Work Text:
“Where are these damn decorations?”
Jean grumbles, rolling his sleeves up to rummage through the dusty attic without a proper light source.
At a last ditch effort of spending some time during the holidays, everyone had decided to meet up at eren’s cabin in the woods - an old structure that lived on the outskirts of the city, directly facing tame wildlife - that was only really visited for a week during summer break, before being left vacant for the entire year. As the sole inhibitors of the place, the cabin proved to be… bare, save for the essential furniture, towels and utensils. Hardly a homely place, but the contents of the place went unnoticed after being full to the brim with your friends who laughed and spilled and pranked and ran through the halls of the home without any care in the world. College kids during the holidays, left without supervision.
In the pocket between new years and the start of the second semester, everyone took some time apart from their families to meet, driving and picking up everyone else along the way.
“Maybe it’s- oh!” your suggestion was cut-off by the discovery of the pull switch hitting you square in the face. The lightbulb flickered on, warm glow now coating the old wooden floors that smelled vaguely of rain and mildew. Jean’s head turned toward the source, eyes squinting, face scrunching up. He remained in his position on the ground, hunched over what you assumed were old blankets.
His eyes caught yours. “Come help.” words between a demand and a plead.
Nodding, you walked over to him, crouching down to his level.
“Didnt realize the floor was so dirty, now my pants are getting dirty,” he muttered.
You snorted out a laugh. “Good luck. And i dont think there are any christmas decorations in that box,”
“Know-it-all. You arent even trying to find them.”
“Yes i am! That’s why i turned the lights on, like a smart person.”
“Sure. its called procrastination.”
“Whatever you tell yourself, jean.”
You made your way over to the mishappen cardboard boxes with writing on them, the sharpie ink having aged with time. “Why’d they make us do this, anyway? I’d much rather be baking cookies in the kitchen with nic,”
Jean scoffed. “It’s eren’s house. How are we supposed to know where the christmas decorations are?”
You shrugged despite your back being turned to jean’s. “Seems like some sort of scheme.”
You hear a huff of air. “Scheme for what?”
You remain silent, letting the question lie in the still, cold air. Your eyes travelled to the lone, tiny window, watching the snow fall gently to the ground that you couldnt see. The sky remained a deep, calm sense of blue that was present when you first entered the house, and you could hear the distant shrieks and laughs downstairs, the occasional creak of the wood below you and reiners deep snoring in one of the rooms under the attic. Poor guy had passed out the moment he stepped foot in the cabin, after having driven the farthest to get here, waking up at 4 a.m just to reach at twelve pm.
There was no real reason for you guys to be meeting so soon before the semester would start. Everyone had their whole suitcases packed, ready to go back to the dorms directly after this outing, so you’d meet them either way. But mid-terms and the end of the semester had taken a toll on all of you, and the usual going-away meet/reunion turned into a nap day, and all everyone ended up doing was having one drink, promising to not fall asleep, but then doing so anyway. The moment sasha closed her eyes, you followed, and then everyone else. So, as a way of making up the time lost, everyone decided to camp together at eren’s almost abandoned cabin.
“You wanna ditch this and go out? Make snow angels or some shit?” Jean said, catching you looking at the window, a small smile on his face. There was always something soft in his features - the soft crease the formed at the corner of his lips when he smiled, or the way his eyes remained warm and inviting despite him hurling friendly insults at Connie.
You smiled back, “nah. Let’s get this over with, then we can go.” you said, making no effort to move, secretly enjoying the quiet and softness that came with being in a room with him without interruptions. Instead, you stepped closer to the window, your chilly fingers resting on its sill, tapping out the tune of the song that had been stuck in your head. Your skin ached for contact that wasnt just your palms, tired of having to keep your hands as loose fists in constant defense with everyone but him. With your muscles now wanting movement, inching closer to him in your own way - subtle and never quiet there, but enough for him to know.
Jean followed you. You could see his reflection in the glass, faint and doubled, his shadow following himself, his eyes fixed to your frame as you tried not to feel warmth engulf your flesh. His shoulders came to rest on the left of the window sill, arms crossed over his chest as his gaze eventually shifted to the scene you were engrossed in.
“Offer still stands.” he spoke gently, his voice carrying over to you without urgency, making you smile slowly. “We can ditch this and go downstairs. Tell everyone we couldnt find the decorations.”
You breathed out a laugh. “You wanna lie to our friends?”
He shrugged. “Not a lie. I cant find the decorations. You cant find the decorations.”
“I didnt even try to yet.”
“Exactly. You couldnt even try to find it.”
You laugh now, shoulders shaking lightly, weightlessly. Jean’s world almost shook with the movement, watching your lips stretched into a careless smile, spinning jean’s heart on its axis, tearing it apart from the nerves that connected it into place.
“I mean,” you started, making jean’s muscles involuntarily lean towards you, neck tilting to hear your voice better, still maintaining his distance. “It is….kinda stupid to put up christmas decorations on the second of january. But its kinda nice. Like we’re spending the actual holiday together. Cheesy as hell, but nice.” you spoke, jean picking up on every letter and word and keeping it locked inside his chest.
He hummed. “Stupid fucking idea from the both of them, but I guess eren and connie can be…thoughtful sometimes.” he said.
“Holy shit.” you said, turning your head towards him, mouth agape. “You said something nice about them.”
“Shut up, im nice.” he argues weakly. You scoff, smile refusing to move, and jean finds it hard to stop smiling too.
“Hey, i made you that bracelet, didnt i? That was plenty nice of me.” he says, nodding to your wrist, adorned with a bracelet that he’d learnt how to weave after having received an impromptu one for you. There was a small flower charm that he’d spotted at a thrift store, and he’d spent around three hours trying and failing to make something competent. He ended up doing the easiest knots with two colours that he knew you’d like, locked away in his own room till late hours of the night.
“Yeah. it was. And now we match.” you say, holding up your left wrist so that the dim light caught on the charm that hung from the bracelet, a little off center. Jean held up his own wrist next to yours, a similar accessory adorning his own wrist; red and green threads intertwined with a small butterfly charm - an inside joke after you found out that jean was afraid of the insect and made relentless fun of him. He dropped his takeaway cup of coffee when you pointed to a blue monarch butterfly sitting peacefully on his shoulder, swatting at his shoulder and shuddering afterwards. He tried to claim that he was just surprised and shocked, but you could see right through his charade, as you always did.
“Last year was crazy.” you said, placing your hand back where it was. Jean stepped next to you, copying your pose, hands almost mingling, shoulders brushing.
He hummed. “I never imagined getting close to you.” his fingers tingled comfortable next to your cold ones.
“Youre saying it as if its an insult.” you say incredulously, making no moves to shift away from him.
“You’re the one that hated me!” “lies, i only found you mildly annoying. “Mildly my ass.” “shut up,” your sentence is interrupted by your laughs, gentle puffs of air that fogged up the frosty window slightly, living proof of your happiness.
Jean’s own proof - his own laugh - mixed with yours, the warmth of his breath fogging up next to the proof of yours, intertwining. Your pinkie finger moved towards his.
And there it laid. Everything together, everything still and slowing, mingling together. Two separate beings touching the air next to the other’s, carefully, gently. Jean’s thoughts cut short, folding into themselves as the movement of his shoulders fell in sync with the movement of yours, and jean knew he didnt believe in mythology or stories of the skies and the soulmates that were one person with four limbs that had to be cut into two, loose halves of the other, lost and apart, but he swore that his veins were meant to hold yours. The gross and unsightly organs that lay under his skin and flesh and everything that caged him from speaking his mind until it was free knew that it was lost without yours.
Wordlessly - as if reading his covered brain - you turned your palm up to face his own, and as touching something holy as he could muster, he wrapped his fingers over the back of your hand, resting his warmth against your cold.
Everything disgusting in him wanted to be near everything disgusting in you. Every ridge and wrinkle of his fingers lay together with yours, beating and alive, watching the snow kiss the tops of the trees and tangle itself in its leaves. Everything remained quiet and unsaid under the flickering warmth of the attic, the only movement and sound coming from the roaring of jean’s heart against his own ears, wanting to rip that wretched organ and throw it on the ground as if to say “see? It wont shut up because of you.”
And it didnt. It continued to beat loudly, obscene, unsightly. All your fault. Every small movement of your body - the one against his hands and the one that now lead you to rest your head against his shoulder - made his chest shudder, his stomach uncharacteristically warm.
It didnt matter where the christmas decorations were, or why the rest of the house felt suddenly quiet. Jean’s head rested against yours, breathing slowed, everything in his body layered and alive to the silent sound of your blinking, dancing with the rhythm that you set as you tapped your fingers against the back of his hand, bones colliding.
Everything disgusting and hidden but alive and free in him met everything disgusting and hidden but alive in you.