( JEAN KIRSTEIN, AOT )
VI. RIGHT NEXT-DOOR ‧₊˚♥︎
0.06 | 8:52 AM | 愛

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ༘ you noticed jean had watched your instagram story. you aren't by any means well known—you've got like five hundred followers, and you don't know half of them in real life. so, when averaging around two-hundred views per story, it wasn't hard to find him. he's got over ten-thousand, and all of his content is about sports, or music; that purple guitar he has is sick as fuck.

you went through his followers (it's a habit) and as expected, mainly women, and sports fans follow him. there's a couple of music majors following him too, which is interesting. jean is only following around a hundred-people, must be close friends.

alright, no more socializing with jean. for real this time.

when you're finished showering after practice, you get dressed. good thing you ain't driving—the hot water makes you dizzy. there's other women inside as well, and you can't help but listen to their conversations. april is with you however, but she doesn't audition for the team until tomorrow.

"so yeah, i'm done with niggas," april wraps the towel around her body as she gets out of the shower. "no text back, but a story view?" it makes more sense that this is the women's lockeroom, in a way, it's way more girly than the guy's. they even have disco lights around, and perfume on the counters. why the hell does it feel like you're in the club?

"oh yeah that's crazy," you say, sitting down on the bench after putting a towel on top of it. "he probably wants you to beg or something, just block his ass," you've never really been the type to waste your time on shit like that. if a guy wants to play with your time, you simply show them in your own way that you aren't the one. it's the reason you've only ever been in one relationship.

"i want to, but he's fine as fuck..." she sighs. "brown-skin with locs and a pretty smile," it looks like she's daydreaming about him again. "but yeah, i need a grip. can you block him for me? might start crying when i see his user disappear."

you laugh at her dramatic attitude, and end up grabbing her phone to block the guy. once that's situated, you both finished getting dressed. you're wearing evisu jeans, a small white tee, and light jewelry. you touched your makeup up—just the lip liner, and a little bit of concealer. you and april got somewhere to be after school.

you head to your next class, which is biology; you hate anything science involved. when you make it inside of the class with april, you realize you're early. theres some students filling the classroom still, but a group in particular catches your eye. they're all the way in the back... bummer, that was gonna be your spot. it's easier to sneak on your phone when you're the furthest from your professor.

it's jean, and his groupies. or friends. the blonde one is looking at you, along with jean himself. shit, he's staring—you wonder if you've got something on your clothes. eren is the guy april was telling you about a few days ago, and his eyes find april. you don't blame him, april is pretty as fuck; she's a blasian girl with brown skin, and a smile guys go head over heels for. you'd be lying if you said you didn't want her yourself at some point, but blah that shit didn't work out.

connie glances over, a grin on his lips before he says something to the rest of them. great, they're definitely talking about you guys.

you take a seat in front of the classroom, putting your items down, and making yourself comfortable. april is beside you, and she already started talking. "damn, did you see that? kirstein was eye-banging you," she says, leaning her head against your shoulder. "you sure all he did was take you home that day?" this girl.

"you're delusional," you say, although you know she's spot on about the way jean's gaze followed you. "you need to be thinkin' about eren. he's employed with a strong ass girlfriend, and he couldn't stop looking at you. you want mikasa to beat your ass next?"

you two are just joking. kind of.

still, you wonder what jean is thinking.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ༘. meanwhile, jean is still trying to process the fact that you've actually got a class together. "damn, i don't know which one i want," connie says—like he could have either of them with ease. jean has to refrain from rolling his eyes at that comment, and instead, he looks over at you again.

"so jada made a replica of your jersey, and wore it as protest?" they all burst out laughing as eren brings that up, but the professor quickly shushes them and threatens to change their seats if they keep it up. it's professor green's annoying ass, and him saying that wasn't hurting a soul. why? he already changing seats anyways, may as well make the most out of it until he does.

"she's slow in the brain," jean slouches further into his seat, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. "lowkey was wondering who the fuck even made it? the six upside down, and my name was spelled wrong. can't believe some dumbasses fell for it still."

connie scratches his head awkwardly, and turns away. alright, that mothafucka is dumb. "are you ever going to speak to her again?"

jean shrugs. "don't know, don't care. if she wants to be stubborn, so be it—she ain't the only girl in my life, just a lucky one." connie whistles loudly at that comment, and professor green shakes his head, and shushes the class to get connie.

"since egg over here can't listen, why don't you share with us what you're saying?" professor green has his arms folded over his chest, his lab coat hanging loosely off of his frame. the fuck, did he just say egg? armin almost spits out his milk, meanwhile eren is hiding behind his backpack to laugh. "tell us, we're intrigued."

connie sucks his teeth, and rolls his eyes. jean just leans behind eren's backpack with him, and professor green starts talking again. "alright, since i have everyone's attention, we gon' start the new seating arrangement now. i was planning on letting you guys stay where you are for a change, but it seems like you'll all just get... easily distracted." alright, now he just lying. he was never gonna stick with the seating arrangement as they were, he was always gonna change it. lying ass.

everyone has to stand up and get to the back of the classroom. jean's guitar case is pressed against the wall in the back, in a secure location. his eyes sway over to you, watching as you exit the front of the classroom, with your stuff in hand. your baggy jeans hang over your shoes, emphasizing your athletic frame.

to jean's surprise, you stand right beside him. he's much taller than you are, but you still somehow intimidate him.

"guess the several other empty spots around the classroom weren't satisfactory enough for you?" he questions, his breath ticking your ear. he's close, and jean is sure you can smell his shampoo. you jump slightly as a response, your eyebrows narrowing. "or maybe you just wanted to be near me, hm?"

"keep telling yourself that," you reply, not bothering to look at him. "you're the one who was stalking my instagram account. you forgot to change accounts, or what?" jean wants to chuckle at that, but he doesn't want you thinking you're funny or anything.

you're good at hiding. jean hasn't seen you at all today, not until he got to this class. "i didn't forget to do anything. guess i was curious to see if the whole "i'm so untouchable" attitude is just a school-act, or if it's real." the more names professor green calls out, the more jean is starting to realize the two of you are still standing—meanwhile all of his friends were already seated.

"weirdo," you comment. jean's eyes lower, landing on your waist. beneath your navel ring, there's two really small surface piercings spaced out, and angled. are those dermals? he heard those hurt like a bitch. your pain tolerance must be high; makes him wonder something he shouldn't. "stop staring at me."

jean scoffs, and quickly looks away. "you wish," he replies, leaning away from you, and putting some distance between you two. armin got lucky, he's sitting beside connie, and eren is somewhere up front with a random guy. alright, just because jean shares a class with you doesn't mean you have to interact—ever. when this is finished, he'll go back to pretending you never existed.

unless of course, those last two seats that are conveniently available are yours. aw hell...

"alright last but not least, jean and [name]. you can take the last available seats." jean was so trapped in his own mind, he didn't even realize you were the only other student to not be seated yet. you groan, but you don't audibly complain, you just walk over to the seat and sit down. he does so as well... the seat is somewhere in the mid-back of the classroom, but it's located on the end near the stairs.

you two ignore eachother. connie keeps glancing back, and floch looks like he's two seconds away from sending a picture to that school website. can he be anymore obvious? it's obvious floch is one of the loners behind "shingekisomessy."

when you pull out a few colored pens for note-taking, jean just shakes his head and looks away. women are so simple; they have to make sure any, and everything is aesthetically pleasing, or some shit. "you're so obsessed, it's sad," you comment, nudging jean beneath the table. "don't look all disappointed in me because i'm not basic like you."

"color-coordinating your notes doesn't make you look any less basic, you just look like a dumbass," he smirks at that. still got it. "an overdo-er. even if you write them in all black, they still gon' say and mean the same thing."

the glare you send in jean's direction only further fuels his ego—and desire. why? "shut up and mind your business," you snap. damn, you really are uptight; when was the last time you've been fucked? or if you ever have. he'd never know, you're holding your cards too closely to your chest.

what jean needs to be worried about is the game he has tomorrow night. when it ends and his school wins (because he knows they're that good), they're supposed to be throwing a party at jean's place. his house is pretty spacious—he's getting money from his excellence in sports, and there's some side music gigs he does when he's low on funds.

doesn't the women's volleyball team have a game too? they start around the same time so he won't get to see you, but maybe he'll catch you some time that night.

authors note
ooh.. ty for 400 reads my
supportive lil monkeys 🧘🏾‍♀️
updating this tomorrow too
since i was late yesterday... work
beating my ass? adulting is not fun!!