The moonlight lit the bedroom dimly, that along with the glow of Marco's laptop screen as he busied himself typing up an essay for one of his classes. I hugged my knees to my chest, listening silently as the keys clicked and tapped with every word he formed. Marco repeatedly ran his fingers through his dark hair, most likely agitated with his deadline only hours away.
I, like always, woke up from a vivid nightmare of the past and barged into his bedroom during the wee hours for a sense of comfort. However, Marco was preoccupied with cramming and had little to no patience for my nighttime "shenanigans". Dreams are dreams, they say, they can't harm you in real life. If only my dreams--no, nightmares--remained dreams, not a sick reminder of my foolish, young mistakes.
He is present each time, a genuine smile plastered on his ruggish face. We kiss with desire and underlying tones of some twisted form of lust or passion. It aches, for this man is not whom I wish it to be. My heartstrings tug endlessly, knowing the man I'm sharing a sensual connection with is not Levi, but another person from years long forgotten. "Why?" I begin to curse myself as I trace his tattoos in my dream. "Why can't I stop? Why won't you stop?"
The tips of his fingers peruse every inch of my body, his lips warm against my skin, yet he cannot answer me. There is shouting in the room adjacent to ours, thus my pleas are drowned out by the raucous voices. I shed a tear or two, and he wipes them away, leaning closer to whisper, "Roxy, you know I would never hurt you."
"That's not true!" I scream, but the effort is futile. The unrecognizable voices get louder, clearer. They're spouting accusations back and forth about someone, about me. One is gruff, his dense, hollow tone clashes with the other's rational and sensible expressed opinions. "Make it stop!" My tone is shrill compared to the other two. "Please, just make it stop!"
"There's no need to be scared," the man with me states, but his raised hand contradicts it. My eyes instinctively snap shut and everything becomes numb until the taste of iron hits my tongue. Of course, I'm bleeding, but from where? There is no pain, no marks or injuries. The only thing that remains are a pair of turquoise hues staring back at me, and the words are nothing but a mere broken record.
"I love you."
My body would naturally shoot up when I arose, arms a convulsing mess and clothes stuck to me with sweat. The nightmare rendered me traumatized, and the cure for my distress lied with Marco as he slept soundly in his own bed. Normally, I would crawl under his sheets and bury my face in his chest, the rhythmic beats of his heart soothing my frail condition and lulling me back into a peaceful slumber.
Despite Marco still hard at work, I slipped into his bedroom anyways and kept him company, for my sanity's sake that is. After an estimated five minutes of watching him, I hopped off his bed and trotted up behind him. "Roxy, I can't be bothered right now," he grumbled as I massaged his shoulders. "Any other time would be fine, but tonight isn't possible."
"It's almost midnight," I stated, resting my chin on the top of his head and trailing my hands down his chest. "You need sleep."
"Don't you have work tomorrow?" he inquired, continuing with his paper. "If anyone needs sleep, it's you."
"I probably won't even go in, I'm fed up with all the menial paperwork Erwin keeps shoving my way," I muttered, skimming over a few analytic sentences he wrote. "Ever since Levi's accident, he's been so strict on everyone, especially me. I heard he made Mira cry the other day."
"It's probably stress," Marco countered quickly. "It's not a reason to miss work either. You're a mature adult Roxanne, not a high school student. You can't write an excuse for an absence and do whatever you please. If you're fit to work, they expect your butt to be there."
I groaned, irked by his lecture. "What if I said it was so I could visit Levi sooner?"
"Wouldn't help your case in the slightest," he deadpanned. I hummed a short tune, fiddling with the fabric of his pajama shirt as he exhaled a breath in annoyance. "Roxanne, knock it off, go to bed if you're tired."
"Marco," I moaned, nestling my face in the crook of his neck. Blowing a wisp of air to his skin, I giggled and murmured, "Why don't you come back to my room and help me with something?"
"N-no," he stammered out, gritting his teeth. "Let me write this paper without your promiscuous whimpering in my ear."
I grinned devilishly. "Oh, Marco . . . God, I need you so badly . . . Marco . . ."
"Roxanne," he said, my name muffled from a hand cupped over his mouth.
"Marco . . ."
"Roxanne!"
I lowered my voice to sheer seduction. "Pick out my clothes for tomorrow."
He relinquished a throaty cry in aggravation. "Will you leave me alone if I do?!"
"Yes," I replied in the sweetest, squeakiest voice I could utter.
With a huff, he stood up as I inched away from him, smiling in the process. Marco trudged out to the hall and to my bedroom with me in suit, flipping the light switch on for some much-needed light. "Gosh, I love you so much, Marco," I purred, examining him as he opened my closet and rifled through my clothes.
"You are a dictator, with your damn alluring tone and--Ah! What about this?" He pulled out a cream, knee-length dress, complete with long sleeves and thin lace across the shoulders and upper back. The top was fitted to reveal no cleavage when worn, and the hem was slightly pleated for less restriction during movement.
I clapped my hands together and gasped joyfully, exclaiming, "I almost forgot about that! It's so cute, so wonderful, so perfect!"
"If you pair it with some white stockings and those black Mary Jane heels of yours, you'll have Levi melting when he sees you." Marco smirked and placed the article of clothing back in the closet. "Gotta stay classy, Roxanne. It's the real way to a man's heart."
"Is that how you fell for me?" I teased, batting my eyelashes at the fashion expert.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," he droned. "Now, you have a big day tomorrow, go climb in bed. I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Right. Your's or mine?"
"Mine." He twirled me around and shoved me out of the room by my shoulders. "Go before I change my mind."
When we returned to his own bedroom, I slinked under his flannel sheets and pulled them up closer to my face. Marco smiled as I got situated, but right as he was about to leave, I tugged the hem of his shirt. "Marco."
"Hm?" he hummed, facing me once again.
"I really mean it when I say I love you." The covers were now covering my cheeks. "I would have gone insane by now if you weren't here with me. So . . . thank you, for everything."
"Don't mention it." He bent over to kiss the bridge of my nose. "I love you too, Roxanne. Good night."
The next morning, I awoke in Marco's arms, his once haggard and sleep-deprived face was glazed over with tranquility and blissful rest. There was no purpose to wake him, so instead I pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and crept out of bed to fulfill my morning rituals. After showering and dressing in the attire Marco picked out, I spotted said freckled boy in the kitchen, slouched in his chair and head resting in his arms.
He muttered a few profanities as I slid a cup of coffee near him and later--after I had made myself something to eat--placed an adequate serving of breakfast next to it. On a post-it note, I scribbled down for him to make arrangements for me with Reiner and Bertholdt in three days at Wesley's, then stuck it next to his meal.
Grabbing the keys, I breathed an inaudible goodbye to Marco and headed out. I still had about a half an hour before work, and I internally cursed myself for not waking up sooner. As I descended the first staircase to the second floor and halfway down the corridor, my ears perked up at the sound of someone's thick voice.
"Roxanne."
Jean was leaning against his doorway, eyesight fixated on the ground and stoic look afflicting his masculine features. "You look like shit, Kirschstein."
His expression remained unfazed. "Now's not the time for petty insults."
"Geez, what's wrong with you? You're never moping around."
"I wanted to apologize." He furrowed his brows and glanced at me. "Both to you and your roommate. It was . . . disrespectful of me to act indecent towards you, and to assume lewd things about him."
I stifled an amused grunt in my throat. Jean was brash--a brazen fool one could say--who strolled through life without a care in the world, arrogance and pride blindly guiding him to wherever he saw fit. That being said, I had heard from a fellow renter in the building that Jean lived off his parent's wealth and had moved to the city in search of an unknown fantasy. Some claimed he wanted to be a musician, others believed it was for a woman he knew only in his dreams. Whatever it may have been, Jean's spoiled lifestyle created a delusional paradise only he retained access to.
Although, another force seemed to be secretly driving Jean. He, like all human beings, sought to fill a void left in his heart, a tormenting capacious hole that steered him in life's wrong directions. I once described him as desperate, perverted, possibly even malicious, but was that how I truly felt about him? Maybe, just maybe, he too was cracking under the exterior and unable to comprehend the cruel reality that suffocates us. He was broken like the rest of the world.
Sighing, I padded over to Jean and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Uh, don't sweat it. It takes a lot for someone to admit their faults."
"I understand you won't be able to forgive me that easily." His lips curled into a dignified smile. "First appearances are everything, and I fucked up from day one and onward."
"It could have been worse," I reassured. "At least you're not an ignorant, abusive freak like some people. You made some mistakes based on human nature, that's all. So I won't hold it against you forever."
His flaxen hues widened at my lenient tone. "Look, I'm a fucking prick, and you're obviously disgusted with me. Just like that guy you were with last week. Untrustworthy and depraved."
I refrained from expressing any resentment towards his upbringing of Erwin. "He was actually my boss, Mr. Smith. What makes you say that?"
"He's got this odd vibe about him, like he's harboring an ulterior motive of sorts." He turned to head back into his room, peering at me over his shoulder. "He's cunning, manipulative. . . he's not one to fuck around with. I've known people like him," Jean growled and gripped the door frame, "and the outcomes weren't a pretty sight."
I bobbed my head in response. "Alright, I suppose I can take your word for it. Thanks for the warning, Jean."
His golden eyes returned to their narrowed state and he uttered, "Be safe, Roxanne. Don't do anything rash," before shutting the door.
I stood still, befuddled by his odd demeanor and compassion. Perhaps he was going through a mid-life crisis and began to contemplate on correcting his behavior? No, that wasn't even close to possible. Jean clocked in at a lively and vivacious age of twenty-seven, only three years older than myself. He had at least a decade or two before he would wallow in self-pity and alcohol-induced tears. At least then I realized what to get him on his thirty-fifth birthday.
A bottle of rum and a box of tissues.
Damn . . . I should've gotten that for Levi.
Over the course of the day, I attempted to avoid Erwin as much as possible, even if it meant dumping my paperwork deliveries to Phil. He delivered each order with a smile and went about his duties without a hint of defiance or perplexity. Jean's advice was indeed burned into my thoughts, his words reverberating in the far corners of my mind.
To ease myself of the tension, I daydreamed heavily about Levi, and being reunited with a healthier version of the man I had last seen. Abrasive as he may be, I adored witnessing him abandon it and replace his expressions with softer ones that complimented his china doll appearance. At work he was aloof, maybe even depressed, but in more intimate settings, he was affectionate and composed, his personality stunningly beautiful.
Mira invited me to lunch in the afternoon with Phil and herself, to which I accepted. Apparently, she would have brought Connie, but he was holed up in his office the majority of workdays ever since he was promoted to head manager. It was a miracle he dropped by Brightfield to visit Mira the day before, since his hours were, on average, completely filled with paperwork and supervision.
Our conversations over lunch were brief, but interesting all the same. Phil was finishing up his last semester of college and applying to law school, mentioning a certain exam as well. I accidentally tuned out when 'law school' was said, thinking of Levi instead of listening. I pondered about Levi's college days and if they differed from mine. The more I listed the possibilities in my head, the more I wanted to dash out of the restaurant and straight to his apartment to ask him.
After we paid and left, the day progressed slower than normal. I found myself dozing off every couple of minutes, begging for caffeine to rejuvenate me. Phil, being the angel that he was, must have heard my telepathic signals because he poked into my office with mug of late-afternoon tea and a thoughtful grin. By the end of the day, I was back to my regular self, humming tunes to one song or another as I locked up my office and bid the rest of the faculty a good evening. I was most likely glowing, unable to repress the anticipation of seeing Levi again.
I was acting like a young schoolgirl fawning over her crush, which, in fact . . . sickened me. How was it possible for me to swoon over an enigmatic man like Levi so fervently? He was gorgeous, he was peculiar, he quite possibly had OCD, yet I accepted him with every drop of blood in my system. I couldn't fathom the reason I was attracted to him so. Perhaps I was so drunk off his affection and wholesome traits that it put me on a bender, and blindly steered me into a stupor.
Why, of all people, was Levi the one I had to gamble my feelings with? The same lawyer who made my heart beat like the hum of a washing machine and whose touch caused me to melt into a puddle, was the cause of my happiness, my unrestrained joy and compassion. However, he could also be the same lawyer that held enough power to crush my emotions into dust.
As I stood awkwardly outside of his apartment, I summoned the courage to knock on his door. It swung open seconds later, a brisk air accompanying it and brushing past my rosy cheeks. Levi stood in the doorway, wearing a black track jacket with gold stripes across the chest and his right palm against the wooden frame.
"Hey you," he crooned, blinking twice, innocently at that. "You don't know how much I missed you."
"Are you sure you're alright?" I placed the backs of my fingers to his forehead. "Are you running a fever?"
"Well, your cute face is making my cheeks burn," he remarked, cupping my hand and pressing a dove-like kiss to the knuckles.
"Did you already get into the alcohol?" I inquired, taking a step towards the flirtatious man. "You're starting to worry me."
Levi shook his head, frowning. "Roxanne, I'm just overjoyed to see you again. When I was in the hospital, all I could think about was the two of us and all the time we could have spent together." He grabbed ahold of my waist and dipped me, proceeding to plant a swift, passionate kiss to my lips. "Now, I want to make up for lost time."
He had a certain sparkle in his cobalt hues, the sort of mesmerizing and seductive twinkle that caused one's breathing to halt and heart pound mercilessly in their chest. All I could muster was a squeak as he pulled me upright and dragged me into his apartment.
He had redecorated since the last I had paid a visit to his lovely abode, complete with new rugs in the living room and ornate vases set atop his low-bearing bookcases. The pillows had been changed on the couch to match the monochromatic layout as well, the simplicity of black and white colors giving the area a harmonious vibe. The windows retained their spotless gleam, and everything was as organized as ever.
Amidst my fascination with Levi's recently bought items, he had already pulled my coat off of me and draped it over the hook on the door. "Wow, this is gorgeous," he whispered when he returned, tracing the lace on the backside of my dress. "How come I've never seen you wear anything like this?"
"I was saving it for a special occasion," I replied, spinning around to face him. "And judging by your attire, I actually put thought into what I was going to wear for you."
"I would have thought you'd like to see my thighs in these shorts," he retorted nonchalantly, offering me half a glass of red wine. "If it pleases you, I can change into something more suitable to your liking."
With a intrigued smile, I accepted the drink and tapped my other hand against his exposed skin. "What if I were to say I'd prefer you to stay in them?"
"I'd have to accuse you of being a dirty girl," he teased. "Oh! Which reminds me, I forgot my glass in the kitchen. Wait here, alright?"
"Of course," I answered, examining him as he waltzed off and snickering at the sight of his toned, pallid legs in jogging shorts. However, I became rigid when Levi peered over his shoulder and smirked at my lecherous gawking, unaware that my cheeks were beginning to flare up at the smug look on his face.
"Oh, you're positively adorable when you blush," Levi mused when he returned, wine in hand and eyelids shut happily. He blinked them open, his normally stern blue hues brimming with warmth and kindness. "I'm overjoyed to see it again."
"Stop while you're ahead," I advised, perching myself on his couch. "Otherwise you'll end up with a slap to the face and a frown on mine."
He huffed an exasperated breath and sat beside me, our thighs slightly touching as he raised a hand to tilt my face in his direction. "Roxanne, you seem tense," Levi whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to my jawline. "What's on your mind?"
"Ah, it's nothing," I replied, gazing down at the dark alcohol in my glass. "Work has been stressful, that's all."
"Forget about that hellhole, you're with me now." Another kiss to my skin. "Stop fretting about that crap," he continued, followed by more kisses. "Where's that bubbly smile you always wear, huh?" Levi bopped his nose against mine affectionately. "Does it need to be coaxed out of hiding?"
I flashed a meek smile. "Well, not necessarily."
"Ah, there it is," he said, his own lips curling sincerely. "Your smiles always made me feel at ease, you know? They're just so cute and genuine and--Oh . . ."
Levi's gaze shifted towards the windows, a gentle pattering sound from the glass pricking my ears. "I didn't realize it was raining."
"It has been a bit stormy lately, hasn't it?" I added, taking a small sip of my wine. "I think it's lovely though."
He nodded in agreement, downing a much larger portion of his wine than myself. "Although, it can't compare to you, Roxanne."
"Please, spare me of your flattery, I don't think I can take anymore." I poked his chest playfully. "You're making me swoon."
"Then I suppose I'm doing my job right," Levi remarked, leaning closer to brush his lips against mine in a teasing fashion. He smelled faintly of fermented grapes, the aromatic scent drawing me into his half embrace, since his other hand had to keep a secure hold on the alcohol.
His lips curved snidely and he complied to my consent, pressing his thin lips to my more feminine ones softly. My breathing hitched slightly as I kissed him back, savoring the taste of wine on his breath and the desperate feeling lingering in the carnal action. "Roxanne," he murmured in between tender pecks. "I don't . . . want to . . . kill the mood . . . but I kinda . . . have to go . . . to the bathroom."
"Then go," I urged when we finally broke away from one another. "It's not like I'll be going anywhere."
"Thank goodness." He pressed one last kiss to my lips before he set his glass on the table and hopped out of his seat. "I'll be right back!"
As he scampered off, I drank more than I intended to of my wine, wincing at the slight burn from forcing down at least a whole mouthful of the sweet alcohol. I grimaced, realizing that my mindless guzzling only left me with droplets in the glass. Well, I don't think Levi will mind if I refill this, I thought as I stood up and guided myself to his kitchen.
The bottle of wine was left unattended on one of the marble counters, at least half of it remaining, as well as a third, unused wine glass. However, a small bag sitting next to the wine caught my attention, what resided in it a mystery. I checked my surroundings cautiously for any sign of Levi, and once the coast was clear, I side-stepped over to the item and inspected it with curiosity.
It was made of transparent plastic, just like a Ziploc bag, but was tied with a thin ribbon. The contents were white tablets with no distinctive markings like regular pharmaceutical pills, only the word "Roche" inscribed on either side. They enticed me with wonder and soon I found myself loosening the ribbon's knot and extracting one from the bag.
To experiment, I set my drink down, poured a third of a glass of wine in the unused one and dropped the tablet into the bburgundy liquid. Surprisingly, it dissolved rather quickly, leaving behind not a single trace of residue. It amazed me all until I began to connect suspicious points in my head. Numberless pills, odd packaging, conveniently placed by the alcohol . . .
"Roofies," I uttered, voice no where near audible. Shuffling echoed in the halls, yet I froze, paralyzed with fear. It had to be disposed of, but how?
Before I could outline a plan, a figure stood in the archway, their ivory skin milky from the kitchen lights. I immediately shifted my attention to them as they breathed a feeble, "Shit."
"Levi," I said, inching away from the evidence. "Y-you weren't planning on . . . were you?"
"Roxanne, it's not what you think," he assured, taking careful steps towards me. "I can explain all of this."
"S-stay back." My backside bumped against an opposite counter. "How . . . how am I to trust you?"
He approached me, but with the distance between us slowly closing, I began to tremble, unable to regulate my breathing. When he reached for my hand, I shrieked and recoiled from his touch, staring at his steel-blue eyes with fright. "Roxanne, please listen," he whispered, caressing my left cheek gently. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
"You were going to drug me," I whimpered. "Why? Why would you? Where would you? How could you?"
He pressed his right index to my lips, then removed once I stopped making stifled, involuntary noises. "Hush, you're putting yourself into a frenzy. Those pills aren't mine, I swear."
"Th-then whose are they if they're not yours?" I demanded weakly.
His lips pursed into a thin line, discomfort etched on his face. "Erwin gave them to me. He wanted me to . . . sedate you." Levi entwined his fingers with mine and gazed at me with regret. "He wanted me to take advantage of you."
"B-but why? Why would he want you to do that?"
"Roxanne, I feared day and night of disclosing this to you, but I knew it was inevitable. The truth is . . . Erwin's forced me to play matchmaker for him. All this time, he's been using me for his own personal benefit . . . "
His glassy eyes trailed from mine and to the floor as the words spilled from his mouth like raindrops on the windows. "My sole purpose was for you to fall for him."