Unspoken Norms | Levi Ackerman ✔️

Chp 23 ~ Choice Of Least Regrets

Fun Fact: If Levi had a crush on someone, he would be a stuttering mess when he's around them.

Well then... let's make that a reality (when Levi finally realises his crush, I'll make it happen)! 

Btw Levi is looking absolutely adorable in this pic... UwU

_____

Levi's POV

I had almost failed the English assessment in Term 1, barely met the expectations of the marking guidelines. For Terms 2 and 3, my results lingered around the midrange, where the majority of my grade was.

And now, as I reread the success criteria on the assessment notification, I doubted I would pass this term's exam. An unseen essay, this time. Every other essay we did I was able to prepare and revise for, but with little to no clue about the question...

"You want me to get you an English tutor?" Kenny asked, smirking as he examined my Term 1 essay paper. 23/40 was written in thick red pen at the top. He flipped to the back, where sentence after sentence discussed what I needed more of, what I should've done, what I did wrong.

"No. I'm fine without one," I snapped tersely, crossing my arms. I jerked my chin at his headwear. "Use your funds for a new hat."

I'd long ago refused the offer of getting tutored. If I asked now... No.

Kenny would poke at anything to make fun of me. If word got out that the genius Levi Ackerman was getting tutored for English... how humiliating.

I stuffed the notification into my bag the moment our geography teacher strode past our table. At the sound of Hange's groan, I whirled around in time to see Erwin flick her head with a finger.

"Hange, snap out of it," he urged softly. "Save sleep for later."

When Hange again dosed off, I draped an arm over the back of my seat, feeling the thud of her head echo along my side of the table. "Oi Eyebrows, it's geography," I said in a lackadaisical voice. "If she takes a nap, it'd be in this lesson where the information we get isn't at all useful."

Erwin raised his well-defined brows, as if surprised. "I thought you liked geography, Levi. You pay attention in every class."

"It's called pretence. I don't actually like school."

I turned my head forward, eyeing Mrs Archendes as she continued blabbering on about some isolated village in Russia, completely unaware of the few nappers—Hange, Sasha and Connie—in our class. I glanced around the room. Or the gamers—Kiran, Elvas, Mather—sitting at the back with their laptops open. Or the two bastards throwing stationery at each other's heads.

The two bastards I didn't need to mention.

I rolled my eyes at the assortment of pens and highlighters on Jean's desk, one by one being hurled across the room. Eren ducked as the onslaught of items soared through the air, failing to avoid a highlighter that struck him on the forehead with a brilliant streak of purple.

"Hey! That's not fair—" began Eren's complaint, quickly muffled by Mikasa who slapped a hand over his mouth. The teacher, seeing no trouble, returned her attention to the board.

"Eren, stop." The chocolate-haired boy tore away Mikasa's arm, taking off the lids of several highlighters before chucking them at Jean. 

And so the war raged on.

***

The bell would ring in seven minutes. Seven minutes until the end of school.

But that didn't solve anything. It didn't solve how I would prepare for my English exam. No way was I asking for a tutor... not after my defiant refusal.

My eyes flitted over the class, inconspicuous as our PE teacher spoke to us for the remainder of the theory lesson. I could perhaps ask for help... but who was good at English? 

My first preference would be Erwin, or Hange, but I doubted they were decent in such a scholarly subject. Eyebrows was more into history, Shitty-Glasses delved into chemistry and science.

I skimmed past Sasha, Connie and Eren, the three whom I considered had no brains at all. Mikasa; too like me, reserved and all. Armin; too insecure in his abilities. Jean; too boastful—he'd tell everyone if I asked for his help. (Y/N); unknown. But if I recalled correctly, I'd heard that she did quite well throughout the English course this year.

It's worth a try, prodded a voice inside me. You know you've wanted to get close to (Y/N) from the very beginning.

I tsked under my breath at my soft side. But no matter how hard I tried to deny my feelings, what that voice stated was all truth.

The clock ticked. Three minutes left.

A choice—I could either choose to ask (Y/N) for help and might actually do well in my exam, or I could leave it and find some other person who'd probably let me fail. However, in the end what it really came down to, was regret.

Choose the decision you will regret the least, I'd always reminded, to myself and to others.

So the choice was rather easy.