FRIENDS ➳ jean kirstein

005. JEAN KIRSTEIN

Jean - November 1, 2020
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Jean was leaving Connie's house just as the clock struck two in the morning, still massaging the ache in his jaw, when he spotted Mikasa leaning against a wall outside, an exceedingly inebriated Charlie Arlert slung over her shoulder.

Mikasa desperately tossed her head this way and that way, evidently in search of someone sober enough to drive her and Charlie home. With one hand she supported the intoxicated girl around the waist, and with the other she scrolled furiously through her phone. Jean watched as she pressed it to her ear, listening to a call ring out for a few long moments before letting out a frustrated groan and stuffing it inside her pocket.

"Need a ride?" Jean called, walking towards the pair with his hands in his own pockets. Mikasa jumped around, eyes shining with obvious hopefulness, only to scowl when she saw who her supposed saviour was.

"Not from you," she said, promptly facing away from Jean once more. Her eyes looked up and down the desolate street that stretched out before Connie's house, the lampposts lining the rich suburban sidewalks the only thing penetrating the dense darkness.

"Oh, come on," Jean insisted, stepping up beside her. He cast a curious glance at Charlie, who was barely conscious, murmuring under her breath and laughing crazily to herself. "I've only had one drink. Unless you want to walk this one home—"

"If you really think Charlie will get in a car with you—"

"Charlie isn't really here right now," Jean interjected, shrewd eyes sweeping over the girl who couldn't even hold herself upright.

"Do you have money for a cab?" Mikasa asked.

Jean snorted. "No, and even if I did, I wouldn't fucking give it to you," he chortled, earning himself a burning glare in response. He thanked whatever higher power there might have been above that looks couldn't kill.

For a few long moments, Mikasa considered Jean through narrowed eyes. As far as the eye could see, all the other party attendees had either retired to their homes or were passed out on the lawn and dotted throughout the large house. There was not a sober person in sight, Jean assumed Mikasa's parents weren't answering her calls, and she hadn't gotten her driver's license yet, so she couldn't even take Charlie's car and drive it herself.

After what seemed like an entire lifetime, Mikasa finally caved, reluctantly jerking her head towards the cars that lined the pathway. She and Jean walked, Mikasa dragging Charlie along, to Jean's car, which was parked on the curb nearby. He rounded the car and unlocked the door, settling into the driver's seat, meanwhile Mikasa opened the door in the back and ushered Charlie inside, but she had spotted the person sitting behind the wheel.

"Is that—is that Jean Kirstein?" Charlie narrowed her bloodshot eyes, speech horribly slurred, and glared through the passenger's side window of the car.

"No," Mikasa said shortly. "Now get in and be quiet."

She shoved her inside the car.

Jean put the keys in the ignition, waiting until Mikasa had securely strapped herself in before pulling away from the curb. He took note of the way she twisted her entire body, facing firmly away from Jean and staring out the window as, slowly, the row of houses began to move by more quickly.

"Your place or hers?" Jean inquired, nodding towards Charlie, who was making an attempt at sprawling out across the backseats without undoing her belt. He hoped Mikasa would tell him to go to Charlie's house, considering he already knew where it was and how to get there—he had spent a lot of time there with Armin.

Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Mikasa awkwardly turned around in her seat, looking back at Charlie. Jean could practically hear the gears turning in Mikasa's head before she righted herself in her seat, crossing her arms and looking out the window again.

"Mine," she told him. "Do you know where Sasha lives?"

Jean nodded.

"Same street," Mikasa said. Each and every word she spoke was uttered sharply, coldly, like they tasted bitter on her tongue and she wanted to spit them out as quickly as possible. Jean supposed she had a pretty justifiable reason to detest him so much, but that didn't make the atmosphere in the car any less unbearable.

With one hand clutching the steering wheel, Jean reached for the radio and turned it on, allowing a Taylor Swift song that he didn't know the name of to play softly from the broadcasting station. In the back of the car, Charlie let out an excited gasp and perked up, throwing herself at the gap between Jean and Mikasa's seats so she could be closer to the radio.

"Ooh!" she squealed, hiccuping. "I love this song!"

When she started obnoxiously singing (or making an attempt at singing) incoherent lyrics in a key that was so very far off the song's actual key, Mikasa placed her palm flat against Charlie's forehead and gave her a rough shove, pushing her back into the depths of the car.

Jean glanced at the rear-view mirror, catching a glimpse of Charlie mumbling what she thought were the correct words of the song to herself, swaying merrily back and forth, a drunken beam splashed across her rosy face.

"What happened with Jaeger?" Jean asked. Though he wished he could say that he just wanted to make conversation, part of him had been curious as to why exactly Eren had suddenly turned and left the party. He had seemed to be enjoying himself on the makeshift dancefloor with Mikasa and Charlie, what with the way he was this close to crudely rutting his hips up against Armin's sister for every pair of prying eyes to see. It was no wonder Armin, who had returned to the party after scattering because he didn't want to listen to his sister getting it on, looked so uncomfortable as he stood in the corner with Annie.

"What do you mean?" Mikasa hummed, although it was really almost more of an uninterested grunt.

"I mean how he bolted," Jean elaborated, quirking an eyebrow. "I thought he would've taken Charlie home with him."

"So did I," Mikasa said dryly, glancing at Charlie, who had lost her energy remarkably quickly and was now dozing, head bobbing about with the movement of the car. "Now I'm the one that's gonna have to hold her hair back as she pukes her guts out."

Jean recalled Armin leaving the party with Annie so he could walk her home soon after Connie threw up and passed out on the living room floor, leaving Mikasa with the responsibility of getting Charlie home safely.

Streets lined with stores of various operations faded into a self-effacing little suburb, stocked full of semi-detached and modestly sized craftsman houses. Jean knew that Sasha's house was the first of the row one saw after taking the second left turn in the neighbourhood, and he drove down that same road until Mikasa told him to stop, gesturing towards her own house, which sported grey-slated walls and a gabled roof.

"Thanks for the ride," Mikasa said, opening the car door and getting out before Jean had the chance to say it was no problem. He watched in silence, an amused curl to his lips, as Mikasa tried to haul a half-asleep and horribly intoxicated Charlie Arlert out of the car.

He waited, car parked on the sidewalk, until Mikasa had found her key in her pocket and unlocked the front door of her house. Only once she and Charlie were safely inside did Jean start his car back up, pulling away from Mikasa's house and beginning his journey back to his own home, where he would inevitably be lectured by his mother not only for staying out so late, but for driving after drinking, even if it was only one bottle.