(Yandere!LeviXReader) Obsession, Possession.

Matter of Opinion

It's pitch black, but you can hear a faint rushing sound that echoes around your skull. It reminds you of a day when you were young, and had the chance to listen to a shell.

Shells are rare, seeing as how it's impossible to reach the ocean anymore. But occasionally, some relic of the world outside will linger on, hidden away to preserve it. You remember that day, how you lifted that shell up to your ear and heard the sound of the ocean within it... Or just the sound of the blood going through your ears, someone later insisted.

That must be what the sound is now, it's the blood that's making that whooshing noise. Groggy, you lift your head up and let out a soft groan. Your head feels like it's been stuffed with rocks, and your arms are just as heavy. Opening your mouth, you try to call out, but a cough is all that comes out of your parted lips and it echoes harshly around the cell.
"Drink, you'll feel better."

It's his voice, eerily calm and passive. Your eyelids are still heavy, but you're awake enough to feel cool porcelain press against your lips, and moments later feel the water rushing against them. You have to open your mouth and drink, or risk dribbling it all down yourself. The water really does help, and you almost voice a thank you before you realise where you are, remember what happened, and freeze. You let out a soft groan, turning your head towards where the voice came from.

Levi sits there, his small form still in a chair pulled up beside your bed. The expression on his face is blank, which is somehow scarier than the thunderous rage you'd been expecting. When he lifts his hand, you cringe back and raise your hands to protect yourself...

Or you would, if they didn't come up short, something restricting their movement.
"Ah..." In confusion that is the only sound you can make, and you're almost ridiculously calm as you take in the metal cuffs around your wrists. They shine in the dim light, warmed from your skin. Your palms open as you stare at your wrists in silence, and then something breaks within you and realisation kicks in. Your bare feet scrabble against the mattress of your bed as you fight to sit up, your breath increasingly hurried and shallow as you fight the tide of panic. "What is..? What have you done?!" Fear begins to take over, and your voice comes out sounding years younger, like you're a scared little girl. And suddenly, his hand is there, the slender fingers wrapping around yours.

Once upon a time that touch would have been steadying, enough to make you calm and secure. Now, it only adds fuel to the terror that's building up.
"Don't touch me!" Trying to yank your hand away is pointless, the chain stops you from moving it enough to wrench free. Recalling the attempt you made to escape yesterday, and the way he reacted, you stiffen, terrified he'll do something more. His grip hasn't wavered, but mercifully it hasn't tightened either. Forcing your breathing to slow again, you lift your gaze and finally meet his eye.

"Levi... I'm sorry." It takes a lot to voice those words, but the fear of what he'll do if he gets mad again controls you. The silence between the two of you unfolds and you realise he's barely spoken. Is he still angry..? Surely, no matter his reasoning for keeping you here, he can understand why you'd try to escape like that?
"I don't want someone that will run away from me." Finally he speaks, his voice calm, and it helps to put you at ease a little.
"I know, I'm so sorry." You reply quickly, trying your best to smile. "I shouldn't have done that." The best way to diffuse the tension in this situation is surely to play along, to seek his forgiveness and promise never to do it again.

"Did you really think you'd get away? You must have known the door would be locked. It's your fault that I did what I did."
"It... It is." You have to lower your gaze when you say that, otherwise he'd see the spark of anger in your eyes. He should've expected it to happen. He should've known. No one would meekly submit to this kind of imprisonment and think nothing more of escape. Absolutely no one. But those aren't the words he wants to hear, and right now you're too afraid of making him angry again right when you're at his mercy.

"I've treated you well, haven't I?" He asks, and there even seems to be a little hurt in his voice, like he's seriously taken offence from your attempt to escape. You don't answer. You can't bring yourself to lie again, but the truth is something he won't want to hear. "(Y/N)." The way he says it makes it sound like a warning, and you lift your gaze to meet his again. "Haven't I treated you well?" He repeats, his tone more blunt. "I bring you food every day, and wash your clothes too. I make sure there's always enough oil in the lamp, and I brought blankets to keep you warm." He gestured towards the table in the room, and you can make out the small shapes of books lying there. "I worry about you getting bored, so I brought those down for you. I spend hours of my time down here each day, yet you still want to leave? I'm doing all of this for you, and there's only one thing I want in return."

You can't stay quiet for any longer. That's probably the most he's said to you at any one time ever since you woke up in this room. And he sounds almost upset, like he truly believes he is demanding a reasonable thing from you in return for the absurd lengths he's gone to to create this situation.
"You want me to love you." You murmur, before letting out a soft sigh. Slowly you adjust your position, as if changing it will ease the discomfort building within you. "Levi..." You debate what to say next, whether to coddle him or speak your mind, whether he needs a harsh truth or kind, false promises. "Oh, Levi. If the price were anything else, I'd gladly pay. But I can't do that for you." A look of hurt passes over his features for a split second, but you take a strange kind of relief out of that. At least he's not getting angry again.
"Why not?" He asks, reminding you of a child who's just been told 'no' but can't conceive why.

"Don't you see? It would be wrong. Forcing me to love you like this would never result in anything natural. Any feelings I might develop for you would be dependence and need. That's not true love." He shakes his head, and you fall into despair. You can see it in his eyes, he's not convinced. It's a matter of opinion and you don't sound certain enough. And you never will to him, so long as your belief is so different to his.
"You'll see soon." He sounds sure of it, his voice taking on that hollow tone. For the first time you doubt how genuine his feelings are. Could he have fallen out of love, and now all he's doing is going through with this because it's impossible to go back? Maybe your refusal has seemed like a challenge, so now he's simply more obsessed with proving you wrong. "You have nothing left. Your parents aren't expecting you home, the scouts aren't expecting you back. Beyond me, there's no one looking for you any more."

At his words, your eyes well up at the sheer hopelessness of it all. You just know that when you get free, it won't be as he says, it won't be too late. Considering otherwise is just too much to bear.

"So you're going to keep me here?" You raise your hands and make the chains rattle from the movement, drawing his attention to them. "You won't ever let me go unless I love you, will you?" You ask, a lump in your throat that you do your best to keep from choking off your words. Your eyes sting from keeping the tears at bay, you fear you'll never stop if you let yourself cry. Levi doesn't respond with words, he merely nods.

"Then I will never stop trying to escape." The words are an announcement, spoken with a fierce kind of determination and certainty. Yet despite that, they don't seem to provoke a verbal response from Levi. He just sighs, a deep sigh of resignation, and gets to his feet. Crossing the room, he gathers the hamper he brings everything down in each day, along with the clothes that need washing, and he sets off across the cell. Maybe it's just your imagination, but he seems to take longer than usual to lock the door, perhaps making a show of it. Finally he does, but he doesn't take another step. First he glances over at you, giving a single nod. "I know you won't." He speaks at last, his tone strangely gentle. "But that's what the chains are for, after all."

With that, he crosses the room and makes his way out. You hear the noise of his footsteps fade, a door close, and then silence takes over again. Instinctively, you know you won't be seeing him again until tomorrow comes, though you're not even sure what the time is now. Not that it matters. Every hour in the cell is unbearably long, and time is impossible to judge. You have no way of knowing whether dawn is an hour away, or a dozen, and either way, it'll feel like an entire age has passed before you hear that door opening again.

Restless, you pull at the restraints, half trying to slip free and half simply trying to find out how much movement they allow. Thankfully you can move enough that you're not constricted to one comfortable position, but your movements are still more awkward than you'd like. He won't really keep you like this all the time, will he? You mull over that question for a while, until eventually your confinement to the bed lulls you into sleep, and you allow it to take you over without fighting.