Birdie (Levi x OC)

fifty-two

My father didn't return the next day, or the day after that. I continued my routine without him, ignoring the soreness in my leg that resulted from the hit. The shame was a heavier burden than the pain.

I winced, running a hand over the deep, purple bruise on the side of my face. His knuckles had hit me hard. I stared intensely at the mirror, tilting my face to get a better look.

"I can't hide this," I hissed through my teeth. I glanced out the window; Levi and the rest of the crew were scheduled to be back in just two days. There was no way the bruising was going to fade that fast. If anything, it had begun to look worse, the color deepening as the damage settled.

I had been staying confined to my room since the incident, not wanting to catch the stares or questions from any of the few remaining recruits. I slipped out only during the early mornings and late evenings to grab a bite to eat from the kitchens.

I bit my lip, deep in thought. I shouldn't hide this anyway. This is Levi we're talking about. He was going to find out no matter what pathetic tale I spun.

"Fuck," I ran a hand down my face and sank heavily into the chair at the desk, forcing myself to focus on the day's paperwork.

I was sitting rigidly, focused only on the sound of my pen scratching across the paper, when the distant sound of horses and the familiar, low bark of voices was heard from the courtyard outside.

They were back two days early.

"Oh God," I hung my head into my hands, the entire shame and embarrassment of the last week and a half crashing down on me.

As much as I wanted to run to the courtyard, greet my lover and my friends, and ask if they were safe and how everything went, I just couldn't. The paralysis of guilt held me fast.

I couldn't move toward the courtyard. I couldn't let him see me like this. I needed to disappear. I needed to hide. If Levi saw this, he wouldn't just be angry at my disobedience; he'd blame himself for leaving me here alone. I simply sat at the desk, waiting for the inevitable.

It took about half an hour of horses being put away and supplies getting unpacked when I heard the familiar, sharp tread of his boots down the hallway.

Maybe the bruise isn't even that bad, a frantic, irrational part of my mind suggested. Maybe he won't notice.

I glanced at my reflection in the window, the angry purple and black mark glaring back at me. Who was I kidding? He was going to know immediately.

The office door opened without a knock. Levi stood there. He looked meticulous as per usual. The days of being out clearing the lands didn't seem to affect him; he was pristine. Even his green jacket and uniform looked clean. When he first caught my eye, he let out the smallest, almost imperceptible breath; relief, maybe. He almost looked like he was going to offer a slight, tired smile.

That was until his gaze dropped and settled on my cheek.

His eyes widened slightly before narrowing, the relief instantly replaced by something much colder. He closed the door behind him, walking toward me, not saying a word, every footstep heavy. He stopped on the other side of the desk, his hand coming up to my face. He gripped my chin, maybe a little harder than he had meant to, and tilted my face so the ugly, marred cheek was in full, damning view.

With my chin still in his grip and his eyes locked dangerously on the bruise, I mustered up a half smile trying to break the tension, "you're home early."

He stared at the bruise, his expression turning frigid. "Who the fuck hit you?" he ground out, his voice a lethal whisper. He didn't wait for my answer. "Don't you dare lie to me, Birdie. That's not a fall. I know what a delivered blow looks like."