Chapter Text
For what it's worth, Jean started the evening in relatively high spirits.
Jean drove herself and Eula to meet up with a gaggle of lost-looking young adults, some seniors and post-grads, some in the very first year of college, for a few drinks. Jean found them quite relatable, not knowing what she was doing here herself.
Eula seemed to know what to do and led everyone to join the back of a queue snaking up the doors of the venue chosen by the 'leader' of the foreign students—Jean had been told that he was doing a post-doctorate in cultural studies and so had picked this place after extensive research. Somewhere to sample the finest examples of wine and song, the stuff Mondstadt was famous for. He made a write up and infographic about how it was a close-up view into the nightlife of Mondstadt—something that impressed Jean, for sure, but cringe for everyone else.
Having not heard of the place before, Jean didn't know what to expect, but when she got there and saw the posters outside, and the type of people lining up, dressed in clothes Jean wouldn't be caught dead in, she was completely disagreeable to the situation and wanted to leave immediately. Out of respect to their guests, she kept this to herself, however.
Eula hooked a strong hand around Jean's elbow and pulled her close. She could apparently read Jean's emotions from even the most subtle body language, Eula knew her too well. "Don't be so uptight. Loosen up, this is supposed to be fun," she whispered.
A foreign word to Jean. All Jean could see was a trap, a bottomless timesink that Jean couldn't afford, burning energy reserves she didn't have.
"You actually enjoy being in a place like this? What are you supposed to do here?"
"You're supposed to let loose, which I know is a bit of a stretch for you." Eula acknowledged Jean's bombastic side-eye without a long sigh. "There's a dance floor, and a bar, what do you think?"
"No drinking for me. If I get a DUI, you can kiss your free commute to morning lectures goodbye."
Eula tutted. "I bet you've never had a proper night out in your life, Gunnhildr."
Jean was forced to agree. Not a night out like this, she was more familiar with cocktail parties which was probably the closest thing lending some previous experience. And her mother was always there, watching how she interacted with the Mondstadt elite, not anything like this crowd.
The queue moved fairly quickly, the night was still young and the club was filling up with the first load of patrons. There was a slight kerfuffle with IDs, the foreigners had a completely different style ID card, but security did eventually let them pass after Jean diplomatically stepped in. Then they were inside and instantly Jean could feel the loud music behind her eyeballs and her shoes stuck to the floor.
"Oh my god, we just got here and they're already playing my song! I'm going to dance!" A young girl that Jean learned later was called Ayaka steamrolled past and Eula made a friendly gesture to the others who followed. First port of call was declared to be the dance floor.
Jean fobbed them off with a friendly wave, she was quite happy to sit and relax, feigning, but not really, tiredness. So she set up camp on a stool at a small table and watched the handbags, while everyone else parked themselves under the disco ball to have a boogie.
Sat on her own, Jean clocked just how out of place she was here. She definitely didn't want to be with someone familiar right now, holding her hand and telling her how to act in this brand new environment—no idea who could fill that role. Jean remembered how to smile just in time for the party to waltz by with a round of drinks.
The odd house party Jean had attended in the past was far different to this indoor rave, with its seizure-inducing laser light show, speakers the size of vending machines, pumping out the electronic dance music that assaulted Jean's ears. Jean was a musical creature, but not this music. Channeling the spirits of ancestors several generations above her, she baulked at the booming and the thumping coming from the DJ booth. It was all so computer. Deep, all-encompassing bass beats that rattled her bones, 8-bit beep boop noises posing as a melody, it sounded like music made by a spreadsheet. She couldn't dance to this, she'd have no idea where to start.
Jean felt so alienated from what was trendy in this day and age. She'd learned style and grooming from her mother, who was fashionable in a timeless and classic sense, though sometimes it—along with perpetual tiredness—aged Jean to the point where she was catching herself in the mirror and had to do a doubletake that it wasn't actually her mother looking back at her. But being modest and lowkey wealthy made her appear trustworthy, so there was that. It helped in her duties as an RA and as a volunteer mentor; there was unspoken acknowledgement that she was the most coveted campus mom. Her idea of sexing it up was comparatively tame to what came into view over on the dancefloor when Jean looked up.
Jean was surprised to see Eula at the centre of attention, dancing freely.
Her body was so fluid and in tune with the rhythm, bare shoulders loose and easy, it was distractingly hypnotic. Eula's top was some shimmery scrap of fabric tied around her tits, barely covered anything. It caught Jean's eye more than Jean would care to admit as she was waiting and hoping for it to fall.
Before they left, Jean told her she looked ridiculous, especially paired with the short hot pants and thigh high combo Eula had decided on while getting ready. Jean didn't even know she owned clothes like that. When Eula walked out of the door, fully intent on going out dressed in skimpy clothing, it triggered Jean's foul mood, though she would never admit why.
Positioned in the middle, Eula had all eyes on her, lapping up the attention like a pro, switching partners from the group and dancing a different style with each, while keeping up with the rhythm. Even Jean had to admit that it did look good, Eula's moves were silk smooth like butter, and even more impressive that she was totally improvising everything on the fly.
Jean had some idea that Eula was trained in dance as a child, she seemed much less clumsy than Jean in daily life and always graceful—even just walking, especially in heels—but it never clicked for Jean that Eula could actually dance. To music, and everything… well, 'music'. Whatever.
However, the shapes Eula made while dancing were straight out of a porno, bent over with her ass up, grinding against some stranger's crotch. Her mouth hung open in joy, tongue audaciously sliding out to lick her lips in time with the beat, then she threw her hips back before dropping it low. The audience Eula had gathered only encouraged her with endless whoops and cheers and applause. Eula's stomach flexed as her entire length moved with the fluidity of a slinky, the image flashed into Jean's head like a drug, so similar to when Eula lay writhing beneath her at night, at the mercy of Jean's touch. No one else was allowed to see Eula like that; only Jean.
Horrible words came to head: filthy, shameless whore—brazen, slutty bitch. Jean's mouth burned with poison even though she had not voiced these uncalled for thoughts. The constant loud bass churned up Jean's stomach until a sickly murderous rage took hold. Unknown hands grabbed Eula's hips, and within tight fists, Jean's nails pressed indents into her palms, convinced those hands deserved nothing less than amputation with a blunt rusty knife. No one else was allowed to touch Eula like that; only Jean.
Unable to stand it, Jean turned away and swallowed the hot spiky ball lodged in her throat with a chug of the drink in her hand. She continued until the plastic cup was empty, hyperventilating pathetically—very embarrassing, even with only herself as an audience. How she craved a real drink, the glorified fruit juice left a sticky too-sweet taste on her tongue.
Jean hadn't wanted to come in the first place. What a waste of time, eating into her carefully laid out schedule. Eula had convinced her to trade one session of 'stress relief' with the promise of a quick in-and-out operation—showing their faces, saying hello, and then making their excuses. Jean figured it was best to leave a good impression on their guests. She'd hate to be the reason that the exchange programme got a bad rep.
But it was already way past midnight, and she was Eula's ride home. Sadly, Eula seemed to have forgotten their little deal.
Jean queued up to get another mocktail and somehow managed to walk away with an overpriced energy drink—something she'd need to keep her wits about her for when she had to drive herself and Eula back to their apartment at such a late hour. She had no idea how much Eula had drunk by now, the colour of the liquid in her cup kept changing, no doubt fuelled by her new friends. Trays of shot glasses kept getting delivered to the table, drawing everyone back and forth from the dance floor, and there was some sort of secret agreement to be as loud as possible, toasting to what ended up to be complete nonsense. It made Jean shrivel inside as she fought the urge to ignore it all by staring at her phone since she had to stay sober through all this whole ordeal.
Jean couldn't blame Eula for trying to have as much fun as possible while it lasted. Eula had built up a reputation of having a barbed personality; very few people were worth her time not to receive a frosty welcome from her. Jean had encountered this early on too, which she later learned was an automatic defence mechanism deployed when people would inevitably refer to the rumours. All without knowing whether they were true or not, people made assumptions about Eula and felt entitled to be privy into her private life. That was enough to make anyone angry, so Eula chose the path of cold detachment.
Except these new people had not a clue what all that was about, so they welcomed Eula with open arms, and this time, Jean was the one sat on the sidelines, brooding and sulking.
Instead of watching Eula being sandwiched by the greased up swole man, shirtless except for a leather harness, and a younger green-haired girl dressed in alternative fashion with tattoos and multiple facial piercings, Jean's eyes locked onto her phone. The e-reader app was among the first things she downloaded on it, but she still preferred paper books to blue-tinted screens. Beggars can't be choosers so she opened it up and synced up her library. She could make some inroads into the set reading (for next semester, obviously, she had already finished the reading list for all her current classes).
"Hey, beautiful." Someone tapped her on the shoulder.
Jean straightened out from her impression of a squinting shrimp, hunched over her tiny screen.
"Are we boring you?" came a smug but cushioned voice.
Yae Miko. Possibly the most entrancing human being Jean had ever clapped eyes on. She looked like an airbrushed filtered photo at all times, and seemed completely immune to sweat even after dancing energetically for several songs, it was truly incredible. Now that Jean was close enough to notice, Miko also smelled divine. Jean liked the way she was dressed too, classy and chic pastels in soft fabrics; it hit that middle ground between the latest fashions on the catwalk and tasteful elegance. Miko was effortlessly at ease in these surroundings where Jean was almost too uncomfortable to sit down.
"No, I'm just not really a party person," Jean ended her sentence with a timid laugh, noting the irony of her words.
Miko returned a small smile. "Your friend seems to be having the time of her life, you should join her."
"Who? What? Where?"
The smile ended, and immediately Jean felt ridiculous. Miko shook her head in disdain at Jean's failed attempt at feigning ignorance. "You spent the last ten minutes or so glaring at her like you're about to murder somebody. I came to ask if anyone should be worried."
"Oh, no. No worries. It's fine, I'm fine. I'm really just not a dancer or a drinker," Jean held up and jangled her keyring. "I'm driving us home so I must be responsible."
"A noble sacrifice." The response came with a head bob of understanding. Though Jean couldn't tell whether it was sincere. More sincere was the open hand gesture, an invitation. "Shouldn't stop you from getting into the spirit of things. There's space for you over there with us."
"No, no, seriously. I'm perfectly fine on my own. I'm having a good time, trust me."
All the lies and deflections were insults to Miko's intelligence, a flicker of annoyance bent her lips for a split second. She had seen right through Jean in an instant, and could count all the shades of green on Jean's face. Shrewd Miko probably only needed minutes to intuit the unconventional study-buddy fuck-buddy 'friends' with benefits situation. And the fact that they were roommates! Jean had given that away when she revealed her job as designated driver. Her phone screen was broadcasting that she was a keen student, even a passing glance over the physics-based formulae she was staring at could tell even the most unperceptive observer where Jean's priorities lay.
Miko let her have her peace eventually, but only after Jean pointed some targeted questions about her course on classical literature and went all hard news about some controversial books and subjects being banned in places like Sumeru Akademiya, and unironically enquired whether Miko thought that ugliness from the past should be covered up or studied more closely. Miko had strong opinions on the matter, of course, but she didn't want to go into it when they had to shout over the music, so she got the hint and left Jean to her own devices.
At some point, when the crick in Jean's neck was practically permanent, her solo table experience was disturbed by some commotion. What would a night out be without drama? One of the group, Ayaka—the younger Kamisato sibling, was deposited there as she had complained of dizziness. No one had enough wits about them to keep track of the drinks, and she may or may not have been spiked, or she was simply a bit too drunk. Jean went into RA mode immediately, asking whether she felt sick and then getting her a glass of water and a little snack from her handbag. It was a welcome distraction from the task of watching Eula's every move like a hawk while also pretending not to care.
Poor Ayaka wasn't able to be very talkative, she was indeed very dizzy and closed her eyes against the flashing lights. Her feebleness was Jean's ticket out of this place. Jean eventually flagged down the big brother, the PhD guy who had the stupid idea to come here in the first place. An emergency meeting was called and everyone gathered around the tiny circular table. Eula had been outside smoking with Miko, Jean immediately frowned at their arrival. What on earth could they have been talking about, since they both looked like mischievous imps who had spilled some hot tea.
"What's going on?"
"We have a casualty. We should probably start thinking about when to make a move."
"I'm sorry, everyone, I didn't mean to ruin all your fun." Hands pressed together, Ayaka bowed her head in apology.
Jean patted and rubbed her shoulders in a calming manner. "Not at all. You haven't ruined anything. Your well-being is more important. Do you think you'd feel better if we took you home? Just need to sleep it off."
Jean could tell that Ayaka was grateful that her brother answered for her. "It was my mistake. I should've paid closer attention. Please forgive me, everyone."
Then the pair who Jean had thought were an item came along. It made sense, they sort of had a secret language, if not lovers, they were definitely the best of friends. "What's this about leaving? Party's just getting started."
Without the heavily studded and spiked jacket he wore outside, he was like a walking advert for a BDSM sex shop—with all his oiled up tattooed skin, black leather collar and cuffs. Jean felt weirdly aroused just by looking at him, even though she'd never really had those types of feelings towards men. Her vision darted between him and Eula, wondering how she'd look wearing those tight leather straps. Fuck, no, Jean shook that image out of her head, she was too busy for that right now.
Jean also recalled that he hadn't shared the subject he was studying during their chit chat in the queue outside. She wasn't sure what to make of him as he seemed to be one of those body modification enthusiasts as well as a bodybuilder, most unlike anyone Jean had ever known. Itto, was his name, or something.
His friend, Shinobu, was studying law, something that Jean strongly considered for herself before settling on engineering, though Shinobu seemed like the type to be studying law to protest it, rather than practice it. Maybe Itto was tagging along with her as a plus one? She found it hard to believe he was a student. Jean didn't have the brain power to compute.
"Once again, my apologies." Ayato bowed deeply from the waist. "It is rather late now, I'll be making arrangements to escort my sister back to our accommodation. You are all, of course, welcome to join me. We are travelling in a similar direction, are we not?"
There was twice as much deliberation as necessary, in Jean's humble opinion, wasting valuable time. But, eventually, the group collected their coats from the cloakroom, made their way out of the club and down the street to where Jean had left the car. It was on the way to the metro station, she had pointed out the way as they turned the corner.
Both Jean and Ayaka were pleased to be out in the fresh air, and Jean savoured the quiet like a hungry man bites into fresh bread. Words could not explain the utter relief she felt as they came upon her car, and home was now closer than ever.
"I had a lovely time, everyone," she lied, "we must do this again sometime." Jean would never ever do that again unless, for some bizarre reason, her life depended on it. The key fob beeped, and the car responded in kind by double-beeping and lighting up. Jean had already walked over to the driver's door, before she snapped up to seek Eula out of the group, annoyed that she wasn't directly on her heels.
"Well, shit, looks like this is my ride." Eula had remained a few steps behind Jean as they walked, Shinobu's arm hooked around hers. They leaned their faces in close and giggled. Jean sensed something, chemistry between them, and reluctance to let go like a mysterious magnetism was involved. Eula didn't step into the car in her usual seat, in fact she went around to the back, Shinobu still hanging off her arm.
"You guys need a ride? What way are you going?"
"That would be wonderful, yes. How very kind and generous of you." Ayato bowed to her graciously. "I do believe it isn't too far out of your way, we are headed basically back to campus."
"Oh, perfect, yeah. Definitely on the way. That's alright with you, isn't it, Gunnhildr?"
"Yeah, fine." Jean's key had already been turned in the ignition and Eula had opened the passenger doors. It was not like she could say no.
Jean had a very nice car, considering the stereotype of a broke college student, she was most definitely not it. Careful not to flaunt her wealth, the luxury of her vehicle gave it away—not that she had a choice, it was gifted by her mother on her successful completion of high school and subsequent acceptance into college. Saying that, it wasn't like a top of the line Rolls-Royce, just a nice enough brand new Audi A6 decked out with all the extras and optional features, bells and whistles which were out of reach for most people.
There was not enough room for everybody, so some laps had to become extra seats. Ayato had his sleepy little sister on his knee, Itto up front (with his torso covered up, thank god), Miko in the middle, and next to her, Eula opened her long legs to allow Shinobu to perch on top. Unfortunately, this was directly in view of Jean's rear mirror, and she was forced to watch Eula snuggle up with the attractive girl on her lap.
Jean was so easily distracted from the road by Eula's lips disappearing behind the nape of Shinobu's neck. She jerked her gaze away, only to catch Miko's smug all-knowing smirk, which made her fume for some reason. Jean put her foot down, making the engine roar and whizzing up the main road at blinding speed. Though it couldn't cover up the subtle noise of tangled arms rearranging in the back seat, muffled giggles, and obtrusive whispers which crawled beneath Jean's skin causing an unscratchable itch. The brainiac engineering geniuses who had designed her car had made sure that the cabin was nice and quiet for the comfort and pleasure of the driver, so yeah, good for them, but, right now, it sucked for Jean.
She was witnessing a crime, a blatant theft, right in front of her, in her own goddamn vehicle.
It was such a relief to have her satnav confirm that they had arrived at their first stop, and Jean could unload the passengers causing her grief… Well, except for Eula. Jean was obligated to bring her home, yet she was the most troubling of all.
Jean stayed in the car while Eula exchanged good-byes, hugs, and airkisses with her new friends. She found the inbuilt satnav mounted to her centre console very interesting while all this was happening. Even though their home address was at the top of the recommended list, she painstakingly typed in the details to avoid glancing up.
Oh, the radio. That was quite interesting. Perhaps she could listen to some music that she actually enjoyed after multiple hours of droning drums, or maybe catch up on a podcast. It was as good a time as any to start listening to podcasts. Nothing sounded good, everything started to grate on her after a few seconds so she flipped the switch and killed the noise.
And then she waited.
She waited an awfully long time before curiosity got the better of her, having tapped the steering wheel irritably for the last ten minutes at least. Eula and another person were barely illuminated by the porch light, and Jean knew immediately that she was peeping on an intimate moment. They were the last two left outside, obviously Shinobu's friends had let them have a moment alone.
It was strange, there wasn't any immediate anger, like she expected. Just the unmistakable shattering of a heart she had long pretended was detached from her. Since she was encased inside the metal and glass walls of her car, there was nothing Jean could do, they wouldn't be able to hear her even if she shouted for them to stop. Jean was utterly powerless.
She didn't care that Eula was kissing another woman. She swore to herself that she didn't.
She didn't blame Shinobu for flirting, Eula was hot, that was a basic fact.
Eula flirting back was somewhat questionable, but it was not like she was tied down. Their little arrangement was explicitly not a commitment.
And, honestly, there was a small part of Jean that was happy for Eula, who struggled to bond with people. Amber aside, Eula kept herself company most of the time; she didn't have drinking buddies that Jean knew of, no one would be willing to even if Eula wanted something like that. Jean had never acknowledged to her face the balls of steel it took to walk with confidence through a world hellbent on regarding Eula with suspicion.
So why did Jean feel such grief? That she was losing something, something that by rights was never even hers?
Eula never gave Jean a goodnight kiss. They'd never been on a date before; tonight, she'd been given one chance to pretend, to play make-believe, and it passed her by.
Jean did not want to date Eula.
A dirty lie.
It was just impossible right now.
Jean tore herself away, her chest too tight to goddamn breathe properly.
Eula eventually made her final goodbyes, and plodded back to the car, with a stupid grin on her face. Jean was entirely silent and still as Eula opened the door and sat in the front passenger seat as if everything were normal. Jean couldn't even wait for Eula to put her seatbelt on, ignoring the blasted alarm beeping at her, and set off.
"You were quiet tonight."
Jean huffed. She didn't like Eula's voice like this, sort of loose and fuzzy, an after-effect of spending time having normal social interactions. Eula was a bit wavy, but her expensive education and upbringing were almost always present in the crispness of her words, but this time, she had let her guard down and lost that edge. She sounded common as muck, and Jean hated it.
"I hardly saw you in the club, forgot you actually came with us at one point."
But Jean saw Eula everywhere, talking to everyone, experiencing everything the night had to offer. She'd stalked her all night from the shadows, gritted teeth bared, teeming with discontent. Jean took a deep, deliberate breath and kept her eyes on the road.
"I think they played that new Xinyan song three times at least. Bet I could do the whole rap from memory. Ah, I'm still buzzing, I had such a good night." Eula glanced over at Jean who made a grumbly throaty noise by way of a reply.
"The others mentioned that karaoke is a big thing where they're from, said I'd scope out a place where we could do that." Eula grinned, it must be nice for her to have something to look forward to. "Would you be up for that? I know you can sing, from like church or whatever."
She waited several long yards of silence, before she leaned over and repeated the invitation, in case Jean hadn't heard it the first time. No response, except maybe Jean's eyes narrowed a bit.
"I-is there a reason you're not talking to me?"
Surely it had nothing to do with the smudged lipstick marks around Eula's mouth. The dark purple lip stain looked black in the orange tint of the street lights, and went well with Eula's tendency to overuse black eyeliner, the long wings had mostly survived the long night, only a smidgen of blur from the sweat she worked up dancing.
A gruff noise came first, so Jean could clear her clogged and sticky throat. "It's late. I want to get home."
"Yeah, but, no need to be rude, what would your mother think?" Eula tutted, and wagged her finger. She burst out laughing and slapped her thigh, must have considered her mocking reprimand to be peak comedy. Ah yes, Jean's relationship with her mother was simply hilarious and a huge joke, everyone knew that.
"I don't need this right now." Jean couldn't even pretend to be congenial. So many critical remarks buzzed around her head, each one more cutting than the last, though voicing them was out of the question. The attacks would come from seemingly nowhere, and Eula would rightly come down on her like a tonne of bricks, and Jean already felt stupid enough as it is. So she reinforced her will with iron, she could easily win a battle of wills against one drunk Eula—easily.
"Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?"
"I like having clear blocks of time for things, and leaving when you said we would."
"Ohhh, you've got the hump because it's three a.m. and you're not typing up your practice thesis for final year. Yeah, sorry. Must've lost track of time. Still, though, it was a good night."
"Glad someone had fun."
"It would be easier if you just admitted you were jealous of the rest of us and our ability to have fun. You didn't have to sequester yourself off like that, enough effort was made to include you."
"Like I told everyone else, I was fine on my own."
"God, Gunnhildr, you are so fucking dull, it's like you do this for sport. I told you to let loose, to forget about everything and just have a good time while we were there. Real life can wait. What were you doing on your phone all night, please don't tell me you were working?"
Sure enough, the phone started burning in Jean's pocket, the battery had indeed been drained by maintaining the backlight so that Jean could squint at eBooks, and she had made a list of highlights in her notes to use as references later. It was the best she could manage with the tools she had. "I chose to use my time wisely while you were busy partying. You'll forgive me for not partaking in something that holds little interest for me."
"Yeah, everyone noticed, in case you were wondering."
Jean hoped she had not soured relations too much, she figured she had built some good karma by looking after Ayaka and taking everyone home. She'd saved all her bitterness for Eula.
"I'm surprised they noticed anything with that little performance you put on tonight." Jean hadn't meant it to sound so spiteful.
"Excuse me?" Eula's voice dropped low, and Jean's skin erupted in goosebumps. Gone were the higher notes of humour, now it was all serious chills and deathly cold stares.
"You know what I mean. The way you dressed tonight it's—" Jean scoffed, refusing to back down. "It's really not leaving anything to the imagination, is it, like you're asking for trouble. What on earth possessed you to act like that, and in front of new people? I dread to think what impression you made on them. Is this how you behave when you drink alone, don't you realise how unsafe that is? Someone could easily take advantage of you, just like what almost happened to that poor Ayaka girl."
Predictably, Eula didn't take that well. "Hey, fuck you. Seriously, fuck you."
"I'm only trying to look out for you. I've seen what happens to the drunkest girl at the party, and it's not pretty."
"You don't really give a shit about that. That's not what this is about. Not at all, Jean Gunnhildr. Now tell the truth."
Jean could only drive, making a show of checking her mirrors and concentrating very hard on the road. As if Eula wasn't even worth a scrap of Jean's awareness.
Only deep down, she knew she didn't want to answer Eula's question, since the concept of Eula as her girlfriend had cropped up more than once. More than once a day, if she was honest. Maybe every time she looked at her the thought niggled at Jean's brain, though if push came to shove, Jean would deny that with every fibre of her being.
"There's nothing more to say."
Furious at herself for being upset, Jean's face went all red and hot, a slimy sweat moustache appearing on her upper lip. She was supposed to be a feminist and gave her full support to all that equality shit that people had been fighting for. How could she now be upset by someone wearing what they want and acting how they want, especially someone who was explicitly not her girlfriend? It's supposed to be a free world.
And here she was, finding Eula's publicly revealed butt meat criminally obscene, implying that she should cover up. Jean stuffed her mouth up closed, adamant that there was nothing to tell. Eula was seeing things, making things up because she was drunk. They almost got into a full blown shouting match over it.
"Why do you sound like a psycho ex-boyfriend all of a sudden? It's like your IQ has dropped twenty points, and you don't even have the excuse of being drunk."
"You can't blame me for being ratty and tired, when I've been out all night against my will, and now I'm dragging your drunk ass home."
"No, this is more than that. Tell me why you're acting like a spoiled brat and why your face looks like a donkey's asshole."
Jean rolled her eyes at the crass insult. She was inches away from smacking the steering wheel in a rage and then smacking Eula. They had, of course, had arguments before but never to this intensity. "Shut up."
"Everyone said you looked pissed off all night long. Usually, I'm the one who gets comments about resting bitch face, so you must've actually been mad at something."
"You know how it throws me off when things don't go according to schedule. I have to wake up in two and a half hours for supervision. And so do you, but I don't suppose you're going to make it. Got better things to do, I guess, like making out with your new goth girlfriend."
"Oh."
"Yeah, I saw you. Shameless, you are, you're so—" Jean looked in her mirror to check she was still human. There was an acidic, burning sensation crawling all over her, melting away her pretty skin to reveal the monster within, an ugly creature with green eyes and a rotten heart.
"I don't see how that's any of your business. She's in an open relationship with that guy who's all tatted up, and I said, 'oh cool, so am I,' because how else was I supposed to explain all this," her hands vibrated angrily in the general vicinity of the horrible vibes in the car, "shit."
Ok, that hurt. "Did you—with him?"
"No, you fucking idiot."
What a relief.
"Good, I'm glad at least some of your brain survived all those shots you did."
"I literally can't stand you sometimes, you are a thorn in my side, Gunnhildr, a pain in my fucking ass."
"Oh, thanks. You're an absolute delight yourself." Sarcasm tasted rancid in her mouth, she could feel vomit push against the back of her throat.
Eula put her foot down, her whole body springing stiffly like twanged elastic. "I just don't see why you're so mad. Yes, we are late. Yes, I'm drunk, ok?! That's hardly anything new." Spit flew out of her mouth as she yelled, so she used her fingers to wipe it. Then she noticed the lipstick.
"Because you're mine, alright!?"
Uh oh. She'd said the forbidden words. Proof that she'd had the forbidden thoughts and was plagued with the disgusting, icky feelings. In fact, she had yelled them, loud and proud. Yet the regret was instant, and she sounded like she had hamstringed herself by the last syllable.
Jean had been on a countdown to explode all night long, and it was less of a bang and more of whimper, pathetic, like her. Caught in a trap of her own making, terror shot through Jean, like a dunk in icy rapids, her stress response kicked off big time. The world outside went dark and her sweaty hands slipped off the wheel, Jean began to panic.
"I'm what?"
Jean slammed the brakes, sending Eula jolting forward in her seat. Jean herself narrowly avoided headbutting the steering wheel, while Eula had her head thrown violently, the seatbelt locking in front of her neck. Eula's head whipped backwards and smacked hard against the headrest then stopped, and for one brief terrifying second, Jean thought she had killed her.
Jean was absolutely abhorred by herself. Not only had she not looked at the road for several minutes, but also, screamed at Eula like she was beneath her. "Fuck!"
"What'd you do that for? Geez, what is wrong with you?" Eula was alive after all and mightily pissed off. Unfortunately, her voice showed some damage. She had to untangle herself and then rubbed her poor bruised neck.
Flicking her eyes upwards for a quick check in the mirrors to ensure that they were alone on the deserted road, Jean put the car in park—probably the only sensible thing she'd done all night since she was definitely in the wrong state of mind to be in control of a 2-tonne vehicle.
"Sorry, I'm just—" Jean reached over a hand, crossing the threshold between them only to be slapped away.
"Fucking insane, that's what. The absolute entitlement of you! The cheek, the nerve, the gall, the audacity and the gumption! I'm 'yours'?! Your what?"
Jean couldn't talk. Her words were not working at all. She'd upset the balance and broken so many unspoken rules. And the worst part? She couldn't unsay the words she had already said, reducing Eula to a toy that she was not willing to share. Tonight was such a bad idea, in every single way, and Jean wished she had never agreed to it. It was all Eula's fault in the first place.
Don't bite the hand that fingers you and all that, or however the fuck that saying's supposed to go. They had a good thing going, now Jean had pissed it up the wall. She'd done a bang-up job of fucking herself over in just a few short hours. Not to mention with them living together; Jean had signed a lease agreement until the end of final year, the shared space was about to get painfully awkward.
"Please, just forget about it."
"No, answer the question."
"I didn't mean it like that! I know you're not anything to me."
Dear god, that phrasing was awful. The way Eula snapped to staring straight into Jean's soul put the fear of god into her. Jean seemed unable to stop herself from blundering into worse and worse situations. Eula was right, it did feel a lot like she had lost several of her supposedly higher intelligence faculties, showing irrational behaviour and loss of her reasoning abilities.
Once again, Eula was not her girlfriend. Except she was sort of girlfriend-adjacent.
Jean's love language was acts of service—which Eula did willingly and without prompting, going above and beyond simply being a helpful roommate. Making her tea, preparing her meals, sharing the struggles of a tough, demanding degree, providing both friendly (the term meant something a bit different to Eula, admittedly) encouragement and healthy competition. Every little thing added another layer of glue to their bond, which, by now, was solidly thick.
Of course, sex always complicates matters. And Eula was very eager to please in the bedroom. Jean wasn't lazy, but she enjoyed being pampered—who wouldn't? But that was hardly all she got out of it.
So, yes, while Jean went about treating sex with Eula like an appointment, she was harbouring secret cravings for the more tender moments—the little kisses and teasing delicate touches, the final collapse when the bells stopped ringing and Jean could feel Eula's heavy breaths cascade down her chest and Jean's fingers would play with Eula's hair, her subtle way of cradling her close, holding onto her dearly because the fear of letting go…
It was such a glorious contrast to the callous rough and tumble of the preceding half an hour, always a competition with them. They liked to flex their skills and strengths, and play-wrestle which always ended them up in some precarious positions until one of them would cum first and then it became a free-for-all.
"Right." Eula seemed bitter in her agreement. "It's just sex, isn't it?" Eula waited a single beat. She knew Jean's mind worked fast enough to catch on. "Well, isn't it?"
"I just thought that, since it had been a while in the routine, and we got along well despite our little quirks… I just thought we had an implied agreement that other people were off-limits." Shit, she had meant to say 'unnecessary' which was a much less charged word, a would-be veil for what she was really thinking. Of course that Freudian slip would come out at the worst time.
Eula picked up on it anyway and pounced with alarming accuracy. "That sounds dangerously close to a confession, Gunnhildr." Her voice was cutting, laced with disapproval.
Jean cringed, as she was systematically undressed, exposed finally to her own repressed thoughts. "I would call it clarifying the terms and conditions," she mumbled, as a weak excuse.
"I recall quite clearly from slide 17 that you were unavailable, physically and emotionally. Your exact words were 'I can't spare the time or attention for you or anyone'." Eula was absolutely one hundred percent correct. Jean was glad she had been listening, but it was sort of ruining things now. "So, was I mistakenly under the impression that extracurricular activities were fair game? Because how else was I supposed to interpret that?"
"You are entitled to do as you please, as you so often remind me."
The slide deck presentation was one of the most memorable moments of Jean's life. She hadn't realised the level of unintentional humour contained in her hastily slapped together diagrams—stick figures to represent herself and Eula drawn by hand with a mouse on Microsoft Paint. Jean was out of touch with her funny bones, anything humorous that came out of her mouth was completely serious in her mind. The practice run she performed alone in her bedroom was not funny at all, more nerve wracking.
Jean was renowned as a great public speaker, setting the bar high for class presentations. But this was a personal private conversation with a very Jean-like twist, as she made a proposal, clearly defined rules and rigid boundaries about casual sex. It was just so ridiculous Eula couldn't be blamed for thinking it was an elaborate joke, but she was totally along for the ride, ready with her pen poised on notepaper.
Off she went starting from the top, and the more she spoke, the more she realised that it stank of satire. Jean ploughed on through, completely straight-faced, ignoring the itch at the side of her mouth making her lips curl into a wink-wink-nudge-nudge smile. The deadpan delivery was confirmed by Eula to be absolute cinema.
At the time, she'd not realised the value of Eula laughing softly each time a new slide popped up and the next 'illustration' appeared, but later when Jean thought back on it, she captured and treasured those memories like they were gold dust. She'd give anything to see Eula smile so giddily again while she hadn't had a drop of alcohol. She just looked so happy. Jean had already fallen in love with the idea of Eula back then, and now she'd slipped up and fallen for the real thing.
"So what is it that you want from me?"
"I would prefer it if you would—persevere." She'd said it quietly because she was not proud. Gun to her head, she couldn't even explain what it meant but she knew it was a big ask. Something that Jean would have likely opposed if the situation were reversed. Eula, quite rightly, side-eyed Jean like she had lost her damn mind.
To her detriment, Jean was difficult, her life was difficult and she set herself the hardest challenges which made being around her quite difficult for the people in her life—prime example being her sister. There was nothing she could do, other than stop being such a kind-hearted, helpful member of the student community, which was largely non-negotiable in her mind. She had a lot of expectations to keep her transcript as full and clean as possible, so she took on extra classes, and audited another because she knew it would look good on her resumé although it ended up being very awkward to fit in her schedule. But she did it anyway, driving across campus like a maniac to arrive on time.
"School is just crazy right now, you've seen what I have to do on a daily basis. And I still didn't quit being an RA, I mean, I did officially, but the new girl calls all the time to ask me stuff and I end up lending a hand, otherwise nothing would get done. But school, however important it is now, isn't forever. I know there's probably little incentive for you to want to keep in contact with me after final year, we'll probably end up working on opposite sides of the country or the world, and it's probably a long shot…" God, it was so embarrassing to even think about it, let alone say it out loud.
All she had done was point out the sad truth, that at some point, all this would come to an end. Perhaps they would say their farewells after graduation and that would be that, or it would be an abrupt halt when they went their separate ways with only scant memories left behind, and nothing solid to remember.
"I know I can be a bitch sometimes, much like tonight, but I think I… just the thought of not having you around, I got a little taste of it just now and honestly, hated it, never want to experience that again. All this to say, basically, I wish we were more than roommates—much more."
There. She'd done it. She'd finally said what she meant, still without actually saying the L-word. She couldn't even look at Eula now, and fixed her sights literally anywhere else but Eula's face. Was she happy? Disappointed? Repulsed? Who knows… Jean could only sit in the dark and wait for her judgement.
"I knew this would happen. That was disgustingly pathetic, even for you, and I'm sorry to have seen you in this state."
"I take it you—you don't feel the same way."
Eula wiped her mouth wearing a contemplative frown, fading the last remaining traces of the wayward lipstick. "I've thought about it."
"And?"
"The sticking point was always you, like I'm not worth your time."
"I always enjoy the time we spend together, studying or—or… you know."
"Because it benefits you." The answer was too quick, and so sharp; Jean felt its sting. "Am I wrong?"
"So you're saying there's no chance?"
"That is entirely up to you. Say I did wait for you, do you see a future for us?"
Jean had a five year plan, rolling on every birthday and had done for the past decade or so. None of it ever involved settling down in a relationship, not yet anyway, not for a long time. A piece of the puzzle that didn't quite fit, she had too much to juggle up in the air at any given time, not enough pieces of leftover heart and soul to share with someone else. Her goal was to simply forge ahead, dive into her career and never look back, work night and day, then she might get anywhere close to the expectations of her.
"I can't promise anything." Jean decided not to lie, and give false hope.
Even if sometimes when her thoughts ran away with her, she imagined them in their own house with a big backyard so their puppy could run around, and a big airy interior with a fireplace in the living room where a cat could curl up next to the warmth. It was too clean, too perfect, too unreal. That was her vice, not alcohol, she made herself high and drunk on the fantasy, yearning for a simple life with Eula that could never exist.
Eula's lips sealed together in a pitiful smile, and lightly shrugged her shoulders. "There's the answer then. Perhaps in another life, we might've made this work, but I guess, for us, it was never meant to be. Now let's go home, and forget about all this."
So many words just to say 'no'. Jean supposed she deserved that after everything she'd done.
Usually finally understanding a problem or, even better, finding a solution, caused a heady release of dopamine, but in this situation, it absolutely destroyed her. The outcome was not what she wanted, not at all. Eula wasn't interested in trying to leap hurdles or fighting for Jean's attention; it was difficult to imagine anyone wanting that, so Jean couldn't blame her. Ended before it could even begin, Jean mourned the death of their relationship, or the potential for one anyway, in silence.
Jean started the engine and got moving again. No further words were spoken until Jean announced their arrival at home. Eula had been so quiet, Jean thought she might've drifted off, but she was first out of the car and took the stairs to their front door two at a time, leaving Jean in the dust.