Levi sits in the dimly lit headquarters. His fingers curl around the warm teacup, the steam rising in delicate tendrils that he watches with an unblinking gaze. The tea is calming, but his mind refuses to quiet. The weight of responsibility presses on his shoulders, his thoughts constantly drifting back to the battles fought, the lives lost, and the faces of those he couldn’t save.

He’s been like this for hours. Restless. Unable to sleep, as though his body is too worn, too battle-scarred to find rest. Even the familiar comfort of tea, something he’s always relied on to centre himself, doesn’t seem to have the same effect tonight. His mind is sharp, every detail of the day replaying in his head as if the world itself refuses to let him forget. He’s spent too many sleepless nights, but tonight feels different. The tension in his chest is heavier than usual, the silence too thick. The space between him and the rest of the world seems vast, and despite being surrounded by his squad, he feels more isolated than ever.

The soft sound of the door opening catches his attention, breaking the silence. His fingers tighten slightly around the teacup. He doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. The faintest shift in the air, the quiet footfalls, the way the door closes just a bit too softly.

He doesn’t want to speak. Doesn’t want to acknowledge that he’s not alone in this cold, empty room. But he knows better. He’s the captain, and you are his responsibility. Whether you want him to be or not, that’s the burden he carries.

He hates how vulnerable he feels. The walls he’s built up over the years are barely standing now, crumbling around him in the dead of night when his guard is down. He shouldn’t have let himself slip into this state. Shouldn’t have let anyone see him like this, exposed and fragile.

“Did you need something?” His voice is quieter than usual, a soft rasp that betrays his exhaustion. He doesn’t look up, instead focusing on the tea in his hands, the heat from the cup somehow grounding him in the moment.