written on — 14.7.14
inspiration — i just finished reading Eleven O'Clock Number by Mariam (wattpad user @defend) and i was in a really solemn mood. this definitely isn't the best i've done but i wanted to write it so here it is (i'm sort of sorry)
word count — 1,300
INSOMNIAC
Late January nights were never pleasant to Mikasa. Actually, the month of January in general was never pleasant to Mikasa. They usually consisted of one of two things — watching reruns of her current obsession on her laptop while in the bathtub to distract herself was one; sitting or lying down literally anywhere in her house was the second.
The night of the eighteenth was no different. If anything, that specific night was what consisted of the first and what would probably finish with the last once the final episode of the third season of Game of Thrones ended. Mikasa was four episodes from being caught up with the series and she dreaded what would happen after that because she wasn’t sure what series she would want to watch next. Tonight also involved a tub of pistachio ice cream and her phone for games whenever she wasn’t allowed to skip 30-second ads.
Mikasa was in the middle of licking her spoon clean of her most recent scoop when her phone buzzed beside the tub, Jean’s name lighting up the screen. She paused the episode and put down her ice cream; he was one of the only two people she was willing to drop what she was doing for.
Jean Kirschtein (00:58) you there?
Mikasa bit her lip. Did she feel like texting him or did she just want to finish another three hours of episodes before, well, three o’clock in the morning?
Mikasa Ackerman (00:58) Yeah, I guess I am.
Jean Kirschtein (00:59) well, are you doing anything right now? i was wondering if i could come over.
Mikasa Ackerman (00:59) Jean, it’s past midnight.
Jean Kirschtein (01:00) i didn’t really mean that as a question. i’m outside your house and if you don’t answer this door in five minutes i’m going to pick the lock.
Mikasa Ackerman (00:01) I’m in the bathtub
Jean Kirschtein (01:01) fine, you get ten minutes.
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and the boy’s texts. It was always a thing for him, ever since they befriended each other in the second year of high school. Jean would always randomly pop up at her house, especially in the month of January. Although she would never admit it, she was grateful for it. She wrapped a towel around herself and left her hair dripping against her back when she went to open the door. She hid herself behind it to avoid the cold winter winds from touching her wet, bare skin. “Hey, Jean.”
“That was twelve minutes, you know,” he replied, a smug look coming over his face. Mikasa rolled her eyes.
“So help me for being two minutes past the ten you gave me,” she said. “Anyways, let me finish up my bath and I’ll come down. Wait for me in the living room.”
“You got it. Maybe you can hurry up, though, since I’m pretty sure I brought you pistachio ice cream and I’m getting kind of hungry. I can only wait so long.”
Mikasa didn’t bother to mention that she had a tub of her own beside the bathtub; she’d save her own tub for later while, after she dries herself up, she’d eat out of Jean’s container. He didn’t need to know of her motives.
She jogged back upstairs and threw her towel into the bathroom (since it wasn’t doing its job of staying up very well to begin with) and threw on a pair of yoga shorts and a tank top. Because her hair was short, it wouldn’t take too long to dry, and so she left it as it was. When she walked into the kitchen she saw Jean sitting at the little island, the ice cream tub unopened beside him. She raised her eyebrows. “I thought you would’ve at least opened the ice cream.”
“But it isn’t complete without hot toddies first,” Jean winked playfully at her. “And don’t you remember the last time I tried making them? That didn’t turn out...good.”
“‘Well’,” Mikasa corrected. She was already taking the whiskey and honey out of their corresponding cupboards, along with the cinnamon sticks and the lemon. She couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Jean attempting to make a hot toddy. The lemon was sour, there wasn’t enough sugar, and he somehow managed to spill the boiling water. At least it wasn’t on himself. Once the drinks were ready, she instructed Jean to bring them into the small living room while she put the tub of ice cream in the freezer. They sat down beside each other on the worn wool couch, the centre of the two cushions dented towards the middle.
As she opened her Netflix account, Jean cleared his throat. “Mikasa, are you...er, are you alright?”
“Fine,” she answered robotically. Mikasa cursed herself for allowing the single word to escape her mouth so fast. “I don’t see why I wouldn’t be.”
“It’s been two years.”
“I know. I don’t want to talk about it.” She pressed the play button on the remote. “This episode is where I left off upstairs. Hopefully you’re all caught up in the season.”
“It’s no problem.” It was a lie; Jean had an entire season’s worth to catch up on before they were at the same place in Game of Thrones. He wasn’t going to tell Mikasa that, though; no matter how cold and reserved she appeared at school, this was a side that only Jean and Eren have seen.
Well, Eren used to see it, before the crash that took place two years ago. But Mikasa didn’t want it to be mentioned, so he didn’t. January was always an insomniatic time for her.
They finished their drinks with ease and Jean was the one to get up and grab the ice cream, along with two spoons. It was interesting — normally it would be a girl, maybe Annie or Sasha, that would come over and comfort Mikasa, but here he was, doing just that. He let Mikasa take the first few spoonfuls before digging in himself.
“You know it isn’t your fault, right?” Jean decided to say after a second episode. They had two left before the end of the season. Mikasa looked away.
“Of course I know that, but it doesn’t make the truth any easier to bear,” she bites. “I mean, this tiny little house I used to share with him now seems so big and I hate it. I hate it so much.” She eyed him suspiciously. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“It had to happen at some point,” Jean said, wrapping an arm around Mikasa’s shoulders and pulling her closer to him. “Do you want me to stay the night?”
“Are you doing anything tomorrow?”
“No, actually. Just homework, not that that counts for anything.”
Mikasa hesitated before a quiet “yes” escaped her lips. She wrapped an arm around Jean’s midsection and cuddled in closer to him, pressing play to begin the second last episode.
With a quarter of pistachio ice cream and only twenty-seven minutes of the season 3 finale left, Mikasa ended up passing out on Jean. As much as he wanted to get up to pause the episode and return the half melted ice cream to its rightful place, he didn’t want to wake her up. Instead, he lay down on the sofa and delicately moved her until she was partially on top of him and partially leaning on the back of the couch. Her mouth was slightly parted. He moved Mikasa’s bangs away from her forehead and kissed it lightly before dozing off to the sound of Danaerys Stormborn taking charge.
Hopefully she’d feel a little better once morning came around.