The Man//JeanxReader//Modern AU

one

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I wish I knew how to quit you.
-A. Proulx-

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There was no ink left in the pen your dad had given you for your eighteenth birthday. You had known this day would come, but for four years it never did. Of course, you had never told anyone about this, but you had always pretended that the pen possessed a kind of magical power, preventing the ink from ever running out- turning it into an instrument of infinity that would accompany every meaningful word you'd write in the future. It was stupid, really.

For a second, you stared at the pen, thinking whether you should keep it. Fill new ink into it's body and continue writing. Something, any sane person would have done without hesitation.

It wouldn't be the same.

You often struggled with controlling impulsive thoughts that resulted from your extreme mood swings, which is why you decided to put the pen away before you would throw it away out of frustration. You could already feel the tears fill your eyes. Somehow, the ink seemed to represent the final ending of your time with him.

You're being ridiculous.

»I'm off to work!«, Ymir yelled from the hallway, making you jump in your seat. »Friends are coming over later. Would be nice if you'd show your face for once.«

You cringed at the thought of having people over. Your room was a horrendous mess and you did not have the time to clean anything before they got here. Maybe you'd just stay out for as long as there were people in the apartment and tell Ymir that you had to cover an unexpected night shift at the bar.

»Thinking of...«, you mumbled and pulled out your phone, checking the time.

You had ten more minutes before you needed to leave, so you decided to finish the project you were currently working on later. Piling up the sheets of paper on your desk, you came to realise that the ink of the pen had started to show signs of running out well before it actually happened. The words on the last pages looked sparse and thin, as if someone had half-heartedly tried to get rid of them. You wondered, how you hadn't noticed it earlier.

Taking a look into your dirty mirror, you decided to put on some mascara in order to appear less dead. After that, you threw on a comfortable hoodie and pulled your hair up into a ponytail. You liked wearing your hair down way more, but your boss would not let you serve customers if there was even the slightest chance of a single hair falling into drinks or food. Slipping on your much-loved pair of docs, you mentally prepared for having to deal with the noon-crowd of customers. There wasn't really any shift you preferred to work, they all pretty much sucked, just in different ways. Since you were working the midday shift today, there would be mostly millennial families with their screaming kids, some older folks and maybe some students who had just gotten out of school. Later at night, the clientele would change to fun-seeking college students, since that was when they started serving alcohol at the bar.

You had five minutes left, but decided to just get there early. Uselessly waiting in the apartment would drive you crazy.

Your anxiety reached a giddy high as you arrived at the bar because you had suddenly remembered that some new waiter was supposed to start working today. Of course, your boss had ordered you to help that person find their way around the workplace.