a/n: sorry in advance... but then again... sorry not sorry? :)

enjoy!

vena amoris

vena amoris: latin; literally, "vein of love"

rated: t

summary: he tells himself that he's okay, even as he fidgets with the silver ring wrapped around his finger.

For a pair of crazy, unprepared, and disordered losers, Jean has to admit that Connie and Sasha really got it together to make this happen.

This, meaning their own wedding.

The whole group honestly expected the event to be disastrous. Even from the beginning, it was unlikely to turn out good, especially when Sasha almost swallowed the ring Connie tried to propose with (and Jean still doesn't understand how that happened).

Nevertheless, everything seemed to work out so far, because they had gone through the ceremony with ease and there was not a peep from Sasha about wanting to eat yet. Jean was somewhat pleased with how it was turning out. Ever since he had taken the task of helping them with their stupid wedding, he was satisfied with this outcome.

Sasha looked stunning in her dress, a long with Connie looking clean and well-kept, besides the fact that he was sweating buckets, his forehead glistening in the light.

Him and Mikasa had planned out practically everything for the duo-to-be-wed, being the closest friends to Sasha and Connie. It was a success so far, but the day wasn't over yet.

Out of habit, Jean fumbles with the sterling, silver ring wrapped around his finger.

He was supposed to marry Mikasa in 3 months.

As the couple up front says "I do" (a long with a whooping kiss that Sasha awards to Connie), Jean smiles.

Standing a few rows behind him, Mikasa takes notes of his face.

It's the first time she's seen him smile in months.

The reception is just as eventful as the ceremony before, with the group bustling around the newly wed couple and Sasha practically getting drunk on her own food. Connie is all smiles every time he talks, and he glances at his wife sporadically throughout the night.

Jean sits at a table near the pair with the group, all nine or ten of them (He's lost count of how many there are, since there's just too many of them). Eren and Reiner are having an arm-wrestling contest, which to his surprise Eren wins once, probably due to Reiner's lack of awareness and the amount of drinks he's taken. Bert, Annie, and Armin watch patiently, laughing as the two battle it out in their drunkenness. Ymir and Historia are whispering to each other away from the group, giggling softly every so often.

Jean takes note of all of this, keeping it in his head to tell Mikasa later.

Mikasa watches the group from the corner of the room as they're gathered together, laughing at lame jokes and stupid comments made by Reiner. She watches Jean as a soft smile occasionally appears on his face, before disappearing just as quick.

Sometimes she thinks he is staring at her in the distance, from far away, but she quickly erases the thought from her mind.

She wishes she could take a picture of the way he looked right now, the way he was slowly letting himself go around the others and actually looking genuinely calm and collected. He looked at ease. He looked okay.

There is moment where their eyes meet, a quick blink of the eye. His intense amber eyes stare her down, and yet she doesn't look away.

Another moment, and he's glancing the other way.

Mikasa yearns to talk to him again.

He's grabbing a glass of punch on the other side of the room when he gets the question.

"Since when were you married, Jean?" A female voice asks behind him.

He recognizes the voice immediately, inwardly cursing himself.

"How would you know?" He asks curiously, turning to see Historia standing with a glass of wine.

There is a soft smile on the blonde's face as she nods at him, acknowledging him, before pointing at his left hand that held his cup.

"Your ring," She states clearly.

There is a jolt in Jean's chest, but nothing more.

"Oh," He raises his hand to stare at the argent band, chuckling. "That. Right. Of course."

"You never told me about this!" She says, clasping her hands around her glass. "Who is it? Who's the lucky girl? And why didn't you tell me?"

A chuckle escapes from Jean as he watches her reaction to his accessory. "I didn't tell you about it because when it happened, you and Ymir were on vacation." He sighs. "I guess I forgot to let you on on what happened."

"Like hell, you did." She crosses her arms. "I should have known about this."

"I would have thought you did..."

"I didn't. But now I do." She raises a brow. "Now, spill. Who's the girl?" Historia smiles despite her serious tone.

There is a long pause, and then: "Mikasa, of course."

Jean patiently waits for a response from her (just like he does for everybody else when he talks about it), fidgeting with the ring calmly.

He waits another moment before Historia gathers herself together. "Oh." is all she says.

Jean wants to feel some other way, but instead he looks at her full in the eye, without hesitance.

"She's not here right now," He states, rubbing the back of his head. "I thought she would have told you..."

Historia is speechless, but Jean doesn't think any less of it. It's the usual, anyway.

"I..." She pauses. "Yes. She would have. Yes."

A silence falls between the two as neither know what to say. Jean contemplates trying to piece together his words, in a way that would reassure Historia that he was okay (which he was, of course).

"I wish she could have came." He simply says.

"Yeah," Historia agrees after a second. "Me too."

As their conversation closes and he begins to walk away, she gives him a saddened and solemn look.

He pretends not to notice it.

The hours pass, and he smiles again when everybody cheers for Sasha and Connie as the two dance around the room clumsily, basically running around the space in a rhythm. By this time, everybody is wasted, and Jean decides that it's probably time to go.

He has taken it to himself to have a drink or two, but no more after, since he's become the designated driver for Eren and Armin now. It's common knowledge that Eren is a complete mess when drinking, and due to this, Armin has to take care of him and make sure he doesn't suddenly decide to jump out of the car or something. While Armin watches over Eren, Jean drives. That's just how it is.

At least, that's how it is now.

He yells at Armin over the obnoxiously loud music that they're about to leave, and Armin nods in agreement, ready to change his position from newlywed's friend to caretaker.

Jean successfully gets the two home, helping Armin carry Eren to his makeshift apartment, before finally leaving, knowing that they were in safe hands.

He looks at the radio clock on the drive home, reading the time.

4:23.

Well.

It's not that late, he tells himself.

Jean takes a sudden turn after he makes up his mind, heading away from his house and towards another destination.

It's never a bad time to visit.

"Today was a lot of fun," He says, chuckling at the ground before him. "Well, for the rest of them, it was."

"You would've had a blast, I'm sure. I mean, besides the fact that Eren is probably throwing up right now. But hey, Armin's got it taken care of. I think. You don't have to worry."

He paces the fresh, green grass around him, keeping his eyes on the floor with a hint of a smirk on his face.

"Connie and Sasha looked good today, too. I'm pretty sure they enjoyed it as much as everybody else did. And I'm glad."

He stops before the stone that he's become so familiar with.

"I hope you and Marco aren't talking about me. I promise you, I didn't do anything tonight. I'm perfectly sober." He chuckles.

There is silence, but he doesn't mind.

"You would have looked nice too, I would think."

The wind blows, and he can see the engraving on the old stone before him.

Mikasa Ackerman, it reads.

Another stone that says Marco Bodt is located just a few graves away, he could see perfectly from where he was even in the night.

Jean closes his eyes after a moment, sitting on the grass and placing his hands at his sides. He lowers his head as if in defeat, so tired and out of energy from his night.

He clears his throat to break the silence.

"I hope I'll see you soon." He says with a low laugh. "They miss you. I know they do."

A pause.

"...I miss you too."

From a distance, Mikasa watches him sit before where she lies.

She doesn't cry.

She just watches.

I miss you more.