A/N: This was originally written in two parts - the first part was an anon prompt fill on Tumblr for this: "rivamika au where Mikasa is Eren's older sister in a local college and Levi is Eren's teacher (who is also in college?)" I just modified it slightly so that Levi became Eren's tutor instead. The second part was written for Day 8 (Theme: Whatever You Want) of RivaMikaWeek in February 2014. Put the two together...and voila!
Special thanks to tankfromvenus on Tumblr for proofreading the French phrases!
La Liberté
Summary: Though her studying methods are impeccable, Mikasa learns that sometimes, she must read between the lines. RivaMika; College AU.
Mikasa floats from building to building each day in postured silence, with all the necessary textbooks gathered in orderly fashion within her signature messenger bag. She sits in the very back of every classroom, scribbling notes with the velocity of a stenographer, absorbing facts and opinions like a sponge while her peers experiment with fruitless paper planes. She says little and does even less, never unveiling the mysteries that blanket her persona. Only her remarkable intelligence and the existence of a younger brother serve as partial reveals of the countless enigmas she embodies, though they still say nothing of her other interests. Soon enough, rumors alone become the building blocks of her pretend lifestory.
"Ace" is her nickname around campus, for she sets the grading curve in almost all her courses - save for one.
AE 2050 is High Speed Aerodynamics, and the sole seminar where Mikasa's academic dominance falters. Within these walls every Tuesday and Wednesday the French foreign exchange student Levi trumps her with his innate knowledge of supersonic flow and flight performance – he is already a prodigious young pilot by hobby, and no amount of her cramming can overcome that circumstance. Halfway through the semester he chooses to land himself upon the chair next to hers with indifference, speaking no reason other than that he prefers quieter seatmates. From that day onward, their simultaneous notetaking become an undeclared competition as they transcribe the lectures at rivaling speeds, grey and sapphire eyes fully attentive towards the formulas and variables displayed on poorly designed Powerpoint slides.
Stop it. She orders whenever she notices him peeking at her progress every now and then. But he only readjusts the absurd white tie he wears everyday before feigning innocence.
On this particular Tuesday, their frazzled professor distributes midterm results at the end of class, rushing through the stack of unexceptional papers until he gets to his two star pupils. The awkward man runs up the steps, proud eyes gleaming as he hands them their exams with almost shaking hands.
Foiled again, Mademoiselle. With his usual nonchalant expression Levi lifts the triumph up to her face, perfect score highlighted in red with multiple stars to showcase the professor's asinine pride.
You are insufferable. She stuffs her 97% within her bag and stomps out with none of the usual grace she is known for.
À demain. Comes his flat farewell.
I'm failing French class. Mikasa returns home to her younger brother's unfortunate announcement. They are on their own within the small apartment, living only on money sent by overseas relatives who still have enough heart to pity their orphaned statuses. Eren is her polar opposite, street smart and sociable to a fault but without the academic prowess to succeed in his own education. Foreign language is a required high school credit for him to graduate, and she knows that without adequate help his future may be in jeopardy.
Do you have any friends who can tutor me for free? Wide green eyes seek out her guidance, breaking her resolve as usual with their puppylike character.
She has few friends of such caliber, so she knows Wednesday will be the first time she swallows her pride.
My brother needs help in French. She states candidly the next morning, not even looking in Levi's direction as he takes his usual seat.
So now I'm no longer insufferable. He reiterates her careless claim, and she thinks she can feel an air of conceit just from the way he folds his arms.
No, you're not.
The ensuing silence makes Mikasa more nervous than she expected, with the fear of Eren's failure hanging her heart evermore upon a precarious cliff. The dread persuades her to deliver her final offer, perhaps too prematurely.
You can use my notes from now on. No need to waste time taking any of your own.
Let me know when he gets home from school. Levi responds his indirect agreement as soon as she utters the last word. I like your version better anyway.
Boyfriend? Eren's yelp sounds far too ecstatic when Mikasa returns home with Levi for the first time.
Le tuteur. Levi clears his throat, and the younger boy's expression darkens with the speed of a blown lightbulb.
Did you doubt that your sister could actually find someone? Go get all your French homework and books already. She commands as to break Eren out of his pathetic slump, and he reluctantly obeys. Without instruction, Levi situates himself next to the coffee table while waiting for materials to be gathered, eyes scanning the apartment's simple layout and décor with placid interest. She feels almost anxious at the thorough scrutiny, but his blasé looks betray little actual opinions.
As soon as Eren dumps a plethora of indefinite contents between them, Levi's firm hands reach for the pile of messily written flashcards, signaling that this is where their lessons will begin.
We will see each other every weekday from now on. He voices nonchalantly while shuffling through the stack, sending an occasional, judgmental gaze at his new student's inferior handwriting.
EVERY weekday? Across the way, sagging shoulders now droop even further against aged cushions.
Oui. Qui craint de souffrir, souffre déjà de ce qu'il craint. The words dance with little effort off of a trained tongue. He who fears suffering is already suffering from what he fears.
Mikasa almost smiles at the utter dread upon Eren's face at the complicated phrase, but as soon as all words are translated the air of tension dissipates. She cannot help but be impressed at the quick attitude recovery from the teenager right as Levi transitions into vocabulary recitations that sound almost melodic. A part of her desires to stay and absorb the sickeningly smooth rolling of R's that tickle at the unseen corners of her mind, but the priority of her own studies haul both feet towards the privacy of another room.
Heureux, triste, peur… The syllables remain foreign as they fade from her earshot, yet from enunciation alone, Mikasa somehow understands that Levi is naming a myriad of emotions. The detached quality she has come to expect of him suddenly scatters, chased away by a deliverance of sentiments that eventually – and gently - collide with the insipid depths of her psyche.
Within unembellished walls she attempts to concentrate on descriptions of metabolic processes, but every mention of beta-oxidation and glycolysis is accompanied by a curiosity of how the complex terms would sound in his native language.
It's obvious that you are related. Levi says dully to her as he departs just before dinnertime. He's just as much of a brat as you are.
Deal with it. She shuts the door with purposeful harshness, certain that her brother will soon decry her choice of this intolerable tutor to her face. The expression that greets Mikasa when she returns to the living room, however, is far from hostile.
I like this guy. The grin on Eren's face is almost unfathomable. He's hard to read and pretty crass, but you know he really cares. A lot like how you are, actually.
Words of disagreement threaten to form in her throat, but she knows he's right.
Every afternoon the two of them replicate the journey from one end of campus to the apartment, footsteps never quicker or wider than those of the previous day. Gradually, their conversations lengthen, though the sentences are mostly spoken with few inflections supplementing even the most dramatic of narratives.
Five days into the early tutoring sessions, Levi admits to her that he prefers the local airfield on weekends, for that is where he can pilot solo voyages as a form of escapism.
Flight is freedom. He declares like the philosophers of old. La liberté.
Give me liberty or give me death. She cites an actual passage of old.
Too harsh and direct of a message…I prefer them more subliminal. Oddly, he does not restrain his own brutal honesty. Plus, I'd rather be given l'amour over la mort. Love over death.
To Mikasa's paranoia the second set of words virtually sounds like a request, so she refrains from speaking the rest of the way, and Levi does the same - almost.
Merde. She thinks she hears him murmur to the side when the silence finally becomes awkward.
Contrary to her initial doubts, her classmate proves to be just as tough as her – if not more so - towards her brother, and Mikasa finds that she enjoys the way they constantly banter about syntax and conjugations, because Eren somehow learns the most when he is aggravated.
You should be using passé compose not imparfait here. Reproaching phrases of similar structure dominate Levi's speech throughout each tutoring session. And cluttered marks of red – used to correct rather than to reward, like their AE professor does – curate plans of reconstruction upon each of Eren's worksheets, for the meticulous one never misses a single grammatical error or misplaced accent.
On Wednesday evenings, she hands Levi new stacks of papers to run through a copying machine, grudgingly allowing for him to collect her detailed notes as his own. Whenever he returns them the next afternoon he always watches her with a strange gaze, but she has no idea why.
Weeks pass by without consequence, other than the inexplicable thumping of her heart every time she finds him waiting for her by the Student Union.
MATH 3015 becomes Mikasa's bane of existence come mid-April, as an uncharacteristic misprint within her notes causes her to fail an entire test. In the midst of her hyperventilation the semi-charitable professor allows for a second chance via an original makeup exam, but You must "Ace" it to maintain your top position in the class, he stipulates with an unsolicited tease while setting a date for the week after.
Her footsteps home become swifter on that afternoon, forcing Levi – who has slightly shorter legs – to keep up by way of jogging. There is now little time to waste in order for her to relearn all the information accurately, and thus when they arrive, she barely even greets Eren before diving into the stillness of her room.
Two nights of vigorous reviewing later her mind begins to somersault into a chasm of numbers, and Mikasa decides she's entirely too exhausted to conduct the usual politeness routine of seeing Levi to the door. He can let himself out becomes her last thought of the day before most senses blackout and one cheek flattens against the unfriendly desk surface.
Moments later, she thinks that there is the faint farewell of I'm leaving, followed by fingertips lingering against her hairline and a whispered mon amour - but she's unsure. She is only certain that an eventual coverage of warmth around her torso makes her dream of Levi, for the same temperate heat visits her whenever he is close in proximity these days.
I put a blanket over you last night, sis. You looked cold in your sleep. Eren only fuels her slight disappointment the next morning.
As the dreaded math exam looms closer, Mikasa finds that her eyelids can no longer sustain themselves even during the day. The morning of her reckoning, she dozes off during Aerodynamics for the first time ever, finally unable to withstand the monotonous Powerpoint colors that provide no relief for her fatigue. She knows that Levi is watching her and that her transcripts are still the key to Eren's success, but with endless math theories plaguing her mind, she can only succumb.
The bell rings to signal the end of class, and Mikasa regains consciousness to the sight of fully-inscribed notebook pages, the weary script of her half immediately followed by the perfection of Levi's, who apparently helped her complete her botched task for the day.
You now owe me dinner after tonight's lesson as well, Mademoiselle. He writes at the very end, and she almost crumples up all the precious notes then and there.
Ironically, the motivation burning from that instant is what gets Mikasa through the makeup exam later that afternoon. And when she reads the last question, she sighs with relief that Ace shall remain Ace.
The meal of udon and croquettes she conjures up that night seems substantially more delicious than usual, for thoughts of her salvaged math grade serve as the most ideal seasoning of all. Mikasa hardly pays mind when Levi does not give his own commentary on her culinary skills, even though he had requested the extra seat at their table. The contents of his bowl are totally consumed, and for her that's all that matters.
You know, I make a damn good crème brulee. He does not hesitate to boast when he recognizes the lack of a prepared dessert. But you don't seem to have most of the ingredients for it.
I've always wanted to try that, sis! Can we go buy ingredients right now? Puppylike eyes once again beckon her with their usual radiance. Mikasa wants to tell him that they are already out of their food budget for the week, but the words hesitate to fall in the presence of their volatile guest.
I already brought everything. Before her heart is able to divulge concern Levi declares with a shrug, allowing the plastic bag containing heavy cream, extra eggs, and blowtorch to appear in his hands like magic. She can only flush as Eren's howls of excitement echo in their limited space, but she follows them back into the kitchen nonetheless, not wanting to miss the imminent spectacle.
There is marvel, scolding – as Eren almost causes a downright fire - even hints of laughter when the three of them eventually crisp the surface of the confections together. And Mikasa thinks for a moment that this must be what family feels like.
But once Levi reprimands against Eren's preferred blowtorch temperature for the twentieth time, the youth audibly grumbles.
Faites-vous des amis prompts à vous censurer, Eren. He states his usual counsel. Befriend those who would be quick to criticize you.
She cannot help but wonder who he is actually speaking to, but the curiosity vanishes as soon as Levi indifferently spoons a sample of their creation into her mouth. The saccharine mixture of crunch and custard feels like pure heaven against her taste buds, and as the tip of her tongue swirls outward to collect any leftover sweetness, she notices how his eyes possess a vague hunger while pursuing every shift of her lips.
Just have some of your own if you want it so badly. She dares to point out.
Thin eyes, evidently caught off-guard, glance behind him at an ecstatic Eren, who is thoroughly relishing every bite of his share and grinning back at them both.
Merde. There is that same hiss to the side before he stuffs his own mouth, and she isn't sure what to make of the moment.
Levi volunteers to clean up after, scrubbing countertops and pots until they are practically mirrors to his attentive visage. Leaning against the kitchen entryway, Mikasa observes his strange compulsion towards removing even the slightest hints of stains, now understanding why his tie is always so terribly pristine.
Thank you. The words are still a struggle to utter when she finally – reluctantly - escorts him out for the evening.
Merci. Levi corrects, turning to face her with a casual glance just as he crosses the threshold. You might as well learn some words, too. You couldn't help Eren yourself, after all…
Merci beaucoup. Mikasa slams the door as she delivers the more complex variety of the phrase, once again incensed by his ongoing assumptions of her incompetence. Her thoughts race through the years of toil just to keep Eren and herself sheltered and educated, as well as all the lecture notes she has already sacrificed as repayment for this particular predicament. Her own pride permits neither room nor patience in her heart for such arrogance, she finally decides.
…je suis désolé, Ace. His apology sounds from behind the wood just as she stomps away. She almost halts, but no forgiveness follows.
The next morning Mikasa receives her first ever confession letter, a nervous scribble of poetry from someone who evidently does not major in literature. But the words from Jean Kirschstein, who sits close to her in PHYS 2124, are nonetheless endearing, so when she gets to the request of joint afternoon tea at the end, she feels convinced enough to accept.
I am not walking home with you today. She announces to Levi later in the middle of diagramming boundary layers and vortexes, also marking the first time she speaks to him since their clash. Just knock and Eren will let you in.
Is this because of what I said last night? He questions flatly, arms folded a bit tighter than usual.
No, it's because I have a date.
The silence that ensues between them is somehow deafening.
How was it? Eren does not hesitate to interrogate when she returns the same evening, and Mikasa perceives the same question in the blue eyes neighboring his greens.
It was wonderful. Incroyable. She smiles in victory after tossing out part of her own limited French vocabulary, choosing to neglect the awkward conversations and nervous laughter that had taken place earlier in between sips of tea.
The flash of discontent she detects from Levi is oddly savory.
He still waits for her the few walks thereafter, but any exchanges of dialogue are strained at best, and they no longer stride side-by-side past viridian lawns and bricked buildings. Back at home the lessons continue just outside of a locked door, yet she makes the conscious choice to immerse in textbooks and the musical utopia budding from her headphones instead.
Each evening, Levi lets himself out.
The subsequent Tuesday, Jean makes the random decision to pick her up after AE 2050. When his hand daringly reaches for hers Mikasa does not reject it, and they wander into the hallway in a feigned play of two lovebirds, with the eyes of a single crow staring down their departure. Thankfully, giving Jean the blessing of her touch also helps him remain oblivious to any noises around them, for a clear provocation soon takes place.
I guess I'll just walk to your place by myself from now on. Levi calls from behind.
Oui. She shouts back, already missing him.
Jean is lovely, and intelligent, but Mikasa fails to develop genuine affection throughout their attempts at courtship. She knows she is using him as an excuse to not return home until dinnertime, and once that realization hits full force she decides that she must be fair, not cruel. So they amicably break up two weeks after that first handholding session, with promises to remain friends and PHYS 2124 study pals. But despite it all, Mikasa continues the stubborn charade of inaccessibility, choosing to hide out in the campus library on a daily basis until she is certain Levi no longer lingers under her roof. Their only encounters now manifest in those dual sets of 45-minute sessions, yet words and looks seldom transpire between them, while notes are transferred without any kind of discussion. Only the feeble scratching of her pencil communicates the existence of any residual connection – she is still writing for the both of them - but even that is constantly overwhelmed by the dull soliloquies of their lecturer.
Did something happen between you and Levi? Eren finally asks between bites of rice on one mid-May evening.
No.
I never see you two together any longer. Her brother's disclosure makes their relationship sound uncomfortably intimate. And he only speaks to me like a boring tutor these days - no more insensitive jokes, no more random French curses, no more sweeping quotes about life lessons…I actually liked those-
Maybe he is just tired of teaching your bratty ass by now. Mikasa crams cabbage into his mouth with chopsticks, not wishing to hear another word on the topic. Finals are coming up - have you brought your grades up enough?
Yowsh. Eren nods, teeth gnashing through the pale leaves. Tha teasher saysh that I shuuld end ahp wish a C+.
Good, then tell Levi you won't need any more tutoring after next week. She says with some relief, though disappointment soon dominates. And even if I ask you questions - don't talk with your mouth full.
The semester's end arrives in late May, when the leaves hovering outside of the lecture hall windows finally regain their lushest hues and help salute the conclusion of sleepless grinds. Within her AE seat Mikasa thumbs through 142 total pages of words and diagrams, herself in disbelief that one subject matter had generated so much content. Just as she completes the perusal the clumsy professor heads towards them again, hands waving a pair of exams with the most enthusiasm she has seen yet. Even from afar she can decipher the multiple red stars upon both front pages, all serving as mere decoration for the giant "100%"s written across the blank space across the tops.
The brat passed? Levi watches the same scene but goes off-topic instead, muttering the first words shared between them in days.
He passed. She hides the pleased smile that almost escapes. He will graduate.
I guess my work is done, then.
And so is mine. Her statement is sprinkled with a pang of remorse as the perfect score lands in front of them both, marking the successful yet official end of a tumultuous partnership.
Merci beaucoup. He prudently folds this latest proof of his brilliance, as if humbling himself in front of her for once. For your impeccable notes.
Mm.
You never looked at those papers very closely after I returned them to you, did you?
The unusual question catches her by surprise, but Mikasa taps her temple to emphasize an honest and somewhat haughty response.
I only have to skim every time, you know. Most of it is already up here.
Ah… Levi scoffs to himself, adjusting his tie in the same habitual manner, albeit more uneasily. The subsequent noise of his chair's backward shift almost conceals his next words, for they are barely audible.
I was a damn coward, after all…les vrais paradis sont ceux que nous avons perdu...
Huh? The string of syllables moves far too fast for her mind to even process one portion.
There is no additional explanation as he stands, but not before coarse fingers acquire hers for the first time and the last.
Au revoir, Mikasa.
The handshake is firm and final, so she only nods while training both eyes downward at her organized bag of books. Melancholy surfaces within at unprecedented speed, fully activating those alien sentiments of regret and longing that she has refused to acknowledge for weeks. When the last hint of their contact stretches away Mikasa almost makes a desperate grab to retrieve his enchanting touch, but he is already out the door by the time her reflexes recover.
Her back crashes against the couch as she collapses into its softness, all 142 pages of notes still held within an aching embrace. Unaware of the cloud of turmoil floating above her, Eren moseys over and pilfers the top few sheets for himself, attempting a preview of what he may encounter next year.
Well, I now know what I'm not going to major in. Her brother's tone is one of increasing disgust as he digests line after line of foreign concepts. His keen sense of observation does not lose its usual prowess, however, and before long there is confusion regarding some rather unusual discoveries.
Why do you underline random letters in your notes, sis? Especially all the 'j's…oh, and even some apostrophes.
The momentum that boosts Mikasa's vertebrae upward comes straight out of the class examples signifying thrust combined with lift. She rips the stolen pages from Eren's hands, eyes immediately giving thorough inspection to what she had apparently overlooked time and again. Levi's words from earlier in the day also bash against her conscience like Thor's Hammer, each blow a boisterous reminder that every time he returned her notes, he also returned those looks - of expectation.
She had been foolish to not look back, to not look closer.
Some scrambling of limbs over furniture later she is back in her room, spilling out all the scribed papers across the carpeted floor but still careful to maintain their chronological order. As Eren knocks upon her door with worry she requests privacy, for her mind must concentrate on this ultimate study – perhaps the most crucial review of all.
Slowly but surely, whatever is underlined become the only items in continual focus within her vision, dwelling in clarity that guides her towards overdue truths. Mikasa can only shudder as she mentally assembles the highlighted letters in sequence; each grouping spells out affectionate phrases he apparently always failed to say aloud like j'adore and je t'aime, all followed by m-i-k-a-s-a, or its occasional replacement of a-c-e.
He always preferred more subliminal messages. The recollection nearly shatters her.
Unable to locate him for the rest of the week, Mikasa treks to the airfield first thing Saturday morning.
When she enters the correct hangar, as pointed out by the entrance guards, she finds Levi vigorously cleaning the flawless surface of a Cessna 162 upon a step ladder. Green, blocked letters forming Les Ailes de la Liberté run across both sides of the aircraft's pointed nose, reaffirming the independence he so cherishes. Though his back faces her, his movements reduce in speed with each step she takes towards him, and their eyes finally partake in a belated meeting once she places a palm against the structured tail. Between the muted trading of joy, relief, and anxiety, Mikasa finally begins to understand the Laws of Attraction so tediously studied in PHYS 2124.
Les vrais paradis sont ceux que nous avons perdu. From below, she reiterates his previously incomprehensible phrase with eloquence, as Eren has helped her practice it numerous times just to prepare for this moment. True paradises are those we have lost. Right, Levi?
Rien ne pèse autant qu'un secret – nothing weighs as much as a secret, Mikasa. Levi hops down unto ground level before approaching her with a dose of suspicion, as if still hesitant to fully unveil everything in her presence.
When? When did it all start? There is irrepressible pleading in her voice, for she has cursed her own obliviousness for the past few days.
The first time you walked into class, when your face was still pink from the cold and half hidden behind your red scarf. Sensing the possibility of her reciprocation, he divulges his opening impression without hesitance. You had snowflakes all over your messy hair, and for the first time in my life I found myself drawn to something…still in such disarray.
As mind blowing as the revelation is, Mikasa can only chuckle at his own description of his compulsions.
He looks to the side, unable to meet her eyes. And as you probably know by now, I'm always either too blunt, or not blunt enough.
Let me be the blunt one this time, then. She wraps fingers around the knot of his tie in a rare act of initiative, towing his mouth towards hers at a velocity rivaling the most pressured of downstreams. As soon as their lips make contact he probes for hers to open, and – after dimly remembering the type of kiss supposedly native to his culture – she obliges.
He tastes like a paradise lying even beyond the heaven of crème brulee, though it is a similar mixture of rigid countenance and the sweet freedom underneath. The combination fashions a dangerously perfect vision of their future, where fondness dwells in the midst of endless intellectual arguments, raucous family dinners, and evening walks along the picturesque streets of his homeland. When their tongues finally untangle after an eternity his forearms are linked tightly around her lower back, now ready to chaperon her into his world – one unrestricted by any scientific theories or apartment walls.
Come, mademoiselle. With gentleness, Levi leads her towards the plane's passenger side. Let me show you what college cannot teach.
[Fin]
A/N: There is now an alternate scene in Levi's POV for one particular part as well. Since FF does not allow me to link it - please leave a review or send me a message for where to access it!