Chapter Two
Lessons
Over the next few weeks, Petra saw very little of the piano instructor. She dropped the children with him in the afternoons and then she was no longer required, and he had always made it a point to say so, so she had sought other activities to amuse herself. Then summer ended and fall arrived, with it went Eren back to school and left Mikasa without her brother.
He had been going to boarding school for some years now, though Petra had not been around for any of them, it did not take long to notice that Mikasa did not like him leaving. She had always been respectful and quiet, though not particularly shy or timid, and when he left there was little to make her smile. Her free time was still spent out on the grounds, with the horses or in the woods, but Petra felt she was lonely. If the stories were correct, they had been found as children together even though they were not biologically related and both of them without parents or known family. But together. And now they were not.
It was no surprise to Petra when Mikasa became ill not two weeks after Eren left. It was cold and she had been out much later than was advised. Mikasa had caught a bit of a cold, Dr. Zoe was the local doctor and had seen to Mikasa promptly and instructed she stay in bed for the next few days. Petra went in to read to her, but the poor girl slept more often than not. Petra would look into finding her some proper friends once she was better. The new stable hand was around her age, though not a traditional playmate and hardly suitable for a young girl, but Petra was never very comfortable with convention.
Petra left Mikasa's room and strolled through the halls. It was cold and rainy that day, hardly appropriate for a walk outside, so she headed for the kitchen where she could borrow a kettle for tea. When she arrived the kitchen maids were just finishing cleaning up.
"I'll take care of the pot and cup." Petra said, to console them of her using their freshly cleaned kitchen. Petra took out the kettle and started to fill it with water. She set it on the stove to warm and pulled her wrap tighter over her shoulders as she maneuvered a stool so she could sit at the counter.
Lulled by the light patter of rain and the slow boil of the water, Petra didn't hear anyone else enter the kitchen. She jumped, nearly knocking her seat over, then started to laugh.
"Heavens, you move so quietly." She said, addressing Mr. Ackerman.
He looked around the kitchen quickly. "Did the cook already head to bed?"
"Yes, she has a very early day. Is there something I can help you with?" She offered, cheered at the arrival of company and not caring who.
"I just…" He picked at the edge of his sleeve then seemed to notice and stopped himself. "Is that water for tea?"
"Why, yes it is. Would you like some tea, Mr. Ackerman?"
He cringed. "Don't call me that."
"Whatever else would I call you?" She said with a shake of her head as she grabbed another cup and saucer.
"Levi is fine."
Petra paused. "I couldn't…" Saying his given name felt too intimate. Not that it was unheard of, she had called plenty of people by their given names. It wasn't entirely inappropriate. But when she pictured the name coming from her mouth, she couldn't get it out.
"I'm telling you to." He said. "Didn't you say something about a tendency to be inappropriate?"
"I may have mentioned…" How did he even remember? He hadn't appeared to pay the least bit of attention to anything she said.
"You did. And I'm telling you, I don't answer to Mr. Ackerman if I can help it."
"Fine." She pursed her lips. "You may not call me Petra."
"I didn't plan to." He said and he pulled up the stool, dragging it along the floor, and took the second cup. When she waited to see if he might offer any help in their tea preparation, she was hardly surprised to not receive it. He set his hand on his chin and stared through the window and the rain pouring down the glass. No conversation. No thank you. The impertinence of it, he was determined to put her off and yet she only found his efforts amusing. They slipped into silence while he took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it using a match near the stove. He shook the flame out and tossed the used match into a bin.
Petra wrinkled her nose at the smell. "Does it taste good?"
"What?" He asked.
"Does that taste good? Smoking?"
Instead of an answer he held it out to her, two fingers pinching the sides while smoke wafted from the lit end. Petra hesitated. Of all the things that smoking entailed, she did not expect her first worry to be that the same end of that cigarette had just been between his lips.
She blushed, swallowing. Mr. Ackerman—Levi—was watching her with casual interest while she seemed to debate the choice in front of her. Reaching forward with her head she parted her lips to try it, but he flinched backward.
"Just take it." He said quickly, passing the cigarette to her hands. She pinched it awkwardly, unsure how to hold it, and blinked.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" Petra sighed. "Never mind, thank you." She stuck it between her lips and was did not notice the sudden shift of his eyes to her mouth, where the grey seemed almost black. She inhaled lightly and abruptly began to cough as the toxic fumes choked her. Sputtering she handed it back and went to the basin to get some water to her throat.
"That's absolutely horrible." She exclaimed, wiping her lips on the back of her hand. Every breath in she feared she might start coughing again.
"It's an acquired taste." He said, setting it between his lips again. Petra licked hers just as the kettle started to whistle. She turned off the stove and stirred in some tea leaves through the sifter. She poured some into each of their cups and then offered him the sugar.
"It's fine." He said taking a sip. Petra wrinkled her nose, sticking her tongue out slightly. She put a healthy amount of sugar into her own cup then another pinch for good measure. She added a bit of cream and stirred it together, clinking her spoon on the side and then setting it on her saucer.
"Mr…um, Levi." She shuddered. If felt very private to say his name like that and she both hated and embraced the way it felt. "I was wondering if you could give me a few lessons on the pianoforte?"
He paused, tapping the end of his cigarette over his saucer, and not meeting her eyes. "Why?"
"Because I would like to learn."
There was a pause, where she was certain he would refuse, but instead he said quietly, "Fine."
Petra beamed. She finished her tea, not daring to comment on the way he had held his cup—was it a form of snobbishness or was it just another oddity of his character—and then he surprised her entirely by offering to clean up.
"I know how to wash a dish." He said, huffing as she exaggerated her surprise that he do anything bordering on nice. "You made it, I'll clean it. I don't mind cleaning."
"Then I have learned something new about you, I shall add it to the small list I have of what I know about you." Petra teased.
The next day, with Mikasa still stuck in bed, Petra met Levi for her first piano lesson. He had discarded the jacket and had rolled up the sleeves to his shirt, leaving his arms mostly bare. Petra's throat squeezed shut, a little squeak barely escaping. Dressing like that wasn't exactly proper, though she supposed it wasn't scandalous. Though, the way it was making her feel might have been. She was blushing furiously as she sat down on the bench.
He sat next to her, leaving space and she felt her breathing halt. Goodness, what was happening to her? One second she is lashing out him, then she's teasing him, and now she feels no better than a giddy school girl. It was ridiculous and, yet, exhilarating. She felt it in her heart, in her lungs, in her limbs, that alertness and nervous excitement. He set his fingers over the keys and she watched him play for a few seconds while he spoke, probably for instruction, but she didn't catch a word, too busy trying not to smile or giggle.
"Miss Ral?" He said again, harder.
"Hm?"
"The scales I just showed you?"
"Scales?" She bit her lip, fearing that she might be caught mid…what was this even called? The word lust filled her head like a taunting whisper and she quickly blushed and then buried the word deep in her subconscious. This was not some romantic novel. Words like that did not apply to this situation. She was just being silly.
"Are you all right?" He asked, leaning on his fist with his elbow propped on the piano so he could see her face.
"Fine." She blurted.
"Do you really want to learn to play?"
"Yes." She insisted. "Yes, of course I do. I truly do. Please. I want to play the song you played before, the one that made me feel like I could do anything…" She closed her mouth suddenly, looking away.
"What song are you talking about?" He pressed.
"Just…I don't know what it is called, I've never heard it before. It was when I was, well, eavesdropping on your practicing. You were playing something soft and pretty at first, but then it changed and, I don't know, I've never been so affected by a piece of music before."
His mouth fell open then, for the first time looking truly shocked. It was gone just as quickly and he hurried to move the conversation along. "This is the last time I'm showing you. Like this." He ran through a scale quickly and then waited for her to copy.
Petra was breathless, understanding that she had just touched on something that he did not want to discuss. Her mind was spinning through all kinds of reasons for his secrecy, most of them farfetched and fanciful, reasons that made her stomach turn and her cheeks warm. But she placed her hand on the piano and mimicked him as best she could.
"Again." He said.
Petra ran through it again. It was just a simple scale of notes, but it was awkward for her fingers, which she imagined was part of the problem.
He ran through another set, this one a bit harder and waited for her to follow. Petra tried, but her fingers didn't move properly. After two more times he reached out and tried to position her hand correctly. He had hesitated only for a second, but she had noticed, and his touch was so light and fleeting she was pouting when he drew away. She felt cheated.
"Have you ever played before?" He asked, playing absently with his free hand. Show-off.
"I did, but my lessons were cut short I'm afraid." She watched his hand glide over the keys from the corner of her eye. "I had enough lesson in other areas, it wasn't necessary to complete my education. I don't think I have the knack for it anyway. Not the way you do."
He stopped playing. "If I didn't have a talent for it, I wouldn't play at all." He said.
"Why do you say that? Surely you enjoy it. Would you enjoy it less if you had to work harder for it?" She was watching him, but could only see the side of his face. The longer strands of his black hair covered his eyes.
He tapped the keys with one finger. "I don't know. I think I like it because it's so easy. I was never taught how to play. I'm just naturally very good at it."
"And modest, I see." She quirked her lips and she was pleased that his expression lightened.
"It's just fact." He stopped again, looking at her. They were so close, she had forgotten just how close the piano bench put them. She knew she was blushing, but she also couldn't look away. That guarded, bored expression he so often used to hide what she had suspected was always there had shifted. She was seeing through it now, clearly as she saw her own eyes in a mirror, only his weren't large and honey brown, but grey and sharp. It sent her nerves rushing through her.
Petra's lips parted and she felt the room fade into nothing, her world condensing onto one single point and if she had been standing her knees would have gone weak, her heart close to swooning. He was watching her, until his eyes dipped once, ever so quickly, to her mouth. And then she knew. This was not just her.
When he continued to make no move, Petra found herself leaning. Her shoulder bumped his. Her head began to tilt as her eyes started to close. She was completely ready to dive into what the here and now was offering her, without any regard for what would come later.
"Miss Ral?"
She stopped, her eyes fluttering open. "Petra." She offered, wanting to hear him say it.
He nodded and she felt him begin to retreat. First by moving further down the bench. "We've covered enough this lesson." He started to stand, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Petra was left gaping, unsure of what exactly had changed that made him suddenly get up and call the end of the lesson. Maybe she was, once again, being too forward. "Yes. Of course." She said, still a little breathless.
"Uh, you can practice what I showed you on your own for now." That casual confidence had left and he was scrambling backward, reeling. She thought she saw the hint of red on his ears.
"Yes, thank you." She said, standing.
He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze.
"Levi?"
His eyes closed briefly before he answered her. "Yes, Miss Ral?"
She frowned. "I said you may call me Petra."
He nodded again.
"I just want to know…" She chewed her lip. "You will still continue to teach me?"
He finally managed to look up. "You think that's appropriate?"
"I beg your pardon?" She said, eyes going wide.
"I just…" He closed his mouth, then shook his head. "I'll teach you as long as you want me to."
"Good." She said firmly. "Then we have an understanding."
"I don't understand you at all." He said, with a bit of a groan. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, it was the most expressive she had ever seen him.
She walked forward and let the rush of her haywire emotions move for her. She reached up and set the tips of her fingers on his chest. "I think," She said, "I am beginning to understand you, Levi." Then she dipped in and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I very much wish to know more."
There was some feminine thrill in leaving him a speechless statue as she left the room. She delighted herself thinking how long he stood there before he moved. Frozen with that ridiculous look of shock while his ears turned bright red. She felt particularly satisfied with herself for being bold enough to kiss him. Her fingers played with her lips the entire way to her room. They tingled and left a ripple of gleeful warmth throughout her body. There was little she could do to deny it at this point, but she was very much infatuated—for love might still be too strong a word—with Levi Ackerman. Infatuated, enamored, rendered senseless and completely alive. She could not say she was in love with him. But she sensed she was very very close to falling.