Chapter Text
A gust of wind was blowing up leaves around the walkways of Mall Maria. After a particularly strong rush, Jean Kirschstein found himself with a leaf sticking to the side of his face. Muttering a few choice curses under his breath, he quickly wiped the dead leaf off his face, straightening his triangle scarf and trying to look cool despite it all. It was the middle of October and the weather was finally reaching the kind of brisk autumn chill that so many people spent the rest of the year idealizing and longing for. Considering himself a person of fairly fashionable tendencies (or just a frigging diva as Eren would put it), Jean could understand this; fall was the right temperature for the best outfits.
He continued walking down the cobbled paths winding through Mall Maria, his footsteps in time with the beat of the music currently being fed to his brain from his headphones. As he passed by the mall’s ice cream store Pixis Creamery, he debated treating himself to some ice cream later in the week, and perhaps bugging Sasha or Connie if either of them were working. For now, he was headed to work, and the front of Sawney’s Kettle (“Tea for the Soul”) came into view as soon as he turned the corner.
Hanji was outside today, wearing a knitted unbuttoned sweater over her uniform as she handed out free samples to various passerby. She grinned her borderline manic grin at Jean as he approached and he returned the greeting with a nod of his head, quickly weaving through the small crowd queuing for free samples and entering the tea store.
One of the perks of his job, Jean frequently thought, was the way the store greeted you. Every time he came in for a shift all he had to do was set foot on the store’s premise and a strong waft of the various teas at Sawney’s Kettle would rise up and envelope him in its delicious embrace.
“Yo, Kirschstein, you’re late! Get behind the counter!”
“Shut up, Jaeger!” Jean shouted his response automatically and rolled his eyes, pulling his headphones off with one hand while pushing open the door to the back with the other. Once in back, he quickly shed his outdoor wear and proceeded to straighten his green and black plaid scarf before returning to the floor of the store.
There was a strong hint of maté in the air today, and Jean was pleased to see Eren brewing a fresh pot for customers to sample by the shelves displaying their fancier tea pots. Once he had clocked in, Jean yelled across the room at Eren once more, “I’m not even five minutes late, Jaeger, calm yourself!”
Even from behind the counter he could hear Eren’s response of “tch.” And Jean was quick to smirk at the room at large before throwing in a quick pitch, “Speaking of calming, we have some wonderful white and jasmine teas that are perfect for soothing your nerves and relieving tension.”
“Jean, you are the actual lamest person I know, you hear me?” Eren spoke loudly and got a laugh from Jean as his only response.
Most of the customers seemed to understand that this back and forth banter was largely friendly and looked on in amusement, though (as always) there were the mild-mannered looking on in mild concern.
Once Eren was done setting up the new sampling station, he returned to the counter to help Jean with serving customers, striking up their usual conversation during lulls in the shift.
“You coming to Mikasa’s match this weekend?”
“Sure, when is it?”
“Saturday afternoon. Armin was hoping to grab dinner afterwards with everyone.”
Jean pinched the bridge of his nose. “We have practice later that night, Jaeger. It’d kind of be a problem if the lead singer and lead guitarist weren’t there.”
“I know that, dude, chill, it won’t take that long. I’m not bailing on rehearsal,” said Eren, “besides, I thought your pretty voice was all the group needed?” he taunted.
“Fine, fine,” said Jean, bringing up a hand to shove Eren’s knitted beanie down over his eyes, “by the way, did you get the chance to look over those lyrics I sent you?”
“Mm,” Eren pulled his beanie back into place and fiddled with the edges, “I glanced at them, but I’ve been a little busy. Geology exam yesterday.”
“Alright, well just be sure to take a look before rehearsal,” said Jean wearily, “I’ll have Ymir check them out as well.”
“Right ‘cause our drummer is so great with words,” Eren snorted.
“She’s good at keeping lyrics in check, and I was a little worried this song kind of got away from me,” said Jean, “and about Saturday, I’ll have to see. I can probably do dinner but I have a listening exam on Monday so I want to get at least some studying done during the day.”
Eren frowned, “Okay but you should really try to make it. Armin said Mikasa likes it more if we’re all there.”
Jean nodded, although he thought to himself that Mikasa managed to be a pretty damn kick ass martial artist with or without her friends in the crowd. Besides, it meant much more for Armin and Eren to be there than Jean.
The rest of the shift went by quietly and Hanji even let both Eren and Jean off a little early, assuring them that she could finish closing the store by herself. Eren swore she was the best manager while Jean nodded in affirmation. The two were quick in grabbing their things and leaving after sufficiently thanking her.
They walked part of the way home together since their apartments were in the same general direction. Eventually, Eren turned off and left Jean to himself. The 20 year old music major didn’t mind though. As a junior, he was perfectly familiar with the campus of Trost University and comfortable being on his own. Besides, he thought as he worked his way up the stairs of his apartment building, when I get back to the apartment there’s always the chance that-
“Christa…”
-Ymir will have company…
To their credit, Ymir and Christa broke apart as soon as Jean stepped into the apartment, and Christa had the sense to look mildly embarrassed.
“Sorry, Jean,” she said, offering him her usual sweet smile.
Ymir just smirked at him while playing with her girlfriend’s glossy yellow hair, “You’re home a little early.”
Jean waved away Christa’s apology (he was far too accustomed to this for it to truly faze him) and answered Ymir, “Hanji let us out early today. Said she could close on her own.”
Jean took in the scene: plates with the remains of Thai food were sitting on the coffee table and a Breaking Bad rerun was on the TV. He shook his head and smirked, finally speaking, “Whatever, just be sure to keep your dick in your pants while you’re out in the living room, Ymir.”
“Oi!” the freckled woman yelled at him before launching a wadded up napkin at the back of Jean’s head. He scowled when it found its mark and flicked her off right before walking into the kitchen and grabbing some ramen. After the microwave beeped, he grabbed his small meal and headed over to his room, leaving his roommate and her girlfriend to their business.
There wasn’t much homework to get done today, just an article to read for his music history class. As he settled down at his desk, Jean took the opportunity to finally check his phone while his laptop powered up. One missed call from home. He blew out a puff of air in irritation, put it to the side, and turned his attention back to his laptop and his ramen.
That was how Jean Kirschstein spent the rest of the night, reading up on Chicago Jazz while shoveling soupy noodles in his face and occasionally checking his Facebook feed and other sources of distraction. Overall, he was quite content (at least by Jean standards). He sincerely enjoyed working for Hanji at Sawney’s Kettle, he enjoyed being lead singer and bass player in The Scouting Legion and had even been able to register the band with the University’s music program so that they got paid more at gigs, and classes for the semester were going well enough.
In many ways, it was the most content Jean had been in a long time. Sure he got a little lonely sometimes between Ymir and her girlfriend and feeling like a fourth wheel to the trio that was Eren, Mikasa and Armin, not to mention his tenuous (at best) relationship with his parents… But hey, none of that was new to him, nor did he expect any of it to change anyways so there was no need to factor those things into account when calculating how content Jean Kirschstein was or was not. At least, that was what Jean told himself as he stripped off his skinny jeans and Sawney’s Kettle t-shirt before pulling on a pair of sweats and crashing into unconsciousness.
On the other side of campus, Marco Bodt had just finished filling out an application and was hovering over the submit button.
***
Hanji leaned against the counter and surveyed her store one last time. Wiping a very thin sheen of sweat off her brow, she finally clocked out and gathered her things to make her way home. It was much darker by this point, but the many streetlamps lining the paths of Mall Maria made the shopping center especially beautiful at night.
Hanji shivered. As pretty as it was, her jacket offered very little protection from the evening air so she picked up her pace and began hurrying to her car. As she crossed through the north end of the mall, she glanced at the empty store front that had yet to be taken over. It was rare for openings to stay vacant for so long in Mall Maria and employees of the mall had been speculating as to what would fill the empty space for quite some time.
If Hanji had stopped to take a longer look at the storefront, she would have noticed a new coming soon poster had popped up between the other various advertisements the mall had plastered to the store’s windows when it first went out of business.
***
It would be much more romantic to say that Jean’s room was faintly illuminated by moonlight filtered through his bedroom’s window blinds but in reality it was just runoff from the street lights bathing the room in a faintly orange glow. Jean was lying on his stomach with one arm curled around the pillow. At one point the blanket had slid down his back, exposing his second tattoo. It was a pair of stylized wings in an emblem. Bertholdt had designed it back when they had first formed The Scouting Legion freshmen year: Ymir on drums, Eren on lead guitar, Bert on keyboard, and Jean singing and playing bass. All four of them had gotten the wings tattooed to the upper right corners of their backs.
Jean rolled back onto his back, letting out a frustrated sigh. He was having trouble sleeping, which was nothing unusual for him but was pretty damn frustrating considering that he’d been meaning to catch up on sleep tonight, not lose more of it. His irritation was cut short however when he heard it.
Sssssssssss…
His eyes popped open but he remained frozen on his back as he waited for more noise.
A distinct scuttling broke the silence.
“Aaaah…” was the quiet noise that left Jean’s mouth as he slowly sucked in air. With all the rigidity and verve of a sloth, he pushed himself into a seated position and began scanning the room. The scuttling continued on and off for a while until it finally sounded close.
Fighting back the urge to cry, Jean peeked over the side of his bed…
…And screamed at a decibel he would never have dreamed was possible.
The cockroach, as if sensing him, let out another hiss.
From across the hall, Ymir’s “WHAT THE FUCK?” was distinctly heard before the door to Jean’s room was thrown open. Ymir burst into the room, her eyes wild and hair disheveled. Had Jean been capable of making observations, he would have noted how wolf-like she looked.
As it was, he stood on his bed and, without hesitating, sprang at Ymir. His roommate blinked once before her reflexes kicked in and she braced herself to catch Jean, who landed bridal style in her arms and clung to her like a lifeline.
“Jean, what the hell?!”
“Look! LOOK!” he yelled, voice still a few octaves higher than its usual. He pointed one long shaking finger at the offending creature on the ground. Ymir took one look at the large black spot hissing on the floor and promptly joined Jean in screaming.
“YOU FRIGGING IDIOT, JEAN, WHY DIDN’T YOU KILL IT?!”
“YOU KILL IT! I ALREADY HAD TO WAKE UP TO THIS SHIT.”
“I’M NOT KILING THAT THING, FUCK THAT NOISE!”
“THEN I’M MOVING OUT AND THE COCKROACH CAN BE YOUR NEW ROOMMATE, BITCH!”
“WHAT DID YOU JUST CA- OHSHITOHSHIT IT’S MOVING.”
Somewhere amidst the chaos, Christa had come out of Ymir’s room and now she calmly walked past the panicked duo; there was something biblical about the moment and the way she walked towards the cockroach, seemingly unperturbed by the terror that was the bug on the rug. With all the grace of a god, the petite blonde swiftly closed the distance between herself and the cockroach, whipped out a clear plastic container from who knows where, and trapped the cockroach under it all in one fluid, effortless motion.
Stunned silence followed this feat—this act of god—and Ymir and Jean remained frozen in the doorway. Both of them stared open mouthed at the sight before them. Christa was the only one moving as she quickly twisted the jar on the cap shut.
With that done, she straightened up and smiled pleasantly at the two, “Well, that sure was something, huh? C’mon Ymir, let’s go back to bed.”
That was enough to snap Jean out of his stupor and he slowly ambled down from Ymir’s arms.
“H-hold on a minute, I’m not sleeping with that,” he pointed for emphasis, “in my room.”
Christa shrugged and offered him a simple smile, “Then take care of it.”
Jean looked to Ymir for assistance but the woman was staring at her girlfriend as if she’d never seen anything quite like her before.
Jean cast a nervous glance back at the cockroach in its plastic jail and resumed his efforts, “Can’t- can’t you kill it?”
“I’m not gonna kill it,” Christa shook her head and before Jean could protest further, she headed back into Ymir’s bedroom. Jean turned to Ymir who was finally coming around and staring at the cockroach. Her brows knitted together and a frown crossed her face.
“Jean… What if there are more of them?”
Horror pierced Jean’s heart and, without talking it over or confirming in any way what they were doing, he and Ymir began pouring over every inch, every nook and cranny of their apartment. The search lasted almost half an hour but by the time they were done they had confirmed that the cockroach had indeed been operating alone.
That only left one matter unresolved…
“I’m not killing it.”
“But, Ymir-”
“Look, just because you can scream higher than me doesn’t mean I’m obligated to take care of your shit-”
“My shit? It’s a fucking c-”
“Well, I’m still not taking care of it.”
“Can’t you get Christa to-”
“Nope. You heard her. She’s not doing it.”
“But, Ymir-”
“Nope.”
Jean huffed and, cringing, he stooped to pick up the container. Shooting Ymir a dirty glare, he walked out into their living room and set the plastic prison down on a relatively unused end table. Ymir, who was watching him, deepened her frown.
“I’m not killing it either,” muttered Jean, folding his arms and looking very much like a five year old putting his foot down.
Ymir cocked an eyebrow, and looked thoroughly unamused, “Then I guess it stays.”
“Until it dies in the jar on its own.”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.” Jean cast a nervous glance over his shoulder at the living room.
“Good night, Jeannie.”
Flipping Ymir off for the second time that night, Jean huffed and marched into bed while Ymir slinked back into her room, both of them trying very hard not to think of the new house guest they had acquired that night.
***
“How’d that group project end up?”
Marco Bodt looked up from his laptop and turned his attention towards Thomas Wagner. The blonde grunted in response to Mina Carolina’s question and typed a few more words on his laptop before fully turning his attention to his friends.
“It went like any other group project, Mina. One person took the lead, two of us did our best to keep up, and the fourth guy fell off the face of the Earth.”
Mina frowned, “Well do you think the grade’ll be fine?”
“Oh, I’m sure,” he said, “I just don’t know why Profs insist on group projects when they just end up being a pain for everyone and you know the work is never going to be fairly distributed.”
Marco bit his lip a little, “The group projects I’ve had in the education program have been fine so far. People actually get really intense about them.”
“That’s different,” said Mina, “you guys are in a program that’s training you for a very specific career. Aren’t all the group projects you’ve had just for the history secondary ed. minors?”
“Yeah, I’ve only had group projects with the cohort,” Marco admitted, scratching his forehead a little. Thomas chuckled.
“Future high school social studies teachers have to be passionate I guess.”
“Well,” Marco continued scratching his head, “maybe the problem is having group projects in big classes or like gen eds. In classes like that, there’s going to be a bigger discrepancy in how much people care about the project so it ends up being the people who care the most who do the work.”
“That’s a good point,” said Mina.
Marco nodded and the trio returned their attention to their laptops. The three of them had been friends in high school and coincidentally, were three of the only people to come to Trost University from their high school, although Marco had only just transferred to the school. He had spent his first two years eliminating gen eds and taking history courses at their hometown’s local college to save money and prepare for starting at Trost his junior year. Perhaps it was because he had waited to be at this University but he couldn’t help but feel disappointed with how lackluster the secondary education program was.
Temporarily ignoring the paper he was working on, Marco went to check his email and paused when he saw the subject line sitting near the top of his inbox, “Guys… I think I got a job.”
His friends looked up and smiled, “That’s great!”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s that tea shop I applied to a few days ago. I guess they really need the workers or something,” he squinted and his eyes narrowed as he read the email, “The manager wants… the new hires to come in and clean…?”
Mina blinked, “The tea shop in the mall right? Sawney’s Kettle or something?”
“No,” Marco shook his head, “it’s a new store. Stohess Leaves. I knew they were just opening but I hadn’t realized there was this much left to do before the store could open. He wants us to help set up the store!”
“At least you’ll be paid,” Thomas shrugged, “it can’t be that bad.”
“Yeah that’s true.”
“And it’ll be nice to get to know a bunch of the people you’ll be working with,” said Mina, “that’ll help with shifts.”
“And don’t forget,” Thomas added, “you’re lucky you were even able to find a job around campus this late in the semester. We told you to look earlier, man.”
“Okay, okay,” Marco laughed and held up his hands in mock surrender, “I get it…” He trailed off and resumed looking through the details of the email, “Looks like we’re setting up Friday. I’ll be able to head in after class.”
He was just about to return to his paper when conversation struck up again.
Mina tapped her lip thoughtfully, “It is weird though… How many tea shops does one mall need? I mean it’s not like either store sells anything other than tea products right?”
Marco and Thomas both shrugged at her.
“It is kind of weird, but I assume the store owner put some level of thought into making the decision. As long as the store doesn’t go out of business I can’t imagine it being a problem.”
Marco quickly added his first day of work to his calendar before returning to his paper once more, briefly making a note to wear clothes he didn’t care about to Stohess Leaves on Friday; it seemed like things were going to get messy.