𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 | 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧

𝐈𝐗 : 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬

Mr. Arlert must have gone out while you finished that morning's chores and bought all the materials for his plan without anyone noticing. Internally, you found his effort charming, but enchantment did not stop you from questioning his methods. You hated to agree with the beast at the other end of the room, but sitting in silence while working on independent activities seemed counterintuitive to the end goal of friendship.

Nonetheless, you threaded your gold-plated needle with vibrant green thread and began working on the stems of some pretty flowers. Maybe, if you showed your hand's talent and gifted Mr. Arlert your work, he would return your feelings. You cringed at the juvenile display of affection, but this was the first time you had genuine romantic feelings toward anyone since becoming a woman. You had no idea how to navigate the uncharted course, so you settled for a childish production.

Even if you failed miserably in your attempt at wooing, practicing embroidery was a decent activity for those with patience. Although you hated the limited nature of hoop work, you enjoyed it well enough for what little it was worth. Besides hanging your work on a wall or using it as a patch for another fabric, very little was gained from the small, colorful designs.

You brocaded with Hitch as young girls. Your father initially instructed your lessons, but when he realized you had a natural talent with a needle, he trusted you with your creativity and offered Hitch his aid instead. However, your blonde friend was positively the worst stitcher the North had ever seen. Maybe the world had seen. Her inability to lean into the two ounces of patience she carried in her petite frame nearly drove your father into premature baldness. Unfortunately, Mrs. Dreyse wanted her daughter to be a great proficient with the needle, so your father worked tirelessly to instruct her despite her absence of talent. After two years of fruitless lessons, Hitch's mother gave up and advised her daughter to marry rich and leave art to professionals.

Sasha occasionally worked on some patterns, but she always kidded that it was better to watch others' creativity than for her to practice her own. She would hover over you and drop cookie crumbs on your shoulders while you made her little pieces to hang in her family's kitchen. As you changed your thread for a luminous lemon shade, you wondered if the Braus' still kept any of your work around their home.

Mrs. Yeager made Eren sew with you once or twice, hoping he would pick up a few tricks for when he tore holes in his clothes scrapping with the other boys. Surprisingly, the boy was a natural with a remarkably steady hand. When Dr. Yeager realized his son had talent with a needle, Eren began practicing his skills on torn flesh in the clinic rather than stitching pretty flowers onto cotton. Just like that, your only decent embroidery partner vanished, leaving you alone again.

Time swiftly drifted as you worked on flower petals. Using the bouquet on the table as a reference, you stitched in Brown-Eyed Susans first, then dotted a few stems with white to fake the appearance of Baby's Breath. Every so often, you stole glances at the author across the table. His brow knitted in concentration as he scribbled out and added words to his manuscript. You had to bite your lip to swallow the smiles you desperately wanted to send him. You also tried to catch him glancing at you, but he never looked up once in the hour that passed.

Giving up on your one-sided game of cat-and-mouse, you planted pink and blue hydrangeas on the fabric and filled the spaces with lush, dark green leaves until a thick ring of emptiness surrounded the cluster of tiny flowers. It was not your finest work but satisfactory enough by your standards.

"How's everything going?" Niccolo asked as he walked in from the kitchen, setting sandwiches and a teapot on the coffee table. You tilted the hoop towards him to show off your work. "Very pretty. What about you, Jean?"

You looked over to the painter but found him fully staring at you. When he realized he had been caught, his eyes snapped down to his piece. "Nothing." When the words left his mouth, he clenched the paper and crumpled it in his massive hands. "This is a waste of time. I have another project to work on."