The Butterfly Effect | Levi x Reader

Chapter 6

The first thought that creeped its way your mind when you awoke the next morning was how sore your body was when you attempted to stretch. The light streaming through your window was almost as harsh as the unwanted memories of the night before that came flooding into your brain.

'Damn, how late did I sleep in?' You asked yourself, regarding how high the sun had climbed in the sky as you peeked through your blinds. With a heavy sigh, you pulled on some sweat pants and dragged yourself out of your room and into the main space of your apartment. You surveyed the room with squinted eyes, not seeing Levi anywhere, but heard laboured breathing coming from behind the couch. You peered around the cushions, finding your shirtless house guest working out in your apartment living room. You had to admit, it was a strange sight. You felt a slight blush creeping up your cheeks, feeling a bit strange watching him work out from behind your furniture. You deliberated for a few awkward minutes on whether you should speak up or not; he wasn't aware of your presence yet. You decided it would be better to say something than for him to glance up and find you looming silently over him.

"Hey," you choked out, your voice cracking slightly as you tried desperately to sound casual.

"You're finally up," he stated, not skipping a beat. He paused mid-push up and stood up to face you. You tried not to look down at his well-defined torso.

"Yeah," you chuckled half-heartedly and glanced at the clock that read 11:48, "I didn't mean to sleep this late, sorry to leave you alone out here." You strangely felt nervous this morning. It was like the mutual indifference you and Levi supposedly held towards each other had somehow shifted into something different; something more. Being vulnerable with him last night felt almost natural and his caring response had come as somewhat of a shock to you, now that you thought about it.

"Don't mention it. How are you feeling this morning?" his seemingly forced nonchalant tone pulled you from your musing, yet also confused you further. You made a mental note to compartmentalize your thoughts on your changing dynamic with your mysterious guest and come back to it later. You swallowed forcefully, noticing how thick your saliva was. Realizing how thirsty you suddenly were, you quickly made your way to the kitchen.

"I'm fine thanks, how are you? Sleep okay?" you made a conscious effort to make your response light and distract from your current state. One look over your shoulder told you Levi wasn't buying into it; his arms were crossed over his chest and one eyebrow was raised in a questioning tone.

"I slept fine," his skeptical eyes followed you as you stretched to grab a class from the cupboard and turned on the tap. You drank fervently from your glass, your thirst taking your mind off the tension-filled air for a moment. Water splashed over the sides of your glass and spilled down your chin, dripping down your throat and staining your white pajama shirt. "Someone's thirsty," Levi commented, and you swore you almost heard him chuckle. Embarrassed, you shyly set your glass down on the countertop and smirked at him as you wiped your face with the back of your hand. The corner of his mouth tugged slightly as he regarded your disarrayed hair and wet shirt front.

"My god, he smiled, alert the media!" you shouted, voice filling the apartment. For a brief moment, you forgot all about last night and reveled in the cathartic release joking together brought you.

"Shut up, brat," he commanded, his hooded eyes scrunched in annoyance. However, there was no denying the small spark that shone behind the dark abyss in those captivating eyes.

"But seriously Levi, would it hurt you to smile or even enjoy yourself the slightest bit while you're here? I feel like I've been a good host to you, and yet you barely make an effort to even talk to me. You just bury yourself in my books and only interact with me when I feed you or you need something explained," you shifted the conversation to one of a more serious tone. You could feel the frustration building as more and more words tumbled out of your mouth uncontrollably. You shouldn't have expected a response from the unreadable man, but a part of you was still disappointed when he offered no return. You refused to break eye contact, amber scrutinizing eyes boring into guarded grey ones. After what felt like eons, he tore his gaze from yours, his eyes cast down. It was hard to decipher the exact expression he was bearing; you thought you caught glimpses of guilt and remorse flash across his face in between the usual composure he kept.

"Fine," you gave up trying to wring an answer out of him, "I'll make breakfast. I'm sure you're hungry. Now go take a shower already, you stink," you teased, attempting to lighten the mood a little.

"Tch," he threw an annoyed glance in your direction but didn't argue, and turned on his heel toward the bathroom.

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Focusing your attention on cooking helped your frustration fade to a simmer. You felt your mind relax as you tasked yourself with dipping the bread into the whisked egg. Making French toast always made you feel better when you were having a shitty morning. Levi had just emerged from the bathroom as you were laying the first pieces into the pan. You felt bad when you realized he was still wearing the original sweats you gave him. You snuck a glance at him toweling his onyx hair; it somehow looked even blacker when it was wet, as if it was completely absorbing the light around it. It always took you by surprise when you really looked at him – past the ungratefulness and scowling – and saw just how handsome he was. A random little thought wormed its way into your mind; you wondered what he thought of you. Did he find you attractive or did he just merely view you as someone he had to put up with? Allowing yourself to enter that rabbit hole was a dangerous thing, you decided, and shook the thought from your mind.

"Getting a good look?" Levi's low timbre was laced with both amusement and annoyance when he addressed you. You had been caught staring once again.

"Sorry," you blushed.

"Why do you look at me like that?" he questioned. You paused to craft your response.

"I guess you just . . . are unlike any man I've ever met. I don't know. There's something, almost otherworldly, about you, I guess," you mused.

No response.

You waited.

Still, no response.

After a few minutes of complete silence, you sighed heavily and turned your attention to the pan on the stove. You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you didn't hear Levi close the gap between the two of you.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, his husky voice barely audible over the sizzle of the toast. Hesitantly, he laid a hand on your shoulder and turned you around to meet his gaze. Your heart beat thundered in your ears and you held your breath. You had never been this close to him before; your faces were inches apart. It bothered you a great deal that a man this ignorant and rude brought forth this kind of physical reaction in you.

"What are you sorry for?" you almost whispered, eyes wide and quizzical.

"I haven't been honest with you. Or appreciative, for the matter," he said admittedly.

You cocked your head to the side, still meeting his gaze. You were still attempting to form a reply but were stunned into silence from the sudden change in his behaviour.

"Never a better time to start," you smiled crookedly and continued, "you know, if you're going to be staying here longer, you at least owe me an explanation. And you have to pull your weight around here," you added, shrugging off his hand.

"Tch. Have you not noticed how spotless your previously disgusting apartment is? Or did you want to pull that weight?" He spat back, to which you simply stood and glared at him, face screwed into a scowl.

"You forget who pays the rent," you stated. You wanted to poke him about the strange coins you found in the pockets of his old pants not being able to cover it, but your better judgement told you not to reveal that you went snooping around in his things. "Look, that doesn't matter to me. But what does matter is at least knowing a little something about the person I am apparently letting squat in my apartment for an indefinable amount of time. Can't you tell me anything?"

"Ask me again in a little while," was all he said.

'What the fuck is that supposed to that mean? Haven't we had this conversation before?' You thought to yourself, exhausted and once again frustrated. Before you could get any more exasperated, the heavenly smell of buttery French toast enveloped your senses.