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Jean Kirstein knew about his drastic change- everybody did. Jean was a leader, authoritative, and trusted with his maturity.Those were painfully obvious, but not the only changes. The difference wasn't as apparent to everyone. This difference was only viewed by one changed woman.
Her name was Mikasa Ackerman.
Mikasa Ackerman felt as though her heart could never be opened. Chained by what has occured in her tumultuous lifetime and too attached to the things that mitigated the pain. The time of comradery slowly chipped away through her mask, but it wasn't exactly the thing or person who finally did away with it.
His name was Jean Kirstein.
With change comes the inevitably of its soon to be culmination.
~**~
Raindrops trickled about in the wake of midnight. Moonlight reflecting among them, lessening the lost light of the stars as dark clouds engulfed an already bleak sky. Dreary weather usually called for a relaxed mood and Jean Kirstein wished he felt that way. As time withered away Jean's arrogant demeanor of that of a teen to a composed adult, this seemingly universal thought refused to be a reality for him. Maybe it was the years of utter horror or anguish, but staying relaxed seemed like such an incapable action.
Every night, regardless of the dreadful weather, Jean would find himself taking a stroll down the hall to a room that was filled to the brim with books. Though cluttered and not well kept (thanks to Hange), it was a sort of comforting source of quiet. He wasn't the only one paying visits to the tranquil little room as his endeavors often lead him to Mikasa. She would be reading a book or perhaps she'd be looking out the nearby window while sitting on the wooden floors. Jean would stand idly by the door, taking a glimpse of the heavenly scene before departing for a proper night's rest.
This occurrence was perhaps the most consistent thing left in their world. The tragedy of it was that it never augmented into anything bigger than a careful stare- one that was returned so rarely. The distance wasn't spiteful in the slightest. All he or she felt was comfort in one another.
That feeling just seemed so unobtainable.
Jean had always felt that way but he wasn't sure if Mikasa did as well. Jean didn't need her to return the affection however. As long as she seemed at peace, he would feel a semblance of joy revel up inside him.
That satisfied him. That was all he needed.
And so the sight of her, tranquil and lovely as ever, brought that rare emotion to Jean.
He just wasn't aware that she desired for more.
~**~
Mikasa Ackerman always found the time to notice the intricacies of Jean's face. He has grown most definitely. To a shallow degree, the years of war had pampered him into a fine looking man. His grown out hair and stubble suited him quite well; it served as a surface view of his grown maturity. But when Mikasa spent the time to ponder over his nightly stare, she sees more than just his handsomeness. An aspect of his still held true. His eyes were still the same shade of hazel... but even that had change. It was like he now had the ability to exude a sort of kindness out of them. It wasn't the last of his display of affection however, he always left with the slightest of a smile.
Mikasa always knew that Jean had an affinity for her. She can remember their first encounter quite well strangely enough. Though she never thought too deeply over his compliment of her beautiful black hair, what followed over the next few years was more than just infatuation, Mikasa had realized.
She would never get over how he saved her from the clutches of that titan. The way he screamed her name, not pleading to the titan to let her go but threatening it. That visceral scream of his sent a shiver through her. If it weren't for him, she surely wouldn't be in this room, still breathing.
Mikasa thought of other small things but it didn't end with him.
It ended with herself.
Mikasa opened her eyes. She must of been daydreaming for too long for the sky was no longer hues of pink and yellow but of a dark, yet radiant night. She wiped her eyes and yawned. A book laid soundly on her lap and she raised it to view. A few pages were left crinkled but still readable.
As the sound of raindrops trickling about filled the air, and the consistent silence from her comrades, Mikasa concluded that they must of dozed off by now. She couldn't tell how late it was but it must be past a reasonable hour at this point. Mikasa sighed, realizing what that entailed.
He must of passed by already. Why am I disappointed over this? Was the occurrence so often that it lead me to such an unrealistic expectation?
Her mind took a brief pause as the creaking of a door swept the room. Alarmed, Mikasa raised a tentative ear to hear for anything else. Uneven footsteps approached and Mikasa’s curiosity kept growing and growing. It was most likely Connie going out for his business or Sasha clamoring about for a snack as she was on watch duty for the night. These seemingly grounded expectations conflicted with the desires of Mikasa. She was fully aware with who she wanted to see or at least take comfort in their presence.
Mikasa took to the wall, book in hand and began to read as if curiosity never struck her. Well she wasn't really reading but just staring at the pages. It continued until someone was finally at the door.
Mikasa took the slightest of glances and saw the figure who stood idly by the door.
A sigh of relief washed over. It was Jean, night clothes and all.
She expected him to say something quick- be a little snarky over how late it was or at least anything. He was dead silent but she still felt his relaxed presence.
Mikasa tried not to think to deeply upon it but it was quite difficult as she was not paying any mind to the book in hand. Unaware of the great deal of time that passed by, Mikasa didn't realize that he was about ready to call it a night.
For the first time, Mikasa decided to inadvertently say her thoughts aloud. “Jean. Please don't go, not yet.”
He turned his head with the slightest bit of hesitation. An inquiring look was thrown her way.
“Please.” she repeated as Jean took a few footsteps towards her. Mikasa’s hand left the book and hit the wooden floors. She patted it a few times.
“Stay here.”
Jean followed her command. He didn't seem eager or distraught over it. She wondered if he was simply just tired or maybe he felt obligated. Either way he sat next to her, only a few feet away. The air was heavy between them and both, especially Mikasa, despised it. There was no need for it to feel that way. Weren't they past such trivial things?
They were older. They were more mature. They've changed.
But he still had that boyish glint in his eyes, regardless of his stoic façade. Mikasa arched a brow for him to speak and threw in an all too nervous smile.
He recuperated. “What made you stay up so late?”
He looked at her intently, heavily, as he was still touched by sleep. His hair was all over the place and his whole demeanor ached of tiredness, yet he kept his posture upright. Jean had that endearing charm about him. “I don't know really. I got lost in thought.” Mikasa said blankly. “I've never really done that before.”
Jean tore his gaze from her and towards the plain wooden floor. “You sure you haven't? I've seen that look plenty of times before. You're always daydreaming.”
There was a slight pause.
“I wish I had times where I could.” he said solemnly as a finger of his traced the floor.
Mikasa was left perplexed. She didn't think he would be one for such sorrowful prose. She knew of his idealistic views, suddenly remembering those training days and how much he ridiculed Eren for his seemingly unrealistic proposition of a better future.
Mikasa had never realized just how much she remembers about him. It was frightening.
“Don't sound so distraught. Besides, how do you know that I daydream? I could've fallen asleep. What makes you think such a thing?”
Jean let out a low laugh but hesitated when he spoke. “You always look so peaceful. Especially here.” He grabbed a nearby book and examined it thoroughly. “What are these about anyway?”
Mikasa swooped the book from his grasp and closed it shut. “Nothing that special. Just… about the world.”
He scoffed at her comment. “The world? There's not much about it.” he replied sternly.
“Jean?” she raised her voice and it startled him. “Since when did you become so pessimistic? I understand you've always been a realist, but… isn't this too much?”
He didn't say anything for a good minute until Mikasa dared to put her hand on his shoulder. “I know you've changed Jean, but tell me.” He laid a tentative hand on hers- those hazel eyes of his searching for her own and leaving her clawing for anything else to say.
She didn't need to.
“Mikasa…” he breathed. “I'm scared. I'm scared of the future. Sometimes I don't feel like I deserve to still be alive. And to be alive for what? A world that preys on misery? Even when we try to seek the good in it, the justice it might have? I like to think that, maybe- just maybe if I say my doubts aloud, they'll be proven wrong…” he choked on his words. “But I don't think I have or ever will be proven wrong Mikasa.”
The sound of thunder struck, the rain sounding increasingly stronger with each passing second.
“I want to be wrong.”
Mikasa released her hand from his. “You are wrong Jean. There are good things in this world. I've learned that.” She smiled ever so slightly but it was genuine. “For example, you.”
Jean's eyes widened and he crept a hand towards her again. He shut his eyes and chuckled lowly. “Ah, Mikasa…” his face reddened a bit, “You are too.”
Mikasa followed his hand and it lead her closer to him. They were now only a few inches apart now.
It was Jean's turn to be a bit daring as he placed a hand on her cheek. “Mikasa, I don't know how or when this will all end… but you are well aware of this right?” he caressed her gently, “The fact that you are a light against darkness for me? And that I visit this room every night for that very reason… to make sure you're still flickering,- that you're still breathing?”
Mikasa nodded and closed her eyes, tilting her head to his hand for comfort. “I am Jean. I know.” His thumb brisked her cheek, the side that held her scar, and she could feel how shaky it was. He took a shallow breath and grinned. “And that's all I need.”
She opened her eyes. It was like a pin dropped in the room. She took a moment to process his words.
What does he mean by that? No don't say that. Please don't say that.
“Don't you dare say that.” Mikasa latched out. “Don't let this world tie you like that. Don't be like the me of the past, Jean. An ignorant, foolish person.” she nearly choked out, trembling almost.
He grimaced but kept his hand on her cheek.“It's not like that Mikasa. I thought you would want that. I didn't want to place my wants over yours because of one simple reason.”
She knew what was coming.
“Because I care about you.”
She shook her head. “You coward. Say it. Say those three words. Say the truth. Say what you want to say.”
It was like she was under a spell as she moved her face closer to his. He tucked a lock of her black hair behind an ear and pulled her closer to him. Rain kept pouring at an unprecedented speed.
“Fine then.” he said, eyes closing. Both knowing quite well what was transpiring between them. “I love you, Mikasa.” Jean whispered.
And just when another strike of lightning hit, their lips met. At first it was slow, tender, as they were relishing in the taste of one another. It soon became rougher- the two kissing hungrily. Her arms draped over his broad shoulders, a hand behind his neck for support. His hand remained on her cheek as the other was around her waist. They moved like one, knocking into books left and right, neither paying mind to the noise being made. The kiss went on and on until both needed a breath of air. However, once it was broken, Jean kept giving her quick, fluttering kisses up on her neck until he reached her mouth.
Faces flushed with adrenaline and the tingling sense of accomplishment filled both of them. Jean himself was radiant, clearly basking in the reality that he “finally did it.” His eyes seemed more enchanting now because of it. Mikasa rushed to embrace him and he was more than glad to return it.
“Are you sleepy?” he said, still clouded with wonder. A streak of red was permanent against his face. Mikasa rested on his chest, face buried in his neck. “Beginning to. Do you mind staying like this for the rest of the night?” she asked, sounding as if she was transported to another world.
“Not at all.” Jean yawned.
And so, Jean and Mikasa lied there in the book filled room until both fell victim of sleep.Resting against each other, feeling one's presence, taking comfort in one another.Perhaps this moment would of have never taken place in the past. The very past that consisted of the versions of themselves that weren't capable of such things. They have changed for not only the sake of themselves but for eachother. Change never happens at once. Change is a grueling task that takes its sweet time. Both Jean and Mikasa realized that. Like many things, change culminates. In their case, change had culminated into something neither of them felt was capable in their world.
And that was all either could want or ask for.