Nestled against Levi's chest, the steady beat of his heart a familiar rhythm beneath my ear, I hesitated for a moment before saying, "Okay… compassion and macabre. Let's hear it."

A distinct glint sparked in Levi's eyes, a hint of something both intriguing and slightly unsettling. "Hm… my dearest Raphael, you truly have no comprehension of the path down which you now tread," he murmured, his fingers still gently stroking my hair. "Orcinus orca are, without a doubt, rather fascinating beings. They possess intricate vocalizations, distinct languages, and even regional dialects that differentiate one pod from another. Remarkably, they appear to have individual names. They engage in complex social behaviors, including what could be interpreted as singing and dancing. Pods that share linguistic similarities and maintain close social ties will participate in communal mourning rituals for deceased members and joyous celebrations for new births, extending these observances even to individuals from other pods, other familial units. Their young are primarily educated by the matriarchs, or senior females, of the pod, and this instruction is largely conveyed verbally, rather than through mere demonstration, indicating a capacity for abstract teaching. This suggests the existence of culture – traditions passed down through generations, rather than simply instinctual patterns. They are, indeed, one of the very few species on this planet to exhibit such complex cultural transmission."

He’s painting this incredible picture of a complex, almost human-like society beneath the waves. It’s beautiful, fascinating. And that glint in his eyes… it’s still there. He’s luring me in with the wonder of these creatures, and I have this sinking feeling that the other shoe is about to drop.

"It is incredible, Levi," I murmured, shifting slightly so I could look up at him, a genuine sense of wonder in my voice. "Tradition, dance, language… it's breathtaking. Now," I added, a playful nudge in my tone, "stop purring with fascination and spill the beans on the macabre orca facts you promised."

"Very well, my inquisitive dear. Prepare yourself." He paused for a moment, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Certain pods have been known to actively assist human hunters in the pursuit of whales, effectively herding their larger relatives towards the waiting harpoons. They also display a rather peculiar and gruesome hunting strategy when it comes to great white sharks, targeting them with precision to extract and consume only their livers, leaving the rest of the formidable predator uneaten. Furthermore," he continued, a darker note entering his tone, "there have been increasing reports of orcas attacking human vessels. Intriguingly, the motivation behind these attacks does not appear to be predatory. Rather, it seems to be a form of… amusement, a display of their immense power and perhaps even a form of play. Given their capacity for cultural transmission, these boat attacks have, in some regions, become a veritable 'trend' among certain orca populations, leading to the disconcerting capsizing of numerous tourist boats. And finally, indulging in the lighter side of their cultural nuances, orcas have even been observed engaging in what could only be described as 'fashion trends.' There was a documented instance of a young orca adorning its head with a freshly caught salmon, effectively wearing it as a hat, a behavior that subsequently spread throughout its pod and even to neighboring groups, resulting in a rather peculiar, albeit temporary, 'salmon hat' fashion craze among the local orca population."

Okay, so the purring was a prelude to… this. Brutality and… whimsy. It's like trying to piece together a creature with completely contradictory instincts. He finds it fascinating, I can tell.

"So," I continued, a wry smile touching my lips as I looked up at him, "they're this incredible mix of intelligence, complex social structures, even what looks like grief… and then they're turning on their own kind to help humans slaughter whales and terrorizing boats for kicks? You're right, Levi, I had absolutely no idea. What other delightful surprises do these charming apex predators have in store?"

Levi's smile widened slightly, and he gently placed a finger beneath my chin, tilting my face up so that our eyes locked. "Their intelligence, rivals that of a fifteen-year-old human teenager, Raphael. Their cooperative hunting methodologies are truly captivating to observe. But…" he paused, his eyes glittering, "Would you care to hear more about those undeniably cute sea otters, who, in their endearing way, hold hands while they sleep?"

"I know that look, Levi," I said, a playful suspicion in my voice, narrowing my eyes slightly. "That glint… you're not about to pivot back to the macabre, are you?"

Levi chuckled softly. "Ah, but my dearest Raphael," he murmured, his thumb gently stroking my chin, "you might be surprised to learn that the seemingly innocent sea otters possess a darker side that could rival even the orcas in its… unsettling nature."

"Worse than orcas?" I replied, my voice laced with disbelief, a nervous laugh bubbling up. "You have to be kidding me, Levi. The adorable, cuddly otters? Worse than the apex predators who hunt great white sharks?"

But the smug, knowing smirk that spread across his face sent a shiver down my spine. He wasn't kidding. Oh, gods. What horrors lay hidden beneath that veneer of innocent, hand-holding fluff?

"Are you actually going to ruin sea otters for me?" I asked, a note of genuine dismay creeping into my voice.

"Indeed, my dear Raphael," he confirmed, a hint of wicked amusement dancing in his eyes. "Prepare to have your perception of Enhydra lutris… irrevocably altered."

"Oh my god," I breathed, my initial amusement completely gone, replaced by a knot of anxious curiosity. "What in the seven hells do they do?"

"Once again, my dear Raphael, a delicate tapestry woven with threads of both compassion and the macabre. While river otters do indeed possess the endearing habit of carrying their favorite pebbles with them, tucked securely in their pouches, and mother otters will diligently seek out playful objects like strands of kelp to pacify their young while foraging for sustenance."

Okay, he's not going straight for the jugular. Pebbles? Kelp toys? That's… actually quite sweet. The image of a mother otter carefully entertaining her pups with kelp while she hunts… it's genuinely heartwarming. He's lulling me into a false sense of security, I just know it.

"And the macabre part of the sea otter story?" I asked, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach.

"Ah," he began, his voice taking that clinical tone, "it appears the seemingly idyllic lives of otters are not without their… darker inclinations. Male sea otters exhibit a rather forceful approach to mating, so much so that the females of the species have been documented to succumb to fatal injuries during the process. This forceful coercion often involves the males biting the faces of the females, forcibly pushing their heads underwater to ensure submission. But," he continued, "the depravity does not end there. Male sea otters have also been observed engaging in this same violent, coercive behavior towards younger, non-adult otters as well."

What? No. No way. The adorable, hand-holding… And… towards young otters too? What kind of monster does that? He's right. My perception is irrevocably altered.

"It doesn't end there, does it, you absolute bastard?"

"Of course not," Levi murmured, his voice a low, almost seductive drawl. "These seemingly charming otters extend their… forceful affections beyond their own species. There are documented instances of male sea otters engaging in the same violent, coercive behavior towards defenseless baby seals, an act that almost invariably results in the young seals' deaths."

My stomach is churning. That innocent image, shattered. Ruined. He did it. He actually ruined sea otters for me. I just… feel sick. And betrayed. By the otters. And by him, for telling me.

"What the absolute fuck, Levi? What the hell?" I choked out, my mind reeling from the image he had just painted.

"But," Levi continued, his voice utterly devoid of emotion, "at least the unfortunate baby seals are, initially, alive. Male sea otters also exhibit the rather… unconventional behavior of necrophilia. They have been documented to forcibly mate with female otters to the point of death, and then continue to 'mate' with the lifeless carcass, often fiercely guarding it from the advances of other males. There are, documented cases of this protracted act."

Necrophilia? The hand-holding, the adorable sea otters… this is what they do? The animal kingdom is officially a nightmare disguised as a nature documentary. And Levi? He’s just… fascinated. Utterly, calmly fascinated. No disgust, no shock. Just… information. Processed and relayed with that same detached curiosity he had for the asexual bees. I… I need to scrub my brain.

"Please tell me this is over, Levi," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "Are there no other… well, whatever the hell that was… I swear, I'm going to burn my sea otter pajamas. Fuck…"

Levi considered for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Hm… There are a few other documented behaviors, my dear Raphael, though they lack the… visceral impact of necrophilia. There are instances of male sea otters aggressively stealing food from females with dependent pups. They achieve this by seizing the defenseless pups as hostages, effectively forcing the mothers to relinquish their hard-earned meals as ransom for their offspring's safety."

Hostages? They're supposed to be cute, playful. Holding hands. Not… this.

"Oh my god, Levi…" I whispered, my voice laced with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "Do you derive some strange, perverse satisfaction from systematically shattering every single one of my innocent illusions about the animal kingdom?"

Levi tilted his head slightly. "My dear Raphael, it is not as if I actively orchestrate these… less palatable aspects of animal behavior. It is, perhaps, more a reflection of your own inclination to be charmed by superficial cuteness. Speaking of creatures often perceived as undeniably adorable… pet hamsters have been documented to engage in the rather distressing practice of cannibalizing their own offspring shortly after giving birth, with a rather high degree of frequency."

He's on a roll now, isn't he? As if it's my fault for finding fluffy things appealing. Why is he so intent on showing me all the gruesome bits? Is this his idea of… bonding? By traumatizing me with animal facts?

I burrowed deeper into his chest, wrapping my arms tightly around him. "Levi," I mumbled, my voice muffled against his silk pajamas. "Just… shut the fuck up. One minute we're talking about asexual bees and feminist buffalo, and the next it's… necrophilia and hostage-taking otters? My therapist and I are going to have a very long conversation about all of this."

Levi chuckled softly, the twirling of my hair around his pointer finger. "Ah, Raphael," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice, "would you perhaps care to hear my rather… colorful opinion regarding pandas? It lacks the morbid charm of our previous discussion, but I believe the sheer idiocy of the species might provide a welcome change of pace."

"Idiocy?"

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Indeed," Levi confirmed, a wry smile in his voice. "Pandas are, biologically speaking, carnivores, dear. However, due to what can only be described as laziness, they made the evolutionary decision to switch to a diet consisting almost entirely of bamboo. Given that bamboo possesses virtually no caloric value, these creatures are compelled to consume an astonishing twelve kilograms of it every single day simply to survive. And while their endangered status is often attributed to hunting and habitat loss, one cannot entirely overlook the significant role played by their inherent laziness and general clumsiness. They are so remarkably indolent, my dear, that they frequently fail to even engage in the fundamental biological imperative of mating."

The evolutionary shrug. It's almost… darkly funny. The lazy, clumsy carnivores who just… can't be bothered.

"Do you genuinely believe that, Levi," I asked, tilting my head up to look at him, a hint of suspicion in my voice, "or are you just attempting to soothe my traumatized mind with the image of adorably lazy pandas?"

"I do believe it, my dear," Levi affirmed, his gaze steady. "To be perfectly candid, their inherent laziness is inextricably linked to their nutritionally deficient diet. They exhibit such a profound lack of interest in mating that their human caregivers are frequently compelled to resort to the rather… unconventional method of making them watch artificially stimulating visual material. And even when a panda does manage to produce a cub, their inherent clumsiness and indolence necessitate constant human intervention and handling for the offspring's survival."

He's not wrong, it is idiotic. After the otter horrors, this is almost… a relief. Just… a species seemingly determined to erase itself out of existence through sheer sloth.

"Forced panda porn, Levi? Seriously?" I repeated, a wry smile playing on my lips. "You truly have a knack for finding the most… unconventional perspectives on the animal kingdom, don't you?"

"Raphael," Levi countered, a knowing glint in his eyes, "it appears that pandas are not entirely devoid of their own unique brand of… depravity. There are documented instances of female pandas engaging in the rather cunning deception of faking pregnancy, all for the express purpose of receiving additional treats and an increased allocation of their beloved bamboo."

It’s almost… impressive. And Levi? He’s practically gleeful about this. He loves these little nuggets of animal kingdom absurdity.

"Have you always harbored such a keen interest in the animal kingdom, Levi?" I asked, a genuine curiosity in my voice. "I can't recall you ever speaking about animals with such… depth before."

Levi sighed. "My current domestic arrangements, confined as I have been to the living room couch, have necessitated the exploration of alternative intellectual pursuits, my dear. Given my temporary inability to engage in my sole conventional hobby – baking – I was compelled to seek other… morbid fascinations to occupy my rather considerable cognitive capacity. The sheer volume of research papers I have perused over the past three weeks is, I assure you, quite staggering."

Bored. He was bored. Poor Levi.

"Being stuck on the couch all day must be driving you mad, hasn't it?"

"Indeed," he confirmed, his gaze drifting towards the window. "Given my current inability to engage in my consulting work, nor oversee the operations of my company, coupled with my limited physical capacity beyond recumbence, my mind has found itself in a state of unwelcome… idleness. It is a state it vehemently dislikes. It requires constant stimulation. Consequently, I have found myself devouring countless pages of… various materials to occupy the void."

Just… the couch and his thoughts. No wonder he went down the rabbit hole of morbid animal facts. And since his usual outlets are gone, he turned to… well, whatever caught his interest. Even if it meant traumatizing his very empathetic husband with the sex lives of sea otters.

"It sounds incredibly frustrating, Levi. To have so much… you, just… contained. Is there anything else you've been reading about? Something less… visceral?"

"Hm…" Levi mused, his gaze softening slightly. "Yes, I have also been delving into studies of human behavior. Anthropology and the broader spectrum of human studies have always held a particular fascination for me. After all," he added, a subtle hint of pride in his voice, "the very name of my company, 'Somatol,' is a shortened derivation of somatology, the study of the human body in its entirety, including its physical, psychological, and social aspects."

"Maybe through studying human behavior, you can… well, maybe it will help you understand some of the things you don't quite grasp. Like… why the whale story upset me so much."

"Hm," Levi murmured, his gaze steady. "Logically, I comprehend your sadness and horror regarding the whale incident. My cognitive functions process the information and understand the typical human emotional response to such events. However," he paused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow, "the feeling itself… that remains absent. Allow me to offer an analogy. Approximately two human beings cease to exist each passing second. Did you experience any discernible emotional response to that information? No. That, my dear Raphael, is what 'feeling' is for me. Nothing."

"I mean, you've tried to explain it before, Levi," I said softly, recalling his past attempts. "The single drop in a glass, the thick fog… Is there any other way you can describe it? Any analogy that might help me understand?"

Levi paused, his gaze drifting upwards as he considered my question. "Hm… Let me articulate this more precisely," he began. "The intensity and duration of my emotional responses are significantly diminished. What you might perceive as a ten out of ten on your scale of sadness, I would likely register as a mere two out of ten, a fleeting and easily disregarded sensation. Furthermore," he continued, his tone becoming more clinical, "the spectrum of emotions I am capable of experiencing is considerably narrower. My emotional repertoire primarily consists of satisfaction, amusement, a muted form of sadness, loneliness, disgust, annoyance, and anger. These constitute the extent of my affective landscape."

He can feel, but it's a pale imitation of what I experience. A fleeting shadow compared to a vibrant, overwhelming storm. And maybe… maybe that's why he studies us so intently. To try and understand the storms he can only see from a distance.

"So," I murmured, trying to process this new understanding, "is that entire spectrum of emotion what you typically experience in a single day?"

"No, that is more the cumulative emotional experience of a particularly eventful week. My most persistent and, indeed, strongest emotional state is, by a considerable margin, boredom."

"What does your boredom feel like, exactly? Can you describe it?"

"An itch," he said, his voice strained. "A consistent, pervasive itch. Like a thousand tiny bugs crawling incessantly on my bones. It never truly subsides. It keeps itching, all the time."

Hearing that revelation of his constant torment, a chillingly dark and twisted kind of sense began to coalesce around his past confession… his suicide attempt.

All this time, I’ve been focused on his lack of feeling, his inability to empathize in the way I do. But it’s not a lack. It’s this… this unbearable something. And he carries it, day in and day out. All my frustration, my confusion… I was so focused on what he didn’t feel, I completely missed the thing he does.

A heavy silence settled between us, the weight of this new understanding pressing down. What could I possibly offer in the face of such a relentless, internal torment? My usual tools of comfort felt useless here. This was his own private hell, a constant companion I could never truly understand.

"Levi," I began softly, my voice barely a whisper, "is there… is there anything that helps? Anything at all that makes that… that itch less?"

I had to ask. I couldn't just sit here, knowing this, and do nothing.

Levi’s warm hand settled gently on my head. “My dear Raphael,” he murmured, his gaze steady, “I can read the concern etched on your face. Please, try to calm yourself. You are not responsible for offering me solutions. It is not your job. But, since we are sharing… facets of my inner world, I can offer you another intriguing detail: My visual imagination is also really, really diminished. It is not a complete absence, but more akin to a faint sketch rather than a fully rendered painting."

It's like his inner world is less… sensory rich than mine. Mine is a riot of colors and sounds and emotions, even in my thoughts.

"I don't want to sound like an insensitive jerk, Levi, or… I don't even know the right words, really," I began hesitantly, "but… I think I might finally be grasping just the tiniest sliver of why you describe so much of the world as 'boring'."

Levi chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest. "Is that so, my dear Raphael? Then I am indeed gratified. Now," he shifted slightly, a hint of a smile in his voice, "if you intend to sleep here with me tonight, would you be so kind as to place a pillow between us? One must ensure my delicate stitches can slumber undisturbed."

"Wait," I blurted out, a hopeful surge rising within me. "So… we can sleep in the same bed now?"

"My dear," Levi said, his tone laced with a familiar dry amusement, "I am hardly made of spun glass. My current, pain levels are simply a result of my muscles and flesh diligently attempting to knit themselves back together as the internal sutures gradually dissolve. Close proximity during sleep is no longer an insurmountable obstacle."

"Thank god," I breathed out, a wave of relief washing over me. I then set about constructing a rather enthusiastic barrier of pillows between us. Once the makeshift barricade was complete, I surveyed the resulting state of the bed, a chaotic landscape of plush white. "What is this?" I asked, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "Looks more like a middle-school sleepover than a marital bed."

“Hm… I did not go to a middle school, neither I have ever had sleepover in my youth.”

"What the actual fuck, Levi? Okay, the sleepover thing, I can kind of wrap my head around, given the whole 'heir' thing, but what in the hell do you mean you didn't go to middle school?" I blurted out, genuinely bewildered.

"I received my education within the confines of our family mansion, my dear," Levi explained, his tone matter-of-fact. "I was tutored privately. As for sleepovers," he continued, "those would have constituted rather significant events within our social circles. It would necessitate the host family undertaking considerable preparations – a formal dinner, a designated sleeping chamber, afternoon tea, curated entertainment – all for the singular purpose of accommodating me."

Mine was pizza and bad movies and staying up way too late whispering secrets. His was… a diplomatic mission in pajamas. No wonder he finds my pop culture references baffling sometimes.

Lying beside Levi, propped up on pillows, I turned to him, a genuine curiosity etched on my face. "So, it was always that formal? Even with… friends your own age? What did you even do at these 'events'?"

"Formal… hm…" he murmured, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Formal, yes, primarily due to the standing of my lineage. But it was also deeply rooted in tradition and the rigid class system of the time. To illustrate," he continued, his tone matter-of-fact, "let us imagine that I, as a child, was a guest in the household of a baron. Legally and according to tradition, I possessed the authority to decree that the baron's eldest son, my contemporary, would be relegated to the servants' quarters for the duration of my stay, and they would have been powerless to object."

"That's… an immense amount of power to wield as a child, Levi," I said slowly, trying to process the implications of his words. "Did that ever… mess with your head?"

"No," Levi replied, his gaze distant, as if peering into the shadows of his past. "Instead, it primarily instilled in me a profound sense of… boredom. I possessed no inherent inclination towards violence or destruction as a child. Furthermore," his voice took on a darker edge, "witnessing my grandfather, the Conqueror's methods of training – which, in its extended reach, included his instruction of me – cultivated a deep-seated distaste for the blatant abuse of power. I suspect my rather ingrained sense of justice was irrevocably solidified on one particular occasion. I vividly recall watching my grandfather brutally snap the neck of a palace guard simply because the unfortunate man's bow was deemed insufficiently deferential. Yes," he confirmed, his tone flat, "I was but a child, cowering behind my mother's skirts, yet the sickening crack of bone… that sound sometimes still echoes in the recesses of my mind."

"So," I murmured, the weight of his revelation settling heavily in the air between us, "your sense of justice… it isn't rooted in empathy for those who suffer, but rather… in a visceral reaction to the one inflicting the suffering. I understand."

"Precisely," Levi confirmed, his gaze direct. "My response is… I assume it is best described as anger, directed squarely at the abuser. It is the most accurate and readily understandable way for me to articulate it."

"I don't know, Levi," I admitted softly, a knot of confusion still lingering in my chest. "It's… still difficult to fully grasp, I suppose."

"Consider this, Raphael," Levi replied. "Victims of injustice have individuals like you to tend to their wounds – empathetic, warm souls offering solace and understanding. Well," a hint of something dark flickered in his eyes, "noblemen… they had me. And we both know what became of them."