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The party effectively ended when Eren tried to throw one of Armin’s potted plants at Jean, and by now most people have realized they’re seriously overstaying their welcome. Ymir and Christa already left without a word. Marco, who lives there, said good night and went into his bedroom five minutes ago. Annie is standing around in the living room with her coat on, playing Angry Birds on her phone.
It’s just a little bit past midnight. The room feels too dark and too bright, all at the same time. Mikasa blinks. She wasn’t really drunk in the first place, and by now she’s just kind of tired. She wants everyone to leave so she can clean up. The broken remnants of the flowerpot are on the floor along with what’s left of Armins geranium, dirt spilling out and forming little galaxies that people are stepping around. Mikasa doesn’t really care, but she figures she might if it had been her living room.
Getting the remaining guests to leave turns out to be pretty easy. Annie, surprisingly, pockets her phone and turns her attention to discreetly steering people towards the door. Mikasa watches her for a while, the way she pushes her hair out of her eyes as she quietly tells someone Mikasa doesn’t know that it’s time to go home.
They wake up Sasha, who’s asleep on the couch, and Mina, who’s in the bathroom. Jean’s still sitting in an abandoned chair in the hallway, texting someone with his jacket on. Mikasa holds the door open for them. They take the hint.
“Goodbye,” she says, closing the door behind them. She notices Annie doesn’t leave, which is fine, because Annie’s efficient and reliable and doesn’t try to make small talk. Mikasa gives her a nod, as if to say “you staying is okay with me,” before she heads back into the living room.
Eren has calmed down a lot. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor and Armin’s holding him. Mikasa thinks Eren might be crying a little. She wants to ask Eren if he feels like he’s going to throw up again or if he wants some water, but she figures that isn’t really necessary.
She turns to Annie.
“Can you help me clean up a bit,” she says, not really bothering with making it sound like a question. Annie can leave if she wants to. She doesn’t.
Mikasa gets the broom and dustpan from the kitchen and sweeps up all the broken shards and dirt and crushed geranium. Afterwards, Annie goes into the bathroom and gets a roll of toilet paper and a soap dispenser. Mikasa watches as she gathers up a length of toilet paper, wets it with soap and starts wiping the floor with it. She’s crouching on her knees; moving the paper in big circles. She looks bored, but she makes sure to get all the remaining dirt. After a while she looks over the floor and apparently decides it’s sufficient; she throws the wad of toilet paper at Mikasa, who catches it and drops it in the trash.
Eren’s mom would be appalled, but Mikasa figures the floor looks clean enough. She starts throwing away beer cans and stray candy wrappers.
Annie stands up.
“Well,” Annie says, turning around, “I guess I’m leaving.”
Mikasa hears her heels clacking as she walks into the hallway and opens the door.
“See you,” Annie adds right before the door closes, almost as an afterthought.
“Bye,” Mikasa says absently, turning her attention to Eren and Armin. Eren has his head in Armin’s lap. He looks peaceful, like he’s sleeping.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says.
“You can stay too,” Armin mouths, but she shakes her head.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” she says. “Take care of him.”
Eren’s eyes flutter open for a second. He has a look in his eyes like he’s coming back from far away.
“Sleep well, Eren,” she tells him.
Annie’s waiting for her outside.
“The others left,” she says. Mikasa nods. Annie starts walking and Mikasa follows her.
It’s quiet. The first snow came earlier in the day, powdered sugar just barely covering the ground, but it’s mostly melted away by now. Annie’s looking straight ahead, hands in her pockets. It occurs to Mikasa that she doesn’t actually know where Annie lives.
They’re not really friends, she and Annie. They have friends in common, but that’s pretty much the extent of their relationship. When Armin first introduced them, Mikasa didn’t like Annie much, and. She still doesn’t, really. But. Sometimes Mikasa looks at Annie’s face in profile, the long bangs falling out from her ponytail, eyes distant like she’s staring at something far away, and she wonders what Annie’s thinking about.
When they reach the bus stop down the street, Annie turns towards her. Her cheeks are flushed, the tip of her nose bright pink. The streetlights make her face look softer; Mikasa thinks she almost looks pretty.
“I’m taking the 203 to Sina,” Annie says.
The 203 stops not too far from Eren and Mikasa’s apartment, but Mikasa usually likes to walk when she’s alone, especially on a nice night like this. It’s cold outside, but walking keeps you warm. She opens her mouth to say goodbye, but something about the way Annie pulls her sleeve down over her wrists makes her pause.
“I’ll wait with you,” Mikasa hears herself say.
There’s nothing at the bus stop – not even a bench to sit on, just a sign with the bus times. Annie sits down on the edge of the wet sidewalk like she doesn’t give a fuck, her feet dipping into the road. She checks the time on her phone before putting it back in her coat pocket. Mikasa stands next to her for a while.
“The bus is supposed to be here in eleven minutes,” Annie says, pulling a cigarette pack and lighter out of her other coat pocket.
Mikasa doesn’t really like smokers. She doesn’t understand why people ruin their health like that.
She sits down next to Annie anyway, watches her light the cigarette on the first try. The sidewalk is cold and wet from the melting snow, even through her coat. She shuffles closer to Annie, so that their shoulders touch, but only barely. She looks at the road, the sidewalk, the row of houses on the other side of the street, the stars. Her feet in combat boots. She can hear Annie’s breath; cigarette smoke seeping into her field of vision, mixing with the cool night air until she can’t see it anymore. Mikasa tilts her head up and tries to look for stars. It’s cloudy, but there are spots where you can see traces of the night sky underneath, like bruises.
“You see anything?”
Mikasa looks at Annie, startled. She’s thrown away her cigarette.
“Not much,” she replies.
It starts to rain, just barely. Annie reaches behind her neck and pulls the hood of her sweater out from under her coat, flips it over her head, leaving her face in shadow. Mikasa shivers. There’s no one else around. Aside from the occasional shadow behind the drawn curtains of the neighbouring houses, they’re completely alone.
“You cold?” Annie asks.
“I’m fine,” Mikasa replies.
Annie looks at her.
“You look cold,” she says, but she doesn’t offer Mikasa her coat, and Mikasa finds that she’s glad for that. They’re not really friends or anything. Annie looks at her phone again. Mikasa looks at Annie. She’s good at reading people, but Annie throws her off sometimes.
“The bus is late,” Annie says conversationally, stretching her legs. Their knees bump together, Annie’s black jeans against Mikasa’s gray. She sits and feels the warmth from where their bodies connect. Annie has that look on her face she gets in lectures sometimes, when she thinks the professor is wrong. She bites her lower lip.
They’re not really friends, but if Annie asked to kiss her, Mikasa wouldn’t say no. She realizes, suddenly, how close they’re sitting; how quiet it is; that Annie’s looking at her.
When Mikasa opens her mouth to ask if this is okay, Annie leans in presses her lips softly against Mikasa’s.
Mikasa hasn’t kissed anyone in a long time, not since spin the bottle in middle school. Annie tastes like cigarettes and beer mixed with waxy lip balm; she shivers, just barely, when Mikasa runs her tongue over Annie’s lower lip. Annie shifts and moves closer, her hands in Mikasa’s hair; cold fingertips touching her neck, her ears, the line of her jaw. It feels like being touched by starlight, like the clouds have parted and her face is flushing with the heat from hundreds of suns, thousands of years ago.
Mikasa opens her eyes and sees that Annie’s eyes are open, too. Something in her chest flutters unexpectedly when their eyes meet, and it spreads through her body like birds escaping from a cage.
It’s hard to see properly something that’s so close, but Mikasa keeps looking into Annie’s eyes to the best of her ability as they kiss. She pushes Annie’s hood off her head so the rain falls in her hair. She puts one hand on the sidewalk to support herself, and marvels at the way the asphalt feels so soft and forgiving.
Eventually, Annie closes her eyes, and Mikasa lets herself close hers as well. They tilt their heads, twist their torsos, trying to fit together closer, melt against each other’s lips the way stars collide.
After a while, Mikasa hears a sound. She opens her eyes and sees the bus approaching, front lights like a halo around Annie’s wet hair.
The bus stops a few metres away. Annie quickly stands up. As she’s walking up to the open front door of the bus she turns her head to look at Mikasa over her shoulder. Mikasa digs around in her bag for change.
“I could. Take the bus home,” she says, counting the coins in the palm of her hand. “It’s raining.”
They sit next to each other, near the back of the bus. Mikasa leans down and rests her head against Annie’s shoulder. It’s a bit awkward, and her neck hurts a bit, but Annie doesn’t seem to mind. Looking up at her, Mikasa can see the lines of her jaw and nose, her hair bright like it’s full of stars. Her smile looks uncharacteristically genuine; soft, as if she can still feel the way their lips moved against each other.
“Thanks for today,” Mikasa says.
Annie doesn't reply.