As Levi settled onto the plush cushions of the couch with a languid sigh, Leo quietly departed, leaving the two of us in the stillness of the evening. The weight of our earlier conversation still hung heavy in the air, and a desperate need to understand him, to truly grasp the depths of his suffering, compelled me to speak.

“Can we talk more, Levi?”

“I need a drink for that,” he replied, his gaze fixed on the far wall.

What?

He has been sober for months. And he is wounded, still healing.

“Levi, absolutely not. You cannot drink right now. You’ve just taken painkillers and antibiotics,” I stated firmly.

“Firstly, Raphael,” he corrected, with a hint of his old sardonic amusement, “I was an opioid addict, not an alcoholic. My sobriety from alcohol was, in all honesty, more of a prolonged experiment in self-control. Secondly, the painkillers Leo administered are not narcotics either. At worst, the combination might induce a mild palpitation. So, if you would be so kind, please fetch me a single malt scotch and a bar of dark chocolate.”

“Absolutely not, Levi. There is no way I am bringing you alcohol, at least not right now. You can consider it again once your stitches are fully healed and you are no longer one fever spike away from a potential infection. However,” I conceded, a small compromise in the face of his stubbornness, “I can bring you chocolate.”

“Good enough,” he conceded, a hint of petulance in his tone. “At the very least, bring me chocolate chip ice cream then.”

Gods, this sweet fiend. Chocolate chip ice cream it is. I walked to the kitchen, the cool tiles a welcome sensation under my bare feet, and retrieved the requested tub from the freezer. Damn, he certainly has expensive tastes, even in frozen desserts. These artisanal ones cost a fortune, don’t they? Even the cardboard tub feels strangely luxurious in my hand. I grabbed two spoons, and made my way back to the couch. I sat down slowly and carefully, mindful of his stitches and the fragile peace we had tentatively reached. Then, with a soft sigh, I opened the tub, offering him the first spoonful.

As he languidly took the offered spoon, a childlike pleasure flickering across his features, he said, “Ask me about specifics, Raphael. There are countless tales, each more grotesque than the last. Or, of course, you are still permitted to delve into the horrors within the ‘yellow’ files in my study.”

“I… I did read one of those yellow files, Levi,” I confessed, the memory still a visceral knot in my stomach. “Those pictures… they will remain etched in my mind until the day I die. But I asked about the noblewomen, and now about your wedding night, not just for the sake of understanding their suffering, but because… I want to know more about you, Levi. About the experiences that shaped you.”

“If you are under the misguided impression, Raphael, that my fundamental nature, this intricate tapestry of my being, is solely a consequence of childhood trauma, then you are profoundly mistaken,” Levi stated, his voice firm, brooking no argument.

“No, you idiot. That’s not what I meant at all. Just… just quell your skepticism for a fleeting moment,” I retorted, exasperated but determined.

“Great. At least we have finally navigated that bridge,” Levi conceded, a hint of relief in his tone before his gaze drifted upwards, sifting through the past. “My stories, the realities I faced, are fundamentally different from the experiences of many of those women, obviously due to the differences in our gender and the societal expectations placed upon us. However,” he continued, a somber note entering his voice, “there was a profound understanding that bound us together. We were all, in our own ways, drowning. The water surrounding us was burning our lungs, consuming us from within. We all understood that. Faced with that shared agony, we chose to swim, to fight for any semblance of air.”

A treacherous bridge indeed, navigating his defensiveness is always a delicate dance. But the image he paints now… drowning in burning water, a shared agony transcending gender.

“So…” I began slowly, trying to fully grasp the weight of his words. “It was a war, but the soldiers didn’t fight for territory or resources. They fought for the very essence of freedom.”

Levi savored another spoonful of his ice cream. “Hm… what other gruesome tale might I pluck from the depths of my memory?”

“You… I mean, in those notes I glimpsed… you wrote that the King… tried to stroke your hair?” I asked hesitantly.

Levi’s lips curled slightly in distaste. “Ah, that monarch swine. It is irrelevant. While his unwanted affection was disgusting, it essentially meant nothing of consequence to me. However,” he continued, his tone shifting, a hint of something darker entering his voice, “I have never actually recounted to you the manner in which my grandfather murdered my father, have I? You only learned of the bare fact after that… rather intense confrontation at the cabin.”

“Yes… you never told me the full story until it was almost too late, until the confrontation at the cabin,” I murmured, the memory still sharp.

Levi’s gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, his voice flat. “To be candid, it was never a tale I deemed particularly interesting. While I held respect for my father, my grandfather did not share that sentiment. He viewed Orion as weak, a perception I never understood. I assume that, over time, my affection and obedience towards my father were seen as… misguided. It is ultimately impossible for anyone to truly grasp the motivations of that monster. Not that it matters now. According to the fragmented notes we retrieved from that wretched cabin, they shared some form of camaraderie. My father, even created a simplified language for my grandfather to explain the cosmos – the stars, the celestial bodies, the ancient myths. I will never know the true extent of their… ‘friendship.’ Grandfather, in his own warped way, confessed us that his act was one of mercy, because my father was not like ‘us.’ Meaning, my father possessed a warmth, an emotional depth, that we… lack. And he did. The details of his death remain shrouded; his funeral was a closed casket affair. Whether Grandfather choked him with a pillow, or snapped his neck, or – if he possessed a fleeting moment of mercy – even simply put a bullet through his head… I still do not know. There was never an autopsy, of course. Even the King himself lived in fear of The Conqueror so the entire affair was swiftly hushed up. I only managed to piece together fragments of the truth years later, during one of the rare and volatile arguments between my mother and my grandfather. Ah, the things that monster did to her… that was nothing short of systematic torture. Pure and simple. I assume his cruelty towards her stemmed from nothing more than her being a woman. After all, since a noblewoman could not inherit a title in her own right, she was merely a pawn to be married off to secure the lineage.” His voice trailed off.

The complexity of those relationships, the layers of dysfunction and horror, are staggering. A closed casket funeral. The truth buried along with his father, the questions lingering, unanswered.

“I… about your father… and the Conqueror,” I began, the words catching in my throat. “I never truly understood why he would do that. That disgusting monster… he extinguished perhaps the one person who genuinely tried to connect with him, and that person wasn’t even his own son…”

Levi finally shifted his gaze from the ceiling, his eyes sharp and cold. “Who can truly fathom the twisted machinations within the mind of that monster, Raphael? A military genius, and do not for a single moment think that his strategic brilliance was hampered by any intellectual deficiency; he could barely read, it's true, but he was a monster in his own right. He fought on the front lines of every single war he initiated. Every single one. And he won every single one through one fundamental principle, Raphael. He derived pleasure from it. Fun. And he had no intention of ever allowing that fun to end.”

Fun. The word echoes in my mind, stripped of all innocence.

“It’s not impossible to grasp that there might be a… symmetry between you and him, Levi. Is that… the same kind of ‘fun’ for you?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “He called me an even greater predator than he ever was. I can only assume… he was right.”

“No, Levi, no. You are not a sadist like him. We both know that with absolute certainty,” I insisted, my voice firm.

“No, I am not,” he affirmed, a subtle shift in his demeanor. “The pain of others elicits no flicker of emotion within me. However,” he continued, a detached tone entering his voice, “from a purely objective standpoint, I think… what he meant was this: he waged his wars with blood and guns, with brute force. I, on the other hand, fought my battles with whispers and information. It is a form of power he could never even begin to fathom. I think… that is what he truly meant. The hound he trained, me, ultimately surpassed his capabilities.”

The hound surpassed its master, not in bloodlust, but in a more subtle, intellectual dominance.

“In surpassing him, you also consciously chose a different path, a different method of wielding power, even if some underlying drive for control, for impact, remained?” I pressed, seeking further clarity.

Levi scoffed. “Power? Please, Raphael. I have always possessed power, an ever-growing tide that swelled larger with each passing day. I could have languished for the entirety of my existence, and I would still be a Duke, my personal fortune dwarfing the King and Queen’s coffers combined. No, this isn’t about the crude pursuit of power. Let me offer you a different perspective. When you lack the vibrant tapestry of emotions that you experience – or even if you possess them, they are muted, like viewing the world through a thick, obscuring fog – you inevitably seek direct indulgences. For me, that lies in the act of solving puzzles. The clean feeling of satisfaction upon completion, the intellectual amusement derived from the process itself. That, Raphael, is what we often refer to as ‘fun.’ Our existence, is boring. Utterly, crushingly boring. And mind you,” he added, a hint of weary resignation in his voice, “there is a significant chasm between my intellect and my grandfather’s primitive understanding. I can logically assume that my capacity for boredom is even greater than his ever was.”

“You are not an easy man to understand, Levi. And it’s not solely due to your neurodivergence. It’s the sheer scale of your intellect and influence. I mean… who could truly claim to fully grasp the workings of a mind like yours? I am trying to piece together the puzzle that is you. And yes, while it’s challenging for me, I can only imagine it’s not an easy existence for you either.”

I did not voice the crushing memory of the months prior, yet the boredom that had driven him to that desperate edge sat between us like a monument.

Levi began to eat his now slightly softened ice cream, his gaze softening ever so subtly as he spoke. “Forgive my perhaps overwhelming intellect, then, Raphael. But the fundamental thing I wish for, the core desire that drives me – call it want, need, yearning, any verb your rich emotional vocabulary provides – is not understanding. I am acutely aware that true comprehension between us is a near impossibility for both of us. No,” he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, a rare vulnerability coloring his tone, “I… simply wish for acceptance, Raphael. Truly, deeply, without reservation.”

It's not about comprehension, then, but about… allowing each other to be, without judgment, without the constant need to translate or explain. Maybe that's the key. Not to bridge the unbridgeable, but to simply stand on our own shores, acknowledging the existence of the other, accepting the differences without demanding they be erased.

“Then yes, Levi,” I affirmed, a sense of peace settling over me. “We can stop trying to decipher each other like complex, endlessly frustrating puzzles, and simply… be. Accept each other, just as we are.”

“I do accept you, Raphael, even with your rather dramatic reaction when you realized that magnificent cape was crafted from genuine fur,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Shut up,” I retorted, a playful jab at his arm. “Also, that reminds me. What in the seven hells did you ever do with that picture? You know the one. Me, looking ridiculous in that crown and that cape.”

“Ah, that glorious masterpiece,” Levi chuckled, taking another spoonful of ice cream. “My initial intention was to commission a renowned portrait artist to immortalize that moment in a grand oil painting, complete with an ornate gilded frame for my study. However, anticipating your inevitable violent objections and likely dismemberment of said artwork, I opted for a more… discreet approach. The original photograph, in all its regal beauty, is currently residing in a rather elegant silver frame, nestled safely in the second drawer of my study desk.”

“So, it’s your little secret treasure, is it? Something you pull out on lonely nights for… private contemplation?” I asked, raising a teasing eyebrow.

"Not exclusively reserved for the solitude of night, my dear Raphael," Levi replied. "If that particular photographic masterpiece possessed the unfortunate gift of speech, I assure you, the tales it could recount of my… admiration would likely leave you somewhere between utterly horrified and thoroughly amused."

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Horrified or amused. Knowing Levi, the possibilities were as vast and unsettling as the contents of his study.

“Wait… wait just a damn minute… Did you?” I blurted out, my eyes widening.

“Did I what, my dear Raphael?” he purred, leaning in close.

“My god, you perverted, utterly shameless ass,” I hissed, bewildered amusement bubbling up within me, “did you actually… did you masturbate to that picture?”

Levi smirked, and leaned back against the couch.

I need to burn that picture. Immediately. And possibly bleach my brain. But… a tiny, traitorous part of me… is also a little bit… amused? It's so beyond the pale, that it circles back to being almost funny.

“I am burning that picture,” I declared.

“Please do, dearest,” Levi replied, his smirk widening. “I, however, possess the digitized version, safely backed up on the cloud. Ah, the delightful possibilities that would unfold if you were to commit such an act of photographic immolation. Perhaps I might even have it printed as a rather… striking wallpaper for our living room. It would certainly be a conversation starter, wouldn’t you agree?”

I blinked, utterly dumbfounded, the image of my crowned and caped likeness plastered across the living room walls momentarily blinding me.

“You… you would not dare,” I managed.

“Wouldn’t I, my dear? Truly?” he murmured, his gaze dropping from my wide eyes to trace the line of my jaw with a finger. “Truly?” he repeated, his voice now a low, seductive purr that sent a shiver down my spine.

Part of me wants to call his bluff, to dare him. But another, more rational part of me knows he’s entirely capable of such a spectacularly petty act. The ice cream is finished. The conversation has devolved into threats of interior design terrorism. Just another Tuesday with Levi.

“No, you absolutely would, you magnificent bastard. But you promise me, right now, that you won't be having any… nocturnal meetings with that particular image of my humiliation,” I insisted, a hint of pleading in my voice despite the playful tone.

“Hm?” Levi hummed, his fingers tracing my collarbone. “I earned that picture fair and square, my dear Raphael. I knelt before you, abjectly begged for it, and you, in your infinite mercy, granted me that boon. I believe I am well within my rights to do with it as I please.”

Damn it. Yes, he had knelt. And begged. And… a rather glorious blowjob had been involved in that particular act of supplication.

“I am embarrassed, you idiot,” I mumbled, my cheeks flushing.

“Is that so, my precious Raphael?” Levi purred, his gaze now intensely focused on my face. “Didn’t your own fingers attempt to take my place in your affections during my extended absence at that dreadful rehabilitation center? Were you not observed rather intimately embracing my pillow, desperately inhaling my lingering scent, my dear? Were you quite so embarrassed then, hm?”

Damn him to the deepest circles of whatever hell awaited us all. Damn his infuriating charm, his relentless, laser-precise teasing, and that unnerving ability he possessed to peel back every layer of my defenses.

“You are a complete and utter asshole, Levi,” I mumbled, the heat in my cheeks intensifying to a full-blown blush as I pressed my hands against my burning face, attempting to shield my mortification.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the couch and, inexplicably, through me. “Ah, my dear Raphael. It is truly… illuminating to witness the full spectrum of your vibrant emotional responses. Although,” he added, a sudden shift in his tone, a hint of something almost… sheepish? “I do have a confession to make. I did not, in fact, engage in any… nocturnal activities with that particular photograph. I simply… looked at it.” He casually shrugged.

The manipulative, silver-tongued asshole!

To give the devil his due, he hadn't explicitly admitted to any nocturnal encounters, nor had he outright denied them. No, my own overactive imagination, fueled by his suggestive purrs and smirks, had painted that lurid picture for me. Gods! I am a fucking idiot! Hook, line, and sinker. I swallowed his bluff and his teasing, once again, like the gullible fool I apparently am. Fuck. Damn him and his infuriating games. And damn me for being so utterly predictable.

“What was the reason for all that theatrics then, Levi?”

“Hm,” Levi mused, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he watched the lingering flush on my cheeks. “Well, my dearest Raphael, given my current… immobility, my utter inability to even shift my weight to one side without assistance, I must find my amusements where I can. And frankly, there are few things as delightfully entertaining as witnessing your utterly adorable, and remarkably predictable, reactions.”

My cheeks flushed again, the heat spreading across my face like wildfire. “Can’t you just… give me actual, straightforward compliments, instead of these elaborate teases?”

Levi raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a picture of innocent bewilderment. “But Raphael, I always shower you with compliments. What aspect of my meticulous framing of your… regal portrait was not, in its very essence, the highest form of flattery?”

“Okay, okay, I concede your point. You were being… your version of complimentary, I suppose. But it doesn’t exactly feel good to be played like a fool, Levi. It made me feel… dumb,” I admitted.

“Hm…” Levi mused, a thoughtful expression replacing his usual smirk. “How to untangle this particular knot, then? My dear Raphael, we have navigated our marriage for nearly thirteen months now. How is it that you still haven’t developed a more finely tuned sense for my bluffs? And,” he added, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes, “I must confess, witnessing your adorably flustered reactions provides me with an endless source of amusement, so I have absolutely no intention of ceasing that particular pastime. However,” he continued, his gaze softening slightly, “on another tack, allow me to offer you a rather straightforward compliment, devoid of any underlying trickery.” He paused for a moment, his eyes drifting, searching for the right words.

“The relentless power of ocean waves crashing against the steadfast coast, the infinite expanse of a clear blue sky meeting the horizon of the earth, or the ethereal way the soft moonlight tenderly touches the edges of the clouds… it evokes a feeling akin to the gentle curve of your lips meeting mine.”

My God, how does he even manage to conjure words like that? The last time he’d attempted anything remotely similar, he’d vehemently declared his utter disdain for quoting books or poetry… So where in the seven hells did that come from? My cheeks are on fire, my chest feels tight, and even my bloody ears are throbbing with heat. Damn his unexpectedly poetic mouth and the way it can turn my insides to mush.

"Well, if that's your idea of a straightforward compliment, I'm almost afraid of the flowery, elaborate sonnets you must have locked away," I mumbled, my gaze drifting anywhere but him.

“Oh?” Levi purred, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Is my dear Pulla suddenly fishing for more compliments? How delightfully predictable.” He crooked a finger, beckoning me closer with a lazy gesture.

My heart was hammering against my ribs, I was certain he could hear it echoing in the room. But despite the embarrassment, despite the predictable nature of my reaction… damn it, I wanted to hear more. So, swallowing my pride, I leaned in, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

He drew near, the scent of melting ice cream and his subtle clean scent filling the space between us. Close to my ear, his breath a soft caress, he spoke in a low, measured tone, each word a carefully placed jewel.

“Before your dawn, even the celestial choirs wept, their harps unstrung with a sorrow they could not name. It was only with your advent, with the radiant bloom of your being upon this earth, that true joy unfurled in the high heavens, a melody discovered. So too, my own existence remained a muted chord until the vibrant resonance of yours intertwined with it.”

His poetic mouth… it had never unleashed such breathtaking verses before.

Painting my very birth as a celestial event, a dawn that brought joy to the heavens? And then, weaving that imagery into our relationship, my existence somehow giving resonance to his own muted being?

I truly thought my heart had reached its maximum velocity, yet here it was, accelerating to an even more chaotic rhythm.

"Where did that even come from?" I breathed, my ear still lingering near his lips, as if hoping to catch the echo of those words. "Levi I know would rather face a firing squad than be caught quoting poetry."

“Oh, my dear Raphael,” he murmured, a hint of his usual amusement returning, “did you actually believe those sentiments were… quoted? Please. I am hardly a pedestrian in the realm of expression.” He paused, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes. “Another one then, if you insist on witnessing the depths of my untapped eloquence. My loyalty to you is akin to inexorable interconnectedness of seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, decades, centuries, and millennia, each bound to the next in an endless, unbreakable chain.”

"So, if I'm understanding correctly," I murmured, still close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, "you're implying that you're stuck with me for all eternity, like the sun and moon in their endless dance?"

“One would think,” Levi replied, his gaze intense, “that my actions over the past months would have rendered such a question… superfluous. You, Raphael, abandoned this man – a man, I might add, burdened with an ego that could eclipse the sun, a veritable pantheon of a god complex, and an ingrained skepticism and distrust towards his fellow… ‘humans’ – not once, but twice. Given that rather compelling history, I would have assumed my unwavering loyalty had been rather unequivocally conveyed.”

“Well, even though your delivery was… characteristically laced with a touch of accusation, still, thank you for saying that, Levi. Hearing those words aloud, even framed with your particular brand of self-awareness, is always… better,” I admitted, a genuine smile finally breaking through.

“Now then, turning the looking glass, hm? Since when has my esteemed husband, ever deigned to acknowledge my humble existence with anything resembling a genuine compliment, rather than his usual, albeit often amusing, repertoire of barbed wit and creatively deployed cuss words?”

The infuriating bastard actually has a valid point. But… what do I compliment? I mean, the universe practically overflows with potential subjects for praise, that’s hardly the crux of this predicament. The real issue lies in unearthing the words that won't sound utterly ridiculous coming from my mouth.

"Despite your constant teasing, you do have a rather... disarming smile when you actually decide to grace the world with its presence," I conceded, the memory of its rare appearance flickering in my mind.

“Ah, let me illuminate your existence with its brilliance once more, then,” he purred. And gods, that smile. Subtle crinkling around the sapphire depths of his eyes, lips curving upward with precision, his lower lip taking on that perfect shape, a serene softening the sharp angles of his eyebrows, all without the slightest hint of teeth. Damn it. In that instant, I understood why it had likely taken him years of practice to perfect such a seemingly effortless gesture. It was a well-rehearsed masterpiece, a silent weapon wielded with lethal charm.

"You should really deploy that particular weapon more often," I suggested. "You might actually find you can get what you want without resorting to all your usual elaborate schemes and manipulations."

“Ah,” he purred, “where would be the amusement in such straightforward tactics? Allow me to present a more… elaborate demonstration, then.”

He subtly leaned back against the plush cushions. This time, the smile that bloomed was an entirely different beast, far more devastating in its complexity. His lips were subtly parted, revealing the faintest hint of pearlescent teeth, the crinkles around his eyes deepened, etched with a knowing amusement. But his eyebrows, instead of the serene relaxation of the previous smile, were drawn together in the merest, most subtle of knits. The effect was both utterly charming and intensely alluring, a potent cocktail of seduction and… was that a hint of pity in those depths? As if he were a god momentarily deigning to find amusement in the clumsy affections of a mortal.

“Was that… an attempt at both seduction and pity, simultaneously?” I asked, my voice a little breathless.

“Pity, my dear Raphael?” Levi scoffed, a hint of genuine disdain coloring his tone. “My sentimental tissue, is devoid of such a… pedestrian emotion. You can perhaps categorize that particular expression as… detached amusement reserved for those unfortunate souls who mistakenly believed it was a prudent decision to allow themselves to be charmed by my undeniably captivating... presence.”

"Well, lucky for you, my dear Levi," I retorted, a wry smile playing on my lips despite the sting of his words, "I find your detached amusement... amusingly infuriating. Keeps life interesting, doesn't it?"

“Ah, my endearingly insecure Pulla,” he purred, his gaze softening ever so slightly, a flicker of something that might almost be… tenderness? “Why must you insist on comparing yourself to those other… humans? They are, for the most part, insignificant insects buzzing around my periphery. You, however, are not. My amusement where you are concerned is… different. It is not detached, my dear. It is simply… amusement.”

"T-Thank you?" I stammered, still trying to decipher the nuances of his amusement. "So, in your grand cosmic hierarchy, does that make me your… favorite bug?"

Levi chuckled, a rumbling that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Since your grasp of the rather… unique tapestry of my affection and attachment to you remains, stubbornly underdeveloped, allow me to offer a truly… morbidly illustrative explanation. For me to engage in any form of physical intimacy with those… bugs, would constitute an act of utter bestiality. The chasm between our respective intellects is so vast, that their cognitive capacity aligns far more closely with that of apes and other primates.”

Makes you feel warm and fuzzy, doesn't it?

“Ew… Levi, gods, what the actual fuck? Ew, ew, ew,” I sputtered, shaking my head vigorously.

“Excuse me,” Levi replied, a perfectly innocent expression gracing his features, “but you did rather pointedly disregard my earlier attempts at both poetic expression and straightforward compliments. So, there you have it. However,” he added, a thoughtful pause, “I do possess a rather extensive repertoire of alternative explanations, should your delicate sensibilities require a less… visceral approach.”

He knows perfectly well I have a strong stomach for most things, but the imagery of him… gods, no.

Why do I even try to understand him? There's no logic, no consistent framework. Just the whims of his bizarre, brilliant, and utterly unsettling mind.

“Shut up! Never, ever utter anything remotely resembling that again, Levi.” I sputtered, my hands flying up to ward off the lingering mental images. "Ew, Levi, just… ew."

“Ah, Raphael, I take it, then, that I have successfully managed to… articulate the rather unique contours of my ‘feelings’ for you in a manner that has resonated, shall we say, memorably?”

I'm going to have to bleach my brain later. And yet… despite the disgust, despite the mental scarring… there's a tiny acknowledgment that he did manage to convey the depth of his… aversion to others, and my distinct position outside of that revulsion.

"Yes, yes, yes, I understood it perfectly, Levi. Crystal clear. And I assure you, I have absolutely no further questions on the precise nature of your 'affection.' Fine. Just… please, shut up about it now."

“Hmph. As you wish,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug, a hint of amusement still dancing in his sapphire eyes, as if the entire grotesque exchange was merely a minor, if somewhat colorful, detour in the conversation.