vexatious ⸝⸝ jean kirstein

twenty four ⸝⸝ name

- October 17th, Friday.

It was painful for (y/n). She couldn't bare to see him in this state. When she awoke in the morning, nose and ears cold from her lack of warmth in the highly air conditioned hospital, all she felt was grief. She couldn't help but continue to blame herself for what happened to Jean.

Sunday night, Doctor Tenma had told her that his chances of surviving were low, and if he did regain consciousness, he'd have paralysis.

(y/n) was definitely heartbroken to say the least, she didn't want to leave Jean's side. But she was stubborn. She skipped her all her classes, and though Hitch and Marlo visited her regularly, along with Connie and Sasha, she still felt so lonely. Armin and Annie had come once, but they only stayed briefly. 

Of course, she took walks and ate properly, but for the most part, she stayed by Jean's side. She wanted to be the first person there if he woke up, or if he... passed on.

But he wasn't waking up, it seemed. She seemed to be losing hope, as she held Jean's hand in her own, bobbing her leg up and down to an unknown rhythm. His hands are soft in hers, free of callouses. His fingers are long and slender, and there's a mark on the side of his middle finger, probably because he holds a lot of pencils or paint brushes.

His face, (y/n) noticed, wasn't as pale as it was on Sunday. The redness seemed to return to his cheeks, and his face looked more relaxed and peaceful. It seemed as if he was getting better, but Doctor Tenma said that was because his body lacked vitamins and he was finally receiving them.

It was late now, around 12am, all the lights in the hallways had been turned off and hospital staff weren't walking through the halls like they normally do. (y/n) decided to shut the room door, when she turned back around to sit down, she realized that Jean was sitting up.

Her eyes widened, and it seemed as if her heart almost stopped beating. He stared right at her, unmoving. She glanced down at her hands to make sure she wasn't dreaming. She had all five of her fingers in their ordinary place. She wasn't dreaming. Jean was conscious now. 

"(y/n)?" His voice came out in a raspy whisper, it sounded like sandpaper being grated against each other, but (y/n) didn't cringe. She smiled and nodded silently, taking a step closer to him. "What happened? Why is it hard..." He begins to cough violently, so (y/n) rushes to get her water bottle for him.

She opens it and holds it to his mouth, and he gladly drinks it. He sighs and leans back against the stretcher as (y/n) sets down the water bottle. Jean looks down at his hands, which he promptly lifts. He clenches his hands into a fist and unclenches them. His hands are shaky, he furrows his brows at them. "My hands feel so weak," he murmurs slowly. "(y/n), what happened?"

She wasn't sure if she should tell him or not, but the desperate look in his eyes made her heart ache. He deserved to know. "You... Overdosed," she replies shortly. "But you're okay now," she smiles. "I'm glad."