Sugar, Secrets and Upheaval

Chapter 148 - Niceness Rule

A profound weariness settled over me. Levi's healing couldn't progress quickly enough; the anticipation of unleashing our more unrestrained desires was already a tantalizing whisper in the back of my mind. He concluded a series of focused phone calls concerning the border situation and the ongoing needs of the refugees. He settled beside me on the living room couch, and nestled his head onto my shoulder with a quiet sigh. Ah, look at this. The formidable Levi, acting with the bashful tenderness of a teenage sweetheart after a first kiss. A soft chuckle escaped my lips, and I rested my hand on the smooth coolness of his dark hair.

"Why the sudden display of… cuteness, Levi?"

"Cute?" he echoed, lifting his head to meet my gaze. "Perhaps a display of… strategic vulnerability, Pulla? Does it pluck at your empathetic heartstrings? I must confess," he admitted, a note of genuine exhaustion in his voice, "the prolonged period at the border left me… depleted. Consumed by a persistent hunger, existing on fragmented snatches of sleep, and enduring a constant, low-grade thrum of physical discomfort."

"Ah, Levi…" I murmured, my heart softening. "The hunger I can well imagine. But why the lack of sleep?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. "The auditory assault, Raphael. An unrelenting cacophony. The cries of the displaced, their screams, the shouts of personnel, the static of the comms systems, the constant of hurried footsteps, the endless murmur of conversations in a multitude of tongues, the tap of more footsteps, the sharp hiss of a cigarette being lit, the low gurgle of water boiling in countless kettles, the heavy tramp of boots, then again, the cries, the piercing screams, the shouts…"

"Ah, my weary lion," I murmured, my fingers continuing their gentle dance through the dark strands of his hair.

"Earplugs were a non-viable option, unfortunately," he explained, his voice low and weary against my shoulder. "Maintaining a state of heightened vigilance was paramount, given the nature of emergency situations. However," he paused, "I did find myself wishing, for the simple comfort of your presence, Raphael. Specifically," he shifted slightly, his gaze meeting mine with an unexpected softness, "I longed for the quiet solace of your hands pressed against my ears."

"Stop being so unexpectedly… sweet, Levi," I teased gently, a soft smile playing on my lips. "I might actually start believing that a genuine sentimental core is beginning to… develop within your complex architecture."

"Ah... another illuminating anecdote from the theater of the absurd that was the border encampment," he sighed, shifting slightly. "Military personnel were eventually deployed to establish a semblance of order and implement necessary protocols, their logistical capabilities proving essential for the construction of temporary housing. Predictably, isolated incidents of opportunistic looting and theft did occur. Do you know the nature of the query posed to me by the commanding officer? He inquired as to whether his troops … openly display their firearms in the vicinity of the refugees. Gods, Raphael. Did he genuinely require external consultation to ascertain the self-evident principle that one does not brandish lethal weaponry in the presence of traumatized and vulnerable individuals?"

"Gods, Levi... the absolute incompetence!" I exclaimed, shaking my head in disbelief. "Also, are you recounting these tales of bureaucratic absurdity in a deliberate attempt to… seduce my moral sensibilities?"

"Yes and no, Pulla," he murmured, his gaze softening slightly. “Beyond any manipulative intent, the injustice of it all… engendered a profound and rather unwelcome sense of isolation."

"Why did that sense of isolation take root?" I asked softly, my hand now stroking his cheek, my thumb tracing the sharp line of his jaw.

Levi sighed, his head resting heavily on my shoulder. "The 'origami incident' was particularly… egregious," he began. "Shaw, that particularly odious vermin, me of possessing… 'empathy'? The audacity of such a blatant mischaracterization, the utter erasure of my fundamental self… it engendered a considerable degree of… displeasure. I, the amoral entity, devoid of any semblance of a moral compass, was the one forced to state the obvious. It was… isolating, Raphael. To be surrounded by individuals who lacked the most rudimentary understanding of ethical conduct, while I, by their very definition, should be the one devoid of such considerations…" His voice trailed off.

"So, the world expects those with empathy to act ethically, but they fail spectacularly, and the one without it has to pick up the pieces. The irony is staggering, and the isolation you felt is completely understandable."

"That persistent mischaracterization, that blatant disregard for my very identity… logically, it was not unforeseen. However," a subtle shift in his tone, a flicker of something akin to hurt, "it did… sting, nonetheless." He then took a deep breath, the air catching slightly in his chest. "There are… certain admissions I feel compelled to make, Raphael."

Levi's 'confessions' rarely involved minor transgressions.

They were usually seismic shifts in his understanding or revelations that would undoubtedly rearrange my reality.

"Spill it, Levi," I urged gently, my hand resting on his cheek. "Let the tectonic plates shift."

He took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. "The period following my rehabilitation… it engendered within me a sensation of profound and absolute liberation. The clarity of sobriety, after twelve years mired in the fog of addiction, coupled with the complete divestment of all material possessions prior to my… cessation attempt… these factors coalesced into a sense of unfettered freedom, a state of being almost beyond verbal articulation. While I observe your occasional discomfort at my directness, I perceive an underlying appreciation for its . Furthermore, this sustained sobriety has coincided with the period in my existence where I have been openly communicative regarding my neurodivergency."

He paused, his gaze becoming piercing. "Raphael, since my rehabilitation, I have not engaged in any deliberate obfuscation or falsehood in my dealings with you. Nor, indeed, with any other individual. To then be confronted with this persistent… , this willful negation of my fundamental being… it is not merely insulting or isolating. It engenders within me a visceral sense of ."

Wow.

That's… a lot to unpack.

"Oh, Levi..." I murmured, my hand tightening on his. "To possess such a strong and unwavering sense of justice, as you do, and to be constantly confronted with such blatant injustice… it must be an unbearable weight to carry. But," I continued, my gaze meeting his with sincerity, "I am grateful for your brutal honesty, Levi. Truly. And it means the world to me to hear that you now feel secure enough in our relationship to share these deeply personal experiences." I paused, a soft smile touching my lips. "While hearing your unfiltered perspective can sometimes be… jarring… it is also incredibly valuable. Because it signifies a deepening, evolving trust between us, a willingness to be truly seen, warts and all."

He placed his head on my shoulder again, now burying it deeper, “To be seen, Raphael, is my greatest desire in this pale blue dot.”

"I know, my love," I murmured, stroking his hair. "We will both keep trying, every single day."

...rate."

. He really knows how to make me feel like an utter idiot. It's always about the outcome, isn't it? His lack of empathy doesn't negate his desire for a positive result.

"Yeah," I echoed. "There you are, furiously tapping away at your emotionless equation, the great humanitarian calculator."

Damn it, Raphael. Why can't you just let it go? You're being deliberately antagonistic again.

"Indeed," Levi replied, his thumbs moving on the screen. "While I have been tasked with resolving nationwide logistical complexities in the past, the intricacies of this international displacement scenario present a novel and rather… intellectually stimulating challenge to solve."

While I’m drowning in empathy and moral conflict, he’s actually doing something. Solving the damn puzzle. And people will live because of it. Fuck him…

"So, while I'm tearing myself apart over the ethical implications of this interview, you're merely indulging in the intellectual stimulation of human suffering?" I blurted out.

Damn it. Why do I keep doing this? I didn't want another fight. I just wanted… a little less callousness. A bit of reassurance.

"?" Levi's head snapped up. The casual disinterest vanished. "Fine."

His phone clattered to the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Since my intellectual interest in the plight of human suffering is apparently so offensive to your sensibilities, I have elected to cease that interest entirely. Problem solved."

His voice was .

I vaulted off the bar stool, and strode towards the couch. Levi remained seated, his posture still, his intense gaze fixed on me, unblinking.

"What the fuck, Levi?" I roared, my voice cracking with a mixture of fear and disbelief. He offered no response. "You can't just… abandon everything! Your responsibilities, the people who need help!" I yelled again, the desperation rising in my throat.

"?"

The emptiness in his eyes… it’s like arguing with a void. He’s retreated somewhere cold and logical, and I have no idea how to reach him there. He’s always been detached in his own way, but this… this feels different.

"What in the absolute hell do you think you're playing at, Levi?" I shouted. "Is this some kind of manipulation? Are you seriously going to let countless innocent people suffer because of my stupid, impulsive mouth?"

He rose slowly from the couch, his unwavering gaze still locked on mine. "The fundamental difference between you and me, Raphael, is this: you are, at times, an utter . You deliberately sought to provoke me, weaponizing my very identity against me in the form of an accusation. And yet another crucial difference separates our actions: I, despite my inherent lack of emotions, consistently execute my responsibilities. You, however, allow your precious 'feelings' to jeopardize crucial outcomes."

"Yes, damn it, I lashed out," I admitted, the words raw with a mixture of shame and lingering hurt. "And yes, I weaponized your… different way of processing emotions against you. That was unfair, and I am genuinely sorry for it. I felt dismissed, Levi, like my struggle was just an inconvenience to your logical efficiency. But," I continued, my voice gaining a firmer edge, "my hurtful words, however misguided, do not give you the right to even feign abandonment of your responsibilities."

A cold smirk touched Levi's lips. "I did not feel hurt, Raphael," he corrected, his voice calm. "I experienced anger, a logical response to witnessing yet another display of profound injustice, this time directed from my own husband. And yes," he added, his gaze unwavering, "you are being an imbecile. What? Did you honestly believe I would shirk my duties, neglect the very tangible outcomes we discussed, simply because of your emotional outburst? Obviously not. It was a calculated maneuver, a rather transparent bluff on my part.

Bluff.

The manipulative bastard. It worked, didn't it? The terror of him abandoning his efforts shook me more than any argument could.

Bluff or not, his point is brutally clear. The lives of those refugees are more important than my bruised ego.

"So, the injustice you refer to was my clumsy, attempt to articulate my discomfort? And your response was to… stage a bluff designed to manipulate my emotions?" I countered, a hint of lingering resentment coloring my tone. "Well, congratulations, Levi. Consider me suitably chastened. Now, for the sake of the actual people who need our help, can we please move forward?"

"The injustice, Raphael," Levi corrected, his voice firm, "was my own husband weaponizing my very being against me, using my neurodivergence as a tool for accusation. My subsequent actions were merely a logical countermeasure, employing the readily available weapon of your volatile emotions – a rather predictable and easily exploitable vulnerability, I might add. The actual problem is this: you will conduct the interview tomorrow. That is the conclusion. You possess the autonomy to cancel it, a decision that would elicit precisely zero emotional response from me. You may also request my assistance in crafting your statement; I would be happy to ensure its composition yields the desired impact. Regardless, Raphael, you will fulfill your professional obligation and achieve the necessary outcome. Is that sufficiently clear?"

I did. I used his lack of empathy against him, knowing it would sting. And his response? To weaponize my emotions right back at me.

The autonomy to cancel? A hollow threat, I suspect. He knows I won't. He knows the weight of responsibility I feel, even if he doesn't understand the emotional burden of it. So, yes. It's clear.

"I am truly sorry, Levi," I murmured, the shame still burning. "Using your neurodivergence against you… that was low, and it wasn't fair. The truth is… I just wanted you to be a little kinder to me."

"I acknowledged the validity of your emotional distress, Raphael," Levi replied, his tone softening slightly. "That was the impetus behind preparing your alcoholic beverage. My commitment to sobriety does impede my capacity for conventional niceness, as it removes the social lubricant that typically filters my more… direct mode of communication. However," he conceded, "I do apologize for my… villainy." He then arched a skeptical eyebrow. "But truly, Raphael? After all this, how could you possibly have missed the rather obvious nature of my bluff?"

He played me like a damn fiddle.

"You manipulative bastard," I muttered under my breath.

"And your deliberate attempts to provoke a reaction from me, knowing full well my sensitivities, were acts of pure , were they?" Levi countered, his eyebrow still arched.

I did poke the bear, hoping for some kind of emotional response, even if it was negative.

"Gods," I sighed, the tension of the argument leaving me utterly drained. "We desperately need couples therapy. And you," I added, looking directly at him, "need to make a conscious effort to be… kinder to me."

Levi's brows furrowed in thought. "Couples therapy presents a unique logistical challenge for our specific dynamic, Raphael. Locating a professional with a comprehensive understanding of my neurological framework is paramount, and such individuals are statistically rare. Engaging with a therapist lacking this nuanced understanding would likely induce significant resentment on my part, thereby negating any potential benefit. Therefore, a period of thorough research and vetting is a prerequisite." He then looked at me, his gaze intense.

"Let me be clear: should you ever again my neurodivergence as a tool for accusation or employ it in a deliberate attempt to provoke me, the ensuing retribution will be of such a nature as to make you sincerely wish for the permanent closure of your tear ducts." His expression softened slightly as he drew me closer, his arms encircling my waist. "However, for you, dear Raphael, I will cultivate a more… nice demeanor."

"The tear duct thing… noted. Perhaps we can start with you just refraining from calling me an imbecile?"

"Oh?" Levi's eyebrow shot up again. "Pray tell, Raphael, are we operating under selective amnesia? A considerable portion of the insult hurling, originates from your own vocalizations. Secondly," he continued, his gaze intensifying, "yes, that was indeed a threat. My repeated attempts at logical explanation appear to have been woefully ineffective in modifying your behavior. For the preservation of our admittedly unconventional marital bond, a more… direct approach seemed necessary. And let me offer you a word of caution, dear Raphael," he added, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes, "you possess precisely comprehension of the intricate and potentially unpleasant machinations that occur within my cognitive processes when the concept of retribution takes root."

The nerve of this man. Yes, I hurl insults, but usually in response to his… . And the threat… he's not even trying to soften it anymore. And the glint in his eyes… it's unsettlingly genuine.

"Stop with your veiled threats, Levi," I stated, attempting a tone of authority that felt... undermined.

"Ah, but my dear Raphael," he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips as his hands slid down my back, settling on my rear, "as you are acutely aware, such pronouncements are a rather distinctive element of my charm." He then leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur, "One could argue that the onus for eliciting niceness lies squarely with the recipient of my… directness."

A traitorous part of me recognizes the twisted logic. My barbs and impulsive insults probably don't exactly encourage gentle treatment. It's a vicious cycle. We provoke each other in our own dysfunctional ways. And maybe, just maybe, I do need to try being a little less… if I want him to be a little less… Levi.

"Alright, Levi. I will refrain from resorting to insults, provided you extend the same courtesy."

"Delicious," he murmured against my ear. "And what are the stipulated consequences for a breach of this… agreement? What exquisite penalties await the transgressor?"

"I am attempting to establish a clear boundary here, Levi," I said, my voice tinged with frustration. "Why must you always turn everything into some kind of… game?"

"Hm..." he hummed, his grip on my posterior tightening. "Because, my dear Raphael, my estimations place the likelihood of your adherence to this boundary at a rather… limited timeframe. Perhaps forty-eight hours, at most? And is it so unreasonable for me to desire reciprocal niceness from my husband? Consider this a proactive deterrent. Now," he continued, his gaze holding mine, "tell me, Raphael. What is the penalty?"

He knows me too well. My good intentions tend to crumble under Levi-ness.

Gods, what should the penalty be? Something equally absurd? Something that will actually make him think twice? Or should I just refuse to play his game entirely? But then he'll just… Levi harder. Damn him and his beautiful, manipulative mind.

"The penalty, my dear Levi, is that I will be exceptionally 'not nice' right back at you. Prepare for a symphony of sarcasm."

"Are you entirely confident, in your capacity to sustain a level of cynicism comparable to my own? A cynicism meticulously cultivated over three decades of immersion in misanthropy, profound distrust, and an unwavering skepticism towards the entirety of the human species? I think not, my dear. Choose a deterrent with a touch more… teeth."

Gods, this is impossible. How do you punish someone who seems to thrive on negativity and intellectual sparring? What could I possibly threaten him with that would actually make him care?

"I have it. If you utter a single insult in my direction, you must immediately consume an entire can of energy drink." I couldn't help but smirk, recalling his dramatic shudder and vehement denouncements.

"Excellent," Levi murmured, his hand still caressing my butt. "Let us establish the precise parameters of this… accord. All forms of profanity and vulgarity are hereby prohibited. Any and all forms of direct or indirect insult are likewise forbidden. Lastly… Should you breach our agreement, Raphael, you will be subjected to task of reading an entire philosophical treatise of my choosing, within a strict three-day timeframe."

"What? Absolutely not!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening in genuine horror. "Levi, you know my attention span engages in mortal combat with that of a goldfish!"

"Indeed, I am acutely aware of your… limitations in that regard," he replied, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "That is why I exercised a degree of leniency and granted you a generous three-day window for completion."

"Not even something remotely engaging, like fiction or history… but… but philosophy? Oh, the torture…"

He pressed a light kiss to my . "I am pleased that we have achieved a mutually acceptable resolution. A remarkably efficient utilization of our time, wouldn't you agree?"

"W-What was that?" I stammered, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic display of physical affection.

"I believe that qualifies as an instance of my 'endeavoring niceness'."

My God… this man is going to be the absolute death of me.

I had just willingly entered into a contract that effectively silenced my primary mode of communication. No more sarcastic barbs, no more muttered insults, no more calling him the infuriating bastard that he was. My god, what have I done? I have truly struck a deal with the Devil himself.

"Oh my god, Levi…" I breathed out, the weight of my monumental miscalculation pressing down on me.

He chuckled, his grip on my butt tightening. "My dear Raphael," he murmured, a smug amusement lacing his tone, "you rather overplayed your hand, frantically grasping for a deterrent. You attempted to negotiate terms… with . It was, I must confess, a delightful, thoroughly amusing, and even endearing spectacle to witness the moment of horrified realization dawn upon your features as you grasped the undeniable truth: you have been, once again, manipulated."

The grip on my ass is just the cherry on top of his smug little victory sundae. This entire exchange was just a game to him. A delightful game where he, predictably, came out on top.

"Shh…" Levi murmured, pressing a finger to my lips, silencing my lament. "You can contemplate the full ramifications of our little agreement later, my dear. For now, go and enjoy the alcoholic beverage I so thoughtfully prepared for you." He punctuated his instruction with a final squeeze of my posterior before retrieving his phone from the floor. With a wide, smug smirk plastered across his face, he then turned and retreated towards the master bedroom, leaving me standing there, contemplating the devilish bargain I had just struck.