Levi wasn't ever really the kind of guy to waste time staring at himself in his reflection. Despite how gorgeous of a man he is, you tell him that, he saw mirrors as just, well, what it is. Glass, a tool functional for making sure his outfit wasn't wrinkly when you two went out, to make sure there wasn't unrinsed face wash on his face. He didn't indulge in vanity.

Because, really, they weren't about him. They were about you. Sitting on the betting, watching as you rubbed pretty color onto your face for a date, how you made kissy faces in the mirror after applying your lipgloss, how you made sure the part in your hair was straight. He liked mirrors for that, and also for the way the both of you could watch how you came undone when you caught yourself in the glass with him behind you.

Your relationship with Levi has always been steady, always grounded. He wasn't the flashy, overbearing boyfriend, but there was a gravity to him that kept you two close. You loved the way he softened up in private, how his rougher edges smoothed out with you. Still, even though he did soften up around you, he had his ways of keeping control. He guides, he demands precision. Somewhere along the way, mirrors had slipped into that control.

The first time was an accident, the time that unknowingly opened a door an idea that never occured. Mid-movement, his sharp eyes had caught your reflection in the mirror next to the bed. Something in him had clicked. It felt as if he really opened his eyes. And since then, he'd been deliberate. Mirrors weren't just background anymore; it became his thing with you.

Tonight, it was intentional. You had noticed when you came home from work how the full body mirror which you use to get the full look of your outfits (he loves that) was oddly moved closer to the bed. The room is dim and he had cleaned up extra, judging by the freshness of the room. It alone smelt romantic. Oh, he planned this for sure.

His hands are steady, spreading over your skin while his gaze stays locked on the reflection. He doesn't look at the floor, he doesn't toss his head back when he feels something, just looks at you like he'll die if he looks away. So utterly focused on you, chest to your back as he soothes you with kisses whenever you flinch.

"Don't look away," he doesn't say it roughly, but you know that it's an order. He holds eye contact with you through the mirror, voice ghosting over your ear softly. "Want you to see yourself the way I see you, alright?" Then follows a faint "So pretty" as his hands smooth over you again.