and his routines. Just like her, his tastes an preferences must have changed as he's grown more mature, as they both approach their thirties. But she hadn't been around to witness it, had only been there from the moment they met at twenty until they went their separate ways at twenty-five.

Would they be different people now if they had remained close?

"I think you're needed elsewhere," Hange says when Levi returns to the phone. "We can hang up, it's okay. I'm feeling alright."

"Are you sure? I don't mind staying for a while longer." The concern in his voice is both comforting and infuriating, a combination Hange didn't know was possible. She gets up from the couch and slips into the kitchen, too restless to remain seated.

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's a Friday night, after all. I don't know if you remember, but it's one of my favourite days of the week."

"Of course I remember," Levi replies, his voice surprisingly warm. "You like it because going out on a Friday night feels particularly rewarding after a long week of work and the prospect of having the entire weekend ahead."

Hange doesn't expect him to remember it in such great detail, and for a moment, she's rendered speechless. "Yeah, that's… thats true," she finally says, pressing a palm against the front of the fridge, suddenly not feeling so well anymore.

"You got any plans for tonight?" Levi asks, in such a neutral tone that Hange wonders whether it's genuine or forced.

"Hmm, no, I'm not entire sure yet," she replies, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of soda. "I've seen a few nice bars in town I want to check out soon—maybe I'll head to one of those." She pauses and puts her phone on speaker, resting the edge of the lid on the countertop and pushing down. The lid immediately pops off, and she hopes the sound makes her appear busy. It's the stubborn, mouthy part in her that keeps talking.

"It'd be fun to, you know, get to know a few new faces. I haven't gone out with anyone in a long, long time, and I think it's important to meet people when you move to a new place."

Hange doesn't specify what kind of outing exactly she means, but she's pretty sure Levi gets the pictures she's trying to paint. It's a stupid move, really, for this isn't a competition, but the fact that his girlfriend is around makes her want to prove him she isn't just sitting alone in her flat either.

"Oh, yeah. Sure." This time, his nonchalance is clearly forced, and he clears his throat. "Have fun. I, uh, hope you'll meet some nice people."

"Thanks," Hange replies as lightly as she can, taking a big gulp of her soda, the cool liquid keeping her emotions that are threatening to spill over at bay. "You too. Hope you and your girlfriend have a lovely evening."

Levi keeps quiet for a moment, the only sound his breathing coming through the speaker. "You… know about it her."

It isn't a question, more a statement, and Hange feels an odd sense of pride at having caught him off guard—one that is immediately followed by guilt for feeling that way in the first place.

"Yeah, well you know our friends. Nothing stays a secret for too long." She snuffles, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "You could've told me, though, you know? No need to keep it from me."

"I wasn't keeping it from you. I just… wasn't sure how to bring it up. After what, you know… happened between us."

"That was three years ago—I told you that I'd almost forgotten about it soon afterwards," Hange lies, ignoring the sting in her chest. She presses her fist against it in an attempt to soothe the discomfort. "But it's okay, you don't owe me anything. I understand that we're not as close as we used to be, and that you don't want to tell me everything."

"No, it's not that, not at all!" Levi hurries to jump it. "If it were up to me—" But she doesn't allow him to continue. Maybe she's too tired to argue, or maybe she's afraid that talking about it might strengthen their connection again, now that she's come to terms with the distance between them.

"Don't worry, I'm not mad. I'm sorry for mentioning it like that, I should've known." Hange glances up at her clock, as though the action—one he can't see—might somehow make her next words sound more convincing. "Hey, I think I'm going to head out soon, I don't feel like staying in tonight. Let's talk some other day, okay?"

Levi hums in agreement, a low, unsteady sound, before wishing her a good evening and telling her to take care of herself. She isn't sure how to respond to that and simply returns sentiment, images of him and his girlfriend curled up together in bed making her stomach churn.

Somehow, the conversation has left Hange feeling strangely empty, and after finishing the last gulp of her soda, she gets another bottle from her fridge and settles out on the balcony. She chooses the small hanging chair she'd bought, now that she has much more space than before. Putting it together had cost her and Moblit a great deal of patience the day before, but once it was ready, it had instantly become her favourite spot.

Letting her legs dangle over the edge of her little nest, she sways gently back and forth, her gaze drifting along the brook that runs behind the house and eventually joins a small river farther downstream. The sunset is absolutely beautiful, but even though her eyes are registering the shifting colours painting the sky, they do little to lift her mood.

Hange presses the cold bottle against her cheek, tiny droplets transferring to her skin and trickling down like tears she doesn't want to shed. She hasn't allowed herself to cry over this issue in almost two years.

"You only arrived yesterday," she mumbles, tucking her legs beneath her. "Things will get better in no time, don't worry. Once you start your new job and fully settle in, you won't even have time to remember him."

Is it really that easy, though?

It takes Hange some time to get used to her new life, but each day becomes a little easier. Gradually, she settles into new routines and truly makes the apartment her own, purchasing a new bookshelf for the book collection that had been stacked in piles around the bed until then. She gets new dishes and pots, hangs fairy lights shaped like little stars behind her bed, and decorates her balcony with lanterns and a few plants.

Soon, she knows her way around the neighbourhood and the entire town, learns which day the supermarket is less crowded, and which products offer the best value. Work gets off to an equally good start: her colleagues are kind, her desk is spacious, and she immediately feels at home there. Working at a smaller publishing house turns out to be much more enjoyable than the large parent company she had known until now, and for the first time, she feels as though her thoughts and opinions truly matter.

Most of the books she works on are of the same genre—the publisher specialises in crime fiction and thrillers—but she doesn't mind in the slightest, as those are the kinds of books she reads anyway. She throws herself into work, dedicating all of her attention to the stories she's been given, and finds that this is exactly what she had dreamed of doing when she decided she wanted to become an editor. Slowly, some of her usual spark returns and she starts feeling like herself again.

When her friends stop by to visit a month later, Hange truly believes she has finally gotten her life back under control. She shows them around her flat, proudly presenting her new purchases and smiling when they notice the water glasses with little leaves on them, or the small cactus pot shaped like a frog. She shows them around town as well, feeling joy bubble up inside her when she realises she's already familiar when so many of the cafés and restaurants, as well as the prettist footpath leading towards the lake.

She starts uploading pictures of the scenery around her and the places she visits online. It feels odd at first—her account has rarely been used, except for a few group pictures and the one time she grew an exotic plant from a seed and thought she needed to document every single centimetre of its growth. But sharing her now "busy" life feels satisfying somehow, and having physical proof of her moving on does her good. Even better when she sees that Levi watched one of her stories, a twisted sense of triumph rushing through her veins. Now he knows she has a life beyond him, too.

She also starts going out with people, new acquaintances she's made through the badminton course she enrolled in or the chess club, and even goes on a few dates.

There's a particular guy Hange meets in a bar one night who catches her attention in an exciting way. He approaches her after watching her from the distance for a while, a dazzling smile on his lips as he asks whether he could join her. She agrees, pushing aside the tiny bit of guilt in her chest when he sits down beside her and orders two beers for them.

He seems to be a kind person—easy to talk to and more than willing to share stories about his life, and he even manages to makes her laugh. He compliments her style, calls her pretty, and Hange finds herself blushing despite herself. When it gets late and she announces it's time for her to leave, he walks her home. As they stroll through the streets, shoulders brushing with every step, she feels a warmth rise in her chest that she hasn't felt in a long time.

She wonders whether the sudden shyness in his eyes is genuine or not, when he tells her he wants to see her again and asks for her phone number. She gives it to him anyway, a little thrill coursing through her veins when their fingers briefly touch. After hesitating only for a brief second, he takes them and squeezes them lightly.

Yes, there are a lot of things she likes about him. She likes that he isn't hesitant to show his emotions—whether they're one hundred percent genuine or not—and that he isn't afraid to take matters into his own hands. He makes her feel good and seen, always asks her for her opinion and if she's comfortable. She agrees to a date the next weekend, giggling to herself like a teenage girl when she slips into the stairwell after they share a long goodbye hug and his lips brush her forehead.

The dates that follow are very, very nice, and Hange genuinely enjoys herself when they take a boat ride across the lake and share a lovely dinner at one of the local restaurants afterwards. She posts pictures of it that turn out beautifully—not of themselves, but of the food and the scenery—and almost believes that she's happy. Her attentive friends bombard her with questions after they notice the recurring theme of only two plates on a table, and she shares some information and a picture of her date with them, a sheepish grin on her lips when she gets a whole bunch of encouraging messages and GIFs in their shared group chat.

Somehow, though, there's always something missing, something that discourages her from taking another step forward or from inviting him into her flat to stay the night.

"It's because he's not Levi," Nanaba says matter-of-factly, when they're on the phone. Hange had asked her friend for her opinion the day after yet another lovely date, from which she'd come home feeling strange, yearning for something she couldn't quite name.

"You're crazy," Hange immediately replies, hating how her heart flutters at the mention of his name. "Levi has nothing to do with this. There has to be something else behind it."

"If you say so." Nanaba doesn't sound convinced, but she allows Hange to steer the conversation elsewhere and onto another topic. Still, her friend's words leave a lasting impression on her, one that would make things a little awkward soon.

After her bar guy invites Hange to a get-together with some of his friends, she ends up having a few more drinks than she intended. It's not too much, just enough to make her loosen up more than usual, her mouth moving faster than her brain as she talks to cover up her nervousness.

She's probably already shared too much information about her private life, her quirks and odd little habits she'd usually keep to herself because she knows they make people look at her strangely. She talks about her friends in great detail and shows everyone pictures, and yes, the name Levi does come up several times as well. Though she's sure it couldn't have been that often.

She isn't sure what exactly prompted the question, but someone asks if she had a thing for Levi back when she was still living in her old town, and she almost chokes on her drink. "Nah, I'm pretty sure not anymore. I might've for a while, but when I told him about it, he wasn't exactly happy about it. I'm sooo over it, though."

Her bar guy gives her a look that, in her current state, she can only interpret as funny, but he doesn't say anything. Everyone else laughs, and the conversation quickly steers towards another topic.

Once Hange has been walked home by her date a few hours later and has safely reached her appartment, an odd sense of loneliness settles in her chest. Still under the influence of the alcohol, she scrolls through her phone's contacts and somehow ends up on Levi's. She stares at the picture she set for him, one she'd taken about two years into their friendship. It's a good one—his side profile framed by the setting sun—and a wave of nostalgia washes over her out of nowhere.

On impulse, she presses the green call button and lifts her phone to her ear, the steady beep, beep of the dial tone making her drowsy.

"Hange, is that you?" a sleepy voice finally says, accompanied by the rustling of fabric that tickles her ear.

"Yeah, it's me. Hange. Are you busy?"

"Is everything okay? Are you alright, do you need any help?" He sounds worried, his voice becoming clearer and clearer with every word.

"Oh, I'm great. A little drunk maybe, but I'm sure I'll be feeling more miserable tomorrow." She chuckles at her own unfunny joke and stretches out on the couch, the room around her swaying for a moment.

"Gosh, you really had me worried for a second. It's three in the fucking morning," Levi huffs, and she hears him sit up in bed. "Are you still outside, or are you home? I hope you're not walking around by yourself."

"I'm home, but I'm alone. No man in my bed, I'm aaaall alone." She chuckles again, almost missing just how quiet Levi falls at that. Lifting her thumb to her lips, she chews on her nail as she tries to recall her night. "I was on a date, you know? Got to meet some of his friends."

"Mhm," is Levi's brief reply, and he remains silent for a few seconds. "Did he let you get wasted like that? I hope he walked you home at least."

"I'm not that drunk," Hange slurs, rolling her eyes. "And I don't need anyone's help to get drunk, I can do that all by myself."

"Oh, I know you can." Hange lets out a giggle. Levi had taken care of her drunk self many, many times when they still were friends. It had always been an adventurous and, for him, strenuous endeavour that usually ended with her sprawled face-down on the bed in his tiny dorm room and him sleeping on his best friend's couch next door.

"There's something odd about our dates, though," she keeps talking, curling into herself as she rolls onto her side and tries to read the titles of the DVDs in her shelf.

"He's odd?" The worry immediately returns to Levi's voice. "Odd in what sense? He didn't do anything, did he?"

"No, not that kind of odd. Maybe it's not even him, maybe it's me." Hange pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and chews on it, trying to remember what exactly she's trying to say.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" Her words come out muffled, her lip still caught between her teeth.

"Biting your lip. It'll leave it chapped, and the sound is disgusting."

"Sorry," Hange says, lifting the phone away from her ear to check whether she'd accidentally started a video call. But the screen only shows his contact picture, and she smiles at the side profile of a twenty-two-year-old Levi.

"Maybe… he's just not the right one for you?" Levi says, picking up on their earlier topic. "Someone can be nice, but things can still not work out."

"Hmm, but why? 'Cause he reaaally is nice." Hange lets out a sigh and rolls onto her back again, ignoring the pillow that tumbles onto the ground. "I want to be happy, just like you are with your girlfriend. But I guess that's just not in the cards for me."

"Uh, about that," Levi says, an awkward tone to his voice. "We're not— We, uh, don't—"

"Nanaba said something recently, something that hasn't let me sleep in peace since then," Hange interrupts him, her brain latching onto the common thread it had lost but just found again. "She said that the problem is that my bar guy isn't you. 'He isn't Levi,' that's what she said. And… I guess that in a way, she's right."

She ignores the sharp intake of breath on the other end, too absorbed in her own words and the tiring attempt to bring order to her thoughts.

"He's definitely taller than you, but that's not the difference she meant, I think."

"Oh, fuck off. I'm not that short."

"Maybe it's his smile… your smile is so much prettier, it always made my heart happy when I got to see it. You're funnier too, even though you say you have no humour. But I like it. Please don't tell your girlfriend I said that." Hange pushes up her glasses and rubs her eyes, trying to keep her focus. "But that can't be the reason why I feel like I can't be happy with him, because I'm sure I'm over you, so it can't be that. Ugh, all this thinking is making my head hurt. Levi, why is my head hurting?"

"'Cause drunk people should sleep and not think," Levi says, feigning annoyance. But the soft undertone in his voice gives him away. "You don't need to fix things right now. What you can do, though, is make sure you'll feel less miserable tomorrow. Are you in bed?"

When Hange shakes her head, and Levi says he's assuming she just shook her head, he makes her get up and drink a glass of water. Then he tells her to put a bottle of water and some aspirin on her nightstand for when she wakes up. He stays on the phone while she brushes her teeth—"Stop complaining, your future self will thank me for that"—and endures her whining about how tired she is and how she can't find her pyjama shorts until she finally tumbles into bed with only her shirt on.

Only then does he wish her a good night and a not-so-bad hangover the following day. Hange is already half asleep and barely manages to mumble a "nighty-night," the beeping of the dial tone forcing her to move and switch off her phone. The noise only makes the throbbing behind her eyes worse.

Seconds later, she's already asleep.

The morning—or rather afternoon, since she sleeps in until noon—after her night out begins with a pounding headache. Hange doesn't know how, but a package of aspirin is already waiting for her on the nightstand. She pops a pill into her mouth and downs it with a few gulps of water that, miraculously, is standing right there on the nightstand as well.

Reaching for her remote, she switches on her stereo and zaps through a few radio channels until she finds one that doesn't make her aching head feel worse, before settling back into the pillow and ignoring the wave of nausea that comes over her with the movement. Slowly, the memories of the previous night return, albeit very blurry and definitely incomplete. She remembers talking a lot, and her date walking her home. Didn't she fall asleep on the couch? No, that can't be. Levi forced her to brush her teeth, and she's in her bed right now.

… Levi?

"Oh, shit!" Hange exclaims, rolling onto her side and reaching for her glasses, squinting at the pain shooting through her head as she searches for her phone. It's underneath one of the spare pillows she keeps on her bed, and she quickly unlocks it and opens the call log. At the top of the list is proof that she did indeed drunk-call Levi last night (he'd probably insist it wasn't last night but this morning, judging by the time), and she grimaces.

Her memory of the conversation is very, very hazy, and she tries to remember whether she said something embarrassing, maybe even talked about her stubborn feelings for him. Had she called him pretty, or was her mind messing with her? She's aware of her tendency to spill her thoughts when under the influence of alcohol, so it wasn't too far-fetched.

With a groan, she pulls the covers up to her chin, then pushes them down a little again so she can comfortably rest her arms atop the blanket and hold her phone. What she does for some reason remember with surprising clarity, however, is the kindness in Levi's voice, even though she isn't able to recall his exact words. But the fact that he'd made sure she had some thing to drink and some painkillers for when she woke up miserable—she knows herself well enough to know she never would have thought of preparing them, it must've been him—makes her all fuzzy inside.

"He didn't do it because he likes you, but because he's a responsible adult," a warning voice sounds in her head, and the pleasant feeling immediately vanishes.

This isn't the first time he's had to take care of her drunk self—he'd been worrying about her ever since they met at university. As Hange tries to count just how many times he's already saved her butt in the past, she finds herself yearning for the good old days, when she still had her best friend by her side.

"Love can ruin a friendship—I guess there really is some truth to that saying," she mumbles, unable to suppress the heavy sigh that slips from her lips.

Opening the folder of their pictures together, she slowly scrolls through them, trying to remember which ones she showed to her date and his friends. There are a few embarrassing ones she'd rather keep only between her and Levi—she'd promised him never to show anyone the one where he passed out tired and exhausted with his head on her lap after exam season, his hair sticking in all directions and mouth slightly open—and she hopes her drunk brain was able to remember that promise.

Does Levi still have the pictures? Or did he delete them after he realised she had ruined their friendship by crossing a line? Does he mourn their friendship just as much as she does?

Hange imagines how he talks about her with his girlfriend, maybe even mentions Hange's stupid confession to her. Does he refer to her as her friend? Her ex-friend? Or simply someone he once knew? It feels strange, knowing that there's someone in his life now who might know him even better than Hange does—or did—and even though she knows this isn't a competition, she feels as though she has been left behind, replaced by someone better, even though she had been there first.

Then she almost feels embarrassed by her own thoughts.

"I really didn't want this to happen. But it just… happened," Hange mumbles, anger at her stupid heart resurfacing and suddenly making it hard to breathe. "You don't choose with who you fall in love with, do you?"

A sudden buzz of her phone makes her wince, and she drops her phone, the device landing right on her face. With a grumble, she picks it up again and checks who texted her. She holds her breath when the name Levi pops up on the screen.

"You're probably awake by now. Hope your current hangover will make you think twice before drinking too much again. You really don't learn, do you?"

Hange can almost hear the tone of his voice, the way he would say the words out loud, and she bites her lip to fight back a smile. Then another message comes in, and she doesn't quite know what to make of it.

"Take it slow today. Put on one of your stupid audiobooks or something and drink lots of water. No screens, that'll make your headache worse. Take care."

This time, the smile that had threatened to bloom on her lips breaks through, and for a moment, she allows herself to be comforted by knowing that, for some reason, Levi still cares about her wellbeing.

They have so much shared history behind them that it could fill an entire books, moments she still recalls with such clarity as if they had happened yesterday. Ironically, the past three years are more of a blur—a dark, grey mass that envelops her wherever she goes, following her through every attempt at moving on.

Hange laughs—at how the joy she once carried so effortlessly now feels strangely out of reach, at all the memories they never got to make simply because she had caught feelings. At her current state, constantly shifting between happiness and misery in the span of a few minutes, unable to process the old wounds that seem to reopen at the slightest thing. She doesn't even recognise herself; she'd always believed that if there was one thing she was good at, it was looking ahead. Instead, she keeps finding herself drawn to the past.

She wishes she could turn back time and make a different decision, knowing she could have been happy even if they had remained only friends. And there really is nothing "only" about it. She cherishes Levi for who he is, and she knows his presence alone can make her life better, regardless of what they are to each other. Yet her heart is still clinging to him, and it is hard to ignore its yearning despite the distance currently between them.

Oh, how long until a broken heart mends?

As always, life goes on, day after day, night after night, and the past slowly fades further into the distance.

Six months later, Hange has now settled perfectly into her new space and can't imagine living anywhere else, convinced that she truly is living in the most beautiful town she's ever seen. She spends day after day at the lake's shore, watching the rays of sunlight catch on the water's surface or feeding the ducks that probably already see her as their main source of food.

After a few more dates that leave her more confused than fulfilled, she decides it's best to stop seeing the bar guy. The long conversation that follows ends in a mutual understanding—for he, too, had sensed that something wasn't working, that they simply wouldn't be happy together. They part on good terms, grateful for the time they had spent together, although it hadn't been meant to last.

She also hasn't dared visit her old town yet, putting off any invitation for the foreseeable future, hoping that eventually, they'll fade from people's minds. Despite everything, it's probably the clearest, loudest sign that things aren't entirely alright.

Thankfully, her friends don't mind stopping by regularly. Moblit, who has moved to a city a little under an hour away from her after starting a new job, visits her almost every second week. Together, they sit on Hange's balcony until it gets dark and the temperatures drop enough that it's too cold to stay outside, winter only just having passed. As soon as they start shivering, they slip inside, each of them with a mug of hot chocolate in hand as they continue their conversation on the couch until they can barely keep their eyes open. Then, the couch is turned into a bed, where Moblit falls asleep within minutes, and Hange retreats to her own bedroom and curls up beneath her blankets.

But spring isn't far away anymore—little green stalks have started pushing through the earth, and small groups of snowdrops are scattered all over the green fields.

It is a time of year that always reminds her of Levi, though. Despite being a rather grumpy and gruff person, he's quite fond of the season that brings colour back into the world, replacing the dark greys with greens as splashes of reds, yellows, and purples slowly start to appear as well.

He'd once told her that spring makes him think of her, during one of the very few nights he'd been drunk as well, drunk enough for the words to spill out easily. It's something she isn't able to forget, no matter how hard she tries. Now, every single flower screams his name, and she glares at it before letting out a sigh, frustrated at how she's acting like a fool again.

No, Hange can't avoid thinking of the times when they'd still be together, when their friendship had felt like home. More and more often, she finds herself reaching for her phone and about to press the call button, wanting to hear his voice again. They exchange messages here and there, far more often than during the three years before she moved. But the drunk-call she'd given him, and the things she might've said, had left an awkward aftertaste, and she hadn't dared talk to him again since.

Sometimes, she sends him a picture of the place she's just visited, or a meal she found particularly tasty, and they chat briefly about it. Levi has never been much of a texter, and she can tell he's making an effort for her after she doged several of his attempts to call.

Sometimes, he sends a picture too, usually of Erwin's new puppy, whom he got in February. When she's particularly lucky, it's a video of the small dog trying to catch its chew toy or running around after a squeaky ball, and she can't help but smile at the little brown furball, wishing she could hug it in person.

She and Levi find themselves in an odd in-between—not really strangers, more than mere acquaintances, but not exactly friends either. Hange isn't sure whether she's still allowed to share her usual boring stories with him, or whether she lost that privilege when they left their friendship behind.

She keeps living on, watches the days grow longer, the nights grow shorter, the temperatures climb higher as summer arrives. She's almost made her peace with how things currently are, so used to it that it's almost become normal… until that one message comes in that changes it all.

It happens completely unexpectedly, on a Friday a little after six, the moment Hange arrives at her flat and kicks off her shoes. Her phone vibrates, and she pulls it out, almost dropping it again as she reads the words Levi has sent. Her heart thrums wildly in her chest as she rereads them over and over again, not quite believing her eyes.

"We need to talk. I'll be at your place in about an hour."