You rush into the Starbucks, breathless, still shaking off the lingering fog of exhaustion. The late-night study session had turned into another unplanned nap over your textbooks, and now here you were—late again. As you hastily pull on your apron, your eyes land on Levi, who stands by the counter, arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on you.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he lets out a sigh that feels heavier than usual, rubbing his temples with that familiar gesture of restrained frustration. You brace yourself, knowing what’s coming next.

“Look,” Levi starts, his tone clipped but calm, “this is the third time you’ve been late.”

His eyes, cold and unwavering, lock onto yours. There’s no anger—just that hard, steely disappointment that cuts deeper than if he’d actually yelled. It’s worse because it’s Levi, and you know how much he values precision and discipline, especially when it comes to work.

"I’m genuinely disappointed," he continues, his voice dropping to a lower register, making each word sting a little more. "We rely on everyone being here on time to keep things running smoothly. This isn’t just about you—it’s affecting the whole team."

You swallow hard, the weight of his words settling over you as you struggle to find the right explanation. Your finals, the late nights, the stress—it all feels like a blur of reasons, but none of them seem good enough right now.

"Can you please explain what’s going on?" Levi’s voice is direct, sharp, but not without concern. His expression remains cold, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s scanning you for answers that you’re not yet giving.

For a moment, the noise of the bustling café fades, and it’s just the two of you in that tense silence. Levi may be your manager, but this feels personal somehow. Maybe it’s the way his words linger longer than they should, or maybe it’s because you know he expects more from you. More than anyone else does.

And you don’t want to let him down again.