Pairings: Jeankasa; teeny-weeny Eremika
A/N: I donât like this fic. The whole time Iâm writing this, my mind was adrift. What the fuck, idk whatâs wrong with my head; it just picks up ideas out of nowhere. I was aiming for an Eremika but it kinda like made its own way into being a Jeankasa.
âI didnât know you sew.â Jean took a seat opposite from her. He dragged the chair from its position near the table, giving him space to sit on it.
It was already past midnight; everybody was asleep except for the two of them. A candle stood still in the middle of the table, providing her light with her sewing.
âI donât.â Mikasa replied bluntly, not looking away from what she was stitching.
He lifted an eyebrow at her as she constantly pulled on the needle and insert it back through the cloth. âThen whatâs that?â
She looked up from what she was sewing; it was the fabric everyone was very much familiar to, especially to her. It was practically a part of her, and Jean found it somehow new with scarf not draped around Mikasaâs neck. Sheâs trying to mend a ripped part of the red scarf as it got tangled up with the branches earlier while she was collecting wood. âMy scarf.â
Jean resisted rolling his eyes; of course it was a scarf. Mikasa noticed Jeanâs actions and she quickly supplied him a response.
âItâs just an attempt.â
âAn attempt?â he eyed the sewing kit that was idly opened before her. There were rolls of threads, dull needles stuck upon a small cushion, some buttons of different sizes and colors, and a pair of small scissors. âI think Historia knows how to sew. Why not ask for her help?â
âI would just trouble her.â She mumbled.
She continued mending the ripped part of the scarf; Jean studied her intently. Focused as she was, she could still feel Jeanâs lingering stare at her. She tried to disregard his presence by each pull of the needle, trailed by a red string.
She sighed heavily and put the needle and her scarf down. âJean,â
âUh, yeah?â he gulped nervously at the mention of his name.
âWhy are you, um, still up? Are you on patrol tonight?â
âUh, no.â he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he felt his face being flustered up. âI just finished my patrol two nights ago.â
Mikasa tilted her head to the side. âAre you having a hard night?â
 âUh, yeah. A hard night!â he exclaims in agreement.
It took Mikasa quite some time to be convinced that maybe it was just a hard night for Jean. She resumed to stitching her scarf.
They were silent for a moment. The only things that they could hear were the constant chirps of the grasshoppers and the loose dripping of the faucet. Jean took off his gaze from Mikasa to the window; the night was at its peak. And with a queer and a demented mind like his own, he associated it with Mikasa. Her hair, like the sheets of the night, took off rather lovely, as it innocently cascaded though her shoulders. Her deep orbs were of wounded breaths and faintest stardust that peck on the black canvass.
âHey,â he said, his heart hammering hard against his chest.
Mikasa looked up from her work. âYes?â
âYou want to go outside?â
Mikasa gave him an odd look. âWhat for?â
âNothing.â He shrugged. âTake in the air, I think? Itâs quite a hard night after all.â
For a moment, it felt as if Jean was in between an interminable pit. He swore he could die any moment by the brief silence that hovered above the room. Mikasa tucked a part of her hair behind her ear and sighed. She placed her needle to the pin cushion and placed her scarf on the table. âOkay.â
Jean blinked. âOkay?â
âYeah, okay.â She pushed the chair and got up from her seat. âI think I do need to loosen up a bit.â
Jean felt a warm sensation overwhelmed him from within. âUh, sure. Okay.â
âOkay, I think thatâs a lot of okays already.â Mikasa chuckled. She chuckled. For crying out loud, she chuckled in front of him. The universe shifted and all the stars crept into the night; he felt his knees shook as big lumps formed at his throat.
God, it was Jean, and he was basically a love struck teenage boy in front of his crush.
Just when they were about to exit the room Jean noticed something missing. âHey, arenât you going to bring that?â
The one Eren gave to her.
She looked behind her shoulder then shifted her eyes into his. âNo need. Besides, it might just get even more torn.â
âRight,â he gulped nervously as he ran a rueful hand through his hair.
âWant to know something?â he blurted out.
He uncomfortably shifted his weight to his side, thus making a creak on the floorboard of the porch. Mikasa looked at him and gave her a faint smile. âWhat?â
âMy mother believed in wishes.â
The sky was left with star marks, hundreds and thousands of it. And each of it had a bundle of hope or a barely whispered dream. Truth be told, Jean had his own wishes hung upon some of them. It was stupid, he thought. But it was where he sought tentative comfort from the living hell.
âI do too.â Mikasa said through her breaths.
She tilted her head up to the sky, as if yearning to grasp each star that was visible to her. It was impossible, but to her, she could always place a warm wish on it.
She pursed her lips and nodded.
âWho would have thought that humanityâs second greatest soldier believed in wishing on stars?â he snickered.
A light red gathered up to her pale cheeks. âIâum, you see, Iâve always believed in it, Jean.â
He sighed. âSorry. I just didnâtââ
âDonât be sorry.â Mikasa cut him. âIâd be surprise if not every one of us believes in stars and wishes.â
âHmm, youâre telling me Eren does that kind of thing? Well, he is a crybaby after all.â
Mikasa then shot her an intimidating stare.
âYouâre wrong about Eren.â
âReally, now?â Jean rolled his eyes. He was getting along, and now Eren buts in?
âHeâs the one who told me of the wishing upon stars.â
He nodded reluctantly. His mouth twitched to the side, not wanting to talk more about Eren. But Mikasa seemed to get a hold of it.
âI thought it was stupid.â She smiled. âWell, you see, I still think it is stupid, you know, relying on huge balls of gas and, andââ
âI thought you believed in it?â
âI do! But, it is still stupid. The whole concept. We rely on these stuffs because we need to be reassured, to be comforted. But Eren, he always had faith. And I think, that maybe, every stupid thought might happen after all. So I wish on stupid stars.â
And it was evident in her, as real as the night was. Her eyes twinkle with the thousand dreams and wishes despite her scars and screams. The moon was her ground, faint and light but it lingered. Jean might not know all of these; he had not yet even witnessed half of it. But it showed. It showed in the flares of her souls and her flames of her eyes and the promise she kept.
He closed his eyes. He heard Mikasa drew a deep breath.
Jean placed a wish in one of the stars.
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