48.
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CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT — Homecoming
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...
-Military Barracks: Trost District, Wall Rose-
In a way, anxiety— even with its many complexities— was a funny emotion. It often struck at the most inopportune times and was often a game of chance in whether or not it would be a positive or negative experience.
On one hand, it could be debilitating— physically and mentally taxing. And most people went out of their way to avoid things that induced such negative emotions. Only bothering to tough it out if what needed to be said or done was out of pure necessity.
On the other, it was frisson; a thrill. It was the positive type of anxiety— the one that had adrenaline rushing through your veins due to excitement instead of existential dread.
So, what was it in this instance? Dread or excitement?
Was Jean thinking too much about this? Possibly. But it was only because he was so desperate to put a name to the emotion churning away in his gut. And the reason behind his sudden need for emotional self-awareness?
He was taking Rosalie out for the day. To visit his parents.
Ugh.
Sure, Rosalie had met his mother once before— during their time in the Cadet Corps. And of course in the end they got along extremely well— it solidified his belief that Rosalie Turner could charm the pants off of anyone and anything if she tried hard enough.
But back then, it was as if the universe had suddenly decided to align the stars. A cosmic dark horse of dread and karmic restitution had formed— a perfect storm of personal crisis just to see how much embarrassment a guy could take.
And just like that, the cursed, cutesy nickname his mother fondly addressed him as, was known to all. Jean-bo.
Dread it is then.
Uugh…
However, things were different now. He wasn't just introducing someone he had to maintain contact with— a peer; a fellow soldier with whom he would have to keep a respectable camaraderie until graduation. No… Instead, he was introducing someone special. Someone he was growing increasingly fond of and held in high regard.
If he were truly a schemer, he'd formulate a plan to avoid the wagon of embarrassment heading his way at full speed but—
He was bringing a girl home to meet his parents.
A beautiful girl that had a heart of gold; a girl whose infuriatingly stubborn antics made him either want to pull his hair out or kiss her senseless…
A girl that was excited about today.
'Damn it.'
Cursing to himself, Jean steels his resolve and decides to stop stalling. Taking a deep breath in hopes of calming his nerves, he finally knocks on the door he had stood in front of for the past few minutes in deep contemplation.
There was a moment of silence, and with each second he could feel small tremors form in his hands.
"Come in…!"
Brushing aside his weary thoughts, Jean fights back the blush that wanted so desperately to color his cheeks as he opens the door.
Stepping into the room, he immediately catches sight of Rosalie's form sitting at a small table.
The brunette spares him a glance and smiles before turning back to the small journal she was writing in. "Hi, Jean-bo!~" She croons in a teasing, singsong voice. "What's up? I didn't expect to see you until dinner tonight with the others."
Then, after a moment of thought, she closes the small book and looks up at him unimpressed. "Not that I'm unhappy to see you or anything, but… Did Papa send you to keep an eye on me again?"
As she spoke, Jean had already begun to cross the room. He pauses for a second and stares at her, brows furrowing in confused concern. "No? What do you mean…? We had plans to visit my parents today, remember? Your father only agreed because you told him the fresh air would be good for you."
A look of realization flashes across Rosalie's face before it quickly morphs into one of panic. "Ah, was that today?! I—I'm sorry, Jean, I completely forgot…again."
Sensing her underlying embarrassment, Jean waves her off. "Idiot… What are you apologizing for? It happens." He dismisses earnestly. "But if you don't feel up to it today, we can go some other time. Just say the word."
"No!" Rosalie exclaims, jumping up from her chair— which falls over from the sudden, harsh movement. "I— Woah…"
Reaching out, Jean quickly places a steadying hand on her bicep as she clutches the table's edge, swaying on her feet for a moment. "Rosie…?"
"Sorry, Jean…! I'm alright, jus' stood up too fast, that's all." Rosalie reassures with a sheepish grin.
When he gives her an unsure once over, she offers a placating motion with her hands and shakes her head. "I'm okay, honest! A-Anyways, I— I still want to go! I've never met your father, and I haven't seen your mom in a long time. I'd like to see how she's doing…"
As she rambles out an explanation, she moves around him; her steps quick and sure-footed as she crosses the room to a small wardrobe located in the corner. "L-Let me just get my sweater and we can go!"
Jean watches her for a minute, his concern giving way to amusement once he's sure she wouldn't keel over anytime soon. "Calm down, we have all day. She's not going anywhere." He chides, stooping to return the chair to its original place, his gaze latching onto the small notebook left behind on the table once he stands to his full height.
"So, what's with the journal? He inquires as he picks it up and flips through the pages aimlessly, a teasing smirk forming on his face. "Is it to keep track of my many accomplishments? Or maybe you write how dreamy I am? You don't have to be so secretive about it, Rosie."
"Hah! In your dreams, Kirstein!" Rosalie snorts as she slips on the rust-colored cardigan she retrieved from the closet, "As if we need your ego inflated more than it already is!"
Jean rolls his eyes at that but grins regardless.
Adjusting her collar, Rosalie turns and ambles back to his side, her brown skirt swishing around her boot-clad ankles at the movement. "In all seriousness, I only started journaling after the fall of Maria. But Hange thought it'd also be beneficial by jotting down anything I may need to remember…" She informs, taking the notebook when he offers it back and stuffing it in her skirt's pocket. "Says writing it down may help me retain information since I've been struggling with concentration due to the injury."
Jean's eyes instantly raise to the area in question, staring thoughtfully at the white bandage that was barely visible through the brunette's curtain of bangs. "I see." He murmurs. "Well, let's hope it helps."
...
...
-Trost District, Wall Rose-
Due to the Survey Corps recovering their strength from the excursion within Trost itself, it wasn't long until the duo reached the inner parts of the city— namely, the marketplace located a few shy minutes from a certain childhood home.
Jean would deny it if asked, but his palms were growing clammier by the second; his grip around the reigns of the horse he led along tightened with each step. And he could only thank his lucky stars that the brunette beside him had looped her arm through his instead of holding his hand.
(Rosalie, however, appeared oblivious to his internal dilemma. Too busy searching for a suitable gift for his mother; jovially humming to herself all the while.)
Initially, Jean had brushed the idea off; finding it unnecessary. But Rosalie had insisted— adamant in the fact that not only would showing up empty-handed be rude but also that the kind gesture would make the older woman's day.
Jean couldn't help but comply when met with a formidable pout. Thus leading to their current situation.
"Fabrics can be expensive… Oooh, what about flowers? A nice bouquet might put you on your mama's good side, Jean-bo.~"
Jean groans at the nickname, briefly tilting his head up to the sky as if to silently ask for strength from above before gazing down at her. "Don't call me that…! And honestly, I don't see why you're so worried about it. She'll be happy enough with just seeing me."
"Well, somebody's full of himself."
"OI!"
Rosalie laughs and takes his hand, seeming to pay no mind to his sweat as she intertwines their fingers and leans into his side. "Well, I for one, want to make a good impression!" She states with a firm nod, grinning up at him with a wide, genuine smile. "Besides, you haven't seen her since that training exercise all those months back! She deserves something pretty for all that patience…"
With that being said, she then reaches up with her free hand and gently pinches his cheek. "Don't be such a grump!"
Annoyed, Jean grunts and moves away from the offending limb. "Alright already! We'll get the damn flowers…! Just quit looking at me like that!" He grumbles, flustered as he looks away from her expectant gaze. However, that doesn't stop the small smile from tugging at his lips when she cheers happily in success.
Keeping their hands intertwined, Rosalie then excitedly pulls him forward and to the closest flower stand she could find; chatting animatedly to the female vendor as she begins to pick out the flowers for the bouquet.
Somewhat exasperated, Jean sighs to himself but lets the two continue— opting to instead mindlessly gaze around the small square.
Secretly, and despite all his complaints, it wasn't as if hedidn'twant to see his mother. In fact, he was happy and grateful— excited even— for the opportunity that not many of his peers had. And though he'd be reluctant to admit it, hewasa mama's boy through and through— he knew it, his friends knew it (much to his chagrin)— and that wasn't about to change any time soon.
As if sensing his contemplative thoughts, Rosalie offers a fleeting smile and gives his hand a gentle squeeze before turning back to the vendor to pay.
Jean relaxes at the comforting gesture, feeling some of his reservations slowly— begrudgingly— fade into the inner recesses of his mind as he returns to observing the bustling square around them.
Suddenly, a small bouquet is stuffed into his face, obscuring his vision and enveloping his nose with soft floral scents.
"Whatcha think, Jean-bo?" Rosalie inquires, paying no mind to the startled sputter that escapes him.
Leaning away slightly, Jean ignores the nickname as he eyes the varying blossoms blankly; only recognizing a few of the flowers in the arrangement, barely conscientious of how the colors complement each other, and nothing else. "It's nice…" He replies with little thought, immediately backpedaling when her expression falters just slightly. "I—I mean, it's really pretty…?"
Despite pouting at his somewhat generic answer, Rosalie gazes up at him with barely subdued mirth. "You're hopeless…" She breathes, shaking her head.
"Hey, wait a second—!"
Ignoring his attempts, Rosalie tugs on his arm. "Come." She orders as she pulls him along a second time. "Maybe your mother will recognize my efforts."
"Oi…!"
...
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-Kirstein Residence; Trost District, Wall Rose-
After quickly tethering the horse, Jean hurries up the small steps leading to his childhood home as Rosalie politely knocks on the door. Once he's close enough, the brunette wordlessly hands him the bouquet— and not a moment too soon as the door swings open to reveal an all too familiar round face.
Rosalie subtly nudges him in the side, silently prompting him to say something.
Fumbling slightly, Jean awkwardly offers the flowers to his mother with a sharp, jerky movement of his arm; his cheeks coloring a bashful pink. "Hey, Ma…"
"Jean-bo!"
In an instant after silently taking the bouquet, Jean's mother surges forward and captures him in a warm, inviting embrace. Her composure immediately breaks; her greeting a high-pitched, garbled-out nonsense as she stood a blubbering mess in the doorway.
"Oi, stop crying, there's no need for it." Jean sighs, tone annoyed but actions gentle as he returns the hug wholeheartedly.
To his right, Rosalie giggles softly into her hand, earning herself a fierce side-eye in response.
Oblivious to the silent exchange that just took place, the older, rather plump woman pulls out of the embrace and dabs at her wet eyes with the corner of her apron.
She stares at her son for a moment, adoration glimmering in her teary eyes. However, the sweet moment doesn't last long as she reaches up to pinch his cheek sternly. "What took you so long to visit?! Your father and I were worried sick!" She exclaims scoldingly, paying no mind to his pained complaints. "The only relief we had was earned only by not receiving a letter informing us of your death!"
Rosalie shakes her head and sends Jean a playful look before addressing his mother fondly. "I don't see how you put up with him, Mrs. Kirstein. Nothing but trouble, this one!"
"Oh, don't I know it…!" His mother sighs in response. "But it's a mother's job to love her children, no matter the grief they put her through."
She sends Jean one last look before ending her assault on his reddened cheeks. She then turns and tucks Rosalie into a small hug— only pulling away to cup the girl's face with her hand. "It's so good to see you, dear!" She croons jovially before her eyes trail up and latch onto the bandage gracing the brunette's hairline, prompting her to immediately turn and whack Jean on the arm.
"OI! What the hell was that for?!" Jean exclaims, dramatically rubbing the attacked area as if his mother hit him hard enough to leave a contusion.
"I told you to watch after this girl! She's the only one who'll put up with your nonsense!"
"Hah?! You don't think I know that?! It's not my fault she's an idiot!"
Rosalie scowls at the male's words, though before she can retort, his mother faces her again and gently grips her by the shoulders. "You're too good for him, child… I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."
Jean visibly bristles at that. "Oi, what's that supposed to mean?!"
Once again, his mother ignores him and waves him off. "No matter. You're here now, and that's what counts."
Jean's brows furrow. However, despite his annoyance, a small feeling of warmth blooms in his chest at seeing the two females getting along.
Well, that is until his mother turned back to the brunette at his side; quickly ushering Rosalie inside the abode as she crooned out a rather embarrassing sentence.
"Oh, I just can't wait to tell you all about our Jean-bo when he was a child! Fat as a butterball with a cute tush to boot!"
Rosalie laughs heartily at that, peeking back at him over her shoulder just to give him a glimpse of the mirth and mischief dancing in her eyes. "Is that so…?"
Jean sputters indignantly, his face coloring a brand new shade of red as he stumbles after the two.
His dread from hours prior was beginning to rear its ugly head. His fears were beginning to come to fruition… If they join forces today, the amount of teasing he'll be forced to endure will become astronomical.
"We'll even give you a tour of the house! Oh, don't worry, Jean-bo, no need to make such a face. I cleaned up—! He was such a messy child, you know. Never really grew out of it—"
"MA!"
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