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Mikasa doesn't know why she has the urge to see Jean, even when she knows he’s not home at the moment. Last night he said the military needed him to come in early for something, thus the reason he’s already gone by the time she woke up.
There aren’t really many things to do today and being alone at home makes time seem to go slower. Mikasa already cleaned up the house, starting from the dining room, the small kitchen, and living room. The only thing left is the front yard but right now she doesn’t have it inside her to wear sandals and trot around the small garden up front. Later maybe, when Jean’s home they can do it together. Chores feel a little more bearable with his laughs and playful banters—
There it is, again. An urge to see him. To feel his presence.
She glanced at the door right next to her own room, his room. He did rent a room somewhere closer to the center of Shiganshina. When he told her his leash almost ended, she had offered him the empty space. Well, she got an extra room, he visits every now and then, so why not? She remembered the look of disbelief on his face, how he blushed all the way to the tip of his ears. He still asked her if she’s sure for at least a week after he moved in. The memory made her smile, for someone who’s usually so boisterous, he’s awfully considerate. And adorable.
Mikasa paused her thoughts. Since when does she think about him like that?
She drags on her broom, just in case he’s back early and she needs an excuse. She knows this is very unethical, but she convinces herself, it’s to clean his room, that is. Her hand enclosed the door handle and clicked it open.
Mikasa never stepped inside this room ever since he occupied it. This will be her first time in a while. She held her breath as the door creaked open. She didn't know what to expect—maybe he’s a slob and the whole room’s dirty with his stuff. She snorted at that thought, they lived with the fastidiously clean captain for a while back then and somehow cleanliness ingrained to their consciousness ever since.
What welcomes her is, of course, a very normal room. As expected. The furniture’s still the same. A wardrobe, nightstand, desk with its chair, and a bed. It’s very clean. The sheets are tucked in tight to its four corners, the desk is free from any objects, and light comes pouring from the window further emphasizing just how spotless everything is. The room is very bare. Mikasa looked around, looking for any sort of Jean's personal belongings, but none was found.
There are no pictures, books, clothes, or even any sort of knick knacks. She knows Jean sketches sometimes, he also tackles on paperworks most of the nights, but none of it laying around. Nothing. The room is in the same condition as the last time she was here months ago, when she was cleaning it for Jean to use. It’s almost as if… as if he was never here.
Mikasa dropped her broom, it clattered to the floor as she walked inside. This is very, very improper but she needs to know. She opened the desk’s drawers one by one, the first drawer had some books and stationeries neatly arranged. The nightstand drawer is empty. Then the wardrobe. Only a small pile of clothes can be found. Separated in two categories, house wear and work wear. That’s all it is, all of Jean’s belongings in the room.
If she didn’t open the drawers and wardrobe then someone told her she lived alone in this house, she might believe them. But she’s not. There’s a man named Jean Kirschtein, who’s been living with her for three months now. She knows, because he makes her breakfast almost every morning and helps her grow vegetables in the front yard. Because he wishes her good sleep every night before she retires to her room, then wakes her up with knocks on her room’s door the next morning.
She then hastily walked to the kitchen and opened the cabinets, looking for a particular teacup with forget-me-nots pattern, Jean’s usual teacup that he brought from home. He said it’s from his mother’s favorite tea set. It took some time but she found it, pushed all the way to the back of the cabinet. Just last night, Mikasa remembered he drank with this very teacup. Then why did he place it there? Has it always been placed at the back of the cabinet all this time? Like it was not meant to be seen.
Forget-me-nots in her hand staring at her, mocking. How ironic, the blue flowers intended message and the placement of this cup.
She put the teacup down at the dining table before strided towards the front door, where the coats are hung and shoes placed on the rack. Even there, there’s no sign of him. She only found her coat and her shoes. Mikasa knows Jean wears a fedora, it started as part of disguise but he grew fond of it and kept it as his fashion choice. Then again, nothing.
The realization rushed down to her like heavy rain, fast and cold and so sudden.
Jean’s presence in this house they shared for three months is little to nothing. For how big his influence on her life is, he left almost no trace of himself. Has she not been clear that he’s here as her equal, her roommate, not a guest and certainly not a stranger? He’s a friend, maybe more.
A ‘friend’ doesn’t encapsulate his generous understanding and unwavering presence. A ‘friend’ sounds insulting for he stayed by her side when she screamed from night terrors and whispers kind words to her, for he kept holding her and complying with whatever she asked of him with no questions. Now that she thinks about it, does he even have night terrors like her? He must be, right? They went through war together, after all. But he never sought her out when he did have one.
The front door lock clicked, it opened and she met with light brown eyes, standing on the doorway. Those eyes widened in surprise to find her there, he took off his fedora then knelt so he’s in equal standing with her. She hasn’t even noticed she’s crouching on the floor next to the coat rack.
“Mikasa? Why are you on the floor?” his voice is soft, kind.
She doesn’t know how to answer the question. He called her name again, still with that voice. Light spilled onto the foyer from the front door left opened, highlighting his features. Allowing her to take him in, every furrow, every crinkle she can find. Everything she had missed, everything she never put her thoughts on.
Amber eyes staring at her with concern, there are dark circles underneath them. Has he been sleeping late? She almost always goes to her room before him at night, at what time did he sleep? Oh, he got some light freckles across his nose. Almost invisible, but they’re there nonetheless. His mouth pulled in a slight frown, his jaw tight with worry.
He touched her hand, somehow her hand had sneaked on and now it’s on the side of his face. She can feel his stubble grazing her palms. He squeezed her hand gently, rubbing soothing circles on the back of it.
“Why?”
He blinked at her with confusion.
“Why are there so little of you in this house? I was looking for your stuff but I found nothing. Were you planning to leave? I can’t even find a pair of your shoes here. Why…” She takes a deep breath, trembling.
“You’re here with me, aren’t you? Then why nothing?” she could feel her voice crack in the end. “It’s stupid, I know I’ve been ignorant. It’s been months and I just realized it. I’m sorry. I'm sorry I’m not the most around person, I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.”
Jean shakes his head, his tone firm, “You’re grieving, there’s no need to apologize. And no, I chose to stay, I don’t plan to leave unless you asked me to.”
“I just," he paused, biting his lip. “I didn’t want to intrude.”
He let go of her hand and she missed the contact immediately.
“This house was built with you and him in mind, right? And that's totally fine! I understand!” he raises his hands in defense. He always talks with his hands, waving them around, making gestures with them. Then he slumped a bit, fidgeting, ”From where I see it, here, he's everywhere.”
True and wrong. Yes, a few years ago when she decided she would put up a house on the outskirts of Shiganshina, she did think of him. It was probably what they would do together if he had lived.
Countless times she thought how he would love the couch she picked, shadows of him around the corners, and if she concentrated enough, she could conjure a vivid image of him in this house, with her. Almost tangible presence, even if it’s only in her mind. She’s pretty sure she was on the brink of insanity, daydreaming of a life with a long gone dead man.
Then Jean came. Filling her what-ifs with reality, the reality where this man with light brown eyes akin to ambers holds her dearly and is actually here. Before long, it was Jean’s presence that filled this house. The coffee table where he usually do paperworks, flowers in vases he watered every afternoon, two dried plates next to the sink from their shared meals. This house is theirs, it’s Jean’s and Mikasa’s, even long before she asked him to move in.
Did Jean erase his almost tangible presence? No, not exactly. For he was never here to begin with, he died, Mikasa reminds herself. But Jean’s here.
She takes his hands back in hers. Rubbing the knuckles and tracing his palms. Hands that are strong enough to wield swords and guns yet delicate when he holds charcoal pencils brushing on papers.
Jean has been here for quite some time now. The lack of his things rattled her, what if Jean is just another daydream from her desperate mind? She knows better that it’s not. Her mere daydream could never replicate that warm, soothing feeling she felt whenever she’s around Jean. Could never conjure his laugh and smile with so much detail.
Mikasa laced their fingers together. “But all I see now is you,” she whispers quietly.
She can feel his hands tighten a bit. She knows he wouldn’t believe it. How could he? With how absent she was before this. His hands feel right in hers, he belongs here and she needed to tell him that.
“It had started that way, with him in my mind. But with him, it was only what-ifs. I wouldn’t know exactly what it would be like to be with him, if it will be as perfect as I imagined. He left before we could find out,” she swallowed, her breath came out shaky. She is truly not good with words. His thumbs caressing her hands, silently coaxing her to continue.
“Then you gave a version of reality I never considered. A happy life with you, Jean Kirschtein. It came to me that I want more, more than just you. I also want to see your things cluttered around the house, your dirty shoes at the front door, and your unwashed blue flower tea cup on the table. For all of it makes your presence feel so much more...”
“Real,” both of them said at the same time.
The look of surprise must be evident in her face, since Jean smiled sadly. “I know a thing or two about not believing something until I see hard proof. Losing people made us that way, I suppose.” War made us that way, left unsaid.
Then his smile shifted into something more pleasant, a fond, warm smile. He let go of one of her hands and brushed away strands of hair from her face.
“Thank you for telling me this, Mikasa. You have no idea the weight you just relieved of me. Glad to know that I’m not an anomaly in your safe space, this house, that is.”
“You’re in my safe space, doesn’t that mean you already are a part of my safe space?” she tugs on the one hand in hers.
“I didn’t want to assume. I need proof, remember?” his lips quirked up in a smirk. It’s annoying and endearing at the same time, she pouts and he laughs.
"Anyway, where's the rest of your stuff? There has to be more of them, I refuse to believe you only have a couple of clothes and books."
"I kinda just let them lay around in my office. It's messy," he chuckles.
One more thing to hit her like a brick. She never even bothered to visit him at the office, she knows he must have an office in the military headquarters, but she doesn’t know where specifically. If she did, maybe she would find how weird that his office is more cluttered with his stuff than the house they lived in.
What does his office look like on the inside? Will she find a sketch of his mother on the desk? A novel or two that he likes tucked away in the bookshelves? A collection of fedoras he’s so fond of wearing? Mikasa wants to know. She’ll work on it. To get to know Jean, to let him open up and confide in her too.
He cleared his throat, "By the way, did you check the bathroom for my stuff?"
"No, why? What's in there?"
"I left my toothbrush next to yours." He blushes, how adorable.
She smiles, "Well, you better leave more stuff or I will buy you things you already have."
"You would buy me things?" He’s baffled, mouth gaping a little.
"Consider it a housewarming gift."
Other than cleaning up his room before he settled in, Mikasa felt like she hadn't really done things that were meant solely for him.
"Is there anything you want?"
He bit his lip again, looking bashful, "Can we have… our own tea set?”
Out of all things he could ask. She raises her eyebrows in question.
"I always thought it's kinda sorta intimate to drink from similar looking cups.” She thought it wouldn’t be possible, but he blushed even deeper. Adorable. “Only if you want to, of course,” he added quickly.
She hums, "Okay. But you pick the pattern."
"It doesn't have to have an intricate design or anything. Just plain white would suffice.”
“Plain white it is. A new beginning.”
His lips stretched in a wide smile. A joy so pure, so vibrant it looked like he glows with happiness. It got nothing to do with the still opened front door and sunlight roams in the foyer they sat in. Mikasa wants to see more of that smile, she wants Jean to complain about how sore his lips corners are from too much smiling. And she will aim to do just that, today, tomorrow, and the days after.
* * *
The next day, she found his forget-me-nots patterned tea cup on the dining table. She can hear him in the front yard, probably tending to the vegetables. She cradles the cup in her hands and smiles, ”No, never.”
Forget me not?