Chapter Text
"What would you do if you were suddenly approached by a strangely pale guy, that also happens to sparkle in the sun?"
"Try to smuggle out all of the unknown classics he knows and that the world has yet to hear." A pillow met the side of your face before you could say anything else, the impact hitting you in a way you had yet to hope for.
Ouch. "Gosh, what is up with you and these rock solid pillows!"
Laughter erupts from the girl next to you, echoing throughout the walls of the room you both sat in. Warm colored lamps that lit up the room, potted orchids that were placed randomly but strategically and wet specimen that accompanied them it.
Uniquely chosen jars that contained ethically sourced species, ones that have passed from natural causes, never from cruelty. No, the thought of hurting animals for someone's own benefit made you nauseous.
"What if it was a guy that turned into a wolf?" The girl didn't receive her answer right away, instead the sound of their T.V takes her roommates attention.
A day had finally occurred where the both of you had finally had time to stay in and catch up on all the glory brought upon the two of you. Though the semester had yet to start, the last time the two of you had time to watch a film and just talked the night away had felt like decades ago. Summer had felt like an ordinary two-week break from school. All you really did was read by the oceans waves, and when you finally had enough of rereading the same line of the page you were on, you gazed up at the luminous sun, hoping that if you stared at it for long enough your eyes would finally be free of the relentless torment you faced.
But it was an effort that barely lasted longer than a second, it's beam too intense to take in for too long. It resorted to you playing with the broken down rock particles you sat on, watching the pile descend through your fingers.
"If I'm being honest, I'm not into the wolf-man trope." It's no surprise that both of you had settled to watch a long anticipated Twilight marathon, a series of movies that never failed to make you cringe. "I've known you for long enough Mika, and I know for a fact that you wouldn't mind dating a guy like that."
She scoffed, a hand flying towards her chest. "Are you being serious? Me with a werewolf?" It was during moments like these where you were presented with how far you've gone through life together. It wasn't that long ago when the two of you had finally met for the first time, sixth grade science class with a room full of boys. Starting middle school wasn't the easiest task for a girl as bleak as you. Reflecting back on the earlier years of your life had felt like a big blur at times.
You looked over your shoulder, a grin plastered on your face. "Look, if Eren randomly came up to you one day and confessed that he was some sort of creature, what would you honestly do?" Any answer from her that rejected the idea would immediately confirm your long lasting speculations of her strange, but interesting preferences.
Mikasa groaned, facing back towards the screen, watching the ongoing fight between the Cullens and the Volturi. "You're never going to live this down are you?"
"Never." You mocked before reaching to grab the remote, moving your fingers to pause the ongoing film. "Mikasa, I'm actually a furry!" You burst out laughing. God, how long had it been since you've last let out a laugh that was remotely genuine, how many days had you wasted without laughter. It had only been weeks filled with countless of musical chords and endless conversations between your piano accompaniment.
A hand reached over your shoulder and before you could realize it, Mikasa had brought you in for a hug. "I've missed this," she mumbled from your shoulder, letting the rest of her body slump on you.
You sighed before replying, it had been strange how long you've gone without embracing what awaits you at home. "Me too, but these movies are beginning to anger me."
Mikasa let out a breathy laugh before pulling away and getting up from her seat on the sofa. "I shall continue to mourn your frequent absence and rot while studying human functions." She began to grab the pillows that were thrown onto the floor.
"Say you swear." Reaching towards the coffee table in front of both of you, you begin to pick up the bowls you two had filled with a variety of your favorite snacks. "Start hand writing letters to me and seal them with wax while your at it."
She moved to fold their throw blankets they kept for occasions like these. "Haha. Aren't you just hilarious." Night-ins with Sasha, study sessions with Eren and Armin, and the occasional game nights brought along by Connie.
Even though you had already made it two years into university, the friends mentioned before were the only companions you had willingly kept circulating around you. You had your acquaintances here and there, but they were nothing more than just that. Not because the thought of getting closer to them sacred you, no one seemed to share the same interests with you other than performing.
You let out a small chuckle before making your way towards the kitchen's sink. You brei fly let the faucets water run over your fingers, the burning sensation doesn't pain you, instead reliefs the cramps that always lingered within your knuckles. "If it makes you feel better, and I have a week break after my recital next Friday. Just before rotations start back up." The idea of a week break sounded euphoric, having the time to catch up on your reading and spending time with Mikasa, and of course, sulking at the same idea of having a cat around. Caring for a pet under you circumstances though, would be like climbing Mount Everest.
Fighting the rapid winds as you helplessly trudge through the steep layers of snow, only to be hit with an avalanche of obligations to get through. Tasks that make it impossible to reach the cat that now resides at the top of the mountain.
"Awesome, will you finally meet the rest of my fellow companions?" Time always seemed to go by when you let your thoughts get their way, you hadn't noticed the circulating motion of you hands as you washed the remaining bowl. Mikasa stood across from the kitchen island, a design feature that captured both of your hearts while apartment hunting. "How has it literally been two years and you have yet to fully meet them."
"I've met...most of them," meeting new people was one thing, but it's a whole other thing when 'new people' had actually meant meeting your roommates friends. The same ones you haven't purposely avoided, but meeting them never seemed to align with your schedule.
Finally turning the faucet off, you moved over to dry your hands on a nearby towel. "Connie counts as one, right?" You said, the soft cloth still covering your hands.
"Would my response somehow change your mind?"
"Maybe!" Being avoidant wasn't you, not back when the two of you sat next to each other during bio, not now as the both of you continue to flourish into what the future held. "I'll do it, just for you my future grunge doctor," you liked to think about what brought you two closer. How instead of having identical interests and hobbies, your opposing personality's clashed harmoniously.
How Mikasa's jar of baby sharks at no time weirded you out, but instead sparked an interest in the infinite amount of delights the world holds, and that you had yet to attain. Beauty in the eye of the beholder. Though the phrase wasn't familiar back when you were twelve and following Mikasa as you both explored the wilderness, staring at the molasses melting from barks of trees, it suggested why your apartment was decorated in a certain way. How your shared living space was a combination of bits and pieces from both of your lives, darker colors intertwined with lighter ones.
The clock on your apartments wall hits twelve by the time the two of you begin to retreat back into your spaces. Your room remained scattered with orchids along with withered flower bouquets gifted to you after a performance, even though your last recital was in May and it was now August.
Organized was an understatement because though trash wasn't seen throughout any corner of your space, countless of books had been laid stacked along your floor and sheets of music continued to fill up the wall that had once been plain and empty. Minimalism was where creativity meets it's demise. Their was no such thing as being minimalistic when all you did was hoarder the array of tricklets you had finally learned to conquer.
A canopy flowed softly above your bed, the same cushioned space that at times you'd never met at the end of day, you've become too engrossed with your work of replicating these musical masterpieces to actually pick yourself up from practicing and lay in the layers of soft cotton.
A knock on you door snaps you out of your thoughts. Even if it had been years of knowing each other, privacy was still a relative boundary you two held between each and every one of your friends. "Come in," you called out a with a tired sigh.
Mikasa opened up the door slightly before fully making her entrance, "So, a couple of friends are coming over tomorrow to talk about this semesters prison list. Are you going to be out late?"
Right, because though you had just spent an entire Saturday with Mikasa, you had forgotten that Sunday was the day tomorrow brought along. Sunday meaning a day filled with exhausting practice with the rest of their schools orchestra, and a dress fitting from Hitch.
"Probably not until Eleven with practice and fittings, you know how Hitch is." You moved towards your closet to pack ahead for what the morning would bring you. A white short sleeve blouse paired with a black maxi skirt. Top it off with brown flats and you've created yourself the perfect outfit that was basic enough that not only made yourself look put together, but also kept yourself from sweating buckets. After all it was still summer and fall was less than a few months away.
Mikasa winced, at the mention of the designer. "How many gowns does she have in store for you this semester?'
"Two for this one, and another two next semester," you grumbled before shutting your closets doors and placed the picked out clothes on a nearby ottoman. Scratch what you said about making friends, you've grown to know Hitch as more than just a student from the Uri School of Art, Architecture, and Design. One of the schools within the university that is exceptionally excellent.
Paradis University. Famously known for containing schools like The Fritz School of Music, The College of Arts and Sciences, The Media School, and a handful of others you hadn't acknowledged. Not out of ignorance, they're schools you have yet to interact with, and you don't anticipate to anytime soon. Disinterested in short.
"She never does you wrong, compared to what the others in her class come up with," Mikasa leans on a nearby wall, her arms crossing in comfort. Hitch's persistent alterations were what brought both of you the publicity the two of you have grown to receive.
A violinist that made musical compositions sound more than just heavenly with her technique and precision. A fashion design student who's designed the most alluring pieces seen not just in her mind-blowing exhibitions, but on you. Y/n L/n.
"Thank gosh," you laugh for no particular reason. "I don't know what I would do without her." You moved to sit on the edge of you bed.
"Well you better show me how it's coming along, let me know if you come home any earlier." Mikasa begins to make her way out of the door, stopping mid-way to look back at you. "Goodnight my little swan."
Swan. The nickname brought to you during high school by the trio you stayed close to.
You never brought yourself in accepting the title, you believed that living up to it was impossible. How these Cygnus were beautiful species and all you were was what you could see in front of a mirror. Lost and nothing more than what you couldn't live up to, the expectations brought upon you, a failure.
You were hideous in the spirit of a girl who expressed nothing but delight, an act covering up how much of a dreadful person you were. A mockery of the name passed onto you by your parents, a jester to the audience you performed in front of. Everything that surrounded you was nothing more than a delusion. It had to be, right? It has to.
The skin of your cheekbones turned pink, because though tucked deep within your soul you loathed the name, your beating heart blocks the detestation and you can't help but feel flustered. "Goodnight my oddity."
You do this to survive right? Being compared to a swan was better than being miserable, even though you could feel it slowly seep into your skin and deep within your veins. Would being dramatic explain this all, how though everything is there, the hunger continued to roar out loud, screaming from your soul. The misery continued to ooze out of your fore and the hunger persists. It's instinct though, right? Because anything that you resist, persists.
Mikasa's departure leaves you staring into the abyss. Your body screams to go to sleep, make yourself comfortable and awake in the morning. Your mind fails to see eye to eye and now you're left curled onto the floor, your bed long abandoned, it's not like you ever slept in it. Your breath stills as you glance towards the instruments that got you up to this point, the ones that haunted your dreams.
You're violin lays flat on the ground next to you, its wooden features reminding you of home. How though your parents weren't the richest in your town, they made sure to buy the best violin they could get their hands on. An investment meant towards your future turned into an expectation foreseeing your abilities. And though being first chair meant the world, the rest of the violinist in the orchestra looked at you with resentment because you moving your bow meant you getting first place, they never stood a chance.
You were enough right? The student-run paper had spoken soo highly of you, and the school made it known that you were set for life once your degree was handed to you. Your picture was displayed on advertisements, like you were any good.
The cello propped up against the wall said otherwise. Had the sun finally had enough of you and finally granted your wish, flowing the blood from you brain away. No, if it were true, you would've forgotten the misery. How the misery made you want it even more.
It was selfish, throwing the violin away even for a little bit. Using another instrument as a way to feel like you succeeded, like you did enough to receive the publicity.
Fuck, this wasn't for you. This isn't you.
But you surpassed the rest and you couldn't help but feel a wanting for more.
Water On Your Nose
Chapter One: The Art Of Performing
[Playing 🦢 Chosen by Blood Orange]
Summer break hits it's conclusion as soon as the sun tucks away within its horizon. It never gets easier, from the first day of kindergarten to present day, the nervous anticipation of what the school year will bring only looms around the streets of campus.
"How much do you guys want to bet that Connie gets banned from the dinning hall?" A voice speaks up from the group. After a Sunday full of countless of activity's, the group finally decided to settle down and take in the fact that school was indeed what tomorrow was.
Oh what has adulthood brought them. Responsibility's upon responsibility's.
"You doubting me is unbelievably hurtful, and I wasn't even banned?! They just decided on a buddy system, why do you think I kept nagging you for a meal swipe?" Connie, the life of the party and troublemaker. "I just needed a buddy, and you, Eren Yeager, were easy to convince."
Master of picking fights that are at times, not his to pick, Eren was very strategic in how he wanted conversations to continue in. It could be the inner psychologist in him doing the talking, or him applying whatever he's learned during one of his past lectures.
"It wasn't even his fault to begin with, Jean through him a ball so Connie threw the next best thing," A girl next to him defended. Sasha was her name and she couldn't help but have her friends back, even if it meant choosing sides of an argument that revolved around two of her closest friends.
"And a chair was the next best thing?" The owner of the place they were at questioned as she brought over a bowl of popcorn Connie had requested earlier. Her short length hair was put back with the help of a claw clip, and she wore a navy blue lace trimmed short sleeve accompanied with brown shorts. The perfect combination for yet another scorching hot day.
Mikasa Ackerman, the groups future doctor and fellow host of their after party.
Though the group had usually met at whoever was willing to host, Mikasa's apartment became a frequent meeting spot for a variety of reasons.
It was the perfect distance between campus, the good restaurants on campus, and the rest of their living spaces.
It was homey. Stepping inside of her apartment had felt like someone actually lived there, not just for sleeping.
It was frequently empty, as in Mikasa was the only person in there half of the time.
"In my defense, it was right in front me. Literally." Connie huffed before getting a hold of the bowl placed in front of him, his grey flannel over his white t-shirt creasing over the erupt movement. "And Picasso over there aimed straight towards my head. I get if it was because he was jealous of my luscious hair growth, but that was just pain wrong!"
Jean scoffed. "Yeah no, wrap whatever you're saying up because your hair grew a tiny bit freshman year, and from what I've seen, it's only grown an inch since." He moved to grab the cigarette box peaking out of Connie's flannel pocket.
Having enough of the nonsense Connie continued to spew, he stood up from his seat next and walked to reach for the lighter Mikasa always left by her treasured crochet wet specimen of a fetal kitten— if he remembered it right, she mentioned that her roommate surprised her with it. A gift for her Twentieth birthday, a unique, special article considering her love of the collectables.
Mona Lisa this, starry night that— it didn't matter. Jean could never tell if they were said as complements or as insults. His work was nothing compared to those renowned pieces that stayed displayed in museums he only ever wished to visit. He was an artist and those comparisons only drove him to perfect his work, so flawlessly that maybe one day his creation would sit displayed next to Monet's.
"Hey, if you're going to light that up make sure to open the windows," Mikasa called out from the kitchen counter behind them, a place she often found herself in because she valued hospitality. Feeling hungry, she'll bring you snack. Demand for water, you're getting punched.
"Window?" He stopped himself from lighting the cigarette between his fingertips, looking through the window next to him in confusion. "I thought you said that your roommate smoked?"
"She does, but we have plants in here and they're too precious to suffocate in tobacco filled air." Mikasa moved closer to the kitchens island, extending her arm to point at the vase of tulips she sat on the coffee table just hours before. "And those are fresh."
He placed the box of cigarettes to the side, jamming the lighter back into his pocket, mentally reminding himself to buy her a new one. "I'll save it for later then," he moved over to look back out the window, watching students from the university walk in excitement mixed with fear. "Now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever met your roommate, is she ever around?"
Connie gasped from his seat, "You're lying. In these last two years, you're telling me you haven't met yet? Are you living under a rock?"
Jean side-eyed him, "I'm not a pathological liar Connie, how many times have I lied to you?"
"Plenty of times, actually."
Sasha interrupts, calling out from her spot on the floor. "Hey what's taking Armin do so long with that pizza!" She rolls on the carpet, her hair all staticky from the friction. "It's been Thirty minutes, he should've been here by now!"
"Traffic on 13th street, everyone's families are heading back home remember," Eren sighed before setting his phone down and walking to sit on an ottoman next to the couch, the seat too low for his long legs. "All I got this year was a goodbye text from Zeke."
Connie laughed, "What did he say? See ya loser?"
"You fucking geek ass nerd. Like, your younger brother is living it up, and you're hating? Please."
The musics faint rhythm combines with the rooms ongoing conversations. Sasha talking about the bulletin board she put up for her residents, Mikasa sulking at her work schedule for the upcoming week.
"If it makes you guys feel better, tomorrow my lectures start at noon and end by four," Connie spoke up to break subtle silence that occurred after his argument about how Ticketmaster is a scam and something needs to be done about it.
"Shut the fuck up." They all said in unison.
Eren grumbled from his spot. "I'm stuck with Professor Pixis for a whole semester."
"That's not that bad—"
He frowned, "It's an Eight AM."
Jean chuckled at the man behind him."Wow aren't you unlucky," he turned around an moved to sit back next to Connie. "How does the school even allow that?"
"Right, like your basically stuck with the TAs half of the time," Sasha added, picking at her visible hangnails. "But to be fair, having him as a professor is a guaranteed A,"
Connie snorted, leaning back on the sofa like he already knew what Eren was in for. "Well, only because due dates are basically nonexistent, those TAs better be getting paid extra."
Eren gazed at his phone's screen briefly. "Curse taking required courses."
"Well what's the class about?" Mikasa probed from one of the kitchen islands seats, snacking on a bag of chips she hid from Sasha.
"Alcohol and Food, the science of fermentation."
A burst of laughter fills the room.
Eren groaned once more. "Okay wait, you guys have to hear me out," he rubbed his hands together. "It was a last minute requirement, and at the time the instructor wasn't announced yet..."
"Rookie move Yeager," Connie grinned, slinging an arm around Jean's shoulders. "Now you're stuck with an absent professor."
The sound of the front door opening and a cheerful, but hurried, voice interrupts the banter. "I'm here! How is it that a huge campus only has two exits?"
Sasha moved fast towards him. "Hey Armin take all the time you want next time you're on pizza duty," she yanked the boxes from him. "Which is never."
"I'm sensing mistreatment around here and I'm never going to live it down." Armin muttered before taking a seat on the sofas empty seat, leaning back on the cushioned seat to relax from the outrages traffic he managed to escape.
It didn't take long for the boxes to be propped opened, topping filled the crust with a desirable amount, and the garlic scent began to fill the living room's air. "Armin how many classes do you have tomorrow?" Eren asked before getting up to help Mikasa bring over plates.
"Two in the morning, Three in afternoon." He grabs a slice of pizza from the boxes Sasha left on the coffee table. "Well four I guess because one's online."
Connie gushes while making himself comfortable next to him. "That's kind of a lot, how many credits are you taking?"
"Twenty-two, I get bored fast."
"I wish I had that kind of dedication," Jean stretched his arms over his head before moving to grab himself a slice. "I got lucky enough in taking 18."
"Enough flaunting, you're going to anger the future doctor in the back," Sasha calls from across of them.
Mikasa scoffed, "For you information, I'm also taking twenty-two credits. Just minus one class."
"You guys are making me feel like a loser," Sasha raised her hand towards Connie. "We're just different, right twin?"
Connie grinned before giving her a high-five, "You know me too well Sasha bear,"
Jean clapped his hands slowly. "Hip-hip-hooray, now pass the box of pizza you're hoarding," He eyeballed the box Sasha had kept behind her.
Her face went white, "How did...you..."
"You have yet to master the art of hiding," Jean stood up from his spot on the coach. "Well I would say this was a success, but we have some bandits around here." He moved to pat Connie's forehead.
"So I'm taking my responsible self back home."
"Boow you surck!" Connie yammered though his mouthful, the crumbs falling from his mouth earning him a not-so playful shove from Armin. By the time Connie recovered from choking— caused from the push, a though had occurred to him. "Wait, without me? Honey, we literally live together!"
Jean scoffed, side-eying him. "You're acting like we don't live 5 minutes a way from Sasha's. You walk back with her anyways, since you like bothering the underclassmen so much."
He groaned, throwing his head back. "But it's a 15 minute walk from here!"
"With the amount of food you consumed just today, I think the walk would be worth it, beneficial even. Don't want the apartment gassed up." Jean moved to pat Eren's shoulder goodbye, an action done to replace dapping each other up— his hands were just a bit too rough to handle. "Aren't you glad to live with Armin, Yeager?"
Eren wrinkled his nose at the thought of it "Very."
Mikasa's eyes widened slightly, straightening her back in a suspicious way. "Are you sure you have to go? My roommate—"
Jean nodded before walking towards the apartments door. "I promised Reiner I would go with him to gym tomorrow, and god he just loves waking up before the birds start chirping."
She hummed in agreement, "That's why I choose Annie over him." She towards where her phone was.
"Anyways, Two tomorrow at the Sina Memorial Union?"
Mikasa nodded, "If you don't see us, it's because we've been ruined."
He laughed, "The same goes to the rest of you, farewell to you all." He waved them goodbye before finally opening the door and shutting it behind him.
The sound of the automatic lock makes Mikasa look down at her phone in defeat.
[Y/N🦢: Fitting ended interestingly early, be there in 15!] 10 mins ago
Darn, just a few minutes too late.
If space was the first thing a person came up with when it came to answering the question, what's the most beautiful think seen you've seen form just the naked eye? Jean would present an argument that though would've been classified as biased, would've also opened up a whole modernist viewpoint for the said person —though hopefully not a child.
That was the point right? Of being an artist, trying to show the world how much more there is to the world —and not just the world, but problems we continue to battle. Like how our intestines shiver at the thought of functioning, how they're the sole powerhouse in keeping us alive, though our hearts also bump at the mention of breathing. Living— living in the moment. For experience and of course, survival.
The though of being alive makes Jean spiral, a habit he's grown to ignore. The paintbrush he often held in the studio keeps him in line, add the background— just breath, feel free. So he obeys, and all of the sudden the Forty-eight inch canvas that he once prepped by placing wood bits, is a work of art that interprets who he really was— even if it's completely misinterpreted by others.
It's completely fine though because at least he help some sort of power, the paint brush didn't hold him captive, art as he knew it would've killed him if it did. Because species barely survived during captivity, they're meant to live as they are.
And though the time will come when seeing a piece of equipment will utterly terrify him, he continues to stay sat in front of a blank canvas, because living in the present meant that there was still meaning behind the array of colors he mixed. That fear is what keeps him alive.
It's interesting what the stars make you think of. How there's numerous of constellations displayed all over the sky and how he had yet to remember any of there names, only bothering to point out the big dipper when he can. For a man so vocal about looking at the little things, space wasn't his cup of tea. To many stars, too much history along with the glowing orbs—stories so detailed, the slightest bit of sadness would completely destroy him.
The view outside of Mikasa's apartment had quickly become one of his favorites. How the sea was close enough to see from majority of the apartment's windows, and how in the winter it was visible enough to see the snow pilling up on the sand, untouched by the waves.
Jean stands there, watching the sea from afar, standing still on the sidewalk exiting the apartment complex. The cigarette hanging between his lips reminded him how simple times used to be. Before he touched the lung killing sticks, suckers were all he ever hanged onto.
Strawberry flavored suckers because they reminded him of his mothers strawberry shortcake, blue raspberry because the color that stained his tongue after was in a complete opposite contrast then the one it was supposed to be.
He remembered sticking his tongue out like he was some sort of delinquent, and how his mother lectured him on how manners were important. The waves reminded him of those times, crashing into each other like he often conflicted with himself— gosh why was everything so invasive.
He owes it all to her, he couldn't imagine how terrible of a person he would've become, and to that he gives thanks to the one who sacrificed it all.
"Mom, it's me again." He knelt down to scape the cigarette, watching it crumble within the concretes texture until the filter was all that was left. "You're probably sleeping by now, the time difference never gets easier but I can't put the day to rest until I've at least said goodnight."
Getting back up, he places the remainder of the fallen cigarette into his pocket. He was taught to keep the ground we walk on clean, her meaningful nagging stayed along with him even if at the time he had thought of it as annoying.
The phone on his ear reminds of the times his mother rested her cheek against his, everything was a reminded wasn't it? The warmth that radiated from her only resided with her and not him, a comfort so unforgettable a cigarette never helped in mimicking it.
"Goodnight mom, I hope you dream of all the good things and leave the bad ones to me." He peers back up towards the sky, searching for the famous asterism because though the two were far apart, it's presence would mean that two were still together and that there were no limitations. "I love you."
"Your voicemail has been forwarded."
Jean lets out a sigh, his fingers tapping the black screen of his phone. Will it ever get easier? Chasing your dream while desperately missing what was comfortable. He knew better to let the thought overtake him, so he does what he's best at.
Running away.
Or for lack of better description, jamming his phone back into his pocket and walking towards his car. An ideal plan would've been almost perfect if he were better aware of his surroundings.
The sound of car keys hits the ground when he collides with someone. Lucky enough, his reaches to grab hold of their arm before they hit the pavement.
"Sorry about that." he reaches for the fallen keys. "The one time I don't pay attention-" he halts as he reaches out to hand the keys over. When he had finally looked up he was met with a face he couldn't exactly point out.
The person he had accidentally tumbled over wasn't any taller than his own frame, more accurately shorter by an inch or two. Her hair was long and curled back but moved slightly to the side from the almost fall. An instruments case had grabbed his attention before he could analyze any further, how the case was down to fall on the ground if she hadn't held onto it for dear life.
If time could go any slower, it would probably feel like what overtook his regard.
"Oh don't worry about it, without you I would've probably scraped my knees and started bawling because of it." She reached to grab her keys, her fingertips slightly brushing over the palm of his hand. "The cello wouldn't have made it any better." She chuckled before putting on the other strap of the case and tugging on it to secure it.
"That's sign to stop carrying it on one shoulder." she moved her hair back to its appropriate place. "Thank you so much, the cost to fix it flashed before my eyes."
It had felt like an eternity before he finally uttered something back."Yeah...no problem."
The corners of her mouth turned up, a deed done to reassure him. "Thank you again." She said before turning around and entering the apartment complex he had exited not even 15 minutes ago.
Her sudden absence filled him with disappointment. It was like the interaction had caused Jean a severe case of whiplash because though it had only been his first time seeing her, she felt oddly familiar. How many thoughts could a person take until they've finally had enough and decided to put things into their own hands. Until antidepressants were no longer useful and the serotonin that was supposed to increase completely stops producing. His mom wasn't sleeping, wasn't she? She was getting the pieces he's sent over to her, right...?
Maybe he's just an over thinker.
Connie's unbelievably loud footsteps seized to wake him up that night, instead it was the sound of nearby traffic and the presence of the kitten curled up beside him— even if the kitten had been around him for the last ten years. Believe or not, rest was never his biggest concern. Whether if it was because his GABA levels where increasingly low or because sleeping meant the chances of waking up were nonexistent, his consciousness always won the war. Eren told him told him to get it checked out, when has he ever listened to him.
His alarm goes off at four in the morning and though the day had barely started, it had already felt like a repeated cycle he followed three months ago. Get up, brush teeth, take shower —No, not today, Reiner is expecting him to make an appearance. Feed Miel, his cat that stared at everything with curiosity and followed his every move. Miel because the cats soul radiated a sweet, warm comfort. Her dark fur never seemed to fail in blending with dark corners, an advantage used to it's fullest when it came to scaring the hair out of Connie's head.
Clean, clean the mess Connie never seemed to fail at making. Cook, at least whatever remained inside the fridge. He had known Connie enough to know what he liked to eat in the morning, brother from another mother, Spanish and French— not yin nor yang. Connie liked to eat anything made from him, but time only goes so fast he settles for an omelet. Then, though it's the most dreadful event of the day, school.
His workout with Reiner was nothing more than what he expected, heavy weights and whatever equipment Reiner rants about. He should've bailed, it would've given him time to walk his cat, talk to her endlessly, cook for her. The shower's water switches from hot to col not even five minutes in, isn't the tuition he pays is enough to cover the water bill, cheapskates.
Throw money at the continuous campus expansion like it doesn't already take 40 minutes to get across campus in the heat and even longer when there's ten inches of snow on the ground. He guessed the limestone buildings made it better. Fancy school, mature guy.
A fancy school wouldn't want a inadequate artist. Let alone, a shitty one.
The rest of the morning consisted of staring into Miel's dark fur, petting it as if the answer to his problems would suddenly appear. He sat in front of his window until the sun finally peeked from it's horizon. He should probably make breakfast but Connie is still sleeping in, and he cares too much for his mental being. His mother would've been proud of the omelet that laid out on his plate, made of care and the world's biggest wonders.
It's six-thirty in the morning, she's still sleeping.
[Playing 🦢 Hamptons by The Marias]
"So did you find yourself a genie or something because how did you score a fifty minute class at noon?" Jean took the freshly lit cigarette out of his mouth, moving to open his car's windows before releasing the smoke he held captive. "They should've held you inside that lecture room, now I'm stuck with you blasting the same song over and over again until you finally choose a playlist you're happy with."
Connie scoffed, crossing his arms to make his disappointment known. "So you hate The Marias? Because that's what I'm hearing."
"No, no, no. That's not true, look through my playlist." He eyes flickered towards his phone, a move done to defend his liking towards the band.
Connie moved to pick up the phone, bypassing the password in a breeze and clicking Jeans preferred music application.
Superclean - The Marias
To Say Hello - The Marias
Vicious Sensitive Robot - The Marias
No One Noticed - The Marias
Hamptons - The Marias
He let out a quiet snicker, "Quite a variety you got here," he side-eyed the driver next to him. "And may I know who gave you all of these suggestions? Because the song playing right now so happens to be in your liked songs"
Jean glances at him with irritation in his eyes, his right hand loose on the wheel while the one that holds his cigarette moves up towards his lips for another swift. "Don't forget who's driving here, and you know what? You know you could've walked right?"
"Where's the fun in that though! Class ended 30 minutes early and my senses told me you were roaming somewhere around campus." His head slightly swayed back and fourth to the beat of the song, his fingertips tapping the car's central console. "I even bought you a drink, something far better than whatever you have in that bottle of yours."
He was right, the green tea bag that he had put in his water bottle in hurry tasted under-stepped, the underwhelming flavor setting out the remainder of the day's attitude. A bad start to the long-anticipated day.
Connie leaned an elbow towards the passenger seat window. "Also how long is your next class? I need to mentally prepare for the boring talk you artist have." His fingers continued to tap along with the rhythm.
Jean clicked his tongue. "You're lucky that latte was good, the last time I let you go near a studios vicinity we had to drill you out of cement." It was honest mistake, really. The cement and the bucket filled with slip looked almost identical, except the slip was a cream color and the cement was grey. "Hopefully it's less than 30 minutes. It should only be introduction, and then studio time for the rest of the year."
"Taking intensive courses huh? Never doubted you for a second honey." He patted Jeans shoulder before picking up his own drink, an iced matcha latte with cold foam to top it off. No syrups added because adding quote on quote, 'Additional sugar throws away the whole idea of the strong earthy taste'.
"Then that means you're also taking the fraction of the classes...right?"
Jean nods before turning the wheel into the parking lot. God why was the student lot always full. "Only three this semester. Anatomy of an Artist and The Gothic Cathedral." Blue car, black car, red car. Numerous of cars parked within the lot, missing the most vital sticker everyone comes to recognize. "It's not a lot, but honestly I think that I'm in for a treat."
"School is school," Connie moved to take another sip of his drink, the cold foam sticking to his upper lip. "Regardless of how complicated things get, we learn something by the end."
Jean snickered, "Why aren't you more sentimental? It's always when we're doing the most random thing ever."
Connie lets out a laugh before leaning his head back against the seats head restraint, "Living in the moment is better than thinking to the extent." He moves to open his bag, the same book bag that got him through all of high school and the one Jean helped him choose during summers peak, right after middle school graduation and two weeks before freshman year started. "My mom always told me this saying that always irritated me when I was younger. Lo qué será, será. She said that the future was not ours to see and that if it's supposed to happen, then it will."
He pulls out a small grey planner and a pen, the pages slightly dented and stained from the variety of snacks he's had. "It just irritated me because I always wanted to know what was supposed to happen next, that the things that I was doing were right. I hated the anticipation, I still loathe it." Living in the moment meant having the good out way the bad, he could be the messiest man alive, and at times reckless, but school had been a non-negotiable. He was the most organized in setting his schedule.
Classes at noon till four on Mondays and Wednesdays. Ten in the morning till one on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And on the most eventful day, twelve to twelve-fifty on Fridays. Of course, those were only his classes, on the side he had the extracurricular activities he managed, work at the nearby vintage thrift store, solely as a cashier, and the most important, his free time.
"Finally, why do I pay for a parking pass when all anyone does here is park free of cost," He sighed before turning the wheel, the empty parking space in front of him gleaming in glory. The cigarette he held onto wasn't as tempting as it used to be, it had been squished in half long before he parked the car. "Do I smell like cigarettes?"
Connie hummed before leaning towards his chest and sniffing loudly. "You smell like cigarettes after sex." He pulled away and moved to grab a sucker from his snack bag and passing it over, an essential needed for a day like this, but also for when Jean had inhaled just a bit too much smoke. "Just kidding! I would spray some cologne on though, for the ladies."
"Thanks for the input."
Whatever will be, will be.
The mellow atmosphere of the studio brought him back to reality, it always did. It was a safe space not just for him, but the endless array of thoughts that brewed up in his head. It was what helped him work, reflecting the taunting ideas that if he held onto for too long he would puked them out. The room they were headed to had been one he'd grown to know his way around in. Introductory classes, seminars, collectives. This was where his desires were painted at.
The walk from the parking lot to fine arts building had been a five minute walk, though this time around Connie ditched the motivational talk and started ranting about a recent show he binge watched a few days ago, The bear. Something about how Sydney and Carmy are platonic soulmates and how the only thing stopping him from supporting the ship was the continuous cycle of trauma within working at restaurants. Curse the show writers.
By the time the two strolled into the studio, the clock had struck twelve fifty-six. The usual easels propped up around the studio were instead replaced by wooden stools in front of a white board. The same stools Jean avoided using because the solid wood held no comfort, instead awaiting hemorrhoids. It was only for the day so he'll let it slide.
"These distances never fail to me make want to transfer." Connie slumped onto the stool next to the one Jean sat on, desperately trying to catch his breath after climbing the two sets of stairs that lead up to the studio. "You would think that studios would stay on the ground floor."
"No ones stopping you from taking the elevator," Jean pulled out his sketchpad.
Connie shook his head, "To the second floor? It's only the first day of school, why would I want to get jumped?" Connie settled on the stool, his iPad in-hand for the most tedious time of his life.
"Remember what I told you earlier," Jean started once more. "How we're like two side of a coin, I'm heads and you're tails. Tails stays put in their seat and stays silent."
Connie hummed in agreement before the idea finally clicked in his head. "Why the fuck am I tails?"
The instructors entrance stopped Jean from replying. Nanaba, he's had her as an instructor for a good majority of his time in the fine arts program, a doctor of fine arts that prefers to be called by her first name— something about how the professor title made her feel old. Her short light hair was styled slightly towards the right of her face, and she wore a black and white stripped button-up paired with a black flowy skirt. Professional enough for the start of the semester, but also comfortable enough to move around freely.
"Welcome back my aspiring artists," Her voice boomed from the the front of the room, her words carrying delight. "I hope you made enough social interaction this summer because you'll be faced with a handful of interactions this year." She took out a stack of papers from the paper envelope she brought along with her.
"For those who don't know me, why? My name is Nanaba and I'll be your professor for this lovely intensive course, a course that is only offered to the best of the best." She separated the stack into two piles and passed them over to the students closest to her. "Which so happens to be this lovely group of people."
Jean had grown to enjoy the feedback given by Nanaba. Her opinions were always a breath of fresh air and also gave him new perspectives he'd fail to recognize. "Art, as we all know it, is influenced by a variety of factors. One day you're painting a landscape of a meadow and the next you're making a sculpture of your dog, or cat." Her skirt flowed as she moved to flip the propped up white board over. The Art of Performing. "The sheets that are being passed around contain a simplified summery of what these two semesters are going to look like. We're stuck together for an year."
The studio, or rather the class, had only had about ten students participating in the course. Excluding him, about nine incredibly good artist, craft makers.
Jean snatches the sheet of paper before it could make it's way into Connie's hands. "Not you idiot." He moved to pass the sheet down towards the person next to him.
"Hey," he protested. "I'm here for moral support pal! At least let me take a look!" He moved to scooch his stool closer to him.
ART507 The Art of Performing
AR507
Assignment: The One Exists In Our Symphony
This course not only contributes to your increased learning to see thing detail to detail, it'll assist you in finding the purpose of why we do the things we do. Music has become a worldwide phenomenon that continues to grow immensely. In this instance, classical music.
Analyzing The Work Of A Musician:
Instead of simply analyzing the music these musicians produce, take account of the person behind the instrument
You will be assigned a partner to follow for the duration of this year-round course.
Portfolio
Using a variety of artistic techniques, create of a portfolio of how you've analyzed your fellow musician.
Variety of Artistic techniques as in drawing, painting, sculpture. photography
Photography can only be used ONCE.
Timeline
You need a minimum of four pieces on you portfolio, it's encouraged to follow the number of performances your partner has, excluding one's that conflict with final exams.
A minimum of two are to be turned in for credit each semester.
Your pieces will be displayed in our classes exhibition next spring.
"Our course's focus will solely be on this assignment. As stated on your sheet, we will be focusing on the performer, not the performance itself. The purpose of this assignment is to strengthen your attention to detail, how does a performer's actions influence the outcome of their piece?" She moved to point towards the boards contents. "We're all studying a specialized area in art. Painting, drawing, sculpture. I want you to throw all that knowledge away, put also not necessarily all of it. Your work will be exhibited at the end of next semester, meaning you're required to have at least four projects done."
"I want to emphasize that photography can only be used ONCE. Preferably during your first encounter with your partner, ideally at one of their performances. I know, it's a bit out of everyone's comfort zone, but It really all comes to how you perceive a performance, a performer." She moved to stroll around the studio, her voice loud enough to fill every corner of the studio. "You all will get randomly partnered with one of our own symphony members."
"Ouu papas, you're in for a treat." Connie lets out a quiet snort before letting out a gasp, "Wait. I have a friend in the orchestra—"
Nanaba appeared behind him. "Connie, it's good seeing you around here. Hopefully you don't stick your arms in the wrong things."
Connie looks back towards her sudden appearance, a hint of fear in his eyes. "You can count on me Nanaba, I promise to stay as still as I can." Connie says.
"Hopefully not like cement."
Connie grumbles, his foot tapping only increasing along with his boredom. "It was an honest mistake."
She shakes her head before continuing with her explanation. "With this being a smaller class, I've partnered up with Professor Ackerman in collaborating with the more advanced performers, the more dedicated in their areas. It works with our schedule because each of them have a recital sometime this week." She slowly made her way back to the front. "Working on this project shouldn't be just attending their scheduled performances and referencing them off of an image you took. Connect with them, why did they choose the instrument they play, what significance does musics have to them, when performing in front of an audience, how does it feel? If you don't feel like at least a friend to them by the end of the year, you've learned little to nothing during this courses duration."
She looked around the small sea of students before her eyes finally landed on Jean. "It's good to see some familiar faces, I'm excited to see what this talented group comes up with." She moved to pick up the extra sheets placed by an empty stool next to her. "Parings will be sent out by email later today, after dismissal if I get my act together."
"With all honesty, the class was more than what I expected." Connie says as he eyes his phone, skimming through the syllabus for his next class. "I've seen your work on exhibitions, but I don't think I've seen you dwell into any other areas."
The rest of the courses introduction went by in a flash, at least that's what Jean had thought. Studio regulations were covered, where materials were placed at, how to dispose of chemicals used during production, everything he had learned long ago but was needed for the newer students.
Jean leaned back on the uncomfortably cushioned seat. "I swear this school has to the cheapest out there. Saving money like they don't already make enough." he leans over Connie's shoulder to look at the time.
1:43pm. Though he had initially commuted to school, risking a parking spot to find an even closer spot was a risk he vowed to never take. The university provided more than enough buses for transportation, though in the summer everyone decided that it was easier to fill a whole bus rather than walking in the heat. And in the winter they decided to do the same, except this time it was because they feared frostbite.
The Fine Arts building to the Sina Memorial Union was approximately a thirty walk, and though Jean knew the two could handle the heat, the nearest bus stop had been right outside of the building and the bus ride was half of the time walking.
"I can't believe we scored an almost empty bus," Connie turned to look out of the window behind him, the sea faintly seen through the trees branches. "This is the most luxurious that it's going to get."
Jean chuckled, his black t-shirt crinkling at his long term seating position. "I've focused so much on perfecting oils that I hadn't really thought of anything else."
Connie hums, looking back towards the front of the bus, watching as more people made their way onto the bus. "It's not necessarily bad, it's good at taking risks."
"I mean, anyone can take a picture and call that photography" Jean rested his head on the glass behind him. "The only musical performance I've been to was Bertholdt's piano recital. It was so good that I almost fell asleep."
Connie looked towards him with surprised look. "Bertholdt being a pianist completely slipped my mind."
Jean raised an eyebrow, "You said that you had a friend in orchestra didn't you?"
"Yeah I did." He held himself put, the buses rocky movements making him aware of the potholes the school has yet to fix.
"You weren't talking about Bertholdt?"
"No, I like, actually have a friend in orchestra." He jumped slightly from the buses movements. "I was in the middle of explaining myself, but then Nanaba caught me all up in her studio and I forgot to mention it again.
Jean placed a hand on Connie's shoulder as a way keep him stable. "Well, then who is it?"
"Have you not met Mikasa's roommate—" The buses sudden stop interrupts him.
Now stopping at Sina Memorial Union
"Finally, and I thought the wooden stools were bad." Jean stood up to throw his book bag over his shoulder and made his way out of the bus, stopping on the sidewalk to check if Connie was following behind him.
The Sina Memorial Union, at first glance, looked like a humongous castle. It was the primary student center, not only because it held club meetings on the upper floors of the building, it also offered various dining options. Though it was a pain coming here during it's peek hours, Jean had often found himself meeting up with the rest of the friend group here.
"What is up with this school and it's need for stairs." Connie reached for his water bottle as soon as they got to the buildings entrance, one the many the building contained. "Man, how are you never tired of this?"
Jean moved to open the door, "it was literally just a set of stairs."
"Ok, but they were steep as hell." He huffed before entering the building.
"Whatever you say Connie boy," Jean says before walking towards their planned meeting spot. "Short haired people that speak Spanish and are named Connie, for short, are known for have low walking tolerances."
Connie rolled his eyes, "You don't want to go there Jean, your cat understands my Spanish more than your French."
"Oh please, she understands me just fine." He puts a hand around Connie's shoulders and leans closer to his ears. "I know that you've been letting her go on the kitchen counter, you better not let me catch you next time."
Connie shoved him off, shuddering at the goosebumps Jeans breath had left. "Cats get lonely, you know that! We were just having breakfast." He rubbed his shoulders in fright.
"Yeah, she started a couple of weeks ago," Mikasa's voice was heard from a distance.
Connie gasped at the voice before running up to her, "Are you talking about who I think you're talking about"
Mikasa jumped, startled from his sudden presence. "Oh—my god! Cornelius if you do that one more time you're going to get it."
He placed his bag next to the empty seat beside her, "Hehe, sorry Mika, just got a bit too excited." He moved to grabbed his wallet from inside his bag. "Be right back, can't have Sasha buying out all of the vendors before I get the chance to buy anything.
"Wait, what? We haven't even had our first lecture," Eren questioned from next to her. "Don't tell me she already got a head start..."
"I see we all survived at least half of today," Jean spoke up from behind them, finally caught up from Connie abandoning him. "Did the science of fermentation kill you Yeager?"
He rolled his eyes, "Of course not, only because he had to act his best on the first day. Next class is where it gets down to business."
Jean laughed before taking a seat next to Sasha's abandoned book bag. "I still can't believe you fell for that." He moves to take his laptop out, the one his mother saved up to buy even though he told her it wasn't necessary for an art major like him. The memory had stayed fresh in memory, embroidered just like most of the ones he had with her. "Sasha's taking advantage of her meal plan, isn't she?"
Mikasa let out a chuckle before lifting her head up from her phone. "Yup, I told her to get me something while she's over there," she set her phone down. "Any classes you're already regretting?"
Jean propped his elbow on the table while leaning on his fist. "It's too early to determine anything, but I fear that the class I just got out of is really going to make me question my creative abilities." He moved to grab the sheet handed to him earlier in the day, pushing it towards Mikasa and Eren. "This is the "simplified" introduction sheet, the rest is online."
Eren moved closer to the table to take a look. "A year-round course?" Eren's head perked back at him. "I feel like that's more then enough time to finish the amount of work it requires."
Jean sighed. "I'm not saying I can't do it, I'm just saying that I'm not sure that my capabilities are broad enough. They can't just be in the same style I always do, there has to be a variety to it." He slid his finger between his keyboards cracks. "I could get started on a sculpture-based piece tomorrow and still feel lost as hell."
Mikasa cocked her head to the side. "Out of curiosity, how many interviews have you done because of you work?"
"That's not the point—"
"Jean, you've proven yourself over, and over again. When will you finally recognize that your work is exceptionally good, phenomenal even." She brought the sheet of paper closer to her face. "How many of your paintings have you actually kept? Because your last exhibition had buyers arguing for your piece's."
"I'm surprised you don't take commissions, you would pretty much be set for life if you did." Eren added. "I would pay you a maximum of five dollars for a portrait of me."
Jean scoffed, "A portrait of you and that man bun of yours? No thanks." He moved his attention back to his screen, scrolling though the laptops applications until he finally found his email app. "Not saying that I wouldn't do commissions, I just think that it defeats my purpose. There's no meaning towards it, not of a simple portrait. There could be, but what's the point if you're catering towards what a client wants."
She hummed in agreement, "I get that, some people are just too picky to work with too." She continued to skim through the sheet. "The one exists in our symphony? As is in—"
"The schools orchestra?" Eren questioned in surprise, his posture straightening up at the mention.
Jean nods, "Yeah, we're supposed to get partnered up with one of them, supposedly the best." He leans back on his chair. "And then we follow them along, performances, some interviews, and obviously the projects."
"Jean." Mikasa looked at him, here eyes wide with a mix of seriousness and bewilderment. "You won't believe this but my roommate is—"
Eren placed a hand on Mikasa shoulder. "Wait." he moved to stand up, peering around the room until he finally found what he was looking for. "Armin! Over here!"
Armin was seen in the distance, Annie following alongside him. "Could you be any louder?" Mikasa grumbled before passing the sheet of paper back to Jean, completely forgetting their conversation from earlier.
"I see that you're all still in one piece," Armin says before sitting on an empty chair next to Eren. "How was the science of fermentation, any alcohol sampling on the first day?" He snickered at his own comment, looking over to Annie to see if she sat down next to him.
Annie grins, "How'd you get stuck with an eight am, let alone, with Pixis." She moved to get her bag on the floor.
"Ok, so what we're not going to do here is slander me right now." He moved to grab the water bottle in front of him. "And no, their was no sampling, that's what we would call unethical."
"That man bun's unethical," Jean muttered under his breath, making sure to look to the side.
Mikasa shakes her head, before continuing conversation. "Reiner do anything new this morning?"
"Same old, same old. That man never switches it up." Jean says. "Immediately regretted saying yes, they need to fix those showers."
"The one's on our side work just fine." Annie said, her tone dry. "And the sauna they have is impeccable."
He rolled his eyes, "Well lucky you." His eyes scanned the room. "Where are the rest?"
Armin spoke from his seat. "Reiner and Bertholdt went to grab something to eat and Historia still has a lecture so Ymir's waiting for her."
Jean hummed, the keyboard he was once tracing had been replaced with a takeout box.
"Two for one special honeybunch!" Connie grinned, as he held two boxes of his own.
Jean side-eyed him before moving to open the box. "I'll let it slide this time."
He felt a hand on his shoulder, "The workout get to you today Kirstein?" Reiner smirked before pulling a chair next to him. "You need to come down more often, gaining these packs gets lonely once in a while."
"I'm not sure, your reps are hard to handle." His lie seething through his teeth. "I can tell why you're so buff."
"Consistency Jean, consistency." Reiner says, pride lacing his words.
"Yeah, his biceps are pulsing as we speak," Bertholdt says, his voice soft but loud enough for them to hear. "He's hard to keep up with, that's why whenever he asks me to tag along I pretend I didn't hear him." He grabbed a chair and slid it next to Reiner.
Reiner looked back at him, appalled. "You what?"
He ignored the question directed towards him, "How was the science of fermentation Eren?"
"So we're not going back to that."
"Pixis was allegedly on his best behavior today." the table erupts once more.
Sasha peered from behind Mikasa. "Sorry guys, there was too many options to pick from," her hands held four boxes. "The one on the very top is yours Mika. I urge you to get before I drop it..."
Mikasa sighed before reaching towards the box. "Shouldn't you be saving some swipes for later in the week?"
"Perk of being an RA," she said beaming. "Regardless, the dining hall is enough to keep me from starving." She moved towards her seat, her face holding a big grin seeing Jean. "Any classes left today?" She set the boxes on the table and began moving her bag down on the floor.
He looked back up to her with cheeky smile, "Just one, three-thirty to five. The time better be worth it."
"Tell me about it," she moved to open one of the boxes lids. "I have a lecture at four to five-fifty. What does one do with all that time?" She moved her spoon spoon to pick up some rice. "And then to top it all off, I'm on call tonight! I'm really only benefiting from the meal plane— and housing, of course. But now I have to get on everybody's good side to get my well deserved freedom!"
Jean hummed as he listened to her rant, "But at least you get a free meal plan out of it, and free housing."
She looked back up to him with realization in her eyes, "You have a point." She placed a dumpling on his box. "Thanks Jean, I really needed that."
The action softened his smile. "Anytime."
He let the surrounding conversations take over his attention. Talks about the science of fermentation, early mornings to the gym, rants about The Bear— a topic Connie rants about with a heart full of passion. The ding his laptop makes takes his attention away from the group.
The Art of Performing Pairings
Hey everyone!
As mentioned earlier in class, you will be randomly paired with one of the more advanced members of our orchestra. Lucky for you guys, I did seem to get my act together. Down below I've attached both mine and Professor Ackerman's finalized list. The list contains your names, obviously, and also contact information. I encourage you all to at least introduces yourselves, remember, this is a year-round course. Thank you, I'll see you all next week in the studio!
Click To See Attachment
All Well,
Prof Nanaba
Jean mentally prepares himself for what awaits him. Will this class really get the best out of him. Will his work turn out horridness, so dreadful that he's going to have to drop out and hide in a hole. Clicking the attachment, he scrolls down the roster until he finally comes across his name. Why does the name sound familiar? Like it's been mentioned to him once, or twice before.
Had Connie written about the person before and he's just now remembering. Does that make him a bad friend for not remembering? But in his defense, Connie contributes too much, so much to the schools paper. He's read countless of his articles, including the drafts he's brought into his room in the middle of the night.
He perks up from his screen and calls out to Connie, the realization of his questioned never getting answered fill his head. "Connie, you never told me who you friend was, the one in the orchestra."
"Bertholdt?"
"Me?" They both answered in unison.
Jean shakes his head at the answers, "No, not him," He looks over to Bertholdt. "No offense man."
Bertholdt throws him a thumbs up. "None taken."
A thought of realization hits Connie, "Oh, yeah I remember now." He sat straight up in his seat. "On the bus right? We were talking about it, and then that driver hit a bump and then stopped the bus in front of the building."
"No way, I knew that shiny head of yours still worked." Jean sighed in relief before moving to show this screen." Do you know who this is?"
Connie moved up from his seat to bring the laptop closer.
Jean Kirstein
xxx-xxx-xxx
Y/N L/N
xxx-xxx-xxx
Connie looked up from the screen in disbelief.
"Have you not met Mikasa's roommate?"