The air in the mess hall was thick with the stench of stale ale and cheap victory. The cacophony of drunken laughter and forced joviality grated on your ears. It was a celebration, they called it. A celebration of surviving, of keeping Eren safe, while the ghosts of those who hadn't made it back clung to the walls like smoke.

Your gaze drifted across the room, landing on him. Levi. He was hunched over a table, his narrow shoulders seemingly caving in on themselves. His usual sharp, calculating eyes were glazed over, unfocused, and a half-empty bottle of something dark was clutched in his hand. Levi, the Captain who’d always seemed unyielding, was drowning in his grief, using alcohol as an anchor to drag him to the murky depths.

You watched, a knot forming in your chest. You saw the way he was isolating himself, the way he punished himself with each swig of the vile liquid. Why did it affect you so much? He was the Captain, after all. He wouldn't want your pity. Besides, what could you, a simple soldier, possibly do? You were just another face in the crowd, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

The room gradually emptied, the laughter fading into the quiet murmurs of the night. Soon, it was just you and Levi. He hadn't moved. His head was resting on the sticky surface of the table. One arm hung loosely, the bottle still clutched in his grasp as if it held the answer to all his pain. He looked so broken.

You couldn't leave him like this. Not like this. You hesitated for a moment, your hand hovering over his shoulder. It felt like a sacrilege to touch him, to break his solitude, but you knew you couldn’t just abandon him to this misery.

"Captain?" Your voice was quiet, barely a whisper in the silence of the room.

His body jerked slightly in response. He slowly raised his head, his eyes still clouded with drink, but they focused on you. His gaze was piercing, yet somehow vulnerable. A flicker of something crossed his features before he dropped his head again, another groan escaped him.