𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢

𝟻. 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜

A 14k word chapter.

I wrote this throughout an extremely difficult week. Thank you for being patient. And thank you to those who read it.

I hope you enjoy.

✰ Comment & Vote! ✰

___

"Jean."

It's evident in both the sound of your voice and the way the muscles in your face have tensed that you are shocked by Jean's presence, being that you were dead set on not having him come here to help you with this move. Sasha told you she didn't think he would show himself, and knowing your previous encounters with Jean, you believed her.

From what you've been able to gather in such a short time, he doesn't care about anything unless it happens to include alcohol, marijuana, or getting laid; no order in particular.

This whole moving you into Mikasa and Sasha's shindig doesn't seem like anything Jean would waste his precious time with. Yet, here he stands, before you.

"Ah," Jean cranes his neck backward as he lets out a heavy breath, briefly looking at the ceiling before bringing his eyes back to you, "so your pretty little mouth does remember my name." The very tip of his nose is flushed bright pink from the cool weather outdoors.

"Only because you had to remind me." You say to him, keeping your face as serious as possible despite the fact you're lying through your teeth. "I thought you weren't coming?"

"Who said that?" There are small water spots on the fabric of his sweatshirt caused by the drizzling rain outside, making the light grey material look a little darker in some areas. He pulls the hood he is wearing off his head and smooths out his tousled light brown hair.

There are many things that you don't like about Jean, but his mullet sure as hell isn't one of them. You've always been a fucking sucker for them.

"Sasha," you inform him. You squint your eyes slightly, honing in on his face, trying not to focus on the way his fingers drag through his hair, "She said you didn't answer her."

"I was busy," he says bluntly. Taking a step forward, he closes some of the distance between the two of you. He points at the small gap between the door hinge and the door itself that you are standing in between, "so are you gonna let me in or not?"

The grip you are holding around the rusty gold doorknob tightens. Jean makes you nervous, especially after what happened in the closet, though you'll die on the hill convincing yourself that he doesn't.

You step to the side. Pulling the door back, you open space big enough for him to get through, "Right. Busy doing what? Or do I even want to ask?"

"Honestly? Probably not, but it's not any of your business anyways." He gives a brief shrug before walking through the door.

Once inside, Jean begins to look around the small room, head-turning in every direction, taking in the raggedy old blue carpet and the peeling thick yellow paint plastered on the walls. "Nice place you got here," he says, voice sardonic, "must be a real dick magnet, huh?"

It's hard to keep up with his constant harsh comments, but you can't ever let him feel like he has the upper hand. Biting back is the only way to put up with a guy like Jean.

You've seen your fair share of emotionally unavailable fuck boys. The kind of guys that always take advantage of those too kind or too timid to stick up for themselves, which only helps boost their egotistical ways. You've been on the receiving end of that stick, and you ended up with emotional damage, insecurities handcrafted by a broken heart, and one year down the drain. Never again.

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, "Oh yeah, you didn't see the line of them wrapped around the building? The guys fucking love me." You shut the door and turn to face him.

Jean huffs out a short laugh turning himself to face your direction, "Yeah, well, Eren clearly does. That reminds me, how did your little date with him go?"

Why the hell does he insist on giving you such a hard time when it comes to Eren?

Your eyes widen slightly before you roll them. Resting your back against the chipping wooden door, you say, "It wasn't a date. We were just hanging out."

You didn't think of it like that, as a date. It was two new friends, getting coffee between classes, talking about things that you happen to relate to each other about. There wasn't any underlying meaning behind it.

But then again, when was the last time you've actually been taken out somewhere? Do you remember what going on a date even looks like? God, that's fucking embarrassing.

"No?" Jean slowly cocks his head to the side and licks his lips briefly before the right corner of his mouth turns upwards, "you haven't heard the rumor going around?"

You bite a piece of skin off of your lip and cross your arms in front of your chest, "what rumor?"

"That Eren wants you." He pauses for a second, pulling a blunt out of his pocket. "Well, it's not so much a rumor as he told me himself."

Your body stiffens, and you suck in the soft flesh of your cheeks between your teeth. Seeing your reaction, Jean chuckles and continues, "Don't worry. I haven't told him about the little crush you have on him... yet."

You give him an icy stare, "Are you done?"

No one bothers you the way that Jean does. Everything he does. Everything he doesn't do. All of who he is irks you so excessively that it almost makes you feel like you could fly off the rails when you're around him.

He digs into the same pocket again and draws out that familiar blue lighter, "What? I'm not doing anything." He says in a matter-of-fact tone and places the blunt between his slightly damp lips.

You scoff and make your way over to him; before he can flick on the lighter, you grab the blunt from his mouth and lighter out of his hand.

"What the fuck?" Jean rasps; his face and voice signify annoyance at your sudden action.

He reaches out towards you in an attempt to snatch the stolen items back, but you quickly pull them away and stuff them inside of your back pocket, taking a few steps backward, "there's a strict no smoking policy here." You point behind you with your thumb to the brown no-smoking sign plastered on the back of the door.

He lets out an obnoxious laugh as his hands fall back down to his side, "Oh, so we are back to the good girl act, are we? Following every rule in the book?"

"If you get caught, I have to pay a huge ass fee, and I'm not trying to get fined, especially if it's because of you." Your voice is sharp and growing impatient.

God. Why did he even come here?

Jean takes a few steps and sits himself down on the edge of your bed. Resting his forearms on top of his man spread thighs, he leans forward, eyes disappearing under his furrowed brows, "What are you so irritated for, Y/N?"

You turn away from him and walk over to the boxes lined up against the wall, near the side table, "I'm irritated because you're here."

Stretching his legs out in front of him, you hear the springs of the bed move beneath the weight of his body, "I thought you liked spending time with me."

You scoff. Although he can't see your face, you roll your eyes at him once again, "Don't flatter yourself."

"I'm not flattering myself," Jean says coolly, scratching the scruff that lies on his chin. "Don't tell me that I need to remind you what happened between us during kiss or bitch. You seemed to be enjoying yourself then."

Fuck. You could curse Connie straight to hell right now for putting a delay on their arrival due to his fucking bowel movements.

Jeeringly, you laugh at him and shake your head, "And don't tell me that I need to remind you what I walked into after kiss or bitch."

Turning your head towards Jean, you watch as his jaw clenches together tightly, palms pressing into the mattress that is still dressed with your light pink sheets. Shit. You forgot to pack them.

His eyes lock with yours, and he shoots you a devilish smile that fits his tone of voice, "you should have joined in."

Jean is so fucking arrogant it almost hurts.

You pause for a second as your face twists with grimace. He really does say whatever the hell he wants. No filter, no worry, no care. Not a single fuck given. You swallow hard and squat down, leveling yourself out with the cardboard boxes, "I should joined in on some vanilla ass sex? Hard pass."

Jean's teeth bare, "Vanilla?" He sounds offended, "There's nothing-"

You cut him off with a stern voice, not wanting to hear any more about his stupid sex life. "Help or leave."

Jean stands and makes his way over to you. "Alright, alright, fine," he says, holding his hands up in a defensive manner, "but give me back my weed and lighter. I paid Zeke good money for that shit."

"Zeke? He deals?" You ask, intrigued.

It would make sense. Zeke letting Eren throw parties at his nice place when he's gone on business. Sasha when she said that they know the right people. Eren telling you that he has the good stuff.

"Yeah," Jean says. "It's the only reason I'm friends with Jeager's bitch ass."

You sniff, "that was rude."

"Chill. I'm just kidding." He reaches out towards you, his palm facing upward, and curls his fingers inward in a repeated motion, "give it to me."

You reach up and lightly smack his hand away, "Later. If I give it to you now, I already know you're gonna smoke it anyways."

Jean steps closer to you and begins to lean down towards you; he looks as if he's going to reach and touch you. You move away before he can, "and don't even think about trying to grab it out of my pocket because if you do, I'll slap the shit out of you for grabbing my ass without my consent."

He blinks as a scoff escapes from him, "What? Are you going to smoke it without me?"

Picking up the role of packaging tape you left on top of one of the boxes, you shrug, "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."

"Tell you what." He leans against the poorly painted wall and stuffs his hands in the front pockets of his light-washed jeans, his eyes peering down at you, "how about we make a deal."

With the tape in your hand, you pull at it as your eyes flicker up to him from your lowered position, "what kind of deal? If it's one of your sex ones, I'm not interested."

He sucks in the air between his teeth and lets out a sigh, "It's not like that."

"Then what?"

"If I help you finish packing," Jean points to himself and then to you, "you let me smoke you out later."

Your forehead creases with confusion, "What? Like just me and you?" He nods yes, and you immediately shake your head, "Not a chance."

"Why not?" He asks. "You might not like me,
Y/N, but I took care of you last time, didn't I?"

You can tell by the look on his face that he's asking an honest question. He sounds legitimate. Real. Not any of that condescending shit.

Your eyes narrow thinly as you debate your final answer. Getting high at Eren's party was the first time you felt good in a while. There wasn't an overpowering weight of grief sitting on your shoulders or that unceasing boiling anger you have for your father that seems to be permanently seared into your heart.

You were content, happy, safe, the way Armin said you would be. It was nice. More than anything, you want to feel like that again.

"When?" you finally speak.

"Not sure," Jean says with a slight shrug, "I'll let you know. You can hold onto the weed until then. Just give me my lighter back later."

Voice soft, you swallow your pride and agree. "Alright."

"Alright," his mouth twitches in an almost missable smile as he mimics your words. You simply nod and continue your task at hand.

Why does it feel like you just made a deal with the fucking devil?

"What do you want me to do to help?" Jean asks, speaking up again.

You turn your head looking around the room for any items you may have missed. Seeing the fabric still spread across the mattress, you point over to the bed, "I forgot to take off my sheets and pack them. Can you grab them for me?"

He hums in response and pushes himself off of the wall. Silence begins to fill the room. Jean starts to strip the sheets off of your bed, working his way from the bottom of the bed to the top of the headboard that looks like it's on its last leg.

There are no words exchanged as the two of you work. It's only the quiet sounds of low breathing and swift movements.

You've never been one for silence because it allows room for your mind to consume you with the thoughts that you hate so much.

To be alone with yourself means to be alone with your greatest enemy of all. Quietness makes you feel anxious and a little unsettled, but for some reason, at this moment, with Jean only a few feet away from you, the silence isn't eating you alive the way it usually does.

Jean folds the sheets into a neat pile, places your pillow sheets on top, and walks over to you. "Here," he says, handing you the organized stack of fabric.

Reaching up, you take them and give him a small smile of gratitude, "thanks." You set the sheets in the box on top of the items you have stuffed inside and begin to tape it shut.

Hovering above you, Jean watches in silence as you work. You can feel his eyes burning through your jacket all the way down to the skin of your back. It's making it hard to focus. You turn your focus upward toward him, "are you going to keep staring at me?"

He blinks a few times, clearing his vision, looking as if he was snapped out of some sort of trance he was accidentally hypnotized into. "I uh," he stammers. "I wasn't. I just was waiting for you to tell me what else you need me to do."

With a hum, you point to the box placed on the ground a couple of feet away from you, "If you could tape that up for me, that'd be great." With your other hand, you hold out the role of tape toward him.

He nods and grabs the tape out of your hold, and walks away from you. In a swift moment, you stand, picking up the box, and you carry it towards the door.

"You read?" Jean asks, but his tone is barely audible. It's very low, almost quiet.

You set down the box on the floor and straighten out your back, "What?" When you turn around to face Jean, you see him sitting on the ground in front of the box, holding up one of the books you have packed away inside.

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen.

"You read." He repeats. His words are far more clearer now. This time, they are said as a statement rather than a question.

You let out a brief sigh of relief that's only loud enough for you to hear, thankful that he didn't dig deeper into your deep-sea collection of books and find the ones that are filled with little to no plot and shameless explicit smut—the true literature.

Reading is something you've enjoyed doing from a young age. With traumatic things that aspired in your life, your way of coping became reading about people's lives who didn't have the heavyweight of being you.

Even now, getting lost in a world of words, where you get to be somebody other than yourself, just for a small while, brings you a sort of comfort you have yet to find anywhere else.

To you, books are everything you lost, everything you're not, and everything you want to be.

You nod once, "Yeah, I do. Why? Are you gonna run your mouth about that too?"

Jean laughs. Opening the book, he quickly runs through the pages with his thumb; the sound of thin paper being rustled through fills your ears, "Nah."

You gasp sarcastically, placing your hands over your chest, "Shocker. Thought you'd have something to say."

"Unfortunately, I can't," he pauses and brushes his fingers over the cover of the softcover book that has a dull-colored oil portrait of a young girl in a beautiful white dress from the 1800s on the surface. "I read too."

Your nose wrinkles, "You?" There is a noticeable shock in your voice. "You're kidding, right?"

He scoffs, tilting the book towards you as his head falls slightly to the side, "What? You don't believe me?"

Shaking your head, you say, "Not at all."

"Why's that?"

"You just don't seem like the type."

"I'm not illiterate, Y/N." He says with a focused gaze. "Just because you think that I am whatever fucking picture you've painted of me in that head of yours doesn't mean that I'm an idiot."

"I guess you're right. But I'd like to test your knowledge anyway." You say, doubtful. Your trust in anything men say is almost nonexistent, stuck in a twisted messy cobweb of horrible past experiences. "What's your favorite book?

He flips through the book of Jane Austen's famous work once again. He isn't looking at you. "1984."

Your eyes widen at his choice of book. It's a good one. A great one. Honestly, you were expecting his answer to be something cringe-worthy or something that proved that he picked up a book once in middle school and deemed himself as a man who is an enjoyer of literature.

"A dystopian book about futuristic purgatory?" You laugh softly, trying not to make it evident that you're impressed. "Dark."

A classic book like that somehow fits him. You can't quite put your finger on what it is, but it just makes sense in a ... good way.

Fuck. Wait. Back up. Uno reverse card, please. There isn't supposed to be anything good about Jean.

"Good authors can write twisted shit." He says,
closing the book back up, placing it in his lap.

He's right. They do. You've always believed that.

How is it that you're agreeing yet again with something coming out of the mouth of Jean Kirstein?

He continues on, finally bringing his focus to you, "What about you? What's your favorite book? If you say Twilight or some shit like that, I'm walking out of here and throwing myself in front of oncoming traffic."

"You really think that lowly of me, Jean?" Deciding to mess around with him, you pause and lock eyes with him, "it's actually... Fifty Shades of Grey."

Jean cringes, making his entire body shiver, "that's it. I'm out."

"That's all it takes for you to go?" You say with a laugh. Walking across the room, you push yourself up on the dresser and take a seat, "I should have introduced myself with that fact then."

He tries to hold back, but a small chuckle breaks out from within him. He matches your taunting tone, "You should have. It would have saved me the burden of knowing you."

"I'm kidding," you say, leaning backward. "It's actually Catcher in the Rye." A lie.

Your mind immediately thought of your most recent read and you gave that in your answer. Catcher in the Rye isn't your favorite book and feel extremely guilty about telling him something that isn't true.

But you can't risk him digging in the box and looking for it. What lies inside is a piece of someone's heart scribbled on paper, and that's something you'll fight to keep for yourself if you can help it.

Jean hums, "J.D Salinger, huh?" He takes Sense and Sensibility out of his lap and places it back into the box. "Isn't the main character one the most unlikeable Protagonists out there?" He starts to rummage through the overly stuffed box some more.

"Holden? Well yeah." You nod, looking at Jean. "It's what makes the book so controversial. He's a big fucking asshole and a condescending hypocrite, but he was written as a morally ambiguous character on purpose. So, you either love him or hate him."

"What's your take?" He questions with interest.

You feel a little surprised that Jean even cares enough to ask. But at the same time, you can't help but feel happy too because this is the first time anybody has ever asked you about the books you've read.

You place your hands under your thighs, "My feelings on him are... complicated. Part me wants him to grow the fuck up. The other part of me feels like I want to apologize to him for the darkness I know he's enduring." You shrug, "Holden makes awful decisions, but a lot of people seem to forget that there's a reason why he acts the way he does. But yeah, he's a fucking dick."

He nods, "So, long story short, you like him?"

You squint, "I won't defend the kid, but I mean, I don't hate him. But I will also admit that I tend to be drawn to people who need fixing, so maybe that's why. I don't know. What about you? What's your take on him?"

Jean breathes out a huff, "I'll be honest, I haven't read it."

You tilt your head to the side, "How are you going to call yourself a reader but haven't read Catcher in the Rye? It's a classic."

"Don't know." He is still rummaging through your books, looking at the different titles and covers, "I haven't read in a while."

"Why not?" you ask.

"Shit happens... things change." His tone is blunt, almost threatening you not to ask questions to elaborate on the meaning behind his words. Although you're curious, you hate overstepping boundaries that were never yours to take in the first place. So, you veer off of your own wonderment.

"Well, you should read it," you say, slightly swinging your feet back and forth in the air.

"I'll consider it." He finds Catcher in the Rye and pulls it out. His eyes widen at the wear and tear of the book. He turns his head to you and holds the book up, "Christ, Y/N. Did you drag this book to hell with you or what?"

"Pretty much."

He tears his gaze away from you and flips to the back of the book to read the synopsis:

"There are many voices in this novel: children's voices, adult voices, underground voices-but Holden's voice is the most eloquent of all. Transcending his own vernacular yet remaining marvelously faithful to it, he issues a perfectly articulated cry of mixed pain and pleasure. However, like most lovers and clowns and poets of the higher orders, he keeps most of the pain to, and for, himself. The pleasure he gives away, or sets aside, with all his heart. It is there for the reader who can handle it to keep."

The book is entirely worn. You hate broken spines, despise them even, they make your skin crawl, but due to the number of times you've read Catcher in the Rye, the break had, at some point in time, become inevitable.

Jean runs his fingers down the spine that is charted with crevices and flicks through the brightly colored tabs that you have sticking out of almost every page, every color resembling a map of your tactical thoughts.

Sadness. Happiness. Love. Hate. Relatability.

"What's up with all your annotations?" Jean questions, his fingers flicking over the heaping amount of tabs, "you aren't an English major, right?"

You shake your head, "No. Political science. Pre-law."

He flips open the book to a random page and begins to skim through it, "you do realize that you aren't going to be asked to write an analysis on this shit, right? I doubt you'll be talking about Catcher in the Rye in a courtroom."

You run your fingers through your hair, "Well, the man who killed John Lennon was spotted reading it right after he murdered him, so you never know."

Your stupid joke pulls a small laugh out of him. You continue and answer his question, "but no, seriously. I know. It's just something that I enjoy doing."

He closes the book, "fucking nerd."

You roll your eyes, "fuck you."

Jean's mouth curves upward insultingly. His mouth slightly falls open as he tries to choke his arrogant response, but quickly you cut him off, only guessing what his restoration will be. "Don't you dare say what I think you're going to." You glare at him.

He holds up his hands in defense, still holding the book in his right. "I wasn't."

Your eyes narrow even more, making your vision somewhat blurry from the closeness of your eyelashes, "alright."

He places the book back and closes up the box, "Alright."

You can hear the sound of tape ripping as he secures the box, "Hey." Jean says as he tears it off of the roll.

"Hey," you respond.

He stands, "I meant to tell you this earlier, but," he pauses and lifts the now shut box and carries it over towards the door, "be careful of Eren."

Your eyes widen. Did you hear him right? Eren? You heard that you should be careful of Jean, not Eren. What the hell is he talking about?

You frown, "Eren? Why?"

Is he telling you this out of actual concern towards you, a girl who barely entered his life? Or is he just trying to start something?

"Yeah." Jean says, setting the box on top of the other one, "Eren he-"

A loud noise comes from the outside of the door, cutting Jean off mid-sentence.

You turn your head to see Connie burst through the door, making his way into your room, a pep in his step. "Y/N! Come on, girl!" Connie throws his hands up in the air, "you gotta lock your door. I could have been a serial killer or something."

The conversation between you and Jean is now gone as quickly as it came, but your mind can't seem to shut off. What about Eren?

You hop off of the dresser and offer Connie a smile, "Well, good thing you aren't."

"Eh, that's semi-true," Connie winks at you. "The only thing I tend to murder is pussy. AYO!" He holds his hand out, trying to give Jean a high five, like the joke he made was earth-shatteringly good.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Jean mutters irritably, backing away from Connie, denying him any sort of encouragement for his comment.

"No, but I kiss yours," Connie smirks, dragging his pointer finger and thumb down his chin.

Before you can blink, Jean smacks him on the back of his head, hard. "Talk about my mom again. I fucking dare you." Jean lists his hand to smack him again.

Rubbing the back of his head out with his palm Connie back away, "Chill. Chill. Chill. I give. I give."

"That's what I thought," Jean says, walking away.

You sigh at their bickering, "Anyways, Connie, how are you feeling? I heard there was a little delay back at the apartment."

Connie throws his head backward with a slight wince, "fuck, I'm gonna kill Sasha."

"Oh yeah?" Sasha taunts, walking into the room. Her voice causes Connie to spin around on his heels and face her. "Try it, babe," she says, flashing him a smile, her chin thrust outward, offering him a challenge.

Eren comes in after her, with Mikasa following right after him. "He won't," Eren says, hands tucked into the large pocket of his oversized black sweatshirt, his gold key necklace hanging in front, "he doesn't want to take the L."

Connie punches Eren in the chest, "fight me yourself, Jeager. Give me that easy dub."

Eren lets out a low chuckle wrapping his arm around Connie's neck; he puts him in a tight chokehold, "Grow some hair, then talk to me, magic eight ball head looking ass," Eren mocks. He pulls off Connie's red beanie and digs his fist into his buzzcut grey hair.

"Save it until later, will you?" Mikasa says, pushing herself past the two wrestling boys making her way over to you, "We have to help Y/N pack."

"Well... honestly, Jean already helped me." You turn your body around to see Jean sitting on top of the now bare worn-down mattress.

Connie pushes himself out of Eren's hold and roughly yanks his beanie back from him. He brushes his right hand over his chest, straightening out his black hoodie that reads virginity rocks in bold red letters. Is he serious?

"I was waiting for you back at the apartment, dumb ass," Connie throws Jean a threatening look, putting his beanie back on his head, adjusting it to its perfect position.

"My bad," Jean says monotonously with a slow blink, clearly not phased.

"Yeah, you're bad." Connie rolls his eyes, "I was starting to feel like one of your sorry ass hookups, so I just dipped. I figured you were out with some girl or something."

Eren gives Jean a head nod, "surprised you decided to show up."

Jean looks at you for a fleeting second before looking away, "I had nothing better to do." He shrugs, "Where's Armin?"

"He's at work. He was pretty bummed he couldn't come." Eren looks at you with a smile, and you feel your cheeks blush.

"Jean. You really need to get better at answering your texts. We are your friends, you know?" Sasha walks over to Jean and flicks him in the forehead. He grunts in response, seeming to be slightly bothered.

Connie and Eren make their way over towards the bed where Jean is and begin to talk to him.

Mikasa steps in front of you and touches your shoulder, "You're all set?" She looks back at the two boxes stacked up on top of each other. Her eyes return to you, and by the look on her face, you can tell that she is concerned about the lack of your belongings.

You purse your lips together, "Yeah. I mean, there wasn't much to pack up anyway. I had most of it done, and Jean helped me out with the rest. I tried telling Sasha that you guys didn't have to make the trip."

"We wanted to," Mikasa says in a soft tone. "Sasha and I were talking on our drive over here, and we decided that we want to redecorate our apartment with you, so we thought we could go shopping soon. Make a girls' day out of it or whatever you call it."

Sasha appears behind Mikasa, joining in on the conversation, "What are we talking about, and why am I left out?"

"Oh, stop. You're not being left out." Mikasa turns her head to look at Sasha, "I was just telling Y/N about our idea of redecorating."

Sasha gasps and wraps her arms around both you and Mikasa, "Oh yes! Target and Dok's! Since it's your place now, too, we want to make sure that it's a place that shows a piece of all of us. What do you think?"

You smile softly, beyond grateful for their offer of kindness, but you quickly remind yourself that the money of your mothers you have had to use as a cushion of support to fall back on is nothing you want to keep spending.

So you choose to decline, "That sounds great, you guys, but I don't really have the extra money right now. Not until I find a job, at least, and you know how hard it can be to find one. Especially at the beginning of the semester in a college town since everyone is looking at the same time."

Mikasa shakes her head, "don't worry about it."

Sasha pulls you closer into her and leans her head against yours, a bright smile spread across her face. "Yeah, seriously. Don't worry about it, okay? We want to take you out. Celebrate being roomies."

It's odd—this feeling. You've always been used to taking care of others. But people taking care of you? Hardly ever. Lucas? Here and there, when he's lost mind, allowed him the capacity to do so. Your father? Not a chance in hell. Your miserable shit show of a guy that you oh-so-dreadfully have to call your ex-boyfriend? Only on his good days, and out of 365 days a year, you could count on a single hand the number of times you considered your days spent with him to be good.

To be offered to be looked after even in the slightest of ways is utterly foreign to you. And it fills you with such contentment you feel as though you could explode with gratitude.

You pull away slightly from Sasha's embrace to look at her, "No way am I letting you guys pay for me. I feel like you are already doing too much."

"Nope! I don't care! We are going!" Sasha exclaims with a big smile, letting go of the hold she has on you and Mikasa, "We're in college! It's all about having fun!"

You let out a small sigh of defeat, "I don't have a choice, do I?

"Smart girl," Sasha praises, eyes flickering to you and then to Mikasa. "So, next week?"

You and Mikasa both look at each other and nod in agreement.

"Yay!" Sasha singsongs, "now let's get you the hell out of here."

Breaking away from Sasha and Mikasa, you walk over by the door. Slowly you bend down and pick up one of the boxes. When you turn around, you see Eren standing there, holding his arms out, "let me see it."

You shake your head, trying to go around him, "it's okay. I'm capable."

He steps in the same direction as you, not letting you pass by, "I know you are, but you already did all the packing. The least you could do is let me help move the boxes."

You hesitate for a few seconds before agreeing. You hand him the box, "thank you." Taking it, Eren nods and heads out of the room.

You turn around to grab the other box, but you quickly notice that Jean has already picked it up and is following right behind Eren.

"Man," Connie stops his foot dramatically against the rusted floor like a toddler. It creeks beneath the weight of the impact, "What the fuck am I supposed to carry." He lifts his arms and flexes, "These guns, and no work for me to do."

Sasha walks over and slaps her palm into the center of his back two times, "Carry me."

"Bet." Connie leans forward in a squat position, "let's see if we can beat those fuckers downstairs."

Sasha hops on Connie's back and wraps her arms around his neck, securing a steady hold around him, "I believe in you, Con Man. But I swear to God I'll fucking kill you if you eat shit because if you go down, I'm going with you, and I have a date with Niccolo tomorrow. I have to look good."

"Don't worry," Connie assures her tightening his grip around her legs. "I'll make sure you're in one piece." Before Sasha can respond, Connie takes off out of the room at sprinting speed.

You can hear Connie's feet against the old floor run down the hall as he gets further away; Sasha giggles from a distance.

You can't help but smile at their interactions. Although you were apart from Sasha for so long, it fills you with happiness knowing that she made good friends throughout the years you spent away from her. Since the day that you were forced to leave her, you worried about her. Constantly you wondered if she was doing well and if life was fair to her the way it wasn't to you.

But now, meeting Sasha's friends and spending even this short time with them it has assured you that although you weren't there to take care of her, the universe placed people in her life to help her in ways that you weren't able to.

You were lonely without her. Lost. A forgetter of what happiness once felt like inside of your own skin. It was hard. But that's okay. Knowing what you know now, you don't mind. You would do it all over again if you knew that losing Sasha meant that she would meet these people that she is so beyond worthy of having.

She may be the platonic light in your life but to be only just a small simmering light in hers is more than enough for you.

"Y/N," Mikasa calls out, snapping you out of your head. "Do you have everything?"

You spin around and do a quick 360, triple-checking every inch of the room you are leaving behind. The room is now bare, with an empty bed and cleaned-out closet and drawers that were once filled with your clothes and books now hollowed out. All that's left are the raggedy white curtains as thin as cheap toilet paper spread across the small windows and the ugly water spots that have stained the popcorn ceiling a hideous brown color.

You bring your body back around to face Mikasa, "I have everything."

The very corner of Mikasa's lip curves upward slightly. It's so tiny, barely even recognizable, but you deem it to be a smile, "Good." She pulls her long black coat across her body, "We should catch up with them."

You nod in response. Mikasa heads out first, and you follow, closing the old door behind you. Taking the gold key out of your pocket, you stick it into the lock, twist it, and pull on the door, making sure it's secured shut.

As you make your way downstairs, you and Mikasa exchange small talk with one another. She is nothing but kind to you, and for that, you are grateful.

You drop the copy of your key at the front desk and make your way outside, where you see your group of friends all huddled together on the sidewalk talking. The rain has stopped, but the smell of still wet earth coats the inside of your nose. You breathe it in deep, enjoying the scent.

Sasha is the first to realize your presence, "speaking of the devil!" A big smile spreads across her face, "We are going to take your stuff to our apartment, and then I think we are going to go out for dinner or ice cream or something."

You and Mikasa reach the huddled group, "sounds fun." You say with a smile.

"Connie's paying, though!" Sasha turns away from the group and runs towards her civic, "the guys in one car, the girls in the other!" Mikasa follows behind her at a much slower speak

"Hey!" Connie calls out to her, matching Sasha's loud tone, "what the hell am I paying for?"

Reaching the car, Sasha leans up against it, crossing her arms, "Because you suck, that's why! You were the reason we were late. It's only fair you make it up to Y/N by paying up."

Connie lets out a low grunt and rolls his eyes, "Okay, fine. But only because Y/N is cool as fuck. All you other losers can suck my dick." He makes a thrusting movement with his hips before turning to follow Eren to his car.

You begin to head towards Sasha's car, but something gently yanks you back, spinning you around. It's Jean. Your eyes widen with shock.

"Hey," his eyes are searching your face. There is something in his light brown eyes you haven't seen before, "Drive safe. Alright?"

"Uh, yeah. Alright." You stammer, caught off guard, "you too." Clearing his throat, he drops your hand and makes his way over to Eren's car.

"Come on!" Sasha yells out, opening the car door and getting into the driver's side.

"Coming," spinning around, you shake your head, trying to get rid of the sensations Jean's touch left behind as you walk.

You get into the front seat of Sasha's red Honda Civic while Mikasa slides into the back. "Would you like to do the honors?" Sasha asks, handing you the USB cord.

You take it hesitantly, "Sure." Plugging it into your phone, you open Spotify. Trusting the algorithm, you hit shuffle on one of your playlists, and the music begins to play through the speakers of Sasha's car.

| now playing ... kids ; current joys |

"Soooo," Sasha turns on the lights and puts the car into drive. "How was it alone with Jean? Did he say some stupid shit again?" She cranes her neck to the left, checking for oncoming traffic and pulling out of the parking space and onto the street. "Sometimes, I swear I'm looking after a child with him."

You let out a small laugh, "he was.. fine, actually."

"Really?" Mikasa asks, sounding a bit surprised. She leans forward in her seat a little making it easier to talk to each other over the loud music, "you know, he's not the easiest to get along with."

"I mean yeah," you nod. Locking your phone, you set it in your lap, "he was kind of irritating me at first, but then he started asking me questions, and we got to talking."

"Wait, you're serious?" Sasha asks; she slowly stops the car at a stoplight and turns to you, "like dead ass."

"Dead ass. Why?" Your eyebrows furrow together, "what's the big deal?"

The red light turns green, and Sasha starts to accelerate the car, "he never does that."

"Does what?" You ask, turning your head towards Mikasa in the back seat.

You feel confused. The tone of their voice is astonished as if what you're saying to them is a trait of Jean that had either never existed or has gone completely extinct.

"Jean hates getting to know people," Mikasa admits to you, "unless he already knows you, he doesn't really bother."

Sasha looks through the rearview mirror at Mikasa and then glances over to you, "We think that's partially why he goes through girls so fast too."

"What do you mean?" You ask, both confused and intrigued. 

Sasha reaches out and turns down the music a couple of notches, making it a little bit easier to hear the conversation at hand, "He's a big ass player, which I'm sure you've noticed."

"Of course." You shrug, "it would take a blind person not to be able to see that."

Sasha nods as she turns left down, a dim-lit busy street. "Well, he does God know what with the girls, but we've noticed that as soon as they start talking about themselves or they start trying to get to know him more, he dips faster than Usain Bolt himself."

"Why?" You feel like a broken record asking all of these questions, but you really are trying to get a better understanding. "Isn't getting to know people a part of life?"

Mikasa shakes her head and sighs, "it's different with Jean. His social skills are shot to hell."

"That's also why we are so surprised he showed up tonight," Sasha adds, eyes focused on the road ahead of her. "It usually takes a lot of convincing to do anything with any of us anymore."

"Oh," you say. "I didn't realize. I thought since you guys were so close, it meant you did everything together."

"We do," Mikasa says, leaning herself back in the backseat, making her sound more distant, "well, we did."

"I mean, we invite him everywhere," Sasha says, turning on the blinker before turning down the street, "but we never know if he'll show up or not."

Mikasa clears her throat, and she fixes the piece of black hair that hangs between her eyes, "He always shows up to parties, but he either isolates himself and drinks until Eren and Connie have to drag his ass out, or he wins the girls over with his good looks, and then we don't see him for the rest of the night."

You hum, adjusting yourself in the black cloth seat, "When I was talking to him in the kitchen, he sort of said something about not really liking to be around."

"He's not lying." She slows the car clicking the button of the remote to the gate of the apartment complex, which causes it to open, "Connie may have sounded like he was joking, but we were all shocked as fuck that he came down to the basement."

"Sash. Do you think that he's changing?" Mikasa asks, her voice sounding somewhat optimistic.

Pulling into an open parking space, Sasha shrugs and puts the car into park. "It's hard to tell. I want to say yes, but I've gotten my hopes up way too many times. I really don't want to do that shit again."

You open your mouth to ask if they can elaborate on what they are talking about, but Sasha's loud voice cuts you off, "we're here!" Dropping her hands off the steering wheel, she grabs onto your shoulder and shakes you slightly, "We have a surprise for you."

Your eyes widen as you take off your seatbelt, "You guys. I told you that you've already done enough for me."

"It wasn't us." Mikasa tells you, as she opens the back door, "it was actually Historia."

Your eyebrows raise, causing your forehead to crease slightly. The three of you get out of the car and slam the car doors shut, "Historia did? I only met her a couple of days ago."

"Well, she's that kind of person," Mikasa responds.

You smile, looking at Sasha, "That's really kind of her."

Locking the car with her key fob, Sasha looks at you in return and sends you a smile, "she's a good person."

The three of you make your way into the four-story complex. You walk up two flights of stairs and turn down the hallway that is lit up brightly by fluorescent lights. Finally, you reach the white door of your apartment; it reads C10 in bold gold letters.

"Here," Sasha digs into her small black purse, and she pulls out a key. The body of it is green with small white flowers scattered about. "We made you your own copy. I hope green is still your favorite color."

A smile spreads across your face, exposing your teeth, knowing that she remembers something you told years ago back in grade school. It's a small gesture, but the meaning of it feels like an abundance of care. "Thank you," you say with gratitude.

Taking the newly printed key from her, you stick it into the black keyhole. Twisting the key slowly, you unlock the door and push it open. Instantly, you are greeted with the cinnamon-scented warm air of your new home.

Once inside, Sasha grabs your hand and pulls you through the entryway and down the hallways, flicking on the light switch as she passes by, "come on! You gotta see your surprise!"

"Okay, okay," You say, meeting Sasha's speed. She moves quickly, guiding you to the door furthest down the hallway on the left.

Sasha lets go of your hand and swiftly pushes the door open to your new room, "Ta-Da," she exclaims, "welcome home! It's all yours."

Your jaw falls open, "W-what? what do you mean, mine?"

What you were expecting to see was a bare room, unfurnished, not anything that made your new space livable yet. You were entirely ready to crash on the couch or the floor until you found a job and made enough money for furniture. But the room you are looking at is full of furniture, and it's decorated perfectly from floor to ceiling. 

There's a bed, a vanity, a bookshelf, and a dresser, all painted white, making the room look bright and inviting. There are different kinds of plants scattered about and fairy lights that line the room's border. A beige tapestry is hanging over your bed. It looks like a Tarot card with nature, butterflies, flowers, and a sun with a feminine face printed on it with black ink. Beneath it reads:

☼ THE SUN ☼

It's nicer than anything you could have ever imagined. Nicer than the room you spent years living in back in Stohess. Do people this kind and selfless actually exist?

"All of this was done by the queen Historia herself," Sasha says, making her way into your new room.

At a slow pace, you follow in behind her and begin to look around from floor to ceiling, "She didn't have to do all this."

"This used to be her room," Mikasa says, appearing in the doorway, "She lived with us last semester but decided last minute to move in with Ymir. When we told her that you were going to room with us, she decided to leave her things behind for you to have. Making the moving process a little easier for you."

Standing in the middle of the room, you spin around to look at Mikasa and Sasha, "she doesn't need these things?"

"No," Mikasa says, resting her head against the doorway, arms crossed in front of her, "she arranged everything and decorated it. It was all her idea."

"Historia is sort of rich. I guess you could say. Her father is the head lawyer and owner of Reiss Injury Law Firm," Sasha says as she passes by you and sits on the edge of your bed that's made up with an oversized white comforter, dark green pillows, and a throw to match. "So if she ever needs anything, money isn't an issue."

Mikasa chimes in, "but she probably won't, since you know, she's living with Ymir." She sounds like she was trying to hint at something without actually saying it.

You begin to put missing pieces of the puzzle together, "Oh!" You exclaim with realization, "are Ymir and Historia..." you train off.

Jean's tall figure shows up behind Mikasa, "You're just now figuring that out?" He says, holding one of your boxes against his chest.

"Who? Historia and Ymir?" Eren shows up next with another one of your boxes in his hands. Both of them make their way into your room, "you should have Connie show you the cake he made for them for Pride month." Eren says with a slight chuckle.

"Oh hell yeah!" Connie appears, erupting with proudness as he walks through the door of your room. "That shit was fucking delicious!"

"Go on," Jean says, turning his head back to look at Connie, "show her."

A grin spreads across Connie's face. Pulling out his phone, he finds the picture and turns the phone to you, "tell me I don't look cool as fuck."

In the picture, Connie is smiling cheek to cheek; it's so big you swear his face could rip in two. He is wearing a rainbow party hat and a tie-tied rainbow shirt with Be Who You Are!! written in the center of it in cursive with black ink. In his hands, there is a cake that reads, "Happy Pride! Shout out to the gays!" decorated with puffy pink frosting beneath a brightly colored rainbow.

You start to laugh, "Connie, are you serious?"

"What?" He says with a shrug, "I decorated the cake myself. Honestly, I should be in Cake boss or some shit. Call me Buddy fucking Valastro."

"You dumbass. Nobody is gonna call you that stupid shit," Jean says, shaking his head.

"Suit yourself, ponyboy." Connie gives you a nod and stuffs his phone back into his pocket, "I had to let my girls know I support them. Allies, you know?"

"Jesus Connie," you giggle, "what more could they ask for?"

Connie brushes his hands together in a repeated motion, "not a damn thing. I carried that shit." The group begins to laugh.

"What took you guys so long?" Sasha asks, changing the subject, "Weren't you right behind us?"

Jean looks at Sasha, "Eren brought some weed, so we packed a bowl and decided to smoke before coming in."

"Thanks for the invite," you say to him.

Jean smirks, "yeah. you're welcome." You roll your eyes.

"I'll give you guys a couple of ounces later. We have a lot left over," Eren says. "Where do you want the boxes?" He lifts the box he is holding slightly up to you.

"Oh," you point over to the foot of the bed where Sasha is, "you can set it there. I'll put it away later tonight." Both Jean and Eren nod and set down the boxes at your request.

"Wait, guys! I have an idea," Sasha falls back onto the mattress, looking up at the ceiling, "what if we throw like a little house warming party in a couple of weeks!"

A smile spreads across your face as you walk over to your vanity. "That would be so much fun. I'm down." You open one of the draws and place the blunt you stole from Jean inside and push it back shut, keeping his blue lighter in your pocket so you don't forget to give it back to him later.

Mikasa nods, rubbing the back of her hand across her cheek, "Let's do it."

"Are gonna come, Jean, or you gonna bail like always?" Eren asks, crossing his arms.

"Not sure. I'll let you know," Jean says with a shrug. His words are to Eren, but he's looking at you, "I wouldn't count on it, though."

"You better not make me drag you there," Connie threatens.

"You better not touch me," Jean says with a slacked jaw.

Sasha rolls his eyes at the bickers boys, "We'll plan it and let you know."

Mikasa fluffs out her hair, "Are you guys wanting to go eat?"

Connie speaks up, "instead of going to Dok's do you guys want to go to Pied Piper? Marlo said he's closing tonight. I wanna see him."

Your eyes travel across the room, "Pied Piper?"

"It's an ice cream shop, walking distance from here," Eren says. "We are cool with a couple of people who work there, so they give us good ass discounts. If you guys want to go, I'll shoot Armin texting telling him to meet us there. He should be off soon."

Everyone agrees, and you head out to the ice cream shop.

Connie and Sasha are power walking in front of the group, trying to see who will reach the destination first. You walk and talk alongside Eren and Mikasa while Jean follows far behind in silence. You look back to check on him every so often, but every time you do, his focus is on his phone, only looking up to make sure that he isn't going to run into anything.

Finally, you arrive at the small ice cream shop. The outside is decorated with window paint of leaves, acorns, and pumpkins since the first day of fall stands less than a week away. This town is the kind that celebrates even the changes of seasons. It is way more spirited than anything that you're used to.

Connie and Sasha have already made their way inside, and the four of you follow in after.

Inside Piped Piper, you have greeted with the smell of melting chocolate and fresh cooking waffle cones. It's a cute small parlor with white walls and a long counter with an old-fashioned register, and a large glass case full of various flavors of ice cream. The store lit up with icicle lights strung on the ceiling, and beneath your feet lies polished oak wood floors.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite people on the planet!"A girl with short blonde hair says from behind the counter, a big smile on her face. "You better be here for me and not the ice cream."

"Hitch mother fucking Dryese!" Eren greets her, stepping up to the counter.

"Of course, we're here for you, Hitch!" Sasha exclaims, throwing her arms into the air as she makes her way up to the glass filled with ice cream. "You're our girl."

"Quit. You're making me blush," Hitch says as she sets her forearms down on top of the glass and rests her chin on top of them. She begins to tap her fingers against the case as she counts quietly under her breath, her eyes traveling one by one down the line from the start of Sasha down to Jean, "Do my eyes deceive me, or have you added another person to your crazy ass group."

Connie quickly grabs your wrist, pulling you next to him, "this is Y/N. She just moved here," he says as she puts his arm around your shoulder. "Probably the coolest girl I've ever met."

Hitch looks at you out of the corner of her eye and raises an eyebrow, "cooler than me?"

"She's up there," Eren says, running his fingers through his pulled-back hair.

Jean scoffs, his eyes squint toward you, "don't go getting a big head now."

"Don't worry," you tilt your head towards him, "I'm not you." He scoffs.

Hitch laughs, "I like you already. I'm Hitch!" Her energy is high, which matches her sweet-sounding voice. "Tell me how you ended up befriending these guys. I'm sure they've already given you a run for your damn money."

You return a smile to her, "I grew up with Sasha, but we fell out years ago. Somehow we ended up in the same place at the same time."

Hitches eyes light up as she lifts her head, "no way! That's crazy. How are they treating you? Well, I hope."

"The best," you say, looking down the line at all of your friends. "To be honest, I was worried that moving here was going to be hard, but they've made it pretty easy." Your eyes meet Eren, and you smile at him; in return, he smiles back and scrunches his nose. God. He's cute.

Sasha interjects, "she actually just moved in with Mikasa and me today!"

"Aw, that's exciting. What about Historia?" Hitch asks, taking her arms off of the top of the glass. She turns to go wash her hands.

"Ymir," Mikasa responds.

"Ah, that's right." Hitch finishes washing her hands and puts on a pair of gloves. "I was wondering when that was gonna happen. Good for them."

"Right?" Sasha smiles.

"Hitch! Where the hell is my man Marlo at?" Connie asks, his tone of voice raised. "His ass told me he was going to be working tonight. He better not have been lying."

A tall man with a dark bowl cut comes out of the backroom of the store, through a door that reads employees only, "you called, Connie?"

"Hell yeah! See, Sasha! I told you that I have  summoning powers!" Connie makes his way over to the furthest part of the counter to greet Marlo. Eren and Jean follow behind him.

"Hmm." Sasha laughs, "so they must just not work with the ladies then."

Connie spins around quickly, flipping her off, "fuck you. I got lots of girls, alright?" She rolls her eyes and returns the gesture.

"Oh yeah? On Bumble? Are those matching piling up for you or what? Breaking the app with the selfies of you flexing in the mirror with your big ass head?" Jean taunts.

"Up yours, Horse face," Connie spits back, elbowing Jean in his arm. "I have ten hotties in my match queue right now."

"And how many of them have actually messaged you?" Marlo asks, obviously giving Connie a hard time.

"Let's see, shall we?" Connie pulls out his phone and opens the bumble app. He pulls up his matches, "look at these record-breaking numbers." Eren rolls his eyes and snatches the phone away from him, and Jean, Marlo, and Eren all look through it, muttering things to one another, arguing if Connie should swipe right or not.

"God," Mikasa sighs, "you guys are ridiculous."

The four boys talk to each other while Mikasa and Sasha start their own conversation with Hitch. They are giving her crap for not showing up to Eren's party. And she argues back that she had a shift but couldn't find coverage, blaming it on Marlo.

You hear the door of the ice cream parlor open behind you, and you turn to see Armin and Annie are making their way inside. The group greets them in an overly loud uproar making Armin's face beat red.

"You guys are so damn loud," Armin says with a small smile shaking his head as he and Annie make their way over to the counter.

"What else would you expect from them?" Jean mutters lowly, making his way over to where you're standing. "What's up, man."

"Glad you showed, Jean," Armin gives Jean a pat on his back as he passes him. He walks over to you. "Hey, Y/N. How'd the move go?"

You greet him with a wave, "Hi, Armin. It was good. I'm just happy to be out of my old place. How was your shift?"

He sighs, "It was good. I'm glad to be off, though. It's been a long day."

Your eyes travel over to Annie, "Hey." You greet her, making an effort of civility.

She pauses for a second and looks at you up and down, showing every ounce of her judgment towards you. Armin lightly nudges her shoulder like he is silently telling her not to be rude. She lets out a huff, "Hey." She finally says through her tense jaw, and she pulls Armin away from you without another word.

She's said to be like this with everyone, but it seems to be especially true when it comes to you. You have had very few interactions with her, but each of them is just as tense as the previous one. Sure, kissing Armin probably only added to the friction, but it was a game at a stupid college party. It isn't something she should hold against you. It's not like your interest lies anywhere in Armin. Sure, he's kind and cute, but you couldn't ever see him as anything more than just a friend.

Jean leans over and whispers in your ear, "she sure doesn't like you."

Your shoulders lift in a shiver as his warm breath travels down the crook of your neck, "Thank you for stating the obvious."

He chuckles, "I don't blame her. She probably thinks you're trying to steal her man."

You grit your teeth. "I'm not," you say with a defensive tone.

He leans in even closer to you. You swear you can almost feel his lips touch your ear; he lowers his voice more, "I know that. But the question is, does she?"

"Are you guys ready to order?" Marlo asks, interrupting your conversation. Jean steps away from you, making you instantly go cold.

"Hell yeah, we are!" Connie says with great enthusiasm.

One by one, your order, and Marlo and Hitch scoop the ice cream into cups and cones. Everyone requests various flavors of ice cream, keeping it relatively simple. Sasha and Connie, on the other hand, request a mix of different flavors. They then try to see who can pile on the most toppings, creating a dessert that looks more like Mount Everest rather than a couple of scoops of ice cream.

Sasha has been announced the winner. And Connie is pretty upset about it.

Hitch and Marlo take three ice cream orders off of your bill, and Connie pays the amount, as requested by Sasha. The group finds an open table to sit at. Connie, Sasha, Armin, and Annie are on one side of the booth. Leaving you, Eren, and Jean to occupy the other side.

Eren slides in first, you next, and Jean follows you in after. It's a tight booth leaving you to smack dab in the middle of their two broad bodies. Feeling squished and a little suffocated, you place your elbows on top of the table, allowing a little more room to breathe.

Armin starts talking about his shift at the local bookstore called The Garrison, taking bites of his vanilla ice cream in between his storytelling. You try to focus on his words, but Annie's eyes keep glaring at you, making you feel unnerved.

"Armin," Sasha says, her mouth full of cold dessert. "Is there a chance that The Garrison is hiring?"

"We are," Armin says, putting his arm around Annie. "We lost a few workers when they graduated last semester, so we are short right now. I don't know what it is, but nobody really wants to work at bookstores in today's day and age. Why do you ask?"

Sasha glances over to you and then back to Armin, "Y/N is looking for a job."

"You are?" Armin turns his focus to you; his blue eyes have a new bright light to them, "If you want, I can put in a word for you. We are desperate for new hires."

With your mouth full of cookie dough ice cream, you swallow, "Wait, really?"

"Absolutely!" Armin says, his cheeks flushed.

You shake your head, placing the white plastic spoon back into your ice cream, "I don't want you to have to go out of your way for me."

"Y/N," Eren says, his voice causing you to turn and look at him. Slowly underneath the table, without making it obvious, he slides his hand over to your leg and places it on top of your thigh, causing your breath to go ragged. He swipes his tongue across his lips, "let Armin help you out."

You bite at the tip of your tongue and turn your head back to Armin, "Could you really do that?"

"Absolutely!" Armin says with great enthusiasm, the smile never fraining from his lips. "I have another shift tomorrow. I'll talk to them then. Do you like to read?"

You nod, "It's one of my favorite things."

His smile grows even wider than before, "Then you're in no problem."

"You better talk her up, man," Connie says, tilting his head towards you.

"I will. I will. Don't worry." Armin assures you, adjusting his arm around Annie pulling her in slightly more.

Eren's hand remains on your thigh, and he gives it a slight squeeze, "The Garrison is pretty tight. I'm sure working there will be sick."

"I'll keep you updated," Armin says, and you thank him in return.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Annie pulls herself out from underneath Armin's arm. Quickly, she stands from the booth and takes her to leave.

Jean slightly nudges your leg with his own, getting your attention. You look at him to see him giving you one of those. 'See? I told you so' looks. You let out a small sigh of frustration.

The conversation begins to take place at the table once again. This time, Sasha talks about how Niccolo plans to take her on a date to this fancy restaurant. "I swear," she says, "sometimes I swear I've dreamed this guy up. Like there's no way he's real."

"You lucked out," you tell her, taking a bite of your ice cream, "good guys are rare." Eren's hand has still not left your thigh. He begins to move his thumb back and forth across your jeans. You bite at the inside of your lip at the feeling.

The sound of a ringtone cuts into the conversation. Jean slightly lifts his hips up and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. You look out of the side of your eye to see his bright screen; it reads, Reiss Injury Law Firm.

Reiss. As is Historia Reiss's dad? What the hell?

Jean answers it, "Hello? Yeah. No. No. I don't know. Jesus fucking Christ! I said I don't fucking know!" His tone is growing more and more irritated with every exchange.

You can feel his leg begin to move against yours under the table in that fast sort of bounce that happens when you get overwhelmed with anxiety. As he listens to the voice on the other side of the line, his fist clenches together on top of the table. "Fuck." Abruptly, he gets out of his booth and walks outside.

You have so many questions. But many aren't ones you have a place to query. So instead, you ask, "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Eren says, speaking for everyone in the group. But with the look on all of their faces, the way that they all read the same, you're not sure not a single one of them actually believes that. But again, it's not your place to ask.

The small talk begins again, but you can't seem to get invested. Even with Eren running his thumb back and forth slowly over your thigh, all you seem to be able to do is be concerned about Jean. Every second, you find yourself turning your head to look outside, seeing if he is still standing in view.

To your ears, your friends' voices have gone silent as your own thoughts and worry for Jean only continue to grow. You glance down at the table next to you where Jean was sitting to see the ice cream that he left behind begin to drip little by little.

You can't take it anymore; you want to check on him.

But before you can speak up, Armin does, "should one of you go check on Jean?"

"I'll go," you answer without an ounce of hesitance.

"You're sure?" Eren asks. "One of us can."

"Maybe it will be better if she goes," Mikasa says, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "You know he doesn't listen to us."

"True," Connie says, leaning back into the booth. "If any of us go, it probably won't go over well."

"Okay." You nod softly, "I'll try."

Eren pats your thigh twice before letting his grip go. You grab your ice cream alongside Jean's and slide yourself out of the booth, and make your way towards the exit.

You walk outside to see Jean sitting on one of the benches underneath a tall street light. His head is tilted to the clouded sky, the light of the moon slightly seeping through the textured white haze, making his skin glow.

Standing in front of the parlor, you stand still, hesitant. Unsure if whether he will welcome your company or not. Whether you even want to offer it to him at all.

What the hell are you doing? You don't like him.

With the grip you are holding around the white cups, your skin begins to freeze from the temperature of the ice cream seeping through. "Ah, Fuck it," you mutter under your breath, and you make your way over to Jean.

"Hey," you stand to the left of him, looking down at his seated position.

Jean brings his tiled head down a level so he can look at you; his lips are pressed into a stagnant line. He seems annoyed, but you can tell it's because of the phone call he took or because of the presence you are so pathetically offering him.

You sit down next to him on the bench and hold the cup of his dessert out to him, "You forgot your ice cream. It was starting to melt."

His eyes flicker to the ice cream and then back to your face. He shakes his head, "I don't want it."

"Then why'd you order it?" You ask, still holding his ice cream out to him. He shrugs in response. You sigh, "can you at least take it? My hands cold."

He rolls his eyes. Harshly, he grabs the ice cream from you and sets it on the wooden arm of the bench, "There. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," you say, feeding his sarcasm back to him. "Why haven't you come back in? Is everything good?"

"It's none of your business," he says, plainly looking out at the empty street, the black concrete still damp from the earlier rain.

"That's the second time you've told me that today." You begin to pick at your half-eaten soft ice cream with your white plastic spoon.

His eyes flicker over to you, "Because what I do or don't do doesn't concern you. I don't need you to check up on me."

You turn your head downward, "I know. I just thought-"

He interrupts with a frown, "I don't care what you thought. Just because you're friends with Sasha and the rest of the guys have taken this weird fucking liking to you doesn't mean that I like you."

Your stomach knots around itself at his words.

You don't like Jean. You don't consider him your friend the way you view the rest of them to be. But hearing him say it with such a harsh tone makes it almost burn. Jean has given you reasons not to like him. But you haven't done anything that should make him feel that same way about you.

You clear your throat and rest your ice cream cup on your thighs. "You're an ass; you know that?"

He taps the heel of his shoe against the concrete, "And you're annoying, you know that?

Your push your spoon deep into the center of your ice cream, "I'll go." Pushing yourself into your feet, you make your way back over to the front door of Piped Piper. You are about to open it when Jean's voice raises from behind your back, putting an abrupt halt in your movement.

"Y/N." Jean calls out, "Come on."

You turn your head to see him standing from the bench, looking at you, his ice cream in his hand.

"What?"

"You've gone deaf now or what?" Jean pulls on his hood and begins to walk away from you in the other direction. "I said, come on."

You drop your hand from the metal bar of the door. You look inside the window, and you see your friends inside laughing with one another, and when you look back over to see Jean, quiet and alone.

Your mind flickers through your options at hand. Do you go with Jean? Or do you go back with your friends?

When Jean notices that you're not following, he stops walking and turns around, "God, Y/N. You're so indecisive. Make up your damn mind, would you? I'm not going to drag your ass somewhere you don't wanna go."

But the thing is, for whatever god-forsaken reason, you do want to go. And so you do.

You leave the entrance of Piped Piper behind and catch up to Jean. When you reach him, he lowly hums. "Was it that hard to decide? I thought you were having a god damn midlife crisis or some shit." He begins to walk.

You follow, keeping up with his footing. "Shut up and eat your damn ice cream. There are people in the world who are staving, Jean." He rolls his eyes in annoyance, but after a few more steps, he begins to eat.

The two of you walk to the unknown destination and finish your ice cream in silence. Jean leads you around the corner of the building and down a small alleyway that leads to a tiny park that is hidden behind the small local businesses.

Passing by a trash can, he holds out his hand, "you finished?" You nod, giving him the cup, he throws them away.

Continuing your journey, you follow behind him as he crosses a small grass area over to where a pair of swings rest in the furthest corner of the park, near a flowerbed loaded with marigolds.

He takes a seat on one of the swings, and you sit next to him on his right, "why are we here?" You ask.

"I wanted to smoke."

"Didn't you smoke a bowl before you came into the apartment?"

"I already came down," he says, pulling out a shiny pink-colored pack of strawberry Swisher Sweets. He digs inside the package and pulls out a pre-roll. "Eren gave me this, but I couldn't light it up in front of all those businesses."

"Makes sense." Digging your feet into the surface of soft woodchips, you begin to sway back and forth on the swing slowly.

"I like it because no one ever comes here." Jean places the joint between his pointer finger and thumb. "A lot of people don't know about it since it's hidden, and since no one is ever over here, the cops are never around."

He sticks his hands in every one of his pockets, searching for something. "Shit." He hisses.

You pull out the blue light and twist it between your fingers, "looking for this?"

He reaches towards you with a sigh of relief; he takes it from you, "I forgot you stole this shit from me."

He flicks on the lighter and holds the burning flame to it. You watch as Jean takes a big hit. The end of the blunt tucked between his lips. "The others won't wonder where you are?" You ask him.

"I tend to go off alone a lot." He lets the smoke slightly float out of his mouth before he sucks it back in between his teeth. "It's nothing they're not used to."

You wrap both of your hands around the rusty chains of the swing, "Do you like being alone?"

Bringing his face upward to the sky, he draws a blank stare, slowly blinking. He pauses for a few seconds before he shrugs, bringing his focus back level. "I don't really like anything."

There is almost a sadness to his voice, but his face remains in a slack expression. You find yourself constantly trying to get a read on him with every interaction the two of you share, but you've never met someone who is so unreadable before in your life. It's frustrating.

He holds the fresh burning blunt out to you, "Wanna hit?"

| now playing ... show me how ; men i trust |

You stop the movement of the swing and reach out your hand, taking it from him, "sure. Thanks." Holding it between your two fingers, you bring it up to your lips and breathe in deep, letting the smoke coat the inside of your throat and lungs, filling you with a slight sense of warmth.

You pull the joint away from your lips and hold it back out to him as you slowly blow the smoke out into the chill night air.

"So." Jean takes it. His fingers slightly grazing across yours, "Why'd you move here?" He asks before hitting the blunt.

Great. One of the questions you hate the most.

Even when Eren asked that same question back on the first day of class, you lied and said that Trost State had been your number one choice University since high school. The truth is, you didn't know that TSU even existed until Lucas told you that it had an outstanding Political Science Program. In addition, it was far enough to escape your father, which became the major selling point for you.

If there is one thing you hate, it's lying to others, but you hate the reality of your truth even more.

So again, just like with Eren, you lie, "I don't know. I just did."

He turns to you, and his eyes search your face, his eyebrows furrow together as if he can tell that you're lying; you're a lot easier to read than he is. "What are you running from?" He asks, offering the blunt in another exchange, smoke falling out of his mouth with every word.

You shake your head, taking it back from him again. "I'm not," you stammer over your own bullshit. "I'm not running from anything."

Again. A lie. Truth be told, you're running from fucking everything.

But you've gone too much into your past today. First talking to Eren, now this? At least with Eren, there were areas of relation, a similar playing ground making it easier to open up to him. 

Jean? He's the last person you would want to confide in or confess your troubled past too. The corners of your mouth begin to twitch as you chew at the soft flesh inside.

"Come on, Y/N." Jean rests his head against the chain of the swing, "everyone is running from something."

Placing your pointer finger on top of the blunt, you flick the ash that is burning off of the tip of it. You watch as the grey ash weightlessly floats to the ground of wood chips as you try to figure out how to answer him best.

"Yeah?" Once the ash has become one with the ground and you can no longer see it, you bring your eyes over to Jean and pass him the blunt. "If that's true if everyone is running from something, then what are you running from, Jean?"

There is no response to your question from him. He only blinks, the temples in his forehead pulsing against his skin as he bites his teeth together with harsh pressure.

You stay quiet for a few moments. Offering up opportunities for him to respond, but he doesn't take any of them. The harsh smell of burning marijuana fills your nose, only adding to this specific type of hostility that only seems to be around when the two of you interact with one another.

Coming to terms with the fact that Jean isn't going to give you anything but silence, you speak up again. "Exactly," you say, sounding more disdainful than you aimed to, "don't ask other people questions that you can't give your own answer to. It's hypocritical."

Jean huffs out a laugh, knowing that you're right. "Fair enough." There is a moment of silence before he changes the subject, "did you really come out in the cold just to bring me my ice cream?"

"Partially. But it was also because of that phone call," you pause for a second, debating if you should even continue with where you're going with the sentence.

Why do you want to know pieces of Jean so severely when he has made it clear that you are nothing more to him than someone he has to associate with because of your relationship with Sasha and your slowly forming relationship with the others.

He kicks a small section of the woodchips with his foot, "What about it?"

"You seemed irritated." Your words are hesitant. And your eyes can't seem to meet his face. "Is everything okay?"

He lifts up the burning blunt to you, gesturing to it, "What do you think?"

You nod, knowing that smoking is probably his way to distress from whatever happened during that call. "I know this is a long fucking shot but do you..." You trail off, afraid he's going to flip on you again.

Keeping up with Jean is fucking monopoly, and you've always fucking sucked at that game.

"Do I what?' He begins, slowing moving his raised hand down to rest on top of his thigh, "Want to talk about it?"

You let out a small breath, happy you didn't have to ask him that question yourself, "Yeah."

"There's nothing to say." He throws the small remainder of the blunt onto the ground and squishes it underneath his foot, "it was just some bullshit that I needed to take care of."

"Did you?" you bite down between your words, tensing your jaw, "take care of it?"

"I'm handling it," he huffs air out of his nose. "I always handle it."

Your eyes blink quickly, "Okay. But you should know you don't always have to handle it on your own."

The corners of his mouth draw downward as he digs his shoes deep into the dirt. "I don't need life advice from you, and I sure as hell don't need you to play therapist."

His words remind you of Lucas and of yourself as well, and you aren't sure which fact you hate more.

Tilting your head up to stare at the sky, you rub your nose; a pained look has spread across your face. You have no idea what to say in return to that comment, so you remain quiet. Your eyes travel back and forth as the clouds roll by, trying not to think about how are words sometimes make you feel.

Jean can see the look on your face. Knowing he's the reason for it, he grits his teeth, frustrated at himself. "I bet you were wishing you decided to go back into Piped Piper instead of coming to this shit park with me right now, huh?"

You straighten out your neck and look at him. He's right. You do. This time you tell the honest truth. "Yeah. You have no idea."

"Look," he sighs, "I told you at Eren's party that I don't think-"

You interject, "yeah, I know.  You don't think before you speak." You stand from the swings, "we should go. I'm getting cold."

Another lie. The temperate is bearable, but the tension is not.

You begin to walk, and he follows behind.

Walking back towards Piped Piper, the high begins to hit you, causing you to relax. Feeling a little less heavy, in both your heart and your mind, you decide to break the silence, "Random question but did that count as you smoking me out?"

"That depends," he says, matching your step. "Do you still have the blunt I gave you earlier?"

"I do." You admit, almost near the entrance of the ice cream parlor, "I put it in the drawer of my room."

Reaching the door, Jean opens it, and he shakes his head. "Then no. That doesn't count. As long as you keep it, I'll owe you, but if you smoke it without me, I'll have to kill you for breaking our deal."

"I'd love to see you try." You smile up at Jean as you pass by him, as he holds the door for you, "But you should know, Jean, I never go back on my word."

"Good to know, Y/N." He follows you into Piped Piper. "Neither do I."

- 14,163 words.

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Hi. Merry Christmas Eve (if you celebrate); if you don't, happy Friday.

Thank you for 4k reads and for all of the new and continuous support. I saw that someone made a Tiktok about okay, bambi saying it's their current favorite Jean fanfic which is crazy to me. I am more grateful than I can say.