Yours Truly, Levi

Rejection

You spend the rest of the day, along with waiting for your clothes dry off (because who knew salt water could make a person chafe so damn much?), pondering the scenes from earlier that day, from Levi rebuffing your attempt to reach out to him, to Jason making snide remarks about his comrade's sexual orientation and your wardrobe malfunction in the water, to the stares you get from the other men. (But are they staring because of what Jason said, or just because you now have to stay wrapped in a blanket to hide your chest until your bindings dried?)

Even once the white blouse and loose trousers had dried, they'd become so uncomfortably stiff from salty water that you now have to waddle everywhere to avoid making your thighs rub painfully together. Ouch. I'm going the have quite the rash tomorrow, you think forlornly.

As you waddle around camp, still doling out the fresh water canteens and still contemplating the odd events you've gotten yourself into, a plan forms in your head. A plan to get the truth about Levi's feelings towards you.

But why bother? What good will that knowledge do you? It's not like you care about him back.

...Right? Unless...

Stop that! you say to yourself. He's a selfish jerk and I will never like him. Ever.

A wave laps up and tickles your feet, and you smile despite yourself. The water seems to like you. Personifying it in your mind, you picture the wave as a warm hug, embracing you. Just like... just like home. Like your family. It's warm and comforting, even if the waves are chilly and numb your toes. A sparkle from under the wave catches your eye, and you bend down and fish it from the water. A small orb, white, but in the sun glows many colors. It's glossy and mesmerizing, the size of your thumbnail. You breathe in deep, awed by the beauty of it.

"It's called a pearl," a voice says from behind you.

You turn, startled, and your heart leaps. "Levi-san," you say, more surprised than anything else. Your fright melts to annoyance. "Stop doing that! You scared me half to death."

He almost smiles at that, but something in his lips don't seem to work, and he remains looking solemnly at the pearl. "You just need to get a better reflex system," he says.

"Well, you need to be honest with me."

He doesn't respond, but his eyes betray his emotion. Not the almost-black nut-brown, as you'd once thought, but a deep jade, darker and deeper than the murky part of the lake near the top of the waterfall. They reveal the confusion in his otherwise stoic, bored expression. "I am being honest," he says flatly.

"No, you're not. Either you're not, or the men in this camp are mistaking your pubescent mood swings for something more!"

He turns his face on yours, his eyes suddenly glowing a bright bottle-green you'd never seen before in real life, alight with fury. "You need to learn to watch your damn mouth, you piece of shit, and realize who the hell I am. I am not like you, a sorry, sad basket-case who thinks everyone is in love with her because she's the only girl on this god-forsaken island.

His furious diatribe comes to an end, leaving him panting slightly. You realize you were so intimidated, you'd sunk lower and lower to the ground until you were crouched in a ball, eyes squeezed tight, hands protectively over your head. "Yes," you squeak, terrified he'd reach out and strike you.

But he does no such thing. Instead, he sighs and drops to his knees, eye-level with you. "Stand up," he says quietly. "Look at me."

Still terrified he was going to hit you or something, you peek out from your hands, feeling the tears in your eyes. You see him, there in front of you, so deadly, so lethal, so damaged. You wonder how he ever made it through a day and still could take another breath. No wonder he didn't smile. He never had any real reason to, and had long forgotten how.

"Hey, O-san," he says softly. "I... I shouldn't have... I mean... I... I'm sorry. You're not shit," he whispers, a pathetic attempt at an apology. His cheeks are pink.

You let out the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, and relax your body, sitting back on the sand. "It's okay," you say reassuringly. "I didn't... I didn't know. I should be sorry."

"No, it's not you. It's... just..." He clenches his fist. "I never show how I feel. I always keep it to myself. I... I don't need sympathy, or even respect, just trust, and obedience."

"But you should be open about how you feel," you say, bravery slowly spreading, from somewhere deep in your chest, through your feet, to your hands, which reach out and rest on his strong shoulders. "You don't have to keep it all inside anymore. I won't say anything."

Suddenly, he stands, and instinctually, you follow suit. His chin juts out and he turns his head away from you. "Nonsense. I don't even know you. Might I remind you that you kept secrets too, O-san?"

Your face hardens. "I had to," you protest, "to save my father."

"Well, I have good reasons to as well. If I told you what all I feel... even if I could express it to you, which is doubtful, you'd only think I was some sorrowful charity case. I don't need you, and you would do well to remember that."

He turns on his heel and strides off, and you feel shaken. Almost... empty, you think, glancing at the glossy pearl in your hand, like he took some part of my soul with him.

Or maybe... he'd had it all along... and you'd just now figured it out.