Chapter 2: I Have My Pride
He snuck a peak. He knew he shouldn't have, knew he was twisting his own knife, but he couldn't help himself. As Jean left Eren's room, he glanced over his shoulder, saw them sitting there alone, just the two of them. His mood darkened. He wanted to stay. To prevent the hushed exchange he surmised would be transpiring once everyone was gone. He'd already been subjected to the sight of Mikasa sitting intently at Eren's bedside for hours on end. Now this.
Five months. The clock was ticking. His self-set deadline wouldn't mean any of this would stop, but at least afterward he could no longer be ignored. He was tired of being ignored. It was bad enough that the world was indifferent to his existence, but to have the object of your affections take no notice of you at all...it set his teeth on edge. If he could yell at someone about it, he would. Maybe that's why she didn't like him. Too hot-headed, too self-involved.
No. Eren was both of those things, and she didn't seem put off by it. In fact, it often seemed to deepen her concern for him.
So what was it? What was it about Yeager that had her so damn captivated? She babied him so much, sometimes it was hard to even know the nature of her feelings. Did she love the guy or was he just like a weak little brother that she had to protect? Had the Titan attack they'd experienced in their youth so traumatized her that she was stuck in the same feedback loop forever, unable to think about anything else but keeping Eren from harm?
He had to know.
He eyed the towheaded ingénue at his side. Armin would be the only other person who might possibly know, and if he asked right, Jean doubted he'd be too terribly averse to sharing. Armin was a nakedly honest, open soul. He might find it untoward to speak about another person's private affairs, but Jean was certain it could be coaxed out. The only question would be whether or not he, Kirstein the Tactless, was deft enough to do it without raising Armin's hackles. If Armin suspected his motives were impure, his lips would seal now and forever.
He contemplated as they strolled the breezeway, Armin's attention caught by two ducks in flight, passing over the wall.
Maybe being casual was the wrong approach. If Armin could keep a secret, maybe candor was his best option. Armin might appreciate the sincerity and take pity on him—not that he cared to be pitied. Or the whole thing could blow up in is face. There had been so much hostility between he and Eren over the last few years, Armin might suspect he was only looking to take something precious away from Eren.
This was quite a maze he'd created for himself. So much for his claim to bluntness and honesty.
If he enlisted Armin's help, he knew couldn't go off half-cocked. If he tried to be cagey, Armin wouldn't respect that, and he would get nothing. But if he was wildly confessional, maybe that would be enough to do the trick.
This. This is what Marco was talking about. This insight into the snake-brain part of the human psyche. Sure, he was an emotional infant in so many ways, but he was a survivor, with specific expertise on covering his own ass. That made him a bonafide goddamn genius when it came to risk assessment, even if sometimes it left him feeling like a scurrying little cockroach, still sniffing around in the dirt after the whole world had ended.
They were almost to their destination. His window was about to close.
"Armin." He startled the tiny blonde.
"Yes, Jean?"
"I need your help with something."
"What is it?" Poor Armin. He was already frightened. Jean knew was it was like to be scared all the time, but he didn't know what it was like to be so helpless, too.
"We'll discuss it later. After dinner."
"O-okay." Armin looked grim already. They continued in silence a moment longer.
"Jean? Sorry. I-is it about Mikasa?"
The floor dropped out from under him. Jean stopped in his tracks. He looked at Armin for a long time, shocked. He knew the kid was smart, but damn, he didn't know he was this smart. If only he were stronger, he'd be taking Erwin's job in no time flat.
"Sorry. I just…I know how much you like her."
Jean wanted to find the nearest rock, and crawl under it as fast as possible. Being a cockroach didn't seem so bad right now. That feeling he got, the one that made him hide under his bedsheets alone in his room, it crashed down on him hard, like the waves of all the oceans he'd never seen and had only heard about.
But this was what it was all about. He had to commit. He'd wanted it to be on his terms, wanted a chance to rehearse first. He hadn't expected to be put on the spot like this. He hadn't the time enough to build the wall of words to counterbalance the shame and embarrassment and humiliation at being reduced to coming at Mikasa through her friend. Every fiber of his being was screaming: run, hide, deflect. But he had to confront himself. This was part of the deal. When you start inviting people into your life, you can't control what will happen.
"I…she…I wish I could tell her."
Armin opened his mouth to speak.
"Arlet! Kirstein! Get moving. You're keeping everyone waiting."
Both boys hopped to, quickening their pace, following the petty officer into the Stohess municipal offices.
Jean couldn't look at Armin. He knew he was pathetic and he despised pathetic people.
She was pathetic.
She didn't often acknowledge it, but she felt it as she clutched Eren's hand, her head dropped, unable to even meet his eyes. She saw herself, hunched over, physically overcome. Weak. He was her only weakness.
Eren.
She could slay a horde of Titans, she could scale all the walls and fight through the wild unknown of the exterior, all the way to the edge of the earth and back, and as long as he was alright, she could make it. She didn't need anything else.
But.
"Cut the crap, Mikasa! Quit freaking out like everyone else!"
The ache in her forehead couldn't possibly still be there after all this time, but she felt it. She rubbed it abstractly. Eren had fallen back asleep a little while ago. She turned away from him for just a moment, looking out at the setting sun, dust motes dancing in its rays.
She turned back. He'd never hurt her physically like that before. It was an accident, but…she would have liked it better if he said so. She knew he was sorry, knew he simply saw her the same way he saw someone like Jean who he traded blows with when they were running hot, knew she could take it.
But.
She didn't want to be Jean. Or Armin. Or anyone else. She wanted to be Mikasa. It would be nice to be seen.
She wouldn't demand it. She wouldn't withhold. Her dedication to him was unconditional and it would never stop. He couldn't burn her out or drive her away. He couldn't make her feel foolish for caring. He was all that she had in the world, and she planned to keep him.
But…maybe if he said something, just once…
She'd feel much better.
A/N: I've been writing long, thoughtful, portentous character pieces for so long, this little melodrama is supremely enjoyable and rather easy to churn out, even if it is horribly indulgent. R&R, people!
