Jean couldn't sleep that night. Not only that, every remedy he tried failed miserably. The warm milk and honey he had earlier only made him need to use the bathroom. Counting sheep proved useless as well; he got past a hundred before realizing nothing was actually happening (and counting sheep was really kind of stupid anyway).
All Jean could do was sit up on the mattress, resting his head and arms on his knees. He didn't have a mirror nearby, but he was aware that the bags under his eyes were fairly ghastly looking. They felt pretty bad, at the very least.
Seeing as there was no way he was going to be asleep anytime soon, Jean got to his feet and grabbed his jacket (it was a bit chilly right now outside). Then he was out walking to get to Marco's apartment. While he was out, it was occurring to him why exactly he couldn't get any rest.
...
"I know I should've called before I came here, but-"
Marco saw no problem with letting Jean spend the rest of the night at his place, phone call or not. He was at first irritated with being woken up at such a late hour, but softened up upon realizing that Jean really just needed someone to talk to.
His apartment was closer to the hospital, anyway.
"Sounds to me like being alone isn't a good idea for you right now," Marco said to Jean as he handed him a can of pop.
"No," Jean uttered out, actually forgetting about the can he was holding right away. "It's not good for Armin to be alone, either. If anyone needs the support, it's him."
Once he remembered that he still had a can in his hand, Jean cracked it open and chugged at least half of it in one go.
"I'm supposed to be holding Alyssa right now," he said right after finishing his drink. He rubbed his hand over his eyes to wipe away any tears. "You know, holding her, changing her, singing to her, all that stuff?" Then Jean paused.
"...I want my little girl, Marco."
...
Meanwhile, in the hospital, Armin was similarly unable to get some shuteye. The amount of pain, physical and emotional, was staggering.
The room was still dark, and Armin still couldn't get comfortable. The shirt that Jean had put on him had long since gone cold.
He did hear earlier that possibly going home tomorrow would be an option. He honestly didn't really care, though. Right now all he really wanted was to get some sleep.
Armin looked over at the IV currently pulsing blood into his veins. He was relieved that his life wasn't in danger from blood loss right now.
It still didn't make him feel better, though.
In the room next to his, Armin could hear the sound of another baby breathing the air of this world, along with shouts of congratulations and tears of joy. Now he felt even worse.
It just reminded him that he went through excruciating and near debilitating pain for nothing.
...
When Jean arrived during visiting hours the next afternoon, Armin was still asleep. It took some effort to awaken him and get him ready to go home.
There were numerous demands that Armin continue to take better care of himself. The checkup showed that he was well enough to be discharged, but just barely. After a sort of blurring in time, Armin and Jean were finally home again come dusk.
Now, Armin was outside sitting in a rocking chair, gazing out across the front yard. He was wrapped up snugly in a large afghan throw, albeit with his bare feet sticking out from the bottom. His face betrayed little if any emotion. Above his head, a light fixture gave off a dim orange glow.
"Armin? It's getting dark, and it's starting to get cold too." Jean stepped out onto the tiling that was meant to be some kind of makeshift porch. "C'mon, you should come inside and eat. I heated up some homemade chicken and dumplings my mom brought over."
But Armin shook his head slowly, barely acknowledging that he'd just been spoken to.
"I'm not all that hungry," he whispered. But Jean persisted.
"At least have a little. You don't even have to eat a whole dumpling, just maybe part of one.
"I just want to make sure you're eating, okay?"
Armin merely sat and rocked for a few more seconds, before he got to his feet and padded back inside.
...
The majority of the chicken and dumplings that Jean's mother sent over had gone uneaten, and left in a Tupperware container in the fridge.
The married couple were in bed now. Although Jean remained awake, somehow Armin managed to fall asleep. He lay on his side, facing away from Jean.
Soon, the two of them would have to return to school, and Jean would have to go back to his job as well. There was no way either of them would be ready to do so.
Jean reached out to Armin, but stopped about halfway. He retracted his arm, looking away in contemplation. He then turned over to settle into his own sleeping position. Once getting comfortable, he finally started drifting off to sleep.
Just as quickly, however, he could feel Armin rolling over to press up against his back. In response, Jean turned again and held Armin against his chest. Almost instantly, Armin seemed to visibly relax.
To further the attempts at comfort, Jean then pulled Armin even closer and pressed his lips against Armin's forehead.
He remained that way until he went to sleep one last time, staying that way for the rest of the night.
...
In the early morning, when Jean awoke, he could see Armin outside in his rocking chair again, wrapped up in his afghan along with a quilt Jean's mother had given him. His eyes were closed, suggesting he was asleep once more. Quietly, he put his pants on and went outside.
When Armin heard the door open, his eyes slowly opened to see a shirtless Jean come out to stand next to him.
Armin didn't say anything to him, and Jean said nothing to him. Rather, Jean sat next to him and looked up, resting his head into his lap.
At this, Armin couldn't stop himself from giving a tiny smile. He reached down and began caressing Jean's face. While he did this, he could see a tear slip out onto Jean's cheek.
He didn't carry their child to term, but the baby's death wounded him greatly as well.
...
The change in academic status between the two spouses had become fairly harsh; many students thought they'd entered the Twilight Zone.
Originally, Jean was just scraping by in most things besides gym class. Now he had more acceptable grades ranging mostly from C to B plus. He even was getting an A minus in shop.
Armin, on the other hand, had the exact opposite happen. Once on top of the class, his own grades suddenly plummeted to a C minus at best. It terrified everyone, including himself.
It were as if Armin became an entirely different person after the birth (and death) of his daughter.
During lunchtime, Armin remained close to Jean, sitting with him instead of Eren and Mikasa. He picked at his food, taking a few small bites before just giving up on the whole thing and leaned on Jean's shoulder.
"Is today over yet?" He moaned out while he and Jean were on their way to their next classes. Then he kept repeating himself, sounding like a dreary broken record. "Is today over yet? Is today over yet?"
"Next class is the last one," Jean told him. "Then you can get home and rest."
...
When the school day was finally over, going home was precisely what the two of them did. Despite Eren and Mikasa trying to convince him otherwise, Armin refused to go visit them. He more or less just shut them out, like he did with nearly everyone else.
At this point, Jean's mother had come over to help clean things up and gather dirty laundry to bring to the laundromat (the house wasn't exactly big enough for a washer and dryer).
"He's like a skeleton laying there," she whispered to Jean as the two watched Armin, who was once more sleeping away on the mattress in one of Jean's shirts.
"Yeah...Hey, Mom?" She made a sound indicating that she was listening. "Would it be okay if we stayed with you for like a week or two? I think maybe Armin needs to be out of this house for a little while."
Jean's mother agreed wholeheartedly; any way she could help her son, she would.
...
Armin had been confused (and rightfully so) when Jean had told him to pack some clothes for a few days. Jean merely said that he would explain on the way.
Now, he was curled up in the blankets on Jean's old bed, which was surprisingly big enough for both of them. He glanced about the room, taking note of all the aged and faded posters hanging up on the walls.
It was coming back to him that this was where it all started. The night he and Jean slept together and conceived Alyssa all took place here.
Jean was in the shower, getting ready to go to work. Armin didn't see the point of it; all the motor oil and various other car fluids would end up somewhere on his person anyway.
When Jean exited the bathroom, he was dripping wet. One towel was tied around his waist, and another he was using on his wet hair. By then, he could see Armin curled up even more on the bed, as though trying to escape from the harsh reality that was their lives now.
He didn't say a word, though, and simply got to dressing into an old pair of overalls for work.
...
After Jean left for work, Armin had full run of the house (his mother-in-law had gone elsewhere). It led him to wander into the kitchen to find something to do, at least for a few minutes.
Jean's mother had everything in its rightful place; there wasn't so much as a dirty spoon left in the sink. It actually frightened him a little, how meticulous it all was.
Armin went to the cupboard to grab a cup for water when he saw them; a set of brand new glass baby bottles sitting in a box. The very sight of them caused Armin to stagger back and clap a hand over his mouth.
Proceeding to fall to his knees, Armin then fell over onto his side, beginning to cry loudly. He began huddling up into a ball and went on sobbing. The tears dripped off his face and onto the tile floor.
He remained there, crying his eyes out. At one point he paused to grab at his stomach, as though to try and convince himself that it was all a bad dream.
It wasn't a dream, which made him sob harder. He ultimately became so worked up, he began coughing and hiccuping uncontrollably.
Armin was still carrying on up until he felt himself suddenly black out.
...
The feeling of a cold rag against his forehead was what brought Armin back into a conscious state. Looking about, he realized that he was back in Jean's old room. Someone had to have carried him back here.
Armin's gaze came upon a note set on top of a close by nightstand. Reluctantly, he reached out to pick it up and read it:
Please don't over stress yourself like that again. You're in enough pain as it is; I wouldn't know what to do if you got worse. If you need anything, anything, please let me know so you don't risk hurting yourself more.
-your mother-in-law