literature

Love Favours Lost -2- (Petra x Levi x Reader)

Deviation Actions

kaoru-reisaki's avatar
Published:
11.2K Views

Literature Text


Love Favours Lost


[Petra x Levi x Reader]

Warning:
Current and future contents may contain mature language, violence and/or situations (which are not of explicitly graphic nature—I never can do lemons).

Main Genre:
Romance. Drama. Suspense. (Repeat circle)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Two

| Rivet |


The long needed rest from the ever traumatising and turbulent 57th Expedition of the Survey Corps has arrived as everyone snuggles into that their warm beds. But—

Private Jaeger doesn’t know it; he actually snores very loud—especially when he’s all injured and tired. He also doesn’t have any clue or idea that for the first few hours of just fallen asleep, half of those who shared the same quarters with him left him for dead slumbers to swallow, hoping he’d never be regurgitated like titan food. His snoring adds an amazing contrast to the recent fact that he has just lost his Squad and it also adds an extra load of burden as his roommates are given one week off by their Commander Smith. People wanted to use that week to their utmost relaxing advantage, but with a roomie like him, there is little chance for that—unless if one considers knocking each other out but that would be too much hassle. Of course, that week off doesn’t mean that they’ll be guaranteed of exemption from doing chores and running errands for Corporal Levi, but they can hope for that just as well.  

Eren stirs uncomfortably through his unmoving position as a distant voice mumbles into the lonely calm air, calling on to him pleadingly as if the world was over and done with—he needed to wake up fast. Also, there seems to be some kind of earthquake, shaking him up from his bed.

In fact, that voice sounds like that of his friend Armin and that earthquake is in fact two pair of hands gripping around his arms.

His emerald eyes slowly flutter open with annoyance before half-lidded vision reveals the world and his groggy moans are let loose by his down-turned lips as he slowly regains his consciousness. To his surprise, Armin’s face is now right in front of him—their noses almost touching too.

        “A-Armin!” he starts, hitting his head on the bed frame as he exclaims, “Ow! What the hell, man!”

        But Armin doesn’t look too remorseful; “Well, it wasn’t my fault!” the boy defends himself, “Our agreement where I should wake you up warrants that much urgency! Plus we have to hurry!”

While his childhood friend is trying to work out on something to say (as he forgot about it), it comes to Eren’s attention that most of the bunks around him are empty and that the full moon outside shows just how Stygian the night has turned. Then he realises something about that agreement Armin mentioned.

        “Is it midnight already?” Private Jaeger gasps before slamming a warning palm to his forehead, “I totally forgot about our meeting for tonight! How long have you and Mikasa waited?”

        It’s now Armin’s turn to startle. He grips Eren by the shoulders again and demands angrily—as if Eren has double crossed him, “Where is it? Where did you put all the letters?”

        “The letters?” Eren asks back; as his mind slowly unravels on the subject of their conversation.

Of course! Ms Petra’s letters!

He widens his unalarmed green oculars in disbelieve and fear, ducking his head suddenly and crawls on his bed to look under it; before Armin could say anything, Private Jaeger jumps to his feet quickly and pulls up his single mattress in dismay.

Shit! It’s not here!

        “THEY’RE GONE!” he yells out loud before being hushed by his meek, blonde haired friend.

        Armin lets out a tired sigh, “So it’s true! The one he has are yours!”

        “H-he? Y-you mean, the C-Corporal has them?”

Armin doesn’t say anything to protest against that but merely grabs the wrists of his sleepy headed friend and storms out of the room; everything is a complete blur as they pace out through the hallways and into what appears to be the mess hall (judging from the route) with only a smack of brownish shades of passing wooden structures in Eren’s mystified view. Before long, his friend pushes the door to the mess hall open—the once lively and yet whispering commotion within it coming to a halt—and the Private gasps at what he sees.

        “G-Guys? What are you doing here—all of you?” he addressed the crowd of the surviving 104th Trainee Squad that joined the Survey Corps with him—most were seated on the benches with their heads lazily rested over folded arms on the table while some like Ymir, Reiner and Connie were standing.

His watchful eye then goes over to Jean, who was seated alone in a table across the others; he does so not only because this was his arch-nemesis, but for the fact that a familiar looking paper and sealed letters in Jean’s hands. There is also Mikasa standing before the boy, her hands gripping him tightly around the wrists as if trying to stop him from doing something.

Of course, it was from ripping the letters open.

Eren wasn’t sure how to approach this. Everyone falls silent to what he’ll do and merely watch—like a prey turned predator.

        He takes a step forward and furrows his eyebrows, “What the hell, Jean? Can’t you have some control over invading someone’s privacy?”

        “What? Ah, you mean, these?” Jean blurts out, condescending with his tone and smirk.
 

        “Well, yeah!” Eren grabs the letter evident in Jean’s hands and growls back angrily, “It’s addressed to me, isn’t it, you dumb-ass?”

        I know that! You got it from Mikasa, didn’t you? I was about to humiliate you and—”

        “They’re not from Mikasa! That shit is weird! She’s always with me—why would she even write to me?”

Before Eren’s cluelessness could be overridden by Jean’s infatuated gestures for her, both Mikasa and Armin gives out a huff of irritation; he doesn’t understand why they did what they’d done and frowns harder as he turns to them.

        “What?” Private Jaeger demands.

        Mikasa decides to explain; “It was a lie,” she says nonchalantly, much to Jean’s relief, “I said I wrote it so that Jean wouldn’t open it, even if he wanted to, especially in front of everyone. I lied so that he’ll return these letters to me. But now that you’ve mentioned the truth—”

        “Oh, shit...” was all that comes out of Eren’s mouth.

        This time, Connie jumps in, “Hey! What the hell, man? I was up to see what Jean has to say about your love letters—now it turns out that it’s nothing?”

        “I was hoping to see some show before we go to bed too,” Ymir agrees; she turns to Christa now, “Hey, let’s go.”

        Jean abruptly stands up; with the current letter in his hands, he flaps it in Eren’s face and cries quietly, “If this is not from Mikasa and it’s addressed to you, then why the hell are you keeping this a secret and who the fuck sent these?”

        “Hold on a minute, Ymir,” Christa orders as she tugs at the said woman’s sleeves. 

        Sasha, who has been daydreaming about breakfast (supper, actually), suddenly yelps in a sing-song voice and ignoring Ymir’s usual eye-rolling at her gesture, “Oh, titan’s ass! This is interesting—late night drama~!”

        “Don’t tell them, Eren,” Armin intervenes, stalling the mood.

        “Don’t tell us what?” Reiner cuts in with a raised eyebrow; he nudges a sleepy Bertolt by his side and points his chin at Eren, “He’s got more than one secret that we don’t know of? What’s he hiding now?”

        “Guys, please! Just forget about tonight and—”

        Private Jaeger doesn’t think he needs any more of this unfriendly and volatile tension—in memory of the loving Petra Ral, he decides to compromise; he steps up and grabs the letter from Jean’s unassuming hands, shoves it to the
boy’s chest and snarls, “It’s okay, Armin. Let him open it and see who’s it from.” 

I hope I’m doing the right thing, Ms Petra. I hope you’re proud of me despite this...

        “With pleasure,” returns Jean and he unleashes the envelope gently—afraid to tear the letter inside. As he—with that smug look on his face—begins to read it, his once golden brown eyes widen and his face pales.

        “Are you happy now?” Eren retorts impatiently.

        “What is it, Jean?” Connie interrupts and tries to take a peek from the taller boy, “Who’s it from?”

        Reiner grunts at the frozen figure standing before them, “Hey, come on, Jean! We haven’t got all day!”

Jean couldn’t speak for himself. Considering everything that has happened with the last expedition (and also what his late best friend Marco Bodt would recommend), he nods silently, folding the opened letter into place and hands it back to Eren. But the Private only shoves it back to him, earning a gasp from Armin and Mikasa widening her gaze.

        “E-Eren!” cries his blonde haired friend, “What the hell are you doing?”

        Eren ignores Armin and stares at everyone present—one by one—with his resolute eyes; “These letters are from one of my deceased squad member—Petra Ral,” his voice slowly shatters but he regains firmness by clenching his fists, “They were written before she died and as a promise to her, I would do whatever she asked from these letters—but I’ve only read the first two on the way here. The one in Jean’s hands is the third and we were supposed to read it tonight before Jean finds them.”

        “So you’re going to have to finish reading all?” Connie gasps, along with the ever sympathetic Christa.

        “Yes, we will. Look, if you guys want in on this, promise me—no, swear to me—that you won’t tell the Corporal or anyone for that matter unless something changes later in her instructions,” Eren pleads.

A cold and unpredictable silence turns the room rigid without words, movement nor even emotions—but Jean remains the guilty one of all. He begins to bead down sweats from his pores, his eyebrows dance strangely as he recalculate his options: should he listen to Eren? Well, it is just a string of letters after all—what’s the worst that could possibly happen?

        “Alright, we swear,” it isn’t Jean who speaks up first but strangely enough, it is the elusive Ymir; as everyone’s eyes (including Christa’s) turns to hers, she shrugs, “What? It’s not like we have a thing for that shorty. None of us likes him anyway, so why would we even want to talk to him about this? We wouldn’t even say hi to him even if we want to but we don’t...”

        Eren smiles at that gently, “These letters might change your opinion on him...”

        “Wait, so the letters are addressed to you and are about him?” Connie queries, amusement clear in his tone and eyes, “What could she possibly want you to do for her or rather, for the Corporal?”

        “Connie, shut it with your stupid fantasies!” Sasha barks from afar, clearly annoyed by all this waiting.  

        “Well, that’s what we’re all here to find out,” Eren ignores the odd-ball sentiment of Connie’s suggestive tone and nudges Jean on the elbow, “You’ll do us the honour to read it then.”

        “Wha-what?” Jean stammers at that gesture from his enemy.

        “Oh, damn it!” Reiner growls from afar, “Just read the damn thing, you fool!”

Eren and his two best friends take up the seats at a table beside the already occupied one. Meanwhile, Jean struggles to open the letter at the shocking way Reiner was calling on to him and laughs out nervously; as he sits back down, his ready eyes glows and he clears his throat for the following,

        “Dear Eren, I hope by now you know that the Corporal isn’t what you think he is or what I thought he was. There is always a story behind our aloof facade—histories and experiences—that makes us careful and cautious, afraid of taking chances that are blessed to us, and most importantly, there is also pain and suffering that makes us who we are now. It’s not something we could all change—but after the Corporal—no, after Levi had returned the purse to its rightful owner, he decided a few days later that he needed to see her no matter what.

        “It wasn’t right, to him, you see. He had spent hours without stopping just to find the damn thing by going to countless auctioneers, buyers and sellerseven had to go as far dismiss his disgusting hate against germs just to retrieve it! And items that were lost sometimes were given rewards by their owners when found—of course, he wasn’t expecting a kiss or a hug—nothing like that!

        “He was expecting friendship—a supernatural connection, which he knew he felt when he first met her—and plus, he needed to make sure that it was received by its rightful owner—he needed to double check, in order words. So, Levi couldn’t help himself.”

* * * * * * * *

At the end of summer, the night in Wall Sina was only different to its daylight hours thanks to the cold brewing autumn wind; to [first name][last name], the moon was not only reflecting off the sun’s lightit became a reckoning to get use to everytime everyday. The orphanage, like many townhouses in Wall Sina, had three stories worth of floors—roomy enough to hold fifteen children of each gender; the boys on the topmost floor, the girls occupy the second while the ground floor hosted Mr Beich’s office cum bedroom next to the kitchen. The kitchen helpers lived elsewhere and would only arrive to make breakfast at daybreak and left after dinner—sometimes they’d even leave behind some supper for the children. But that night, there was no supper left and the last of all old, dry dishes were put away into cabinets, leaving everything of the wooden structure kind (the tables, the chairs, kitchen tops, etc) empty and alone. 

[First name] was always the last one to go bed—mainly because everyone hated her so much. She learnt from the first night of staying up together with them that they will jest and bully her till they were all tired and sleepy; so instead of allowing them the underserving slumber, she always stayed up last in the kitchen and waited till they’re bored and idiotically daze off into sleep—now that was something they deserved. She preferred it that way too because then she’d be able to brew some rare tea leaves and have a great cup of tea before bedtime.

But she didn’t realise that all her habits and schedule had been watched by a certain someone from outside—not until that night of course. 

When she crept up through the dark wooden stairwell and entered her massive shared (and cramped up) bedroom with a shaky hand holding up a single candle, she headed straight to windows—like always—to stare for a moment at the starry midnight sky before shutting the windows; her usual habits now had a new anomaly to it—peebles being thrown at her. 

        “What the—?” she hissed, struggling not to scream, shout, stumble down or even slam the shutters close. She peeked her head out and another a small, miniature stone was thrown at the shutters—perhaps that was the rightful aim. 

        “Psst!” a whisper in the dark shadows below suddenly breathed, “Psst! Over here!” 

She tried to look over the edge of her window and caught a few silhouettes stirring in the darkness; when she was convinced it was nothing to be so bothered about, she shrugged quietly and slowly pulled the shutters towards the sill when

        “Boo!” a figure suddenly loomed before; it was upside down as far as [first name] could tell as its hair was dangling in the air. 

        She stifled a scream
—which probably was assisted by her shyness and lack of self-esteem—as she gazed straight at the dark silhouette before her. There was quiet giggle in the air and she couldn’t help but frown. 

        “Big brother!” the voice whispered, “She’s funnier than I thought!” 

Then suddenly, a hand grabbed the shutters open and a familiar face came strutting into view
—it was Levi, the thug from the underground of some three months ago. [First name] gasped, but not too loudly as she covered up her mouth and shook her head; she didn’t know why, but she was smiling ear to ear to see him again. She knew part of the reason  was that she wanted to thank him again, for eventually returning her purse—even though its emptied of its contents. 

        “Y-you,” she stammered (or stuttered), “Y-you’re t-the
—”

        “Before you finish and I know exactly what you want to say, yes—I am the same guy,” he steadied both his foot on the sill and crouched up his figure on the window panel—there was a fizzling sound of cables being hauled into place as he did. He peeked inside to see that most of its occupants were asleep and sighed in what appeared to be relief, “And before we continue our conversation, is there a place where we could talk without interrupting these sleepy heads?” 

        She nodded, “Th-there’s a ba-balcony on the ot-other side of th-the building...” 

        “Yeah, I noticed. Can you get there?” 

She nodded again, even more vigorously than before; in fact, it was too adorable for him to resist ruffling up her hair.

        “Good,” a trace of a smile uplifted his lips slightly, “Head on over.” 

Before she could say or do anything silly, Levi leaped backwards—almost dangerously as well—and that same fizzle was in fact from the Multi-Dimensional Manoeuvre Gear around his body, shooting grappling hooks as he aimed and flew above the building. He did it so skillfully and without a single shred of fear or reluctance that it was utterly beautiful to watch; but there was no time. She though she heard one of her roommates grunt suspiciously and so she shut the shutters close. 

        “Get to fucking bed, you ass,” came the growl; the figure stirred in their bed and fell asleep again. 

[First name] ignored that like usual and headed out of the room gladly; she shut the door tight and shuffled her feet towards the other room across the hallway. It was supposed to be an extra bedroom for half of them, but because there were some problems with the heating in the room that was still being fixed, it became a reading room during the day and an abandoned storage at night. She opened the door slowly so as to avoid less creaking than planned and walked into the room through a big enough crack; she was surprised to see the balcony already opened and a figure rested against against the concrete baluster. 

        “Took you long enough,” he grunted, crossing his arms now. His glistening raven hair shone a bit in the silver moonlight—it made him even more beautiful, appalling.

Another figure leaped forward on the balcony in a cape; but before it could speak, it was reprimanded by the mere click of Levi’s tongue. It then removed its hood gingerly, revealing its blonde hair and hazel eyes—a boy that [first name] believed to be Farlan Church. He took several steps forward and reached out for handshake to the amazed girl in the room. 

        “Hi there,” he said with a smile, “I’m Farlan Church.” 

        [First name] nodded and shook his hand nervously, “H-Hi. I’m—”

        “I know who you are,” he reassured, as if trying to spare her from stuttering. 

        “And I’m,” a voice cut in; the figure that was now standing beside Levi copied Farlan’s movement without the need of instruction from Levi, “I’m Isabel Magnolia!” 

        “Ple-Pleased to meet y-you,” stuttered the sheepish orphan before them. 

        “Wow, you stutter real bad!” 

        Levi scoffed abruptly, “Isabel, mind your manners!” 

        “But I can’t help it! It does make her look cuter though...”

        “I tell you what,” Farlan felt a sweat dropped along his temple as he noted Levi’s tone and waved his hands, “How about Isabel and I leave you guys be? We’d only be in the way of things... considering what Levi wants to say to you, [first name].”

        “O-oh?” she stammered back at him; a blush now evident on her cheeks as she turned to Levi, “Wh-wha-what could y-yo-you possibly wha-want to say to m-mem-me?” 

Levi didn’t say word against or for Farlan’s suggestion; only by his actions did it show he was actually up for that. He merely side-glanced as both Isabel and Farlan stepped out into the balcony and leaped off with their gears—nodding at their leader before they did. It only induced more anxiety and suspicion as only the two of them were left behind to gaze each other from a far, calculating and surmising what the other was thinking. 

        “Step out here, would you?” Levi finally broke the ice. 

[First name] didn’t say anything; she merely stepped out into the balcony and held out the candle in her hand to see more clearly—the rimmed edge of his jaw, the slight point of his nose, the icy blue grey colour of his eyes were all glistening in the light of the moon. 

        “Look,” he sighed as he turned to her, which started her but he didn’t notice; Levi stood perhaps only inches higher than [first name] but it was his sharp, narrowed gaze that made him look so tall, “You’re probably going to stutter all the way through this conversation so I would suggest that you listen to me more than I listen to you.” 

She only returned it with a patient nod. 

        “I’m sorry.” 

        Her [eye colour] oculars widened; “Wha-What for?” 

        “I took something from you without returning it—well, most of it at least.” 

        “L-Levi, it’s al-alright. I’ll h-ho-hold no grudge to wha-what y-yo-you did and I-I—”

        A single digit of his rough hands was placed on her lips; his gaze only intensify as he said, “Didn’t I ask you to hear me out, you stuttering idiot?” 

Again, she meekly nodded her head.

        “You’re too kind, you know that? So kind to a fault!” he shook his head suddenly as he retracted his fingers; his eyes now trailed back to the sky as he said, “I’ve been wanting to say I’m sorry and I was hoping that you’ll hold no grudge to me—well, you beat me to that.” 

He startled into a pause as he watched her chuckle. 

        “Anyway, I’m not one to offer up an apology so let me warn you, I won’t repeat it.” 

She nodded.

        “You and I are similar. It’s why I couldn’t bring myself to let anyone else have that ragged purse you owned.” 

She chuckled again. 

        Levi was nearly distracted by the sound of that, but continued, “So I’m not asking for a reward—that’ll be far too ironic and downright rude if I did. I just wanted to... Well, I just wanted to know you better.” 

As he looked back to her, she had widened her eyes again. 

        “Not that I’m interested,” he spurred on with a tired sigh as if it was difficult to word himself out, “I’m trying to make myself feel better here... So can we be friends?” 

Again, she had that shocked look on her face. 

        “Oy, now would be the time to say something,” he growled. 

        She scratched her cheeks sheepishly as she laughed, “Ah, so-sorry. I-I’d like t-to start b-buh-by saying th-tha-thank you.” 

        “What for?” 

        “For deh-dis-dismissing you-your pride an-anh-and your hon-honour as a-a thu-thug. I-I kno-know you wouldn’t e-ev-ever do it t-to anyone e-el-else, so...” 

        “You’re damn right I wouldn’t!” 

        “That’s wh-wha-why I’ll say th-that we cou-could be frah-friends.” 

        His eyes narrowed even more; “Now it’s my turn to thank you,” he sighed, “I don’t even know why you’d say yes to that. I was hoping to receive a punch by you for what I did.” 

        She chuckled again, “Wha-why should I-I puh-punch someone who’s su-suh-suffered more th-than I have?” 

        “Look, I can’t promise you that this will last. In fact, I think you’ll hate me even more for what’s to come out of this. I don’t even know why you’d agree to this—I mean, sincerely, I only wanted to feel a tad bit better after what’s happened and I thought maybe once I apologised and proposed to be friends that you’d dismiss me. But now that you’ve accepted me instead, I—”  

        It was her turn to place a digit on his lips; smiling gleefully, she explained, “I’ll take a-ah-all th-the good a-anh-and bad.” 

        “You really are a stuttering idiot,” he sighed, reaching out for her hair and petted her head—ruffling up [hair colour] strands in the progress. 

        She nodded and smiled, “M-mah-maybe I-I am.” 

        “And are you sure you don’t want your damn money?"

        “Ah-as if you w-wo-would re-return it af-after all tha-this time!” 

        “You’re right,” he gave another rough pat on her head, “I’ve spend it all off anyway!” 

        “I kn-know tha-that too!” 

        “By the way, why is it that you don’t stutter when you talk to yourself?” 

        She suddenly turned beet red; “Wha-what?” she shrugged, “I-I-ah-I don’t know wh-wha-what you’re talk-talking about!” 

        “You know what I mean... I’ve heard of rumours that you wouldn’t speak in public or to the public... So could it be that you’re actually shy to speak to others?”

Her acquiescence was proof that he was right.

        She didn’t think she was hearing it right when the once aloof, arrogant and conniving thug before her suddenly chuckled, “[First name], there’s nothing you should be so shy about! We're friends now, aren't we?”  

* * * * * * * *

Jean stirs uneasily, earning an angry growl from Sasha.

        “Jean! What the hell are you doing? Continue, damn it!” She begs.

        The boy whips his head up, “Hey, shut up, potato girl! We don’t even know who the hell is this [first name][last name] anyway!”

        “We’ll let you guys read the first two before going to bed later,” Eren quips as he takes a sip from a warm cup of chocolate, “Basically, she’s the Corporal’s first and only love...”

        “Who knew that shorty could love,” Ymir stifles out a laugh as Christa shoots a glare at her.

        Bertolt, with a slight blush at the thought of what Eren just said, turns to Jean now, “So, go on then, Jean...”

        “R-Right,” Jean rubs the back of his neck; the sheepish way his pair of cheeks glowed like a rose was induced by the strangely gentle gaze Mikasa was giving him. Content but shy, he goes on,

        “Anyway, [first name] was left with no choice. She had to leave the orphanage, afraid to burden old Mr Beich and to be obliged to the old man for her whole life. [First name] already has problem with her self-esteem and the recent theft of her only inheritance was making things worst.”

        “Wait, so the Corporal stole from her?” Connie’s intervention is met with pained groans.

        Sasha smacks the boy beside her by the back of his head, “Shut it!”

        “He’s a thug from the underground,” Reiner explains; he was never a quick reader but he has managed to get the gist of the first two letters when Armin past them to him, “He stole it from another group of thieves.”

        “Not a very good first impression for a woman—no wonder she left him,” grumbles Connie while he rubs the throbbing skin on his head where Sasha hit him.

Jean sighs with frustration, continuing on,

        “As much as their friendship of countless whisperings in the early autumn's night air and awkward share of one-sided laughters from her side, Levi had to admit—it was a great, new beginning for him. Yet, before long, he knew deep in his heart that the same bad feeling he felt before they first met signaled that this will not last, that it was all only because he realised it had been him who cause the end of their friendship. 

        “You see, because of what he did to her—both indirectly and directly, he knew that the reason why he kept on checking up on her or coming back to that wretched ol’balcony for a chat was out of guilt, resent over his mistakes and dishonour over his theft.” 

* * * * * * * *

        “[First name],” old Mr Beich let out a long and exasperated sigh, “First, let me tell you that it isn’t your fault.”

The girl before him, instead of concentrating on his gaze and speech, headed back to the opened door behind her and looked around; when she was sure no one was looking, she smiled happily and shut it close. Then, without ado, she walked up to the man’s desk and took a seat on one of the chairs before him.

Mr Beich was a tall man with a strange strut that made him look almost as if he had experience in either the military or nobility; he had a high forehead with thick, full grey hair swept back to his head, a pair of blue eyes faded into grey with old veins propped a little to show his stressful growth along side those thick pale eyebrows, wrinkles and lines over his skin decorated his mature expression and he had a signature moustache between his big (but not pointed) nose and thin lips—one that was as grey as his hair and trimmed into a perfect rectangle. It would move along his mouth and that alone would made the children laugh.

        “What isn’t?” She breathed out, without a hint of her stuttering.

        The old man exhaled another one, “Geez, you’re a funny child, you know that? How could you not stutter or scream whenever you speak to me?”

        “It’s because I’m used to you, sir,” she laughed out, “I knew you since I was a baby so of course, looking at you is like a reminder, like looking at my—” 

        “Grandfather?”

        The girl suddenly froze at the thought; a slight trembling raked her body but she shrugged it, folding her hands to rest on her thighs. “I was going to say home,” she mumbled, “in Wall Maria.”

        “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t know you weren’t over that issue. I thought that after six months now—” 

        “It’s fine, Mr Beich. I am grateful for what you’ve done for me. My grandparents’ passing had only made me much closer to you now more than ever.” 

        “Oh, dear. How I wish I could do more than I already have! If I could sell my soul and trade places with them for you, I’d do it a heartbeat!"

        She smiled gently at the thought, “Oh, please! You’ll do no such thing! As much as that sounds like you’ve paid your debt, sir, but I believe that the children need you more than I need my grandparents.” 

        “I don’t believe that,” the old man lowered his head and grunted, “Had your grandparents been alive, they’d be over with your stuttering before you’re older.” 

        “I’ll deal with it, sir, somehow...” 

        “Well, onto other matters! Now, just where did I left off?” 

        “You said it wasn’t my fault. What exactly are you referring to?” 

        “The lost of your inheritance.” 

        [First name]’s widened [eye colour] eyes startled the old man; while he stared in still and unmoving silence, she reminisced what happened every night since the day she received her purse back—her empty purse. She began blushing for some reason and looking away, she sheepishly let out a sigh, “Of course, about that...” 

        “Yes, what else could I be talking about? Is there something I should know that you’re not telling me?” 

        “Nothing, sir,” the lack of hesitance in her voice made the old man feel guilty for suspecting. She then quipped cleverly to clear the air, “Mr Beich, that was three months ago! It’s already September now and it’s autumn! I don’t know what exactly you meant by bringing it back up now.”

        “Well, anyway,” he sighed again as he leaned back into his chair, “I wanted to let you know of your options. You’re one of the oldest gals here, so I’m sure that my decision need affirmation on your side for me to proceed.” 

        “Mr Beich, please, I look up to you and I trust you. Your decision will reflect mine as it will reflect my grandfather’s.”
 

        “Oh, no. Don’t go that far, dear. J-just hear me out.” 

She only nodded silently to that. 

        “I would love to keep you here until you’re able to work with me in this Orphanage—”

        “But?” the girl intervened anxiously, sweats began to form on her face.

        The old man stared into her eyes now; “But I want you to choose for yourself,” he said, “There is another option for you, if you like, and that’s the military.”

        “Wha-what?” he knew her stammering was out of shock than the usual.

        “You see, if you had joined the Academy now, you’ll end up with five years worth of training and by the time that you’re out, you’ll be twenty-one and over. I would suggest that you go for the Military Police here, so that you’ll get the most of what you’ll work for. You’ll be able to mend for yourself and work for yourself, earning an income that will do you good. Further, if you manage to work hard enough which I know you will without a doubt, you’ll be happy and wealthy and I...” 

The girl waited for the old man to finish. 

        “I will be rid of my debt to your grandfather either way you choose.” 

For a while, they stayed apart by their own lack of speech and daily musings; it was clear that this was a heavy decision for her to make, one that would require more than musings—but time and a well-earned sleep after a hard day's work of constant thinking and churning brain matter. She wil have to consider all she had learnt via both experience and knowledge,  of both the past and present, in order to rightly decide her future. [First name] suddenly let out a dreary exhale.

        “Please,” she whispered quietly, “Will you let me sleep on this?”

        He nodded vigorously, “Oh, of course, dear! Take how long you need—the next recruitment is a month away after all and that’s plenty of time to think! There’s also a visit, actually, from the respective military branches and their representatives tomorrow and that’s somehow had spurred me into thinking.”

        “Is that so?” 

There was a strange ache in her chest that was riddled with hurt, anger and worst of all, betrayal—she didn’t even know why she thought that this may have something to do with what Levi said when he apologised. It had been three months since they were acquainted with that one, miraculous night and it felt like years had passed since; to think that all this time, Levi meant word by word that night when he said that he only committed himself to their friendship out of his own guilt. That boy wasn’t lying and he never had—even though he was just a thug. How will she begin to confront Levi, Farlan and Isabel the next time they see each other if this sentiment was buried deep into her mind and heart? 

        “Are you alright, dear?” Mr Beich’s hands gripped at [first name]’s sides. “You look like you’re about to cry! I didn’t mean to bring up their deaths, as well as the burglary! It’s not your fault, dear!” 

        She sniffled, realising that a tear had escaped from her ducts as she shifted in her head; “Actually,” she began murmured, “I know it isn’t my fault... But I can’t help but feel I’ve lose more than that now.” 

* * * * * * * *

Jean glances up for a fresh gaze for his eyes, but once his eyes glowers towards Mikasa and the girl returns him another gentle stare, it halts him. 

        “Hey!” growls Eren as he nudges Mikasa on the elbow, “Enough staring contest! I want to hear more!” 

        “Yeah, I’m sleepy already,” moans Sasha beside Ymir. 

        Ymir snorts at that, “I’m surprisingly interested in this tale!”

Jean shrugs and lowers his head, reading out loud, 

        “That’s right. The only option for a family-less orphan with no money at the time was to enlist in the Military's Trainee Academy—where things go from bad... to absolutely worst.

        “[First name] was not an innocent or gullible woman despite her meek and humble self and also in spite of all her lack of confidence issues inducing all those stutterings. She was mature and wise beyond her age, knew exactly what made the world tick and how; she always knew that one day (ever since the thugs stole her inheritance), Mr Beich will tell her of her options and she will have to choose: between letting the old man keep her till she was old enough to work at orphanage and be obligated to him her whole life or join the military and be free of encumbrances for the rest of her free life.

        “But it took great convincing and cunning persuasion to help her decide—and that, was the job of the then Squad Leader Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps.”

* * * * * * * *

The boys had all gathered into the girl’s room, cramming against each other, after Mr Beich had announced a gathering there; as they waited for him to return from the ground floor, they used up the spare time to bully [first name] as she stood in one corner of the room—alone. Of course, they ignored the mumblings that came from the room below them and never stopped teasing even when there were voices coming from the staircase. 

        “I-I-I am f-fa-far to-too good f-for you pe-peep-people!” one suddenly mimicked. 

Another blurted out a cackle as they said, “I-I am t-too pre-prett-pretteh!”                 

        “Su-Suck it u-up!” 

“O-oh mi-my G-ga-God! Y-you’re so-soh annoy-ying bu-buh s-so good!”                 

Before one of them could continued, he was met with the rough and calloused fist of an officer that they didn’t see coming. He was slightly older and taller than any of the boys there with his stone-cold, primly stocked face of slight tanned skin; the punch was so hard that it ruffled up his left-parted side fringe of his short and neat golden hair. He swiftly moved his hands (the same one he used to give out that blow) with a suave move to quickly retain the proper form of his hair and sighed. 

His crystal blue eyes now travelled before the young woman in front of him; they were perhaps the greatest replica of the sky—free to roam, free to wander, full of life and hope, home of cloud nines. They were gentle and kind—like the eyes of a particularly troubled young man with contrasting dark hair, and much—so much—more colder, lighter shade of blue eyes. After he straightened out his camel jacket, he grasped her hands carefully so as to not break her— even though his hands had seen so much violence, so much pain and so much hatred.

        “Are you alright?” he voiced; it was uplifting, deep and hollow to the crevices of eardrums present. 

        She nodded repeatedly with a blush. “I-I-I’m fi-fah-fine...” 

        “You must be [first name][last name]. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he smiled. 

        The boy who was punched earlier suddenly grumbled, “Heh! With that kind of stuttering, who hasn’t?” 

        “Do you have enough wits for seconds, I wonder?” the blue eyed, blonde haired officer hissed and the boy cowered away at the threat, “I thought so!” 

        “Y-you do-don’t hav-have to do tha-that!” [first name] let out a cry. 

        “After what they said to you, no! He deserved what he got!” 

        The boy earlier gasped when he spotted the badges on the officer’s sleeves; “What the heck?” he pointed at it for his friends to see, “He’s from the loony bin branch!” 

Before [first name] or the stranger could say anything, a rather tall and scrawny old man (a fellow officer) came into the room; he had wrinkles everywhere on his face, giving an emphasis to starkness of his dark eyes as he stared into the room full of confused and frightened audience. 

        He let out a sigh and said, “I apologise for the behaviour of Squad Leader Erwin Smith. He’s not usually violent, I assure you, until and unless he feels that the point he’s trying to make requires it.” 

        “U-uh,” the boy’s face paled and hid behind the back of his friend.

        “I’m Erwin Smith,” said the tall and brawny officer before her, reaching out with his hands and a chuckle—he was no doubt a dashing knight in a shiny armour, “Pleased to meet you, [first name].” 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Author’s Note:
1) I was torn between splitting the chapter into two parts, but thank God! DA accepted it!! :D
2) The chapter is named "Rivet", not after the OTP abbreviationion of Levi x Petra (or Rivetra, as it were >.>); it's named after verb meaning: (a) direct one's attention on something (b) hold (someone's attention)
3) This chapter takes place three months after the Reader first met Levi (which was summer then) in the underground and maybe days after he had retrieved her purse; now it's technically autumn and slightly colder—why am I even—
4) Yes. I'm obsessed with making Erwin the gentleman. I just figured that a military guy would be one, ya know? What the heck. ._.
5) COMMENT, FAV and WATCH - all are welcomed and appreciated!  

PREVIOUS: fav.me/d7ht9vo
NEXT: SOON MY READER-BABIES! THIS WEEKEND!

EDIT: I forgot to put the description for Mr Beich. He’s been inspired by Watari/Wammy from Death Note! xD (Hence, him managing an orphanage thingy!) 
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shingeki no Kyojin /Attack on Titan Universe (C) Isayama Hajime
YOU (C) Basically I do (along with Levi (Replies Back) [V4]   and Erwin Smith (Plan Proposal) [V4] !) 
STORY (C) little inspiration from "Human Nature" fic (fav.me/d77yffn ) and through “Kuch Kuch Hota Hai” film 

© 2014 - 2024 kaoru-reisaki
Comments45
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Anae-Haruki-Pitch's avatar
please please please continue this!!!