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Jean catches the pillow. More out of instinct rather than intention.
But Mikasa doesn’t seem to appreciate that. A furrow appears between her brows. She throws the next one with a bit more force, as if challenging him. And to her disappointment, he stands up to the challenge. The furrow on her forehead deepening, she grabs the blanket next. Hurling it at him with all her strength. And this time it's her win. The blanket hits the pillows in his hand and falls to the floor, the neat folds coming undone.
As Jean stoops to pick it up, she slams the door. Raising a noise that rattles through the entire house.
For a few moments, Jean remains where he was, kneeling on the ground, looking up at the big sturdy wooden door barring his entry into his, their, bedroom. He knows she didn't lock it. But she has made her intentions very clear.
With a sigh, he gathers the blanket from the floor and heads to the guest bedroom.
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Mikasa lies awake in bed. Tossing and turning and fuming. And hugging the pillow instead of her husband for the night. Tears spill out of her eyes as she thinks about the precious little aloe vera plant while the cold rain outside beats against the window panes.
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She serves his breakfast hot with cold silence as she decides to clean the kitchen cabinet instead of joining him at the table. Jean eats in silence, without a complaint.
Mikasa ties his tie without uttering a single word. Not willing to give him a chance to speak and defend himself. When Jean leans to kiss her cheek, she moves away. Looking up at him with her lips pressed together. Letting him know that the goodbye kisses will be held off for today.
Jean leaves with an almost inaudible mutter of goodbye, his head hanging low.
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Breakfast alone feels just as much of a punishment to herself as she terribly misses Jean across the table. Eyes darting to the empty chair every other moment. After doing the dishes, she finally goes to the garden. Ready to assess the situation. It isn’t raining right now, but the sky is still laden with heavy dark rain clouds. Much to her amazement, she finds that her aloe plant has been cleaned up already. The broken leaves have been removed. She crouches down to observe closely.
After a long while of silent contemplation, she stands up. Eyes roaming around the enormous garden.
It was her thing. Or at least it was supposed to be. But she thinks of the days Jean helps her out in the garden even after a long day. Raking the soil, pulling out weeds, putting in manure. Face smudged with patches of dirt and eyes drooping with exhaustion, yet not losing his warm smile.
She thinks about how he watches over the plants closely and gives them names, talking to them as he waters them. Referring to himself as their dad and calling Mikasa mom. Something Mikasa finds equally cringey and adorable.
She looks at the hothouse in the distance, the one he built so that they can raise butterflies. He had made a painting of her. Sitting in the garden, with butterflies flying around her. And she just happened to express her desire for the butterflies to really be there. It was meant to be nothing more than wishful thinking on her part, like wanting to hold stars in her hands. Just said for the sake of saying, not really expecting for it to happen. That was why she was at her wit's end when she saw him at work the very next week. Full of enthusiasm.
She thinks of the time when an unknown blight struck the neighbourhood. Some of her own flower plants also came down with it. Despite all her earnest efforts, the condition kept worsening. Slowly spreading to the other plants in close proximity. She was starting to consider burning them like her neighbours to save the plants that were unaffected still. Then one evening Jean arrived with a bottle of medicine. Apparently, he went to see an old gardener in Orvud district. An acquaintance of his parents from when Historia was keeping his and Connie's families under her protection. Mikasa didn't have much hope. However, a week later, the browning of the leaves started to get visibly better. And a few more weeks later, a new bud could be seen for the first time in months.
Despite her determination, Mikasa feels her anger slipping away a bit. Maybe she had been a little too harsh on him. He’d never intentionally harm her plants. She walks back inside the house to do laundry.
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Her eyes keep peeking at the large wooden clock hanging on the wall. Jean should have been home by now. Dinner is starting to get cold. And a little fear starts to creep inside her heart. Nothing bad could have happened to him, right? Jean calls their goodbye kisses his safety charm. It's not that Mikasa believes in such childish things, but unbeknownst to the world, in the silence of her dining room, she vows to never send him to work without kisses ever again.
As the anxiety starts to get a hold of her, she gets up from her chair, deciding to make the bed to keep the uneasiness at bay. Just as she's about to head upstairs, she hears the click of the main door opening, rising above the steady patter of rain outside. Clutching at her heart, she breathes a loud sigh of relief.
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Jean doesn't try to tell her about his day at work like he always does. Dinner is eaten in absolute silence, but Mikasa does him the honour of eating with him. When it's time for bed, she watches as he heads to the guest bedroom.
He's half asleep when he feels the familiar arms wrap around his torso.
"M-ikasa?" He lifts his head from the pillow, eyes squinting.
She doesn't say anything, just moves her body closer to him and tucks her head into his neck. The familiar warmth of her body seeps into his skin. He throws the blanket over her, covering her up properly. "What's wrong? Bad dreams?"
"It's not fair."
He frowns, unsure what she’s talking about. "What… do you mean?"
"It's not fair that I have to sleep alone when you are the one at fault."
"I'm so sorry, Mikasa." He doesn't waste one heartbeat, holding her hand in his. "I really am. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know."
He's met with silence.
"I went to see dad. He said I should dry the broken leaves and then try replanting them."
There’s another pause, but then she finally speaks. "Is that… why you were late?"
"Yes."
Another silence follows. Only broken by the faint pitter-patter of rain.
"Why did you go out into the garden in the dark?"
"I’d left my hat."
There's another long stretch of silence before Mikasa speaks again. "I hadn't told you I moved the plant there. Partly it's my fault."
Jean moves back his neck, trying to get a look of her face. "Is that… Does that mean I'm forgiven?"
"No," she says promptly, then her voice drops a little, "I'm still sad. But... I'm not mad at you anymore. At least not as much as I want to be."
With a small smile on his face, Jean leans forward. Pressing his lips on her cheek. "It's a make up kiss."
Mikasa frowns at him. Before moving closer. Giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
Jean chuckles.
"Only because it's the weekend and it'll be awkward being stuck with each other without talking." She pouts.
Jean sneaks his arms around her and rolls over, pulling her on top of him. Eliciting a small squeal from her.
"Do you understand what it was?" He smiles, taken over by a burst of giddiness.
"What what was?"
"This… fight."
He tucks a stray lock behind her ear. "It was our first fight as a married couple."
"Why do you look so happy about it?"
"Because I'm happy."
Mikasa scowls. "You're happy we had a fight?"
"I'm happy this was the first of the many more yet to come."
"You're looking forward… to our fights?"
"I'm looking forward to the rest of our lives together. Including the good bits and the bad."
Mikasa watches him for a few moments, her eyes soften and she lays her head over his chest, pressing her ear against his beating heart.
"Mikasa! Mikasa!"
She sits up on the bed. The bright warm sunlight is a little too harsh on her sleepy eyes, so she has to squint.
"Check this out!" Jean holds up a small terracotta pot in his hands, bursting with excitement.
She watches the pot as she yawns languidly. A single aloe leaf sticking out of the earth.
"What am I supposed to be looking at?"
"Look closely, the new leaf!" He brings the pot closer. And she sees there's a new, baby leaf coming out of the dirt. It's still so small she had at first mistaken it for a blade of grass. "It lived. It really lived!" Jean beams. "I was starting to think it won't."
It takes her a few whole minutes to connect the dots. She takes in the sight that he is. The gleam of pure happiness in his eyes, the mud stained fingers and the absolute mess that is his hair. Then she looks at the clock beside the bed. It's barely six in the morning. A generous smile spreads through her lips.
The sun that comes up after days of rain has always felt a bit warmer to her.
Maybe a little rain isn't so bad after all...