3: Standing Ground

He sends you home after that class. 

He sends you home.

Like a goddamn child in time-out, you're dismissed from your internship for the day. You protest, and protest, but he declares he has nothing else for you and tells you to leave. Do your schoolwork or something. His orders are rude and firm, and it's next to impossible to deny them. 

Your studio apartment is a pathetic excuse for a home, but its proximity to campus makes it worth the discomfort. The rectangular room holds your kitchenette, your queen bed, your desk, your loveseat and TV, and a lone window, all covered with a disappointing mess of clothes, junk, and grime.                                               

You sigh, the junkyard of your room unable to bring any comfort after your jarring first day under Levi. Promising yourself some self-governance, you dedicate time to cleaning up. Laundry is done, dishes are washed, and floors are swept and vacuumed. You hadn't taken much time previously to keep your space clean, but your lack of an internship leaves you a lot of energy to devote elsewhere. 

You check the time on your phone in the late evening, flopping onto your loveseat exhaustedly. Only a few pointless emails and texts from distant friends fill your notification feed, but not much more.

It's empty. 

Your apartment is empty. 

There's no warmth; not here nor in Levi's office. It's draining, and it's only the first day under him. 

You won't take this change blindly. A hard-ass of a mentor is one thing, but this sort of treatment is unbearable. If it's not going to improve, you don't want to stay with him. 

So, you decide to learn more. Scrolling through your contacts, you eventually reach Erwin Smith's number. He had given it to you early in your internship, promising you could call him during business hours regarding anything university-related. It's still early enough in the day, and you assume your concern is academic enough to warrant an unsolicited phone call. 

The phone rings once, then twice. 

"Hello?" Erwin's voice rumbles right in your ear.

You sigh. "Hello, Dr. Smith. I'm sorry to bother you."

"It's no bother. Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, actually. It's about Levi. I wanted to ask about him." You curl up in your seat, growing hesitant about even inquiring. 

"Certainly. Ask away."

You don't know where to start, and you scold yourself for failing to script any questions beforehand. "Um, he's...a little intense—not unbearable. I can handle it. But he's also...um, a bit brash? I'm sorry. I don't mean to insult him, I just—I don't know. I want to know what he's like."

"No need to apologize," Erwin soothes. "Believe me, you're not the only one that thinks that. He's notorious for his demeanor."

"Oh, he is?" Somehow, that's reassuring. Knowing that you're not the only one that notices his aggression makes you feel just a tad better. 

"Yes. He's kind enough to those he respects, at least."

His elaboration is quite brief. You're not satisfied. "And to others?"

"As you said. Brash."

Well, alright. That hardly means he's justified for acting as he does. "So, is he always that intense around people for the first time?"

"He's touchy, like he was when we first spoke to him." Erwin pauses. "Do you see him often? I thought you were transferred to Nanaba."

"Oh, I was. Yeah. But then I got moved back today. Back under Levi." 

"I see." 

You shift in your seat. "...Yeah."

"Do you know why?"

"Not too sure," you admit. "Though I think it had something to do with my CV. He put me back under him after he read my CV."

There's silence on the other end for a few moments. 

"Dr. Smith?"

"Apologies. Will you be able to handle him? I'm sure he'll learn to give you respect in time. He does with anyone worthy of it."

Erwin's words sound so promising. You'll get what you want if you just hold out. How hard can it be? Levi will take the stick up his ass out eventually, and he'll give you an internship under the literature department head of Paradis. Dream come fucking true, if it works out. "I think I can handle it. I guess he just caught me off-guard."

"Yes, he does to most. I'm glad to hear that you're strong enough to tolerate it."

"It...will get better, won't it?"

"I believe so, personally. He warmed up to me eventually, and to his department. I'm sure he will with you."

"Okay. That's good to hear."

"Of course. And if for some reason he doesn't, just let me know. I'll talk with him. I don't want to lose your talent because of a difficult superior." 

You nod to yourself, a grateful smile gracing your lips. "I will. Thanks for having my back, Dr. Smith."

"Of course. Anything else?"

You scan the room as if it will give you a topic. "Not...for now. No. I don't think so."

"Alright, then I'll let you go. Have a good evening."

"You too."

The line goes dead. Dropping your phone onto the couch cushion, you expel another sigh. You'll dedicate yourself to Levi. You won't buckle. Then, if Erwin can be trusted, you'll receive the respect you deserve. That's the goal.

The following morning, you head to the university by bus and arrive in front of Levi's office by 8:15. You don't know when the department head usually arrives, leaving you to simply guess when you should be there. 

You shake off any tension before raising a closed fist and knocking. "It's me," you call. Yes, it's you. You're back, ready to face Levi and handle his demeanor until it changes. He's a challenge for sure, but you can overcome it. There's nothing he can do—

"Get in here," the room's occupant growls from within. 

You don't want to. You'd rather turn right around and run than get in there. Nothing exciting waits inside; nothing except the possibility of a future internship that would be enjoyable. That's nonexistent right now, though. 

Regardless, you snatch the door handle with tense fingers and turn, subjecting yourself to this sweet hell. You'll survive Hades if God is on the other side. 

"Levi, good morning." You step in politely and close the door behind you, bracing for whatever is to come.

He's behind his desk, though for once he's not distracted by any paperwork. He sits rigidly in his massive chair, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He was waiting for you, and now that you're in his lair he's ready to devour you whole. "8:15? Really?"

So you're late, apparently. Late for a deadline that was never set. "Sorry. Um, I didn't know you wanted me here sooner. Nanaba and I would meet at 8:15, so—"

"You're not under Nanaba anymore. You're under me."

You keep your back against the door, staying as distanced as possible. "I...know that. Um, what time do you want me here?"

"8. Not a single second later."

Fine. That's easy. This is tolerable. "Okay. I'll be here at 8 from now on."

"Tch." He rolls forward in his chair and plucks his pen off the counter. He's not anticipating such understanding, and it's clear he's not sure what to do with it. "You'd better. I can't stand disobedience."

It's bittersweet, how his words have gotten just a tad softer. Not enough to trust him, but enough to convince you that you're making progress. Maybe.

"So," you begin experimentally as you approach his desk. "What classes do you have today? I never got to learn your schedule."

"Then you'll see. You'll join me, and watch. Be patient." He doesn't look at you, offering no evenness in the conversation. 

You nod, curling your lips in. "Okay. I look forward to learning what they are."

He sighs, putting his pen to paper. "Because you were late, we only have a few minutes before class starts. I'm finishing up a few more things, then we'll go."

"Okay," you answer, remaining standing awkwardly in front of his desk.

His scribbling fills the silence for a few moments, though it slows almost immediately and is followed by a quiet scoff. "Damn annoying," he mutters. "I hate the way you just stand there."

You stiffen, confused aggravation tearing through your mind. "I'm...I'm sorry, I guess," you reply reluctantly. "Would you like me to wait outside?"

"No. You're staying in here." He tries to keep his eyes on his paper, but he eventually gives up and just rises to his feet. "Forget it. Let's go to class early."

Accepting his solution, you follow him out of the office without complaint.  

You sit through his next class, a lengthy academic success class that doesn't pertain to literature at all. The lecture hall is filled with hundreds of students, all of which Levi begrudgingly teaches about proper study habits and how to maintain integrity. He's even duller in this class than in others, unashamedly expressing his disdain for the crowd before him.

The class is two hours long, and you spend the entire period leaning against the front wall, out of Levi's way. It's boring, and aching, and a damn waste of your internship. You almost wish you were copying papers instead of pushing through this mundane garbage. 

Levi finishes class. Levi returns to his office. Levi works. Levi goes to his next class. Levi teaches. Levi returns to his office.

And through this whole damn cycle, you follow. You do nothing but follow like a little duckling, praying that your mentor will soon give you something enriching, something to fuel your internship. That wish isn't granted, and you're sent home at the end of the school day without any progress. The statue that is Levi refuses to chip, and you're suffering from his neglectful treatment.

But what can you do? Complain? Nothing will get through to Levi. Can you go to Erwin again? Maybe, but it's only day two. Even Erwin will think you should be able to hold on just a bit longer. And you should—you can, and perhaps that's what makes it difficult to speak up. It's only been two days, you're just being impatient if you can't handle this. So you do nothing. 

But when the entire week passes with no developments, your temper flares. At home on Friday after the most useless few days of your life, you're officially at the end of your rope. Great, you saw all of Levi's classes. 

You watched him teach.

Yippee.

He didn't instruct you on any facet of literature or teaching. He gave you occasional menial tasks, and otherwise demanded silence. You followed, and watched, and waited—waited too fucking long. You're done waiting. It's damn annoying, and your tolerance for this lackluster mentorship has gnawed through your psyche until your raw irritation is exposed.

Anger festers over the weekend, and you return to Levi's office at 8 AM on Monday morning with the resolute determination to put your foot down. 

"Good morning, Levi." You start polite. That's more than he can manage.

He keeps writing. He's always writing. You're starting to think he's writing nonsense just to look busy.

You keep going. "Your literature history students submitted their essays last Friday, didn't they? Did you get to take a look at them over the weekend?"

That insults him, somehow. "You think you're my secretary or something?" he snarls as he flicks a glare at you.

"No," you swiftly answer. "I was just wondering. I was kinda interested in reading some of them."

"I looked at them myself. I graded them." Writing resumes. 

You're not out of the running yet. You're declaring war on this tyrant, ready to meet him on the battlefield just so you can earn a little more satisfaction from your internship. "Yeah, I wasn't going to grade them or anything. I just wanted to see how the students talked about the prompt you gave them."

"The assignment is over. You don't need to look at their work."

"I know it's over, but it would still help me a bit. I want to be a teacher myself, and I'm interested in how students approach their assignments. I could get an idea by—"

"No. You'll wait until I give you something to do. Don't ask for more." Levi's writing grows more aggravated, his fist slicing across the paper with uncomfortable ferocity.

"That's..." You're stunned yet again, quickly calling a mental time-out so you can rearrange your troops. Ready to reengage, you continue. "I want to do more, though. And I can. If you don't trust my competency, then I'd at least like the chance to prove to you that—"

"No," he repeats harshly. "These are my students. I read their essays. I do the grading. None of that is your territory."

Yes, it absolutely is your territory! He's an idiot for implying you have no part in the literature department. "I don't need to grade, Levi. Just a skim of coursework would be nice every now and then. Maybe an evaluation of their test scores?" Your volume is rising, but you don't feel compelled to quell it. "I...I want to do something here! I—"

"Oi." Levi slams his pen on the desk, halting his writing. "Keep your fucking. Voice. Down."

You flinch, shocked into confusion. "Wh—you just—you swore at me! What the—why would you—"

"I don't give a shit," he snarls, rising from his seat with a glare painting his face. "You're the one that should watch what she says. I'm the mentor, and I demand obedience. You—"

"No!" You're thrown into a fit of rage, your temper completely unrestrained. This is not worth tolerating. You'll figure out your own way to get an internship at Paradis, one that doesn't involve this abhorrent douchebag. "I won't take this, Levi! I came here for experience, and education, and I'd like to receive both while being given some respect! You've offered nothing of the sort!"

His eyes flare with anger and his frame twitches, knotted in disbelief. "The hell are you going to do, hm? Walk out?"

You let out a loud, sardonic laugh. "Yes. Goodbye, Levi! Please treat future interns with more respect than you did to me!"

And with that, you turn on your heels and go. The door is right there, and any hope of better opportunities lies beyond it. You're done with Levi.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snarls.

You don't have to answer him. And you won't. The door is right there.

"Alright," he mutters. Rapid steps are heard behind you, but you don't turn to see him approach.

No, you only notice him when your wrist is suddenly snatched by his fingers, yanking you away from the door. You stumble towards him, his strength enough to corral your whole body.

"Let go! Levi, let—"

"I'm sorry," he rasps. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to snap at you."

You stop. This apology is so unexpected, so unfounded. The world's rudest department head just stooped to deferential culpability to keep you from leaving, and you're left startled.

"Come on." He's lowered his tone to a soft murmur, his fingers' grip barely weakening. "Let's go back and try this again."

A tiny iota of sympathy spurts from his words. You almost believe him, a small part of you whispering to you to listen to him. Just try again. Keep pushing through. Earn that reward you deserve.

But this bastard swore at you, and taunted you all the way to the door. Is his little apology enough to override it?

"Let go of me," you assert. "This is utterly disrespectful."

"Okay," he acquiesces softly.

His hand leaves your wrist, instead coasting up your arm, onto your shoulder, and ending softly on your shoulder blade. His touch is light, a silent threat blanketed under a layer of clemency. Thin fingers swim through the fabric of your shirt, sending shivers down your spine. You're paralyzed with both dread and confusing, twisted comfort.

"Come back with me."

The tone is gentle, but the order is stern. He's not completely sycophantic; only as much as he wants to be.

There's a soft push, and you take a step forward.

Then another.

And another.

You walk back to Levi's desk with his guidance, unfurling the tangled wires in your mind. You need to think about this again. He's not making any sense, and you need to think.

You stop. He steps away from you and leans his hips against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms.

"Do you understand why I got upset with you?"

He's leading the conversation before you can even pull your mind together, and you're forced to reroute your thinking to follow him. "What?" is all you utter.

"You heard me. I got upset with you. Do you know why?"

You cringe at the demeaning way he questions you like a father to his toddler. There's no desire to respond to him politely. "Because I asked for something to do."

"You impolitely snapped at me," he corrects fiercely. "You'll never get what you want if you demand it so rudely."

You expel a frustrated huff. "I've done nothing for a whole week, Levi. I'm sorry for my attitude, but I'm getting a little pent up. I...I really don't want to just sit around!"

"Be quiet." Levi's fingers twitch as they grip his bicep. "Stop shouting at me."

Your teeth clench, humiliated anger wearing down your mind.

His head cocks to the side, peering at you judgmentally. "We're trying this again. We're going to talk, not argue. Got it?"

Okay, that's a little more mellow. That's language that feels less debasing. You sigh. "Yeah, I got it."

"Okay. Good." He nods once. "So, you want more from me?"

"Yes," you answer immediately. "I want a fulfilling internship."

"Do you think you've earned that?"

He's toeing the line between dehumanizing language and professional conversation, and it's frustrating to decide how you want to approach him. Giving in to his jabbing questioning versus overzealously holding your ground is the pivotal choice you have to make.

You're hesitant to choose.

"I truly do," you say with a hint of stern pride. "I'm not vain, but I'm sure of myself. I deserve more than sitting around or doing easy tasks."

Levi's palms plant on either side of his body, his shoulders shrugging up as his frame hangs from his arms. "And you think you should have that already?"

"Yes. It's already been a week."

"It's only been a week," he bites. "This isn't elementary school. It's Paradis. You have to have more patience and dedication if you want to earn anything."

An eyeroll escapes by accident, eliciting a quiet scoff from Levi. You continue anyway. "Well, Nanaba was ready to let me help teach after one week."

"Yeah? And you think Nanaba is better than me?"

You shake your head. "Not what I said. She just helped me out and had faith in me. I wish you would too."

"You're confusing softness for faith. I'm not going to be soft with you like she was."

Yes, you had already come to expect that. "I know that. But there's no way for me to even prove myself if you just keep me...locked up. Let me demonstrate my competency, please. Give me something that'll show I can handle more responsibilities."

Levi sighs, thinking to himself. "Fine. To start, I want you to show some maturity by giving me respect."

You seriously don't want to give him any at all, but it's necessary. "I'll respect you, Levi."

"Thus, you follow my lead. I'm the superior here. Got that?"

"Yeah, got that." You'll begrudgingly feed his ego to stay safe.

"And you're staying as my intern. You're Levi's intern. Understood?"

"...Yeah."

"Good." Levi peels himself off the desk, his shoes lightly treading towards you. "You're not going to go back to Nanaba, or even Erwin." He extends a hand to your upper arm, palming it delicately. "You're staying with me. Under me."

His fingertips coast down your arm and wrap themselves around your wrist, drawing it up between your two bodies. "And if you're good enough, I'll give you more privileges. That's how this is going to work."

You tug your hand back, and he releases. "Then give me privileges right now," you request firmly. "Don't leave me with nothing to do."

"Alright," he mumbles. "I'll give you a little something." He's agreed to your terms, thankfully. He deftly heads behind his desk and puts a hand on the backrest of his chair, rolling it back. "Come here. I have some papers you can look over." 

You're the fish that sees the worm, blindly incautious of the gleaming hook impaling it. You circle his desk slowly, your eyes fixed on him. He gestures to the chair, keeping one hand affixed to its backrest. With trepidation you sit, feeling as though you just locked yourself in an iron maiden. 

"Now look," he coos as he puts a hand on his desk. "I was just finishing up a lesson plan for my literary analysis class. This relates to the module we'll be learning about next week. You can look it over and leave comments on it, if you'd like." He's so kind, it's terrifying. He's lost all rage in an instant, now coddling you as if you were royalty. "Stay focused on this. Do not touch any of my other papers." A single drop of ferocity ripples through his voice. "You got all that?"

"Yes, I do." The words leave your lips instantly, the joy of being offered some inclusion too powerful to ignore. He's giving you work, thank heavens. It's the bare minimum, but it's progress.

"I'm going to class." He detaches himself from the chair you're occupying. "Don't leave my office for any reason. Just sit here and do your work." He makes his way to the office door. "I'll be back. Do as you're told and be grateful."

The door opens and closes in the next instant, and your mentor is gone. It's quiet, and serene. 

You glance down at the paper on his desk. Beautiful, straight handwriting details a lesson plan regarding a predetermined module for his literary analysis class, just as he said. The script becomes a bit bolder and more rigid near the bottom, when his anger fueled his writing. It's as though this plan serves as a seismograph as his temper. The notion is a little funny.

Sighing, you pick up his pen and consign yourself to reviewing your first proper assignment under Levi.