Chapter Text
“Here are the keys. Enjoy your new home, Mr. Ackerman.”
The real estate agent had an air of arrogance, one that Levi Ackerman couldn’t help but detest. Caught up in his own thoughts, Levi barely noticed how the man’s eyes were far too big for his head.
Ah yes, real estate agent Rod Reiss, whose egotistic demeanor struck an odd contrast to his shabby appearance. That seemed to be an enigma to Levi. However, the Ackerman didn't care to figure out which of those two qualities was more irksome.
He just wanted to get the transaction over with and move into his newly-bought home.
The house stood tall with its Victorian style architecture, surrounded by a lush forest and lonely hills. The rural areas of Paradis were the last place on Earth he had expected to live in. However, this had been his mother’s wish since they had gotten the news that she had cancer—to grow old in a home she loved.
Kuchel wasn't gravely ill, but Levi still wanted to grant her wish. An hour drive from here to his job in the city was a small price to pay in exchange for his mother’s comfort and happiness.
The house seemed even lovelier than it did in the pictures. And Kuchel soon felt as though she had lived here for years. Levi had always been her son, but now she saw something new in him: he had grown into a man who was kind and sweet.
The real estate agent seemed hesitant, but nevertheless, was still determined to speak up. “Also, keep everything the (l/n) family left behind. Their belongings come with the house you paid for. If I may have a say, put it up for auction. Century-old antiques cost a fortune!”
“So we’d have to throw all that ye olden times junk away ourselves?” Levi mumbled more to himself than to Rod Reiss—who was now taking his leave after successfully selling the estate.
Kuchel had always adored antiques, so she didn't quite appreciate her son's rude remark. “It isn’t junk! I even heard Kenny say there was a piano in the living room. Maybe you could get back into playing.”
A comment was then heard from the mentioned uncle, Kenny, who was quite displeased with the lack of help in unloading their stuff from the van. “Oi, what ya waiting for, runt? Let’s get settled in.”
“Keep calling me a runt and you’ll be sleeping in the attic, old man.”
The castle-like detail of their new home felt like being part of the romance and history of a by-gone era. From the vibrant flowery wallpaper, to the steeply-pitched roofs. Levi didn’t mind the design though, it made him happy to see how this house had captured his mother’s heart.
His only concern was the thick layers of dust which covered everything in sight; it was a depressing dirty grey—contrasting the elaborately decked out home that reveled in its bright colors.
“Filthy.”
There it was again, Levi’s obsession with cleanliness. Kuchel giggled at the thought, it had become an inside joke within the family. “Yes, filthy indeed. Just like your uncle. I had to put a handkerchief over my nose the entire ride so I wouldn’t smell his three-days-no-shower armpits.”
The subject of their conversation then appeared in the room, “No shit, I have been blessed with the misfortune of calling you a sister.”
“Kenny, when was the last time you took a bath? And I’m not even trying to be offensive, you really do stink.”
“Aight aight, I get your point, gonna wash up when I’m done cleaning. I’ll mop the kitchen and dining. Levi, you do the rooms and the attic.”
Though the shorter man thought the division of tasks was unfair, he decided to remain quiet and nod in agreement.
The attic was, by far, the most interesting part of the house, and much to his dismay, also the dustiest.
Levi made his way through the junk, broken furniture, and trinkets. It was like reading the story of somebody’s life, he thought, as he gazed at all these things that had been used once, that had been part of every day in the house below.
Someone had savored each page of the books on the shelf, or maybe someone used to watch the minutes of the grandfather clock tick with interest. But those people were long dead, or gone away, and now the oddments of their lives were piled up here, forgotten.
It was a bittersweet thought.
The man decided to start with the bookshelf that expanded across the wall. Halfway through dusting, he spotted something in the corner of his eye. It was a book with a gleaming golden spine, reflecting the sun’s rays that welcomed itself in from the windows.
Levi was an apathetic individual by nature. He didn’t particularly care about things that weren’t his own business. But there was an odd vibe to the mentioned book; it was so inviting.
A tingling in his bones warned him the he shouldn’t open it, but his curiosity placated him, driving him onward against his instincts.
The dust beneath its aging covers represented how patient time was—how the book allowed dust particles to hide its golden touches until the waiting time was over.
Without any further ado, he flipped it open. Eyes widening at realization, the book was actually a journal.
(y/n) (l/n)
1821
“What an ugly name.” Levi snorted, never really understanding parents and their poor naming choices.
Dear reader, I dare you not to turn the page if you refuse to read of a lousy, miserable life. Yet, if you do wish to seek such knowledge even after warning, then must I say you are one nosy fellow!
His interest in the book—or more accurately, his interest in the journal—immediately vanished as he didn’t want to snoop into a random dead girl’s business, into your lousy and miserable business.
He reckoned it was going to be about boy problems anyway, which was what most women he knew in high school wrote about in their stupid diaries. And surely, that wasn’t any interesting.
However, a thought abruptly entered his mind. In many ways, diaries chart unmapped territory, especially diaries of those who had lived in the past. Levi wondered what lives were like before—to get a sense of the attitudes, opinions, and beliefs that motivated individuals of a different era.
Written on a regular basis, journals provide commentary on life as it is lived. And this sense of immediacy pulled Levi in and fueled his curiosity in reading about the past in a direct, unfiltered way.
Making the final decision to indeed snoop into your business, he flipped the pages, eyes following the words of what seemed to be the first entry:
12th of January, 1821
Last night at dinner, I tried to convince father that I am not meant for marriage, and marriage is not meant for me. My husband-to-be’s ignorance is only one reason in the long list of his shortcomings. Yet, there was no possibility in changing father’s mind.
Today, I had been wandering in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning. The cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so somber, and a rain so penetrating, that further outdoor activity should be forbidden. But that did not matter, I needed to get away from that cursed household, even if the winter were to freeze me with its icy breath.
“How melodramatic.” Though he pitied the misogynistic situation you found yourself troubled in, Levi couldn’t help but cringe at the thought that he was indeed right—it was about boy problems.
The man took a peek at the outside world through the high windows, taking in the sight of the orange sunset.
Kenny and Kuchel were probably waiting for him downstairs, wondering what was taking him so long when dinner was soon approaching. He closed your journal, and placed it back on the shelf.
Letting out a tired sigh, he had barely started on the reason behind why he even came here in the first place. Cleaning the attic would have to wait another day then.
At Kuchel’s check-up session two months ago, it was discovered that she was terminally ill, and her cancer was incurable. The only reason she was still taking palliative chemotherapy was for prolonged survival.
Kenny had never prayed a lot. He hoped hard, he wished hard, but he didn't pray. Yet when he discovered his sister’s impending death, he prayed to whatever deity that was up there—hoping for her recovery even when there was nothing else to hope for.
But hope is what keeps us going, right? Without it, the struggle against cynicism and loss of spirit would be greater than the slow, inevitable death of cancer. So Kenny held onto that little hope in his heart and supported his sister at every step of the way.
Though, what he didn’t support was Kuchel’s decision of hiding the truth from Levi.
“The runt is going to find out sooner or later. For fuck’s sake, you are dying. Don’t you think Levi deserves to know that?”
“First of all, stop calling my son a runt. Second, I will tell him. Not now, but soon.” The frail woman took a slow and long sip from her tea, eyeing her brother from the rim of the cup. She knew Kenny was right, but still refused to listen to his argument anyway.
“You’re gonna tell him soon? When you’re already on your deathbed—”
A pair of approaching footsteps were heard. Kenny immediately shut his mouth while Kuchel greeted her son. “Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”
“Good morning mom—“
“That's it, I can’t take it anymore. Levi, your mother has something to tell you.” All attention quickly drifted to the tall male, who was annoyed by how his sister was skirting around the issue they had been discussing only a minute ago.
The tension in the room grew thicker by each passing second, especially when Levi demanded to know what this was all about, “What’s going on?”
“I’m just… ah…” The frail woman’s dilemma was not went unnoticed by the two men. She was clearly having trouble with her words, “I’m just… upset. Chemotherapy has been causing my hair to fall out. It’s just really upsetting… especially for an ex-model like me.”
Part of Levi was relieved to hear that the news wasn’t as serious as he thought it would be, but he still couldn’t help but feel bad for his mother, “I see. Would you feel better if I bought you a wig?”
“Yes, I’d very much appreciate that. Thank you, sweetheart.”
Kenny rolled eyes at his family’s exchange of words, not pleased with Kuchel’s dishonesty.
“If not today, I’ll get you the wig by tomorrow. Anyway, I’m going now. See you later.” With that, the young adult left for his 10 am shift at work.
“When are you going to tell him?” Inquired the Kenny, choosing to speak only once he was certain his nephew was out of earshot.
“When I am ready.”
Hange fixed her glasses and wore a sinister grin, eager to annoy Levi so early in the morning, “Good morning, how’s my favorite sour-faced midget?”
“Just a piece of advice: never miss a good chance to shut up.” He prayed that Hange would someday finally learn to appreciate peaceful silence, but clearly, today wasn’t that day just yet.
“Now is definitely not a good chance to shut up. Someone has to be responsible enough to fill in the duty of annoying you.”
“Tch, makes sense. It does seem like the only aspect you’re capable of being responsible at.”
“Okay, rude. So, how’s your mom-“ The bespectacled brunette had barely finished her sentence when Levi pinched her nose. “Ow!”
“I’m giving your nose back, I found it in my business.”
The raven-haired man then shifted his gaze to the two familiar blond men approaching, who seemingly have heard the banter between him and Hange.
Scratching his nose, “No, really, Levi. how is Mrs. Ackerman?” Miche hasn’t heard of Kuchel in a long time—since Levi refused to bring the topic up—so he was curious as to how she had been coping up with cancer.
“I thought the years we’ve spent working together would grant you the knowledge that my mother’s name is Ms. Ackerman, not Mrs. Ackerman.”
“My apologies.”
The shorter man ran a hand through his black hair, letting out a sigh. “And about mom, she’s alright, though the more intensive course of chemotherapy has been kicking her ass.”
An awkward silence descended for a moment. Kuchel was always a sensitive topic. Not to mention, Levi’s crass choice of words made the entire situation more uncomfortable.
Erwin finally decided to contribute to the conversation and break the growing tension, “I’m sorry to hear that, we hope her chemotherapy will be worth it in the long run.” The tall blond also cued for their small group to walk along to their respective desks, where piles upon piles of paperwork awaited.
Though Levi would never verbally admit it to his mother, he was starting to get attached to the rural landscape. There was a sense of serenity from the sight of swaying grasslands during his drive home from work. Maybe the countryside wasn’t so bad after all.
“I’m home.” He hung his coat on the rack and walked to the kitchen, where he assumed his mother would be. It was a rather amusing scene before Levi: Kuchel hitting Kenny with kitchen utensils as he tried to sneak a piece of meat into his mouth.
The frail woman’s facial expression turned from threatening to gentle as she heard her son’s approaching footsteps. “Oh, hello sweetheart. Did you just arrive?
“Yeah. Although I wish I had gotten home sooner to see more of Kenny getting assaulted with a spatula.”
A pair of eyes rolled in annoyance, “Not funny, runt. And before I forget, there had been some thumping sounds from the attic. Probably mice. Check it, will ya? I’d prefer you throw it away, but if you’d like a new addition to your small circle of friends, I won’t judge. ”
“Just say you don’t have the balls to check it yourself.”
“Boys, please mind your language!”
Once more, the attic had an eerie abandoned feeling to it. The very clearness of silence drew an intense feeling Levi couldn’t shake off. The air around him hummed with an energy that was foreign yet nostalgic.
And there it was again, the familiar book resting on the shelf. Its shiny golden spine, a contrast to the dimly lit room. It was a mysterious journal really, seeming to know secrets he didn’t, inviting him to take another peak. After all, the unknown draws people in—
No, he came here for one purpose only. And that is to search for the source of the sounds. That and that only.
However, it doesn’t take a genius to recognize when someone is being pushed by a circumstance to do something. And for Levi, this was it. Destiny’s (or whatever you call it) interventions can sometimes be read as an invitation to explore.
With that said, the man abandoned his original purpose and flipped your diary open, picking up at where he last left off.
3rd of February, 1821
Elliott Dickens, the man I am expected to marry. The main reason why father wants me to wed him is because he is a duke in Marley.
I don’t even know a single thing about dukes! Except maybe for the fact that dukes are the highest-ranking title among nobles, and that they own large amounts of inherited property.
But I have no interest in them, their wealth, nor their corrupt practices. Moreover, I have no interest in moving away to Elliott’s hometown.
People are beginning to flock from rural areas to large urban locations like Marley. Though I cannot blame these people for wanting more job opportunities in the city, but I love it here in Paradis! I do not intend of leaving this province behind.
This is where I grew up. Every spot here is familiar history.
I know I can't own a prairie, a meadow, or a mountainside. But keeping the beauty of Paradis a secret somehow makes it mine.
Only here may you see nature revealing herself in all her glory. A poet can write of it, a painter can paint of it, but neither can reproduce the same air of reality that sinks deep into the soul of the spectator.
Both my eyes and mind are delighted in this place I’ve known as home.
There was a pause, then Levi’s lips stretched into a smile. You were right. You convinced him that Paradis was indeed a place of solace.
It was refreshing to look across vast spaces of grassland, to lift one’s eyes with delight, to feel the peace that rests on lonely hills. Levi had only been living here for a short while, but Paradis was already starting to feel like home to him.
This is where he had learned to appreciate silence in a world that never stops talking.
His entire life, Levi Ackerman had fallen into a naiveté where he looked at the world based solely on what his physical senses can ascertain. But once he saw life through your eyes, through your own words, perhaps he was wrong.
The world perceived by our senses is different from the world perceived through our essence.
Perhaps Levi misjudged you, you weren’t as shallow as he initially thought you were.
Snapping out of his reverie, he started to look for the mice Kenny was pertaining to. The man made a mental note to come back here and continue reading the journal… and to clean as well, since he wasn’t able to do that the last time.