The sa riot, the one that had nearly torn us asunder, persisted in the city. By all accounts, it remained relatively "peaceful," a strange descriptor considering the underlying unrest. Levi, seed rather pleased with its progression as it entered its second day.
Later that afternoon, we found ourselves in the kitchen. Levi, was preparing two mugs of hot chocolate. He paused mid-stir. A hand, the one still bearing his self-administered stitches, rose to rub his temples, a look of frustrated concentration clouding his features. “I need to write and pass a bill for the agriculture sector…” he muttered under his breath.
It was a jarring juxtaposition, wasn’t it? Connect these disparate images: the tender act of making hot chocolate for his husband and the ruthless pragmatist capable of manipulating markets and navigating political minefields. Yeah. It was nearly impossible for too.
“Hm…” I humd, leaning against the counter, watching him add a generous swirl of whipped cream to each mug. “Why agriculture, Levi? So we can continue having our high-quality sugar?”
Levi paused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. “Yes. Also… more pragmatically… I require a sector with sufficient volatility to subtly influence currency valuation. Right now, the ongoing riot is… inadvertently providing a fleeting degree of that instability, offering a temporary effect. However, it is far too unpredictable and ultimately unsustainable. We need a more powerful, controllable source of fluctuation… Ah…” His eyes glazed over, lost in thought for a mont. “Powerful… What is the most consistently expensive commodity to export… Hm… Ah! Culture. I need to contact the Minister of Culture imdiately. We need to aggressively pursue the international import of our films, television shows, books, music… our entire cultural output, in fact.”
Wow… He thought all of that over making hot chocolate… Selling culture is yes morally ambiguous but, it is not inherently wrong when you think about it, I guess.
Levi placed his mug down with a soft clink and leaned back in his chair, his gaze intent. "Engage with , Raphael. A second perspective often clarifies the most convoluted equations. It doesn't need to be a fully coherent idea; simply keep the conversation flowing."
"O-Okay?"
"The Ministry of Culture," Levi mused, tapping a finger against his mug, "will undoubtedly attempt to push their own state-funded films. These will likely be… heavily imbued with nationalistic sentint, which may lead to a negative perception by foreign audiences. Perhaps so minor tourism could be elicited… but it is insufficient."
"Instead of focusing on the Ministry, why not contact private agencies? The entertainnt industry, especially television shows and music, generates so of the largest international revenues," I offered, trying to keep up.
A rare spark of genuine enthusiasm lit up Levi's eyes. "Brilliant, Raphael. Keep talking."
"Television shows," I continued, "especially 'soap operas,' are remarkably easy to sell internationally. People often don't watch them with their full attention; they tend to have them on in the background while doing other things. So, yeah… soap operas and music. They have a broad, often passive, appeal."
"Great, Raphael," Levi said, swirling the remaining hot chocolate in his mug thoughtfully. "The elegance lies in the subtlety. We are not dictating narratives; we are rely providing a readily digestible product for the masses. Now, elaborate on these 'soap operas.' Their appeal, their structural elents that lend themselves to international consumption."
I shrugged, taking another sip of my drink. "Soap operas? Ah, it's remarkably simple, Levi. Pure garbage, most of it, if I'm being honest. 'Love, betrayal, more love, another betrayal' – that's the cyclical nature of about ninety percent of them. Which, ironically, makes them incredibly easy for consumption. The plots are rarely complex enough to get lost in translation, and the sheer volu of episodes creates a continuous demand."
"And music?" Levi prompted, his gaze unwavering.
I hesitated. "I'm not exactly an active listener, my knowledge is… rudintary at best. My insights into soap operas co from the fact that, as you well know, I am an actor.”
Levi tilted his head slightly, a flicker of amusent in his eyes. “Hm… Would you, perhaps, wish for your… critically acclaid, award-winning cinematic masterpiece to be among the initial cultural exports?”
A genuine laugh escaped this ti, the sound lighter than it had been in days. “Oh, Levi. Well, considering your… generous compensation, the entire mountain range in Ascaria, I essentially print my own money these days, so the financial incentive is negligible. And besides,” I added, “instead of you pulling the strings, I would much rather have my own agencies handle any international distribution, should they deem it… artistically and financially necessary.”
"Interesting…" Levi mused, a thoughtful expression returning to his face. "I cannot exert any undue influence over your artistic endeavors. Which reminds ," he continued, his gaze softening slightly, "I watched your film in rehabilitation. The one about the Lumin painter."
"You did?"
“Yes,” he confird, his voice taking on a tone I hadn’t heard in a long ti, a tone of genuine admiration. “It was exactly as captivating as the first ti I saw you on screen. That performance, that unwavering intensity… it was a significant factor, you see, in my… rather unconventional pursuit of you for our contractual arrangent. You possess a remarkable quality, Raphael. Everyone who watches you, myself included, were moths drawn to your unwavering light.”
A deep crimson flush now spread across my cheeks and up to my ears. "Shut up, Levi…" I mumbled, trying to suppress a smile that threatened to betray my flustered embarrassnt.
Then, a revolting wave of emotion washed over … Fuck… Pride. No, not this ridiculous need for validation, this ingrained daddy issues bullshit rearing its ugly head again. No, no, no. Levi, Levi, had just called brilliant. And srizing. Shut up, brain, shut up. A mortifying heat flooded my entire body, a burning tide of sha and a confusing, unwelco swell of… sothing else. I pressed my lips together tightly, clenching my fists beneath the table, fighting the urge to either lt into a puddle or lash out in a desperate attempt to extinguish this warmth.
Then I saw it – a subtle crinkle around his right eye.
“This is the third ti this week. A fleeting expression of… happiness, elicited by my complint, followed by this rather dramatic descent into… sha. A remarkably colorful display of contrasting emotions, all within the span of approximately ten seconds. And yet,” he added, his voice softening slightly, laced with a hint of genuine curiosity, “you still don’t tell why, Raphael.”
I rather swallow my own tongue than saying it loud.
“Y-yeah?” I managed, avoiding his piercing gaze. “Well, then. Figure it out on your own, Levi.”
Levi’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. “Hm… Quid pro quo, Raphael.”
“Okay…” I hesitated for a mont, the question I’d long suppressed finally escaping my lips. “When did your… addiction… truly start, Levi?”
“At eighteen,” he answered without a flicker of evasion. “Quid pro quo, Raphael. Is that… ‘sha’ you experience a reaction because of ?”
"Not entirely," I managed, trying to sound nonchalant, though my heart was hamring against my ribs. "What... happened to your pet?"
"It was a rabbit. The Conqueror killed it and then... made eat it for dinner. Quid pro quo. Is the sha you feel... sexual in nature?"
"Not always," I mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Do you still actively seek the... rush? The high of the endorphins?"
"Not yet," he replied, his voice flat. "Quid pro quo. Is the sha you feel... greater than the fleeting happiness my words elicit?"
"Happiness cos first, a fleeting warmth," I admitted, my gaze dropping to the cooling chocolate in my mug. "But the sha… it often lingers, a colder, heavier weight. Quid pro quo, Levi. Beyond the fleeting 'rush' you used to chase, what is it you truly seek?"
"Feeling… normal," he replied, the word sounding foreign and almost painful on his tongue. "Is the most intensely arousing, the most… illicit feeling you experience… pride?"
Normal. He had ntioned wanting to feel normal before, hadn't he? But… damn him. Pride? How could he even ask that? How could his mind make that connection? It felt like a violation, a cruel probing of my deepest insecurities.
"Yes," I choked out, the sha burning anew. "Despite everything that has happened, all the pain and the conflict… what is one thing you still genuinely value about our ti together?"
"Being seen... the mundane monts," Levi echoed softly. "Final question, Raphael. Did you often feel a need to earn praise or affection in your upbringing?"
"Yes," I admitted. Damn it all.
A specific mory assaulted : the raw intimacy, followed by Levi’s hand on my head, a gesture accompanied by a clipped word of praise, and the utterly humiliating, primal urge that had surged through – a desperate, tail-wagging desire for his approval. Fuck. He probably saw it all, observant bastard.
Levi tapped his fingers on the table. “Why deny yourself pleasure, Raphael, simply to protect pride?”
Three tis he’d circled back to this. My pathetic yearning, the subsequent sha – all laid bare in the span of five deceptively vague questions. The analytical asshole.
"Why do you ask that, Levi?" I countered.
"Since I do not personally experience this… 'sha' you describe, I do not fully comprehend the nature of your reluctance. If a sensation brings you pleasure, a desirable chemical reaction in the brain, why would you actively deny yourself that experience?"
"Pleasure is fleeting, Levi," I explained. "A mont of sensation, and then it's gone. But sha… sha is different. It can linger, a shadow that follows you for years, coloring your mories and shaping your future interactions."
"Hm… I see," Levi murmured, his gaze thoughtful. "Long-term negative consequences and the fear of external judgnt, of being perceived negatively by others. I am not referring to my own perception of you, of course. This is simply my logical deduction based on your emotional responses."
"And yet, you keep asking. So, on so level, even your logical mind recognizes that there's more to it than just 'negative consequences and external judgnt.' What is it you're truly trying to understand?"
"The truth is, Raphael," Levi admitted, his gaze softening slightly, "your emotional landscape is remarkably rich and complex. Your attempts to articulate these feelings, even when tinged with your characteristic defensiveness, help to understand their intricacies… logically, of course. Also," an almost shy smile touched his lips, "it is… unexpectedly endearing to hear you speak so openly about your own emotional experiences. Since mine, in comparison, are often fleeting, epheral. In a perhaps inaccurate analogy, your emotions are like a full glass of water. Mine are more akin to a single, quickly evaporating droplet."
That's actually a surprisingly apt description. His emotions always seem so controlled, so fleeting, while I'm constantly drowning in a tidal wave of feeling.
“Can you…” I asked softly. “Can you describe it further, Levi? What those fleeting emotions actually feel like to you?”
He paused, his gaze drifting inwards for a mont. “Mostly… nothing. Truly. A void. Then… boredom. Often, a profound sense of boredom. Then, occasionally, satisfaction upon the completion of a task. Amusent at an unexpected outco. Humor, usually intellectual in nature. Interest in a new problem to solve. Curiosity about a novel concept. Contentnt when a system functions optimally. More boredom. A mild… sadness, perhaps a recognition of inefficiency. And fury… a type that is not hot and impulsive, but calculating. That is possibly the entire spectrum of what I experience. But it is not a vibrant rainbow, Raphael. It is… muted. Like colors seen through a thick fog.”
Void and his boredom mantra. A muted rainbow… yes. That’s it exactly. Where I feel everything in vivid, overwhelming hues, his world is a palette of grays, occasionally punctuated by a pale blue or a muted red.
“Okay…” I murmured, a knot of concern tightening in my chest. “Do you… do you ever feel fear, Levi?”
“Hm… Over the course of my entire existence, I can recall experiencing a sensation that aligns with what humans categorize as ‘fear’ on only two distinct occasions. The first, as you are already aware, was in the presence of my grandfather. You witnessed my… frozen state during that recollection. The second… was you, Raphael.” His gaze returned to mine. “I felt a distinct physical reaction, my knees unbuckling, in the sterile environnt of the rehabilitation center when you arrived and… dismissed my progress. I am not entirely certain whether the primary component of that sensation was fear… or a profound sadness at your rejection.”
Fear… and I was the second person to ever evoke it in him? My dismissal at the rehab… I was angry, hurt, convinced he hadn't changed. I didn't see his vulnerability then. And he's not even sure if it was fear or sadness?
“I am… truly sorry about my behavior at the rehabilitation center, Levi. But… I would still like to understand more about what you feel, if you’re willing to share.”
He considered this for a mont. “There truly is not a vast reservoir to draw from, Raphael. But I assu that question was, at its core, about my feelings for you. The answer is… I care about you. Not perhaps in the way a neurotypical individual would define that emotion, but I do. You see, when you remove the elent of emotions from a relationship, there is arguably not a great deal remaining for many people, I think. But my internal architecture is different. I desire your continued existence within my life, and as a logical extension of that desire, I prioritize your safety and overall well-being. Since verbal apologies do not particularly resonate within my cognitive frawork, I tend to… what were they called in the human behavioral studies? Ah, yes. Acts of service, I believe. I presu my actions serve as a more accurate representation of my… regard.”
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He cares… in his own way. He may not feel the way I do, but he values , my presence in his life. And perhaps, for Levi, that is the highest form of care he can offer.
"Acts of service... right. Like making hot chocolate while simultaneously plotting economic strategies?" I offered a wry smile. "I suppose that's your version of care.”
"Yes, Raphael. It is my version of care," Levi confird, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Furthermore, consider the level of trust inherent in our arrangent. You are privy to so of the most discreet and sensitive information concerning the entire nation. Allowing you access to my study is a tangible manifestation of that trust."
"Your study is like entering another world, Levi," I admitted, a slight shiver running down my spine. "No windows, just endless stacks of unlabeled boxes and towering bookshelves cramd with who-knows-what. I always feel a little suffocated in there."
"Ah, yes," Levi mused. "Those boxes initially contained the docunted cris of the fallen nobility. Over ti, their contents evolved to encompass the sensitive files of the burgeoning democracy. And frankly," he added, his voice dropping, "the files of many, many, many other… things."
Oh. That was a warning. A carefully coded ssage.
"Yeah," I said, trying to keep my voice even, "so that my delicate moral compass doesn't completely shatter into a million irreparable pieces, right?"
He offered a wink. "Exactly, Raphael."
Damn him. Why was that single, conspiratorial wink sending a ridiculous flutter through while he was casually alluding to what was likely a treasure trove of blackmail material? Fuck my hopelessly compromised senses.
But beneath his usual detached deanor, I sensed a subtle undercurrent.
"Levi," I began slowly, my brow furrowed with suspicion, "they're not just blackmail material, are they? They're actual evidence of their cris?"
"Indeed, Raphael," Levi confird. "Please. I am not so crude, so… inefficient as to resort to exploiting personal information as re 'blackmail,' a ssy and often unreliable tactic. Instead," a faint smile touched his lips, "I utilize the demonstrable evidence of their actual cris and systemic abuses. Far more effective, wouldn't you agree?"
"Using the very evidence of their corruption to… incentivize their cooperation," I murmured, a wry smile twisting my lips. "What a quintessential Levi approach. It's almost… admirable, in a twisted sort of way. Amidst all the pragmatism and calculated manipulation, you really do possess a surprisingly strong, albeit ruthlessly applied, sense of justice."
"Yes," Levi confird, a flicker of sothing akin to pride in his eyes. "It is a rather potent and efficient motivator. In fact," he added, his voice taking on a weightier tone, "that very principle, the unwavering pursuit of accountability for their abuses, was a significant factor in my decision to… eradicate the monarchy and the nobility entirely."
"Yeah. I know, you explained that to ," I conceded, the mory of his almost detached recounting of societal upheaval still vivid. "But you also ntioned… that a part of it, at least initially, was for… fun."
"It was," Levi confird, his gaze montarily distant, a ghost of that past thrill flickering in his eyes. "I enjoyed the intellectual challenge, the intricate strategy, the… thrill of the chase, if you will. But that particular ga has concluded. The board is clear. Now," he sighed, "there is no longer any significant thrill in the day-to-day execution of my… 'job.' It has beco rather tedious."
“You know, Levi,” I mused, the contrast between him and his grandfather becoming increasingly clear, “your almost ruthless sense of justice is possibly the single biggest reason why you two are so fundantally different. Even though he was also neurodivergent, you still possess this… visceral reaction to injustice, this inherent need to correct it.”
“Injustice disgusts , Raphael,” Levi stated, his voice firm. “It truly does. I experience a profound… revulsion towards those who abuse their power to stroke their own fragile egos and insecurities. Or those entitled individuals who cling to their pride and inflict harm simply for the sake of it. I do not necessarily feel sympathy for the sufferers, no. But I possess an overwhelming desire to incinerate every single insignificant insect who dares to misinterpret the true nature and responsibility of their authority.”
Maybe that's why, despite everything, despite the fear and the confusion, I can't completely write him off. There's a core of sothing... not good, not kind, but undeniably principled in his own warped way.
"Did you… ever… directly murder soone, Levi?"
"No, not in the direct, physical sense that word typically implies," Levi replied. "Neither have I ever employed what you would categorize as 'brutal violence.' I am not a savage, Raphael. The very thought of resorting to crude force to… what? Convey so base notion of 'strength'? Are we re animals, driven by instinct? It… abhors . My thods are invariably more… nuanced."
Well, he did admit to altering the dication of dying mbers of the nobility, rationalizing it as an "act of rcy." So… in his twisted logic, is he sowhat right? It's not as if he directly ended their lives with his own hands; he rely… expedited the inevitable, nudged them gently towards their preordained end. A subtle acceleration of fate, perhaps?
"Okay," I pressed, the implications of his "nuanced" thods still unsettling, "even harder question, Levi. Why haven't you ever… directly killed soone yourself?"
He tapped his fingers. "Hm… There are multiple contributing factors. Firstly, it would be rather… pedestrian. Surprisingly boring, actually. Secondly, if I were widely perceived as a common murderer, it would undoubtedly hinder my ability to convince the populace of my ideology, to garner support for the eradication of the nobility and monarchy. My moral authority, would be compromised. Thirdly, it would shatter the image of the 'Saint of Ascaria,' a persona that has proven remarkably effective. And fourthly, many of my most valuable informants were noble won. Their primary objective was not necessarily the violent demise of their fathers and husbands; they simply desired… a more expeditious path to personal freedom, shall we say. So… hm. Yes, I believe that encompasses the primary reasons."
"You are being… remarkably honest today, Levi," I observed, a strange mix of unease and a perverse sense of relief washing over . "Knowing full well that these… confessions… will likely drive even further away."
"Indeed," he replied, his gaze unwavering. "It is, our fundantal chasm. If you genuinely desire a more comprehensive and unvarnished account, you are welco to visit my study and examine the contents of the boxes. They contain ticulously docunted evidence of my… 'wrongdoings,' every single 'immoral' act I have deed strategically necessary over the span of the past decade. You see, my initial plan involved releasing that entire compendium of evidence to the public shortly before my intended suicide. A final, comprehensive accounting. However," a frown creased his brow, "I reconsidered the potential ramifications. Shattering the hope of so many individuals, whose livelihoods have beco linked with the philanthropic image of the 'Saint' and my charitable endeavors… it seed unnecessary."
“You were going to release this… this comprehensive evidence of your cris, to the entire nation?” I stamred. “W-why, Levi? Why would you do that?”
“For the sa fundantal reason I divested myself of every single penny I possessed, Raphael,” he replied, devoid of any emotion. “To sever every last vestige, every lingering connection to that pathetic existence I once inhabited.”
"Scorched earth?"
"Scorched earth."
Fuck… Just one day. If I hadn't felt that urge to rush back ho from that award ceremony a day early, he wouldn't be here. Thank gods, thank the stars, thank whatever cosmic force compelled to co ho when I did.
A painful lump ford in my throat. The reality of how close I’d co to losing him, to a silent, irreversible void, threatened to overwhelm . My eyes stung, and I had to swallow hard to keep the tears at bay.
Levi’s phone buzzed. He glanced down. “Finally,” he murmured, a hint of weariness in his voice. “Finn has located a rather… substantial group of ten unfortunate souls to assist , Raphael.”
“Did he?” I managed, my voice a little shaky. “You can finally alleviate so of that ridiculous workload you’ve been carrying…”
“I sincerely hope so,” he admitted, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “Because I am remarkably exhausted.”
“Hm…” I hesitated, wanting to hold onto this fragile mont of connection. “Want to… perhaps do sothing else? Like watching a movie? I’m not entirely sure what you consider a suitable form of… pass ti, but…”
A small smile touched his lips. “Watching a movie sounds… agreeable. However, I require a remarkably large tub of ice cream to effectively silence my inevitable comntary regarding the plot’s nurous deficiencies.”
“Sure, Levi,” I agreed readily, a genuine smile finally breaking through. Anything to keep him here, in this mont, with .
…
It was the third day of the unrest. The initial ripples of protest had steadily grown into a significant wave, yet the demonstrations remained largely non-violent. The movent had spread beyond the capital, reaching into several neighboring cities, a trajectory that seed to satisfy Levi's calculations. I even overheard him muttering to himself, whether he should… hire individuals to further swell the ranks of the protestors. Yeah. My mind short-circuited when attempting to navigate the labyrinthine corridors of his moral ambiguity.
"Not enough," he muttered under his breath, his brow furrowed as he vigorously whisked the cake batter. "It is not enough. I need sothing else... But what? Sothing… sothing…" He repeated the last word, restless hum escaping his lips. I watched him from my perch behind the kitchen counter.
"Hm," I interjected gently, the warmth of the chamomile tea mug seeping into my hands, "are you perhaps referring to the current economic situation?"
"Yes," he confird, his movents with the whisk remaining. "The current asures are… insufficient. There must be a more impactful policy I could implent, a more elegant solution to stimulate growth and stability. But the optimal approach… it eludes at the mont."
"Distribution…" he whispered to himself, his eyes suddenly alight with a focused intensity as if a complex equation had finally resolved itself in his mind. "Ah… why did it take this long to see it?"
Apparently, my penniless Levi, was contemplating a rather… thorough re-evaluation of how the economic pie was sliced. It seed the rich were about to experience a significant shift in their dietary plan.
"Then so strategic trade alliances… Yes, that could work. Then what follows… Then… Ah… Energy and transportation… No, I cannot implent significantly higher taxes on those sectors, the backlash would be… inefficient. Sothing else… what could provide the necessary leverage? Automated labor, a complete overhaul? No, the social unrest… I would likely be facing public execution. Urban planning, a complete restructuring of infrastructure? Possible… but the impact, while long-term, is still not the imdiate, large-scale shift I require. Sothing else… sothing truly significant… sothing big… What?"
The sheer disconnect is staggering. He can be so dostic, so focused on the minutiae of baking, and then in the next breath, be contemplating economic shockwaves that would redefine society. It's terrifying and utterly… Levi.
"Ah, my dear Raphael," Levi announced, a disturbingly cheerful tone, "it appears the most… expeditious thod to address our current economic instability involves a brief but impactful series of… private consultations with certain excessively wealthy individuals, encouraging them to redistribute a significant portion of their assets. That should provide a temporary stabilization, perhaps another week or so. Because, as you astutely observed, with the current volatile currency situation, implenting widespread taxes would likely result in… spirited public demonstrations, shall we say. Wait… riot… riot… ah, blast it all. A substantial tax on non-essential importations, particularly costics and luxury goods. Yes. That will generate the necessary revenue without imdiately inflaming the more… economically sensitive segnts of the populace." He finally ceased his whisking and smoothly poured the batter into the cake tray.
"So, your grand plan involves summoning a procession of terrified plutocrats to our humble abode and… extracting their wealth through sheer intimidation, Levi? Is that the chosen course of action?"
"No, no, my dear Raphael, calling them to our house? Please. They scarcely warrant the inconvenience," Levi replied, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Besides, nearly every single one of them is, in so capacity, an acquaintance. Instead… we could host a charity gala."
Ah, shit. Here we go again. It felt like we were being dragged back months ago. The era when Levi, the lauded 'Saint of Ascaria,' was orchestrating elaborate charity events with the regularity of the tides. He'd always referred to them as 'political maneuvering disguised as philanthropy.' Yep. Full circle. The Saint was back in business.
"Gods..." I sighed, shaking my head. "Where do we even begin to untangle the knot of your moral ambiguity?"
Levi rely smirked. "Let us not be so quick to cast stones. I currently possess nothing beyond the clothes I am wearing. You, on the other hand, are one of the wealthiest individuals in the entire nation. Not only do you own vast tracts of land, including those rather picturesque mountains, but you also happen to possess the nation's largest and most significant art collection. Hm… one might be tempted to inquire: who truly occupies the more morally ambiguous position in this particular scenario?"
Shit…
Levi just casually delivered the most eloquent, albeit unsettling, ‘check your privilege’ I’ve ever encountered.
"So," I asked, "do I… should I sell that art collection, Levi? Use the proceeds to actually help people, to address so of this… inequality?"
Levi scoffed. "No. That would be… remarkably naive. Art, you see, benefits from significantly lower tax rates. It is, in fact, a favored instrunt among the wealthy for… optimizing their fiscal responsibilities. Selling it would rely transfer a tax-advantaged asset into readily taxable currency. A rather inefficient approach to your newfound moral awakening, wouldn't you agree?"
Did I just… did I just receive a morality lesson? From Levi? From Levi? The man who casually discusses terrorizing the wealthy and orchestrated the downfall of a monarchy is now… schooling on the complexities of ethical financial decisions?
"Did… did you just give a morality lesson… Levi? Is this actually happening right now? Did I just get my privilege thoroughly checked… by you?" My hands were shaking so badly the tea in my cup sloshed.
Levi was openly amused. Before sliding the cake tray into the oven, he dipped his finger into the remaining batter. He dabbed the dollop of batter right on the tip of my nose.
"Isn't the irony… simply delicious, Raphael?"
"Y-you know…" I stamred, a reluctant smile twitching at the corner of my mouth, "it actually… kind of is. Being judged on my privilege, my wealth… by a forr revolutionary who once plotted the violent overthrow of the entire social order…"
Levi closed the small distance between us, that infuriatingly playful smirk still etched on his lips. His smug look was almost… charming, in a devilish sort of way. Then, his eyes locked on mine, he slowly licked the sar of cake batter from my nose.
My heart decided to stage a frantic drum solo against my ribs.
"My, my," Levi purred, his eyes gleaming with amusent, "I was rely appreciating the… artistic application of my bakery skills. What a delightfully perverted angel you are, Raphael."
Damn him and his uncanny ability to fluster with the most casual of intimacies. Of course, a ridiculous wave of arousal washed over .
Levi leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting against my ear. "Since your eyes are such a crystalline ice blue, it makes observing your pupil dilation rather… illuminating. And it seems," he murmured, a knowing smirk playing on his lips, "that our virtuous angel is currently entertaining so unholy thoughts."
I placed my hand on his forearm. "It's been two months, Levi, okay? Just… shut up."
He slowly lifted his gaze from my lips to my eyes, his irises seeming to pierce right through my skull. "Why deny yourself pleasure?" he purred. "Hm? Does your oh-so-rigid morality clash with the desires this devil stirs within you?"
Of course I knew. Every fiber of my being rembered. I missed him far too much.
"Are you trying to seduce right now, Levi?"
"Yes," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "But I have a distinct feeling you require just one little… reminder, don't you?" He punctuated his words with a sharp nip on my earlobe.
My entire body erupted in a tremor of arousal.
"My little angel doesn't truly crave gentleness, does he?" Levi murmured, his thumbs stroking the sharp angles of my jaw. "He wants to feel the blood coursing hot and fast through his veins, that delicious, aching burn in his lungs, to be pushed further and further to that intoxicating precipice where desire and madness beco indistinguishable. Doesn't he?"
Yes, there was a part of that craved the edge, the thrill of pain, the surrender of control to him. But it wasn't the whole story, not anymore.
"Levi, you're half right. Yeah, the adrenaline… there's a part of that still enjoys that. But that's not the core of it. What I truly enjoy… is you. Whatever you choose to do to ."
Two months. Two long months. We either closed that damn gap right here, right now, or I feared it would beco a permanent divide.
"Hm…" he murmured, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "Well then, Pulla. I will be in my room after I finish baking my cake."
Pulla. He finally said it. Thank God. Ah, thank gods…
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