I Have An Objection! [ Levi x OC ] [ Moderate Editing ]

Ch. 13: Repression Translates to Contentment

The moonlight lit the bedroom dimly, that along with the glow of Marco's laptop screen as he busied himself typing up an essay for one of his classes. I hugged my knees to my chest, listening silently as the keys clicked and tapped with every word he formed. Marco repeatedly ran his fingers through his dark hair, most likely agitated with his deadline only hours away.

I, like always, woke up from a vivid nightmare of the past and barged into his bedroom during the wee hours for a sense of comfort. However, Marco was preoccupied with cramming and had little to no patience for my nighttime "shenanigans". Dreams are dreams, they say, they can't harm you in real life. If only my dreams--no, nightmares--remained dreams, not a sick reminder of my foolish, young mistakes.

He is present each time, a genuine smile plastered on his ruggish face. We kiss with desire and underlying tones of some twisted form of lust or passion. It aches, for this man is not whom I wish it to be. My heartstrings tug endlessly, knowing the man I'm sharing a sensual connection with is not Levi, but another person from years long forgotten. "Why?" I begin to curse myself as I trace his tattoos in my dream. "Why can't I stop? Why won't you stop?"

The tips of his fingers peruse every inch of my body, his lips warm against my skin, yet he cannot answer me. There is shouting in the room adjacent to ours, thus my pleas are drowned out by the raucous voices. I shed a tear or two, and he wipes them away, leaning closer to whisper, "Roxy, you know I would never hurt you."

"That's not true!" I scream, but the effort is futile. The unrecognizable voices get louder, clearer. They're spouting accusations back and forth about someone, about me. One is gruff, his dense, hollow tone clashes with the other's rational and sensible expressed opinions. "Make it stop!" My tone is shrill compared to the other two. "Please, just make it stop!"

"There's no need to be scared," the man with me states, but his raised hand contradicts it. My eyes instinctively snap shut and everything becomes numb until the taste of iron hits my tongue. Of course, I'm bleeding, but from where? There is no pain, no marks or injuries. The only thing that remains are a pair of turquoise hues staring back at me, and the words are nothing but a mere broken record.

"I love you."

My body would naturally shoot up when I arose, arms a convulsing mess and clothes stuck to me with sweat. The nightmare rendered me traumatized, and the cure for my distress lied with Marco as he slept soundly in his own bed. Normally, I would crawl under his sheets and bury my face in his chest, the rhythmic beats of his heart soothing my frail condition and lulling me back into a peaceful slumber.

Despite Marco still hard at work, I slipped into his bedroom anyways and kept him company, for my sanity's sake that is. After an estimated five minutes of watching him, I hopped off his bed and trotted up behind him. "Roxy, I can't be bothered right now," he grumbled as I massaged his shoulders. "Any other time would be fine, but tonight isn't possible."

"It's almost midnight," I stated, resting my chin on the top of his head and trailing my hands down his chest. "You need sleep."

"Don't you have work tomorrow?" he inquired, continuing with his paper. "If anyone needs sleep, it's you."

"I probably won't even go in, I'm fed up with all the menial paperwork Erwin keeps shoving my way," I muttered, skimming over a few analytic sentences he wrote. "Ever since Levi's accident, he's been so strict on everyone, especially me. I heard he made Mira cry the other day."

"It's probably stress," Marco countered quickly. "It's not a reason to miss work either. You're a mature adult Roxanne, not a high school student. You can't write an excuse for an absence and do whatever you please. If you're fit to work, they expect your butt to be there."