𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢

𝟻. 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜

A 14k word chapter.

I wrote this throughout an extremely difficult week. Thank you for being patient. And thank you to those who read it.

I hope you enjoy.

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"Jean."

It's evident in both the sound of your voice and the way the muscles in your face have tensed that you are shocked by Jean's presence, being that you were dead set on not having him come here to help you with this move. Sasha told you she didn't think he would show himself, and knowing your previous encounters with Jean, you believed her.

From what you've been able to gather in such a short time, he doesn't care about anything unless it happens to include alcohol, marijuana, or getting laid; no order in particular.

This whole moving you into Mikasa and Sasha's shindig doesn't seem like anything Jean would waste his precious time with. Yet, here he stands, before you.

"Ah," Jean cranes his neck backward as he lets out a heavy breath, briefly looking at the ceiling before bringing his eyes back to you, "so your pretty little mouth does remember my name." The very tip of his nose is flushed bright pink from the cool weather outdoors.

"Only because you had to remind me." You say to him, keeping your face as serious as possible despite the fact you're lying through your teeth. "I thought you weren't coming?"

"Who said that?" There are small water spots on the fabric of his sweatshirt caused by the drizzling rain outside, making the light grey material look a little darker in some areas. He pulls the hood he is wearing off his head and smooths out his tousled light brown hair.

There are many things that you don't like about Jean, but his mullet sure as hell isn't one of them. You've always been a fucking sucker for them.

"Sasha," you inform him. You squint your eyes slightly, honing in on his face, trying not to focus on the way his fingers drag through his hair, "She said you didn't answer her."

"I was busy," he says bluntly. Taking a step forward, he closes some of the distance between the two of you. He points at the small gap between the door hinge and the door itself that you are standing in between, "so are you gonna let me in or not?"

The grip you are holding around the rusty gold doorknob tightens. Jean makes you nervous, especially after what happened in the closet, though you'll die on the hill convincing yourself that he doesn't.

You step to the side. Pulling the door back, you open space big enough for him to get through, "Right. Busy doing what? Or do I even want to ask?"

"Honestly? Probably not, but it's not any of your business anyways." He gives a brief shrug before walking through the door.

Once inside, Jean begins to look around the small room, head-turning in every direction, taking in the raggedy old blue carpet and the peeling thick yellow paint plastered on the walls. "Nice place you got here," he says, voice sardonic, "must be a real dick magnet, huh?"

It's hard to keep up with his constant harsh comments, but you can't ever let him feel like he has the upper hand. Biting back is the only way to put up with a guy like Jean.

You've seen your fair share of emotionally unavailable fuck boys. The kind of guys that always take advantage of those too kind or too timid to stick up for themselves, which only helps boost their egotistical ways. You've been on the receiving end of that stick, and you ended up with emotional damage, insecurities handcrafted by a broken heart, and one year down the drain. Never again.