They say the most inevitable things are life, death, and above all; the passage of time. Time, in its bane of existence, waits for no one. Being a force to be reckoned with, it continues to carry on despite the misery or the joy it may bring, like a stream of water crashing against rocks, or flowing harmoniously with the lilypads. But, unlike the passage of time, there are people who are willing to wait and will continue to do so, in hopes that their misery may once again lead to joy. That is what we call living, and not just existing.
At least that's what you wrote down this morning as you sat outside on your balcony, the burnt orange sun slowly rising. It was a cool morning, surprisingly quiet, with the occasional chirping of birds here and there. You decided to wake up early enough to watch this moment – you don't remember the last time you'd been able to do so. Apparently, your mother did the same thing when carrying you, saying it would help make you an early bird. Early birds had the beautiful luxury of taking in the moment that is the beginning of a new day. Unfortunately for you, that was not the case, with working hard to be valedictorian, working hard to get into Marley, and even working hard to land each job you've ever had. That was the case, until now. The realization of it made you smile.
Though, that smile slowly faded as you remember this wasn't for long. Mikasa's wedding was in three months, and eventually, you'd fly back to Marley. Your life awaited you, along with your fiance. You'd go back to find another well-paying job, with your honorable partner, living in a beautiful penthouse in the city. The perfectly structured life. What more is there to want?
You kept telling yourself that as you took a sip of tea, the cup warmed up your cold, shaky hands as they had finally let go of the pen you held for so long. It's hard to write, but it is even harder to live up to the words written. Time was continuously moving – you could see it in the air, in the nature around you, in your grief, in your joy, in your pain, in your friends, in him. You saw it in him the most, how someone who knew the deepest, most intimate parts of you, was now just someone you only could see from the surface.
Jean walks towards the tea shop, carrying his usual sketchbook as his eyes wander all over the place. His other hand held his cigarette, with the occasional puff of smoke leaving his lips and entering the crisp, morning spring air. The end of his brown leather sketchbook was slightly worn, but it was still his favorite one, containing some of his favorite works. He drops the cigarette onto the sidewalk, stomping on it before reaching the proximity of the tea shop – unfortunately for Jean, Levi had a strict no-smoking policy.
"Good morning sunshine!" Hange exclaims, their big brown eyes full of energy, "You sure you don't want to try our new and improved English muffins?"
"Apparently, the previous ones were dry, tch," Levi comments as he sets pastries inside the warmer. He never took feedback quite well, so when he heard that Sasha choked on one the other day, he immediately went to work on a new recipe. His annoyed face made Jean chuckle, his hand moving a strand of ash-brown hair away from his face.
"I'm going to have to pass," Jean says, walking away, "You know where I'll be waiting."
"Coming right up!" Hange nods as Levi begins making Jean's usual order, not once did he ever change it. He walks to his usual spot, it hasn't changed in all of these years – a small table fit for two guests in the corner, right next to a window. Placing the sketchbook on top of the wooden table, he rolls the sleeves of his cream button-up shirt, stopping right before the elbows.
Jean loved the view from this window, each season bringing a new sight. Just like its nature of new beginnings, spring brought ripe fruit, blooming flowers, fresh leaves, and change. Jean felt the change, yet the feeling of winter's reminiscence still resided in him. He would stare outside the window for a long time, hours even, watching people come and go. He only really brought a sketchbook to seem like he was doing something other than gazing the time away. To anyone, it was a sad sight to see.
"Alrighty Jean-boy," Hange says as they approach Jean's table, breaking him out of his internal dialogue, "Here ya go – an iced chai with a hint of cinnamon and a fresh butter croissant."
Jean gives her a warm smile, setting his sketchbook aside as he stares at his meal eagerly, "Thank you, Hang, looks great. Thank Levi for me too, please."
Hange nods, "Enjoy!' they say before briskly walking away, leaving Jean alone once again. The first bite of bread was heavenly, a little hum leaving his lips. He brings his sketchbook towards him, looking through the pages.
It was a graduation gift from his mother, who used her savings to purchase it for him, which he cherished so dearly. There were countless sketches of men and women, bare and clothed, eyes, fingers, waists, noses, jaws, and any other parts of anatomy he was able to capture. Down in the corner was his signature, along with the date and location, if it was significant enough.
Paris, France....Seville, Spain... London, England...Athens, Greece...Buenos Aires, Argentina...
The list went on and on – reading them made him proud. Alongside each turning page, there was growth and progress. There were memories within the lines, they held life and beauty. As he turned to the last one, his most recent, it confirmed all of it.
JK - eldia, first session.
His fingers softly touched the cream, drawn paper, trailing on top of the strands of your hair. He gazes intently as if entering an uncontrollable trance. The morning sun shined brightly through the branches near the window as if it was helping it come to life. He was so amazed, but this time not at his work, but at how beautiful a person could be.
"Morning besties!" Hitch shouts as she strides through the doors, her big green eyes wide and energetic. She slaps a $10 bill on the counter, "Americano, to go. No time to relax today."
"You got it," Hange nods as they enter her order, Levi beginning on it as well. Hitch sighs dramatically, making Hange chuckle, "What's bothering you, hitchhiker?"
"Glad you asked!" Hitch replies almost immediately, leaning against the counter, "I need to begin on the suits and dresses for the wedding, and to do that I need the measurements of six busy adults by tomorrow night, or else there will be a disappointed, stressed out, not to mention pregnant, bride... who may be under the impression that this task is already done."
Hitch sighs at the end of her one-breath sentence, leaving Hange too stunned to speak. As if on queue, Levi slides Hitch her freshly made americano, the steam slowly rising, "Well, I don't know how busy those adults may be," he begins, shoving her off of the just polished counter, "but one of them is rotting away in the corner."
She furrows her brows, turning to see none other than her best friend, staring at his sketches as he sipped on his chai, the rays shining on his ash brown strands and chiseled, relaxed face. Hitch couldn't help but crack a smile as she saw her best friend, gently fixing the strands of her honey-blonde hair as she approached his seat. Jean hasn't taken notice, his mind was elsewhere, his thoughts being of someone far from him.
"Can't say I'm surprised to see you here," Hitch announces, making Jean jump as he suddenly hears her voice, breaking him from his trance. Within a second he closes his sketchbook, pushing it to the side of him, "You scared me," he sighs, making Hitch giggle. She sits down across from him, placing her head on top of her hand, "Is that the shirt I gifted you for your birthday?"
Jean looks down at the button-up shirt, nodding proudly, "One of my favorites," he comments, turning his head to look out the window.
His small smile made Hitch's pale skin show a slight, soft tint of pink. She found herself gazing too much, almost forgetting what she needed to address, "Well, I'm glad I bumped into you, I need you to come over so I can get your measurements, you're the tallest of the bunch so I'd prefer to start with you..."
Hitch's voice trailed off as she noticed Jean was staring off outside where a bird had just landed on the tree branch closest to the window, not listening to her ramble. His mind was somewhere else, somewhere that was not here.
"Hello?" she raises her voice slightly, tilting her head and furrowing her brows in frustration, "Jean!"
Jean blinks rapidly, turning his head back to the blonde, "Sorry, what?"
"Where is your mind at?" she asks, sighing after, "Measurements, I need them before tomorrow night."
Jean stares inquisitively at her as if he is waiting for more clarification, one that Hitch presumed he did not need. She was wrong; he had no clue what she was talking about.
"Tomorrow night..." she begins, raising her brows, "The engagement party."
"Shit, that's tomorrow?" Jean mutters, making Hitch scoff, "Oh my god, I can't believe you forgot. What's going on? You're usually more... present."
Hitch was right. Ever since Tybur's offer, Jean has been dedicating his days and nights to the portfolio, and more importantly, how he was going to paint you. It was as if he was being tested by the universe, the task falling into his hands and your image into his mind. You were his muse once again – he needed this to turn out perfectly, that responsibility rested heavily on his bearing shoulders.
"I've been busy with this new art project, is all," he kept his response short. Jean knew if he were to announce to Hitch about William Tybur's offer, she would immediately tell Marco. He didn't want Marco knowing, just yet. No one knew Jean as well as Marco, all the more reason to keep this between the two of you, for now.
"Very excited for you as always," Hitch says before taking a sip of her coffee, "But I need this done before the party. Can you come over tonight? Bring Marco too," she begins, "Shouldn't take too long, plus I'm heading over to Sasha's, and Connie will most likely be there, too. Armin and Annie, I can do it tomorrow before the party, yes! Sounds good. That just leaves Y/n...."
Jean's eyes piqued at the mention of your name, looking at Hitch's pondering face, "Speaking of," she says softly, her tone becoming serious, "Can I ask you something?"
"Always," Jean responds, his attention now being devoted to Hitch as he sees her expression become serious. She glances down at her fingers tapping the coffee cup, bringing her green eyes back up to face him, "Why didn't you tell me you used to be with Y/n?"
"She... told you?" Jean asks, trying his hardest to not sound eager or surprised, everything he was feeling inside. The thought of you speaking about him made his heart race. He wasn't sure if it was a good or bad feeling, though he would soon find out.
"Well, Sasha practically forced her to," Hitch explains, "Y/n said it was just a high school fling, though it seems like it was something more than that," she implies, waiting for his response.
A slight ping entered Jean's chest at hearing what you diminished your relationship to be; was it just a fling? Was that really how you felt?
Jean's thoughts raced inside his head at an exhausting, exhilarating speed. Of course, that's how you felt, you couldn't possibly see Jean with eyes of affection, not anymore. It was so long ago, why would you think of it to be any more than what it actually was?
Was that... all it was?
"Yeah, It was just a high school romance, nothing else," Jean confirms, the fraudulent words struggling to leave his mouth. They both stayed silent for a moment, Hitch noticing how uneasy he was speaking those words. She squints her eyes, "Why did it end?" she asks quietly, genuinely curious.
His low eyes looked out again, looking at the bird now flying off the branch, "We both had things we wanted to do, and I couldn't possibly hold her back. So, I let her go. "
He never regretted his decision, because he knew if he did the opposite, he'd never forgive himself. It was a painful realization, but it was nothing but the truth, hurting just as much as the fraudulent words from before. There was truly no escaping it, it was a pain he knew all too well; letting go of someone you love.
"I'll stop by later tonight," Jean gets up suddenly, "I'm gonna go work for a bit, see you later hitchhiker."
Jean grabs his things, patting Hitch's head before leaving the tea shop. She stayed still, keeping Jean's hurt expression in her mind; you both had to be lying. She knew Jean wasn't one to have serious relationships – she's seen him go through countless meaningless ones with women here and there. But, whenever you were brought up, his eyes lit up in a way she's never seen, and lost their light right after, the way it happens when the significance of someone, beats the oblivion of pretending nothing is there.
"Make sure you wear something comfortable since you'll be walking and talking a lot, but nothing casual! The venue is too pretty for something casual- God, my feet are so swollen, Y/n. I don't think my heels are going to fit!"
"Okay, Mika, calm down, I'm sure some nice sandals will do," You try to comfort your friend through the phone, walking on the sidewalk in a rush, "I don't think anyone would blame you, you are carrying a whole human inside you."
"Sandals!? Please, I can't wear sandals to my engagement party, think of the pictures- oh my god, my feet are going to be in the pictures..."
Mikasa has been rambling about her troubles since you left your apartment; tomorrow night was her and Eren's engagement party. The two decided to do it on a Tuesday night, assuming they would have fewer guests; but they seem to have forgotten who their crowd was. None of you worked the typical 9-5, and the Jaeger family were very well known in the city of Eldia. There will be many people in attendance tomorrow, including your dearest father, to whom you were on your way to visit.
"Try to rest as much as you can, drink some water, and hopefully the swelling will go down by tomorrow night," you respond in your most comforting tone, "I have to go, Mika. Going to have breakfast at my dad's. We'll speak later, okay?"
"Good luck," Mikasa sighs, making you chuckle, "I'm sure you'll need it."
"You know it," you say half-heartedly, "Bye, love ya."
You hang up after her goodbye, reaching where you had requested a driver. Your father's house was out of the city, a nice, quiet estate. It was a beautiful home, as beautiful as money could buy. But, it wasn't home. Just like almost everything your father did, it was just for appearance.
The ride there wasn't long, either. It was best to be driven, or else you would've been sweating by the time you arrived; no cloud in the sky called for a lovely, bright sun.
You thank your driver as you step off, patting your jeans and adjusting the sweater you had tied over your shoulders. You begin to walk on the concrete in between the well-kept lawn, courtesy of the gardener your father hired when you both had just moved in. The plants and flowers also looked beautiful, which made you very happy – your mother would have been proud, she always loved tending them.
Reaching the entrance, you see a familiar face walk out, "Oh my, is that you, Miss Y/n? How much you've grown!"
You recognized the sweet voice, the one coming from none other than your former maid, "Ms. Frieda," you say, gasping softly, "Is that you?"
Frieda was the young twenty-year-old your father hired shortly after your fifteenth birthday, dedicated to your needs and such. She cooked, cleaned your room, helped you with your homework, everything she was employed to do. But, she was so much more than that. Frieda took on a role she did not have to, a role of a caregiver. She gave advice, she comforted you after your fights with your father, she stayed late for school projects, she helped you with putting on makeup, she even helped you sneak out at times, and not once did she ever make you feel like a burden. Though it has been nine years since you've last seen her, she has not aged a bit. You always admired her long, black hair and those beautiful crystal eyes, but above all, her kind smile.
She dropped her bag on the floor and rushed towards you, you both embracing each other with a big hug, "My sweet girl, all grown up."
"It's been so long... I've missed you, Fri," you confessed, closing your eyes as your face rested on her shoulders, "How are you?"
You both let go, her gentle hands rubbing your arms, "I'm well, the real question is how are you? I heard you are getting married!"
Seeing Freida's face light up in excitement made you smile at the fact you were getting married – it's as if you made her feel proud. You nod, "I am, I'll be sure to have my father send an invitation."
Frieda's smile slowly drops, her eyes glancing at the floor, "I'm afraid that won't be possible, I no longer work here."
Your eyes widen, and your lips slowly part in shock, "What? W-why?"
She presses her lips together, nodding, "Your father was very kind to let me continue to work here after you left, but he said my services are not needed anymore."
"No, no you are an amazing worker," you shake your head in disbelief, "Stay here, let me talk to him-"
"Persistent as ever, are you?" Freida interrupts, "It's okay, miss. I will be just fine. I'm glad I got to see you before I left... I am so very proud of you."
Those words made your eyes want to water, it felt like the rain after a long, tiring drought. Your arms bring her in for an embrace this time, "Please, let's stay in touch," you mutter, "I couldn't have lived in this place without you. Thank you, for everything."
You felt Frieda exhale, rubbing her hand on your back, "Go on, don't have him waiting for too long, he gets cranky."
You chuckle, letting Frieda go as you begin to walk past her. You turn to give a small wave goodbye, her doing the same as she slowly leaves out the gates. Frieda leaving, for some reason in your heart, felt as if a piece of you was leaving as well. A piece finally setting its stone in the past.
You wondered if your body subconsciously prepared you for this morning by waking up early; a nice, peaceful morning out on the balcony, rather than starting it here. You had time to mentally prepare yourself for whatever your father might bring up; your nonexistent job, Reiner, the wedding planning. You know, everything you didn't have the answers to.
The glass paneled door was left open, careful to not make too much noise as you walked in. As you enter, you are welcomed by the big framed portrait of your mother, painted in all her glory. Under was her urn, an emerald green ceramic type, with intrinsic details painted all over. You sauntered towards it, placing a gentle hand on it. You silently apologized to her for not visiting as often as you should, but you were sure she understood.
The house was quiet, enough for you to hear the water fountains near the garden and the birds chirping from the trees out by the terrace. You were sure you got the time right, looking around the foyer and living room, no signs of your dad.
𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨... 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘵𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵 - 𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴.
Your wandering eyes trailed towards the dark hallway, staring into it for a second. Looking around once again, you decide to walk towards it, your legs knowing exactly where to go. It may have been nine years, so it may not even be there anymore, though deep down in your beating chest and fluttered stomach, you hoped it was.
Turning right, and up the spiral stairs where light seeped through the sheer curtains, leading to the second floor, and right at the end. You arrived at the door that led to none other than your old bedroom.
Your hand grasps the copper doorknob, slowly opening it. Your breath hitches as you see nothing has changed, nothing at all. You could tell someone, most likely Freida, came here to clean since there was no dust, but nothing was rearranged. Everything was the same as you left it. The stack of classic literature is on the floor, alongside your guitar. The floral curtains, with the matching bed set, alongside your stuffed animals. Your nightstand, with a picture of your mother on one side, and one of you and Mikasa on the other. Your desk had all of your favorite pens, alongside your favorite books from Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen. You could feel how out of place you were at this moment, walking around the field of memories this nostalgic trip held.
"This room is like a sanctuary."
"It is, when I'm not with you."
You smiled at the thought, looking at the little crack in the glass door that led to your balcony. It was right up in the corner, so it's no surprise your father didn't notice it. You on the other hand immediately did, letting out a light-hearted sigh, and walking away from it.
As you turned, your eyes noticed pieces of paper under your bed, making you squint. They were a familiar beige color, piquing your interest as you kneeled down to reach them. It was an assortment of papers and a sketch, with the date on the bottom.
Title, JK- Last Session.
The date is nine years ago, today.
You weren't able to come back to your room after graduation, your packed bags were already in the car ready to take you to the airport, and your father was eager to leave for Marley. If you knew that was his plan before, you probably would have taken out those two things under your bed, the ones you always intended to bring with you.
You couldn't sleep the night before, with the thought of leaving everyone in a few days heavy on your mind. It kept your eyes wide as you looked out at the starry night, you'd miss the clear Eldian skies. Marley was a very populated city off the coast, there was nothing but rich people and gloomy skies.
You hear small taps hit your glass door, averting your eyes to where the sound was coming from. Usually, they wouldn't catch you by surprise but, you weren't expecting them tonight.
You lifted yourself up from your bed, your feet touching the cold floor. Quickly fixing your hair, you opened the doors, seeing Jean climb up the tree right next to your balcony, and hop right over the balustrade.
"What are you doing here?" you whisper yelled, looking up at Jean as he tried to catch his breath, kicking the pebbles off the balcony. You grabbed his arm, leading him into your room. You noticed he brought a piece of paper, also his sketching pencils in the back pocket of his jeans.
"I... just felt like visiting," he confesses, "It'll be the last time since you'll be off to Marley in a few days. Excited?"
You wrapped your arms around your body as you leaned against the wall, your eyes becoming soft. His tone was cheerful, though his body deceived him. You could see it in his eyes, the pain he was feeling. You wondered if he could see it in yours, too.
"Well then," he says as he sits down on the floor, "Care to be my muse, birdie?"
"Like this?" you scoff, looking down at your silk nightgown, "You have to be joking, Kirstein."
Jean smiles, looking at you from your legs up to your face, "You are not a joke, Birdie. In fact, sometimes I can't believe you're even real."
He was always so smooth with his words, saying whatever popped up in his head, "Shut up," you chuckled, feeling your body get warm, "What do you want me to do, then?"
"Whatever you want," he responds, adjusting himself to get ready to sketch. You hummed, grabbing your journal and one of your favorite pens, "I'll be writing, hope that's not too boring for you to sketch."
"Impossible," he sighs, "Could never get bored of you."
You smile as you sit down in front of him like you usually did on the nights he snuck in. He would draw, you would write, you two would talk, and then he'd leave once you'd fallen asleep. He could never get bored of that, in fact, he wished he had the luxury to. Now, he found himself clinging to the little time he had left with you.
"Jean," you spoke, looking up at that face you adored more than you could ever put into words. Once he had finished his sketch, he laid on your bed, putting his arms behind his head as he rested, "Yes, Birdie?"
"I don't want to leave," you confess, feeling your heart beat faster with the silence that follows. Jean's face relaxes as he looks up at the ceiling, he could hear the hurt in your voice. It was the hurt of realization, the inevitable realization.
"C'mere," he mutters softly, you walking towards the bed, sitting next to him. You stare down at him, as he stares up, raising his hand to caress your cheek, "You have no idea how much you consume me. How much I'd give to see you happy, to see you achieve everything you want. To have you live the life you deserve."
You hold his hand, the one he had pressed on your cheek, "Which is why you need to leave. Leave Eldia, leave your father, leave me."
The words hit you like a gust of wind, taking the air out of you as it settled into your skin, piercing right into your heart.
"No," you nod, feeling your throat close in on you, "I can't, I can't do this-"
Jean gets up, placing his warm hands on your bare shoulders, "Yes baby, yes you can. You're going to leave this place and do great things, everything we used to talk about. You'll visit here and then if you're able to, you'll graduate top of your class, you'll become a great writer, and then you'll come back. You'll come back to me. We're not losing each other, we're just letting each other go for a while."
You two always put one another first, and in its selflessness, caused the greatest pain in your heart. You two wouldn't dare to hold each other back from their desires, but that didn't make the inevitable any less difficult.
The tears fell down your cheeks at the end of his sentence, the one in which he ended the relationship you two had. His thumbs wiped them off of your face, "Don't cry, my love."
"God, I," you began, "I know this is the right thing to do, but it hurts so much."
He brings you into his chest, taking in your sweet scent, and resting his head on your soft hair, "I know," his voice cracks, "It's okay my love, my birdie."
You cried into his chest, trying your hardest to not be loud as you clung to his t-shirt. Jean rubbed your back, trying his hardest to comfort your aching heart. You two stayed in this position for quite some time, and you finally became silent, as you heard his heartbeat in his chest. He guided you towards your pillows, where you and he lay down, your eyes slowly becoming low.
Jean always stayed for a while, embracing you until he heard your breaths of sleep, that's when he'd know it was time to go. You always woke up to an empty bed, not knowing when he'd leave.
"I look forward to the day we can be together again," you said, your voice becoming quiet. Jean kisses your shoulder, "I do, too."
"You better have some good stories to tell when I come back," you say, "I want to hear about your travels, and not just places here in Eldia. Go to... I don't know, England, Spain, Italy, or France. Go anywhere and everywhere, just like you wanted to. Show people your art, and become known across the world, like you are meant to be. Promise?"
You turned your head to face him, your gaze serious. He leans in against your lips, hovering over them, "I promise."
He places a long, soft kiss on your lips, exhaling at your touch. You felt your body finally relax, letting itself rest for the night.
"Until then, don't become a stranger," Jean whispers into your ear, his voice carrying hope, "Promise?"
You hum, the last words were spoken before you drifted off to sleep in the arms of the person you loved the most;
"I promise."
The pain of a broken promise; not only hurting for what was lost, but for what could have been.
You couldn't bring yourself up, the weight of the memory keeping you on the floor, gazing into that drawing of you nine years ago, along with a letter that was never sent. Bringing it to your chest, you exhaled, blinking slowly, staring into nothingness. Nothingness was all that was left. There was nothing to do, but move on.
"Y/n? Are you up here?" you hear your dad call out, his voice becoming clearer as he walks up the stairs. You quickly got up, hesitantly placing the papers inside your back pocket. He walked into the room, "Had a business call to take..." he began, looking around, "Didn't expect you to be here."
"Was just curious," you respond, "Surprised it's not another study."
Nile looks taken aback by your comment, "I could never, this was your favorite place. Always cooped up in here."
"Anyways, how are you adjusting? I assume you've been catching up with old friends," he says, walking around your room. You hum, "Yeah, that's exactly what I've been doing. I've missed out on a lot, so there is much to talk about."
"Grisha's son is having his party tomorrow night, so I'll see you there. I assume other councilmen will be in attendance, so please make sure to greet them."
"Will do," you respond with a flat tone, standing still as you place your hands into your back pockets, "I saw Freida before coming in, she told me she no longer works here."
Nile pauses, looking out at the view from the glass door. You continued, "Why did you let her go? She's been working for us for years-"
"For me, Y/n," Nile interrupts, "You have not been here, Frieda has been working for me all these years and frankly, I had no need for her anymore. Simple."
"I noticed there are fewer workers here," you comment, "Are you planning on moving? Is that what's going on?"
He turns to face you, "I live alone."
"In this beautiful big home I've built, I live alone. Even now with my daughter back after so many years, she has decided on living in a small apartment in the city. There's no need for so many workers here, not anymore."
Guilt entered your body at an alarming rate as you stared into your father's eyes, but it didn't change the fact that you'd rather be away than ever live here again. You did not feel like giving a response to his comment, as it would most likely just spark up another argument.
"The breakfast is ready if you still care to join me."
Nile walks out of the room, you following only a minute after. You slowly walked out, looking back at your old bedroom. It felt needed to come back, so you can properly grasp the copper doorknob, and close the door on your own.
Breakfast at your father's estate was as you anticipated; silence accompanied by small, blunt answers about his work, or your life in Marley. He only brought up Reiner once, which was unusual. Your response the first time must have been satisfactory, saying he was busy with surgeries, but still made sure to call you here and there.
A bit of a stretch, but it worked.
The rest of the day went fast; you walked around the city and met up with the bridesmaids for the last details of the engagement party. You all tried your best in helping Mikasa calm down, telling her it's not good for the baby to be put under such stress. Hitch also secretly took your measurements when Mikasa was distracted, which made you laugh as her eyes rapidly looked everywhere.
It was now the evening of Tuesday, and you were getting ready for Eren and Mikasa's engagement party. They rented a venue near the central part of the Rose district, so the drive wouldn't be too long. The main worry for you was what to wear, especially since this is the first big event you'd be attending since returning to Eldia.
Here in Eldia, the weather was always beautiful, the city having a vintage and rustic feel to it. You loved it, especially since you loved wearing your floral prints.
Thankfully, Hange knew of a boutique here that sold fine dresses for the occasion. You visited a few hours ago, buying an assortment of possible choices for tonight. Having them laid out on your bed, you walked back and forth in your bathrobe, struggling to make a decision.
The temperature felt slightly warm, but you knew it would become cool as it began to get dark, nothing a nice shawl couldn't fix. You wanted something that wouldn't stand out too much but still looked presentable. You felt yourself growing nervous, each dress was beautiful but exposing.
You chose the one with the neckline that stooped low but had the prettiest stitching across the chest. It paired perfectly with your nude heels and cream shawl, taking a spin in the mirror. You paired it with your mom's gold necklace, and let your hair down. With some soft makeup and a dark lip, you were ready to leave.
You clutched your phone nervously as you walked out, your driver waiting to take you to the central Rose district. You looked at each passing lamp post, each person walking, each building, up until you saw the venue in your sight.
It was towering, so elegant it could be the wedding venue – though Mikasa insisted on having it outdoors, by the hill where Eren's house was. Many people were already inside, others walking up the stairs with their partners.
"Thank you," you say to your driver, opening the car door and walking out. You wrap your shawl around your arms as you walk up the stairs, trying hard to slip with how your legs were nervously shaking.
You entered the hall, hearing multiple conversations and a violinist. This was definitely a Yaeger family party, no wonder Mikasa was so nervous. You searched for her through the crowds, making sure she knew you were here for her.
The first familiar face you spotted was none other than your father's. He wore his signature navy Burberry suit and was alongside Eren's parents, Grisha and Carla Yeager. You two lock eyes, his face piqued and his arm motioning you to come towards them.
You put on a fake smile as you begin to walk toward the group, letting out an exhausted exhale of breath, despite only just arriving. Unfortunately, the night was still very, very young.
"Grisha, Carla, I'm sure you remember my daughter," Nile introduces you as you wave, "It's a pleasure seeing you both again, Mr. and Mrs. Yeager."
You put on your most formal voice, and said the usual formalities; you've gone through this too many times. Flashing a nice smile, keeping your posture straight, and above all, keeping your father's image intact.
"Yes, how could I forget," Carla says as you both go in for a kiss on the cheek, "Mikasa's friend! Welcome back to Eldia, Y/n, we are so glad you can be a part of our Eren and Mikasa's wedding."
"I am honored, truly," you nod, looking at them both, "I should go find Mi-"
"Zeke, son," Grisha calls out to the tall blonde approaching you all, "This is Y/n Dawk, Nile's daughter."
You've heard of Grisha's first son, the one he had before his marriage to Carla, yet you've never met him before. He looked slightly older than you as you stared at his bearded face, "Ah, yes, nice to meet you Y/n."
"Nice to meet you," you greet back, shaking his hand.
"Nile has told us Y/n is engaged to Reiner Braun, a surgeon based in Marley," Grisha mentions, "My Zeke went to medical school over there. Does his name ring a bell, son?"
"Does it," Zeke laughs, "His father basically owns all the hospitals in the city. I was acquainted with Braun and had a few classes with him here and there. A sophisticated fellow."
"That he is," Nile adds, "Nothing but the best for my daughter."
Your eyebrow twitches at the comment your father made, but you still flared a smile, nodding, "Yes, we are looking forward to our marriage."
"Engaged, you say?" Zeke whispers secretly in Grisha's ear as you conversed with Carla. Grisha cocks an eyebrow, "Yes, why?"
Zeke pouts his lip, shaking as he keeps his gaze on you, "Nothing, just surprised, is all."
"There you are!" you hear Mikasa's voice, turning to see her walking so fast she waddled, "I've been looking for you everywhere."
"It was a pleasure talking to you both," you say to the Yeager's as Mikasa pulls you away, struggling to wave to them, "I'm sorry, got stuck talking with your in-laws."
"Tell me about it," she sighs, "Almost all of Eldia's elite is here, Eren is stuck speaking with the Reiss family, but I was able to slip out," she smirks, "Pregnancy perks."
Her wittiness made you giggle, your eyes admiring how beautiful your friend looked. Her short, black hair was framed around her face, which only had makeup that enhanced her natural beauty. She decided on wearing a wine-red dress that was long enough to cover part of her feet, she was still a bit insecure about them.
"You look beautiful, Mika," you say, touching her shoulder, "I know I've said this so many times, but I am truly so happy for you both."
You felt like crying when speaking those genuine words but successfully kept it together. Tonight was not about your feelings or the constant thoughts that ran through your mind, no. Today was about your two friends, celebrating their engagement with one another. The biggest act of love one could do.
"There you are," Eren says, "Thanks for leaving me, babe."
You both chuckled, Eren placing his hand on Mikasa's belly, softly rubbing it, "We need to make a toast to our guests."
"Right," Mikasa sighs. Eren grabs her hand, smiling at you, "I'll be taking her now."
You motioned your hand out, "Go ahead."
Eren and Mikasa both walk toward the center, the musicians slowly beginning to stop playing. The waiter all went around hiding glasses of champagne, signaling a toast was about to happen. Everyone faced them, Eren began to speak, "Hello everyone, hope you're not having too much fun with this party music."
A good amount of people laughed, you being one of them. Mikasa gently nudges his arm, shaking her head in fake disappointment, "We wanted to thank you all for coming and celebrating not only us but our future together."
"I am so grateful to be sharing this night with the people I love the most, but I am most grateful for this man next to me," she says in a shaky voice, "I'd choose you in every lifetime."
Eren's eyes turn soft, bringing Mikasa in for a kiss, everyone clapping as they let go. You couldn't help but give a cheeky smile, bringing your champagne glass to your lips in an attempt to hide it.
"I'd like to make a toast... to us," Eren says, his face directed toward Mikasa. She nods, touching her belly, "To us."
"To the future Mr. and Mrs. Yeager," Grisha announces, bringing his glass up. You all did the same, repeating his toast, "To Mr. and Mrs. Yeager!"
𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨... 𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 - 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘺
You took your first sip of champagne, the alcohol flowing into your body. The music began once again, couples and partners going onto the floor to dance.
You stared at Eren and Mikasa, how they embraced each other as they slowly danced. They looked so madly in love, their attention on no one but one another. People walked past you, your eyes following them as they walked toward the middle of the hall. You wondered how pitiful you must have looked at the movement, just standing idly, no one interacting with you. It may have been all in your head, but you couldn't help it. Your breath began to become heavy at the thought of it, your eyes looking around frantically;
Until they locked with someone else's.
Jean's warm brown eyes continue to gaze into you, taking in how beautiful you looked from across the hall. He was with Marco and Hitch, who were having their own conversation in front of him. Suddenly, you felt the nerves leave your body as you took in his image, his tall build in a brown suit, his hair slicked back. You subconsciously fixed your posture, bringing your champagne glass towards his direction, a small smile appearing on your face.
He does the same, you two taking a sip as you continue to have your eyes on each other. They felt so intense, his gaze breaking through the air in this room. You couldn't help but look away, beginning to walk around the circle of dancing people.
Jean begins to walk around in the opposite direction, Marco calling out to him, "Hey, where ya going?"
"Be right back," he quickly says, not bothering to look back. He gently nudged between people, apologizing when he accidentally bumped into someone too hard. He searched for that floral dress, where it could be among the crowd of solid people.
He suddenly bumps into someone's side, "Oh, so-" he stops as he holds, noticing your wide eyes, "Sorry."
He lets go of the soft grip he had on your waist, his touch making your skin bring goosebumps to the surface, "No, it's okay, I wasn't paying attention either."
You two stood an awkward distance now from each other, waiting for someone to begin speaking, "I, um," Jean breaks the silence, "You look beautiful."
"Oh," your lips parted, looking down at your dress, "Thank you, you look great yourself. Brown suits you... brings out the um, the eyes."
You fidgeted with the end of your shawl, slightly embarrassed at your response as it made Jean laugh, "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."
You let out a giggle, looking down at your heels. Jean struggled to find which words to say, the only thing he knew was that he wanted to keep talking to you, which was difficult in an area like this. He looks towards the musicians, a soft melody playing for the people dancing. He then averts his eyes back to you, and how you looked at all of them with wide eyes.
"Care to dance?" he asks, making you look up at him, "Oh, um, I have to admit... I'm not a good dancer."
"Well it's a good thing you'll be following my lead," he responds confidently, beginning to walk towards the crowd, reaching his hand out towards you, "What do you say, birdie?"
He waits for your answer with playful eyes, making you feel relaxed as you walk towards him, "Lead the way, Kirstein."
You both walk near the outside of the circle, his left hand carefully hovering over your lower back, and his right one wrapping yours. He began to move, you followed his lead. You were close enough to smell his cologne, and not be able to see the people in the back of him since your eyes rested on his collarbone, which you were secretly grateful for. Though there was a space between you two, one that felt magnetic, urging you two to come closer, no one taking the risk to do it.
You accidentally step on his foot, making you clench your eyes, "Fuck, I'm so sorry-"
"Keep going, you're fine," his deep, calm voice reassures, "No one is watching us."
That was far from the truth, as Hitch and Marco both started from their corner – one shocked, one disappointed. Your father hasn't taken notice, yet for the first time this night, you didn't think about it, or what he would say. Jean was the only one that was able to do that for you, even after all these years.
"You're good at this," you complimented him, "Where did you learn?"
"The French and Argentinians love dancing, though in Argentina they like to be as close as possible," he mentions, speaking only loud enough for you to hear. You raise your eyebrows, "You were in Argentina?"
"For a year," he says with a proud smile, "Before I was in Greece, but I missed my people, so after I went to France, and lived there for two years."
He did it, you thought, he actually did it.
"I see," you said softly, a funny feeling entering your body. You were proud at the fact he was able to do what he talked about during those nights you two spent in your bedroom, constantly talking about the future and what it held for the both of you. Yet, you felt ashamed, ashamed at the fact he kept his promise, yet you weren't able to.
"See, you're getting the hang of it," he mentions as the song ends, letting go of you. You were taken aback, suddenly not feeling the warmth of his body against you.
"Thanks for the dance," you say before abruptly leaving, searching for anyone else. Jean stands confused, watching you walk away from him.
𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨... 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘦 - 𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵
The rest of the night went smoothly, you mostly spent time with your group of friends, talking about old stories and memories. It felt so foreign, looking at the faces of all these people who were once just teenagers with you, having no responsibility in the world. They were all now adults with jobs, with partners, with some wisdom in them. Time flew through all of them gracefully, yet it felt as if time laughed at you.
You said your goodbyes to the Yeagers, Mikasa, and your friends, making your way out of the hall and down the stairs. It was an hour before midnight, you noticed as you looked at the time. You didn't really feel like going back to the darkness of your apartment, yet you knew it was time to leave everyone else. You were stuck, stagnant outside the city, with no idea where to go.
"The city is beautiful at night, isn't it?" you hear Jean's voice from up the stairs, making you turn around. You adjusted your shawl around your body, "Yeah, it seems like it never sleeps."
"That's because it doesn't," he says as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, standing in front of you, "Heading home?"
You shake your head, "You know, that's what I'm debating right now," you mention as you look around.
"Well, there's this restaurant around the corner, they sell some of the best burgers in the city... you know, if the hors d'oeuvres didn't satisfy your appetite," he says sarcastically, making you laugh, "Best part, is they're open 24/7, for when you decide to go home."
"Tempting," you say with a playful smile, "Well then, lead the way, Kirstein. That is, if you'd like to accompany me."
He begins to walk, "It would be my pleasure."
Jean was right, the walk was short, your feet thanking you as they started to become tired of being in your heels. You two sat near the corner, Jean ordering for the both of you. The food was delicious, it was definitely what you needed after a long night of champagne and tiring conversations. There were a few people seated, and some people drinking at the bar, the ambiance being a grand difference compared to where you two were an hour ago.
"So they ended up kicking you out?" you asked curiously as you ate your fries. Jean nods, "Yup, it was okay though, I ended up sleeping on the couch of this model's apartment in Cannes, in exchange for a free portrait of course."
Your mouth was agape, "I... I don't know what to say."
"Definitely wasn't the worst experience I've had, Spaniards can be pretty ruthless too, especially when I couldn't understand what they were saying – their accents were vastly different compared to Argentinians."
He spoke so casually about his adventures, making you wonder what was the most interesting story of them all.
"Wow," you laugh, "I don't know you at all."
Jean smiles as he eats one of his fries, "Then get to, what do you want to know?" he asks, setting his arms on the table. You do the same, excited to hear whatever he had to share, "Everything."
He raises his brows in amusement, "Really? I have to warn you, we'll be here for a while."
You tilt your head, quickly glancing outside at the night sky, and back to him, "I've got time."
And so he told you everything he could possibly share about his travels as a young man with no money, a paintbrush, and a promise to fulfill. He wasn't sure what he'd eat that day, or where he'd stay for the night, but it didn't phase him; as everything always worked out in the end. He spoke with such passion about each country and the people residing in it, he even mentioned the names of all the wonderful people he had acquainted with over the last nine years. Those warm brown eyes lit up with each story he told, the warmth making your heart comforted and proud.
"I have to admit I'm jealous, Jean. You have everything you've ever wanted," you confessed, you two now being the only ones left in the restaurant.
"Yeah, seems as if I have," he responds, resting his head on top of his arm.
Not everything, birdie.
Time was a weird concept. After tonight, you were sure of the fact that people will continue to move forward, waiting for the feeling of joy, of accomplishment, the feeling of being alive, and not just existing. Jean was the embodiment of it, constantly seeking, constantly creating, whereas you stopped seeking, and chose to settle in the place you thought your whole life was what you needed to feel accomplished. It was too late now, the choice was made, and you chose to leave; but Jean was still here, right where you left him.
Time truly waited for no one, carrying on with no regard;
You and Jean were no exception.
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flawless playlist is linked in my profile, i hope the songs listed helped make the experience better <3
thank you for reading, see ya in the next one - lex