16: Undeserved Loyalty

Levi's there the next morning to take you to Paradis. He has his wits excessively about him, far more alert than before. Not only of you, but also of his surroundings. There's plenty for him to stress about, and it manifests in frequent glances around the road he drives on and subdued huffs as anxious thoughts fester inside his head. 

You, the intern that bounces between concern and annoyance, decide to drift closer to sympathy this morning.

"Is everything okay, Levi?"

"I'm not certain," he answers with no comment about your irritating concern. It must be permitted for once. "After yesterday, I don't know Kenny's next move. He could just carry on with his life, or he could come after us."

"Come after us? Why does he want to do that?" You haven't considered Kenny's intentions much—even now, they're rather hazy. 

Levi doesn't like the answer he's reaching, but he can't find any other reason. With paranoid glances up at his rearview mirror, he responds. "He likes...help."

"Help?"

He sighs fixedly, rubbing his steering wheel. "Any sort of help. Lookouts, cleanup, things like that. I was—fuck, I was good at that." 

It's not clicking, or your brain is refusing to let it click. "At...what?" 

"At helping. I helped him."

"Helped him do what?" Your demand for clarification is pesky, but you can't stop until you reach the bitter truth. 

"Whatever the fuck he needed. Whatever crime he decided to commit on a whim." His body locks up in his seat, his fists clenching the steering wheel and his eyes stuck straight ahead. "I had a knack for it, and he needed that. While he and Caven went off and did something shitty, I kept watch, or scared away shitheads, or hid evidence."

Levi's the accomplice of a vile criminal. Levi himself is a criminal. 

"What have you done?" 

"What?" Eyes flick your way, wary of your accusation.

"What...crimes...?" 

"—Have I committed?" He rolls his eyes, annoyed by the subject. "Well, I'm not innocent, but I'm no murderer."

That doesn't mean he's safe. Cautious of who you're sharing a car with, you keep interrogating. "Does Paradis know you have a record?"

He shakes his head. "I don't have a record. I've never been arrested."  

"But...you've broken the law."

"Yes. If they wanted to, Kenny or Caven could testify against me and get me prosecuted." He switches lanes, turning the car into the Paradis lot. "The only reason they haven't is because it would incriminate them, too. I haven't reported them for the same reason." 

Hence Kenny's freedom. Levi won't send the police to Kenny simply because Kenny will bring Levi down with him. They're both stuck in a stalemate where both prioritize their own liberty over the deprivation of liberty for their opponent. 

"So he can't threaten me with the law. He's used my debt to him as leverage. He tried using you, too." He glances your way, confident enough in this conversation to connect with his intern. "You were really good leverage for him. Now, though, he can't use you since you're not going to visit him anymore. Isn't that right?"

"That's right," you answer. There's no way in hell you're willingly going back to that hellhole. 

He nods to himself as he stops the car in a parking spot. "Good. Don't forget the length of your leash." 

"I—geez, Levi, I'm not a dog." 

"Yes, you are," he says far too casually, his attitude like a slap to the face. 

"I'm not—"

"You're Professor Levi's lapdog, and you know it. It seems to fit you better than intern does." He switches off his car, killing the engine and sapping the vehicle of its mechanical hum. 

You're stung with a form of denigration you weren't expecting him to wield. He has vicious language, yes, but this severe and unwavering proclamation is too intense to brush off. "That's disrespectful," you gnarl. 

"I know it is." He unlatches his seatbelt and opens the door. "Now come on. Don't get too heated about it; you'll draw a crowd."

You're appalled to witness him step outside like nothing has happened. He's the most inconsistent, confusing, twisted harasser you know. So why does he get to do it? Why? 

Why is he allowed to walk inside while his intern just trails behind with grumpy steps? Why hasn't he been scorned and avoided and left to rot in some pawn shop? Why has he been shown more grace than his uncle? 

You don't want to be Levi's dog—do you? His protection is secure, like an iron shield, and he's more attentive to you than even Erwin was. Your passion for literature resonates with him, and he validates your love for storytelling while contributing his own interest in the subject. He's constantly tugging you back to his side, and he grows fierce when others try to take you away from him. Kenny, the main enemy of Levi, was stabbed when he tried to fuck with you. There's not a greater form of protection than that.

Or, rather, he's just a possessive piece of shit that didn't want to be responsible for a dead woman. That's possible, too. 

Whatever he is, he's not deserving of superiority over you. Nothing beyond a mentor. Besides his title as mentor, you two are equals. 

Not some master and his dog. That's bullshit. 

In his office, you're sure to close the door firmly as Levi crosses to his desk. 

"You're getting way too comfortable," you say, having simmered on his attitude during the walk here. "And even after what we went through yesterday, you're still going to harass and insult me and think you can get away with it? This is ridiculous, Levi."

"I don't know." He slinks into his seat and tucks himself under the desk. "You follow me every day, you're loyal to my commands, and—hell, you even run away from home sometimes. I had to train that out of you."

"Oh my god! You don't—"

"Because what else are you, then? If you're more than my intern, what are you?" 

Your mentation is grinding to a halt, that disgustingly familiar blend of anger and confusion surfacing yet again. "I'm—I don't know, but I'm not a damn animal." 

"First off, come here. Quit talking to me from across the room." He beckons, and you decide to oblige out of convenience, not obedience. Probably. "Second, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Not many others get the protection you do, nor the lenience. You should be fired by now for withholding information from your mentor, but I've shown mercy."

"And you should be arrested for stabbing your uncle. You're not innocent either."

He scoffs, failing to combat your retort. "You better start figuring out how you want to continue this relationship. I'm going to look after you, but only if you follow my lead. Keep up the loyalty I know you're capable of, lapdog."

His words are just so close to being encouraging, but they're injected with an insulting, dehumanizing remark that drains you of faith. He could be a supportive pillar to rely on, but instead, he's a bitter cage that traps you in his unrequested protection. 

"Sit down," he commands. "You're creepy when you loom over my desk like that." 

That why does he get to question resurfaces, pestering you in the face of this rude dictator. You don't want to sit down or obey a man that treats you like a pet. You have to prove to him you're more than just a loyal puppy. You have to do this because he has to know you're capable without him. 

Well, he does know that, doesn't he? Hasn't he stressed your talent and autonomy before? 

He doesn't think you're weak or stupid, but he does vow to protect you from horrors you cannot tackle—Kenny especially. He demands your loyalty, even though he acknowledges your independence. You're not a child to him, you're a treasure.

That could be the answer. That might be the solution to this unlabeled relationship.

And if that's the case, what are you going to prove by cementing facts he already knows? 

"Deaf, now?" he asks, cutting into your thought. 

You're eyeing him, though you're observing him from some corner within your own mind. Treasures don't get harassed or mistreated, and Levi doesn't seem to get that. If he values you so much, he shouldn't be an insolent asshole. 

"I'm not deaf." 

"Then listen to me and sit down."

If Kenny were the one to utter that sentence, you'd curse him and flee. If it were anyone but Levi, you'd retreat from the situation without a second thought. Why does he get to do this? 

You can throw accusations at Levi all day, but there's something different within you, too, that's allowing him to continue his behavior. There's something you feel about him that sets him apart from every other human being. 

"We're not seriously going to play this game, are we?" Levi plants his palms on his desk, about to rise. 

Fuck, maybe he's right. Maybe you're at fault for following him loyally despite everything. You might actually be more of a lapdog than you want to admit, and a realization like that doesn't sit right with you. 

"I don't follow orders like a damn dog," you declare. "You don't tell me to sit down like that." 

You still have to prove something, but you don't know what that is yet. 

"I'm not changing anything just to appease you." He's up, prepared to remedy the situation. "We'll keep doing this until you do what I tell you to do." 

Even as he circles his desk, you remain still. "Doing what?" 

"You already know what." 

The hand that connects with your collarbone is so sudden and fierce, you're shoved into the waiting chair before you even realize it. Your body smacks against the backrest and you're already bouncing back to rise again.

"When I say sit down, you sit." His foot raises and slams into the crook of your hip, right where your thigh meets your pelvis. He pins you roughly, using a single limb to keep you affixed to the seat. "It's your damn job to follow orders."

"What—hey, hey!" You groan as you try bucking your hips against this intrusion, but you can't move. He's impossibly strong, and he needs to exert little effort to control you as he pleases. You grasp at his ankle, wrapping fingers around the pant-clad leg and attempting fruitlessly to tear it off.

"I can do this over and over." He rests a lazy forearm on his bent knee. "We'll repeat this stupid formula until you obey."

"This is not acceptable," you seethe, tearing at his leg. "You can't treat me this way!"

"But I am. And I'm going to." He's not one bit remorseful for his assault, happily bearing more weight on his foot. "You're asking for this when you taunt me like that."

"Y-you—ngh!" You groan as he drills into your thigh, his heel kneading against your femur.

"There's no other way to keep my lapdog in line." His tongue grows sharper as he cranes his neck to near your face. "I know she gets carried away. I have to be strict with her if I want to keep her safe."

He pulverizes your thigh ruthlessly, almost as though he's trying to burrow his way into your body. Your back hunches over, and—even though you don't fully want to—you wrap your arms around his invasive leg, clutching it for both support and as a form of defense. Your temple presses against his knee, your eyes squeezing shut as you silently beg for relief.

"I am not your dog," you gnarl. "I am more than that."

"Maybe," he mutters. "But you don't demonstrate that when you brashly disobey me."

Your nails dig into his leg as your head shoots back, a glare plastered on your face. "You are just so hung up on obedience, aren't you?!"

"I have to be." He lurches forward with his words, squashing your leg harder. "Otherwise you'll get yourself into danger. You'll get hurt."

A new realization flashes in your mind, and your glare vanishes as you suddenly grasp his arm. "For pity's sake, Levi," you call, meeting him as earnestly as you can. "Why do you care so much about me?"

He halts, his strength ceasing as well. "What?"

"Seriously," you breathe, scouring for the answer in his eyes. "Why is our relationship so unusual? Why have you decided to treat me differently than any other intern?"

And, furthermore, why haven't you asked this yet? He goes on and on about how you need to be protected, under his watch, and so on, but why? It's time to find out.

He twitches, clenching his teeth. "Because you went after Kenny, and now he's a threat."

You find confidence returning to your nerves as you meet his gaze evenly. "No, that isn't right. You've treated me like this long before Kenny."

No time is wasted finding an alternative answer. "You're still my intern. It's my job as your mentor to supervise you."

"You didn't have that mindset when you flippantly transferred me to Nanaba." You grip his forearm, and it doesn't resist your grasp. "You took me back after reading my CV—is that it? Is my academic record the damn reason for all this?"

"No," he answers a little too quickly.

"Then what?"

He's lost for words, crushed by your moving argument. His arm tenses in your hands, and he forms a fist to siphon his tension into something besides you. "Fuck if I know," he finally answers. "I have no damn clue."

"You never seem to know the important answers, do you?" The question comes out harshly, almost uncharacteristically bitter, but it's the truth. When faced with a monumental wall of mystery, Levi simply retreats, and you find that infuriating.

"Fuck off," he hisses, insulted by your remark. "I don't see you giving any insight, either. Why aren't you doing anything about this?"

"I—I'm literally trapped under you right now. I can't—"

"Scream, then, for fuck's sake."

Your lips stop mid-sentence, stunned by his instruction. It takes several long moments before you breathe out a, "What?"

"My room's not soundproof." He nods to the door, suggesting the world beyond. "Scream, and someone'll show up. Then you can report me. You said you weren't afraid to report me, so I know you're not surrendering out of terror. Go on."

You clench your teeth, subconsciously going against his offer. Drastic measures like that aren't necessary, you don't think. You can handle him on your own.

"Why aren't you yelling?" he asks, returning energy to his leg. Pain follows, a dull crushing in your thigh that spurs a wince. "Come on, escape me! Leave the mentor that you hate. One shout is all it takes."

"F-fuck—this is—"

"Since you're not screaming, I have to assume that you don't want to leave. You want to stay under me."

"I don't want this assault." At least you're firm in that. This aggression and pain aren't desirable—that straightforward fact reinforces your mysterious argument. You don't even know what you're fighting for, but at least you know that.

"That's not what I said." With his free hand, he takes your jaw and carefully raises your head, actually forcing your body to recalibrate and ground itself in his gaze. "You want to stay under me. That's what you want."

The blatant truth comes crashing into you like a sledgehammer, clenching your heart and halting any stampede of rage or fright. That's what you want. Levi has told you the answer that you refuse to face, shoving you into your own psyche to bury you in the truth of your desire.

You're squeezing his arm so harshly, his pale skin has turned even whiter. "That—that isn't right—"

"It's okay." His thumb, though still tensed against your mandible, strokes a tiny line. "If that's what you want, that's okay. I'm okay with that."

"I...I don't know—"

"Because I want the same thing. I admit that I want you to stay beneath me." He doesn't care that you might crush his forearm; it's as though it doesn't even affect him. "I might not have any other answer for you, but I do know that. Don't you agree?" 

You can't agree so hastily, especially not with vibrant enthusiasm. But you haven't reported him, nor transferred, nor screamed. You haven't left. And, even if words are not spoken, those crucial inactions are loud enough. No matter what you say, your persistent loyalty will betray your verbal denial. 

You don't confirm nor deny. No answer feels correct.

"Why do you want that?" you ask, your jaw scrunched between his fingertips. 

"I already said I don't know." He brings his hand to yours, silently urging them to relax. "Maybe it is your CV. Maybe it's something else. I really don't know." 

"Fuck," you hiss, twisting your toes into the floor. "Why not?"

"I don't know." In a harsh swipe, he throws both your hands off his arm and steps back, rooting his feet in the floor. "Quit fucking asking. I want you beneath me—that's it. I don't know anything else."

He talks a lot of confident shit for someone that doesn't know his own feelings. You're irritated with his baseless pride, his façade of possession that has no emotional scaffolding.

"Fine." You wipe off dust that isn't there from your thigh and straighten up. "Just...fine. Great. We'll just carry on without knowing a damn thing."

"Don't be such a bitch about it." He folds his arms tightly, assuming that typical haughty pose. "Learn your place and it'll be easier. I already know mine."

"So stupid," you mutter, lost for any retorts beyond that.

"And keep your grumbling to a minimum." He strides back to his seat. "I don't want any distractions while I work."

Your lips are angrily closed, a retreat from the battle mentally declared. The frustrating limbo persists, offering no solution to ease your irritation. You're quiet, as he wished, because you don't know what else to say.

The sound of Levi's fingers striking the keyboard fills the silence instead, a welcome white noise while both of you collect your thoughts. Neither of you are capable of comprehending the peculiarity of your relationship, which is embarrassing in its own regard. Getting a grasp on the essence of this relationship is impossible, and the mere act is just shameful to undergo.

You're finally forced to bring your attention elsewhere when classes start. You're brought to his literary analysis class and stationed at the desk, where your mind tries to remind itself to think about anything besides your mysterious relationship.

There's no conflict for the rest of the week. You're cautious around Levi, but your relationship resets to a new baseline that has been defined by Levi's declaration of his interest in you. He wants you beneath him, and he believes you want the same thing. You don't touch the subject for days, both of you able to occupy yourself with work at Paradis without broaching the topic again. You fill your days with lesson revisions and small chores for your mentor, your evenings spent completing your master's thesis or Levi's speech. 

It reminds you of what this relationship was supposed to be—a professional mentor and intern. Each time you open your laptop and pick a document, you're reminded of where you've evolved from, stuck waving at the harbor of normalcy while your ship of twisted loyalty sets sail. It's too late to turn that ship around now; some point has been passed and now there's no return. You can't decide if you want to resist or embrace it.