Unspoken Norms | Levi Ackerman ✔️

Chp 21 ~ Yet Another Brawl

Fun Fact: Levi is the most emotional person in AOT, he just doesn't show it.

My heart...

_____

Your POV

As soon as I stepped foot in the right Academic Building the next morning, up the steps to the second level, brilliant whiteness shone from every vertical and horizontal surface.

What on earth—

I screened my eyes against the radiance, which came in the form of glistening white walls, spotless windows and immaculate floors.

Everyone strolling through the building was blinded by the amount of light the panes let in, the glass clear of any stain or smudge.

I doubted the janitor did all this—he couldn't have cleaned everything in one single afternoon. At least not all the corridors in the second floor. Unless someone else—

"Who cleaned all of this?" Connie inquired, walking up beside me. He had his hands tucked behind his head in his usual position, face glowing with astonishment.

"Wow." I twisted around to see Jean halt along with us. "Someone was actually bothered to do all that."

More footsteps followed, declaring the presence of Eren and Mikasa. "Definitely not you then, Horseface. If anyone did it, they would be very hard-working and patient."

"Basically the opposite of our Jean here," I put in, patting Jean's shoulder. At his piqued expression, I couldn't hold in my grin. But irritation quickly passed from his face, replaced by something more playful.

Jean directed his attention at Eren. "Like you're any better, you bastard."

That was all it took to spark their first fight of the day. Eren launched himself at Jean, ramming him up against the window. Horseface responded by punching the dark-haired student low in the gut; that blow instigating several more.

I backed up towards the lockers with Connie, while Mikasa silently watched from her spot, dark eyes tracing every punch and dodge. Not that they could dodge blows. Jean did try, but where he ducked, the fist went.

After fifteen minutes of spectating, right as the bell rung for our first class, Mikasa stalked forward. Two precise hits—one for Jean, one for Eren—and both of them lay dead on the floor.

Students turned their awe from the crystalline hallways to the black-haired girl who was single-handedly dragging two boys along the ground.

"Should we help?" Connie asked, untucking his hands.

I only shrugged. "Mikasa's doing just fine without any."

***

Levi's POV

The action of closing my lunch container elicited the very slightest ache from my biceps. I was too carried away with cle—

No, someone had to clean it. The janitor clearly didn't live up to the standards the Headmaster hired him for, resulting in filthy walls and windows. At first glance they seemed moderately clean, but after detailed inspection, they were not clean at all.

Each window was coated in a thin layer of dried dirt, hidden to the cursory eye. What was even worse was that along the inner rim of each windowsill, dust lined each frame.

Throughout the cleaning process, I had mentally cursed at the janitor over and over again, one profane word after every discovery of dirt and dust.

"Let me guess," Furlan exhaled, leaning towards me on his forearms, "you were the one who cleaned all those corridors, right?"

Isabel nudged me in the side. "Of course it was our bro—who else would do such a thing? I remember one time I spilt some milk on your desk and you made me clean out your entire room!"

I continued zipping up my bag once the container was inside, feeling a faint smile tug at my lips. "Brat, you deserved it."

Furlan's laughter quieted when Jarrod and the gang approached our table. The smirk I was about to let free instantly receded when I saw them.

Isabel smiled, Furlan waved, while I slipped back on my façade. The mask I'd been so accustomed to smothered every present emotion—contentment, gratitude, nostalgia—until nothing but cold detachment was left.

Yes, they were my friends, this popular guy group. Not true friends though. Our friendship was more of a chore than anything if being honest; it only sustained our popularity. Their popularity.

"Hey, you three!" Jarrod called out, stopping beneath the maple. The sun's rays streaked his pale face with the shadows of the branches, almost fully bare after the fallen leaves. The rest of the group created a semicircle around us. "We received an invitation from the girls just then—there's going to be a party on the first day of term break. You've all been invited, too."

"You guys can go," I said, glancing at Furlan and Isabel. "Parties aren't my thing."

Jarrod sat down beside me and clasped my shoulder. "Come on, man. You've never been to one anyways—who knows if you'd like it or not?"

I reflexively pushed off his hand, all the while glaring at him. "I won't."

The platinum-haired boy released a sigh and looked to Furlan. "Talk to him, will you. He's too much of a stubborn bastard"—at that I glared harder—"but tell me if you manage to persuade him."

With that, he rose to his feet, leading a few of them away. The majority of the group settled around the table, speaking mostly to Furlan and Isabel. They would've talked to me too, but from the way I kept up my glare, no one dared to come close.