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“ACHOO!”
You glanced over your shoulder, hands on your hips as you prepared breakfast. “Levi, that’s the fourth time you’ve sneezed since you sat down. Shouldn’t you go see a doctor?” you said.
“It’s springtime,” he said, rubbing his nose.
“So it’s the tail end of flu season, and I would really prefer to not catch whatever it is you have.”
“You won’t. I’m not not sick.”
“There’s a first time for everything. I think you should go see a doctor.”
Levi didn’t respond, giving you a sour expression from where he sat at the table, legs crossed as he sipped on his tea.
“I get it,” you said. “You’ve never been to a doctor before, probably aside from your military fitness exam.”
“I never needed to.”
“I think it speaks more to the conditions in the underground than the fact that you’ve never needed to.”
“I’m serious. I’m sure my mother only used a midwife, if anyone at all, during my birth. I’ve never seen a doctor through my childhood or even adulthood. It’s the norm for people living underground—if you were sick or injured, you dealt with it at home.”
You cracked several eggs in the breakfast skillets next to the ham and potatoes—you knew how he liked them cooked. “You know, the sad part about this is that I believe you.” You turned around as the eggs were cooking, sizzling beautifully in the pan, leaning against the table across from Levi. “But here’s the thing—you don’t live in the underground anymore. You have access to the best doctors available, so I really think you should set up an appointment and go.”
“I’m not interested in paying someone to tell me I have seasonal allergies.”
You made a face, feeling suspicious. “Is that really it? I don’t think you had seasonal allergies last spring or even the one before.”
“The weather is particularly warm this year.”
You chuckled to yourself. “And the flowers are extra vicious with their pollen now, is that right?”
“You laugh, but I don’t see you sneezing.”
“That’s because I’m not sick.”
“Neither am I.”
“But allergies? Really? Maybe the pollen isn’t as vicious as you think.”
Levi glared at you, even setting down his teacup to make it more intimidating.
You grinned at him, tilting your head to the side apologetically. “I’m sorry,” you said with a small laugh. “I shouldn’t make fun of you; you probably feel miserable right now.”
Instead of responding, he sneezed again. He covered his mouth with his arm, the motion so sudden that his head was thrown back. “ACHOO!” In fact, he sneezed so hard that the chair legs scraped against the floor.
“Well, at least you know how to sneeze into your arm. That’s pretty impressive for someone who’s never been to a doctor.” You turned back around to tend to your eggs. “Speaking of which, I really do think you should go.”
“If I say I’ll go see the doctor, will you leave this topic alone regardless of what he says?”
You shrugged. “I can’t make promises I can’t keep, but I won’t burn your eggs if you agree to go.”
“I can live with burnt eggs. I’d rather you learn to mind your own business.”
Levi had issues with relationships that he wasn’t willing to admit. You’d been together for a few years now, having survived the Titan invasions. Now that they had been eradicated, your lives changed—for the better, you thought. There were no longer food shortages, and the hopes of the people had grown immensely, the thought of freedom on the island a grand notion after years of unknowingly being prisoner to the walls.
Still, while you adored him, realizing that Levi had his soft moments, he was also stubborn. He did not adapt well to change, voicing his opinions without reserve whenever he felt the need to be critical. For someone who performed so well on the battlefield, a soldier so flexible and quick-witted, he sure liked to complain.
He had his quirks, but so did everyone else.
You felt bad sometimes because growing up in the underground could not have been easy on him. It was a miracle, really, that he was as spry as he was for his age. Those who dwelt too long in the darkness grew ill and often died young, their legs giving way to the lack of nutrition and sun.
But for whatever reason—genes or luck—he survived the depths of the underground, only to be welcomed to the surface for his skills. You considered yourself fortunate to have met him in the Scouts.
You removed a skillet from the flame with a thick cloth, placing it in front of Levi at the table. You were the one responsible for cooking in this relationship, as he had no talent or desire for it, and you didn’t mind. He seemed to enjoy your food, and any affirmation from him made your heart flutter with joy.
“You know I’m nosy because I care, right?” you said. “At least, I hope you do.”
Levi took a breath, watching you as you set your own skillet on the table. “I know,” he said. “Insufferable as you can be, I appreciate you.”
“So does this mean that you’re willing to schedule an appointment with the doctor? I know him. He lives right down the street, and he’s seen me since I was a little girl. He’s a nice fellow whose family has owned the practice for generations—you can trust him to treat you well.”
He exhaled in an exaggerated manner. “Fine. If it makes you happy, I’ll go.”
“Really?” You mustered the most sincere expression that you could. “That does make me happy—and relieved, too. Thank you, Levi.” You sat down across from him. “Please eat. The doctor takes walk-ins sometimes when he’s not too busy, so maybe we can slide you in this afternoon.”
“We?”
“Oh, you’re right. You’re a grown-ass man. You can go by yourself. I was just so excited to introduce you to the neighborhood doctor. Besides, I don’t want you to feel nervous about your first visit.”
He scowled. “You said it yourself. I’m a grown-ass man. I think I can handle a doctor—ACHOO!”
You had to stifle a laugh. “Well, I just thought someone should be there in case the doctor wants an opinion that varies from ‘I’m not sick!’”
He wiped his nose with a napkin. “You’re not coming.”
“That’s fine, but you have to promise you’re going to be open to whatever diagnosis he makes. If you just shrug it off in favor of your allergy verdict, there’s no point in going.”
Levi began picking at his food as he usually did. “What makes you think I’m going to ignore the diagnosis? I’m seeing the doctor because I want you to quit worrying about me.” His expression softened as he brought his gaze up to meet yours. “It’s not going to be effective if I don’t take it seriously.”
“Well, I’m glad you take me seriously,” you said, spreading a napkin over your lap.
“Hm.” He set his fork down, grasping his teacup from around the rim, and took a sip. “I don’t have a choice. If I didn’t—ACHOO!”
You stood, noticing that his tea had spilled over the front of his shirt. You passed your clean napkin over to him. “So what were you saying?”
“I think I’ve said enough.” He gave you an unamused look as he dabbed the tea away as best he could and left to change only moments after.
As he walked away, you watched on, wondering what he had started saying before that particularly aggressive sneeze.
