KrylleTea

Reiner hasn’t talked to Jean since the day they were stuck in detention together. It’s not like they really had anything to talk about, you know? Sure, Reiner was aware they had a few things in common, but he doubted Jean would be eager to discuss them publicly. Besides, Reiner had other priorities—practice, raising his abysmal grades, and convincing Historia that he was better date material than Ymir. He simply had too much on his plate to bother trying to befriend Kirschtein, who, alright, maybe wasn’t as terrible as he liked to pretend. 

And it’s not like Kirschtein was seeking out his company either.

Reiner had decided not to think about Jean for the rest of the semester. But then winter came. The temperature plummeted, snow blanketed the streets, and all flights were canceled, leaving Reiner’s mother stranded on the other side of the country. She was visiting her sister before Christmas, and now it seems she won’t make it back in time for the actual celebrations. Reiner doesn’t mind too much; he is already gearing up for a movie-and-pizza marathon. He even jumps into his car to stock up on self-indulgent snacks before the weather takes an even nastier turn.

Reiner is all about healthy eating for most of the year, but Christmas is his time to indulge. Alongside pizza, he stocks up on beer, fries, popcorn, chocolate bars, cheese… and, for balance, a bunch of vegetables to pair with his favorite chicken when he decides to eat healthy again.

Driving back home, he starts debating whether to invite his best mate, Bertholdt, for a sleepover or—better yet—Historia. A sleepover? Scratch that. A romantic dinner. He’s so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost misses the figure on the snowy sidewalk.

He does a double take, glancing in the mirror to confirm what he just saw. Sure enough, it’s no scarecrow. It’s Kirschtein.

Jean’s wearing that same thin jacket Reiner remembers from the detention weeks ago—no scarf, hat, or mittens in sight. He’s walking slowly, arms wrapped around his abdomen, his movements labored. Reiner narrows his eyes.

Kirschtein must be drunk as hell. Wouldn’t be the first time this year, either.

Grimacing, Reiner puts the car in reverse. When he pulls alongside Jean, he leans over and opens the passenger door.

“Get in,” he says. “I’ll take you home.”

Kirschtein’s scowl is so magnificent, not even the wall of snow falling from the sky can hide it.

“Fuck off.”

Of course. This is what Reiner gets for his good intentions. But this isn’t nearly enough to discourage him. The temperature is brutal, and if Kirschtein stays out in the open like this, he’ll freeze to death—or, at the very least, catch the cold of the century. Sure, he’s a pompous ass and a certified bastard, but Reiner doesn’t want him to die.

After several failed attempts to negotiate—talking to Kirschtein like one might to a cranky toddler—Reiner finally gives up on civility. He gets out of the car, hauls Jean to the passenger seat, and even fastens his seatbelt for him. That’s just how cool and responsible Reiner is.

Only once he’s back behind the wheel, with the heat blasting and the snow beginning to melt, does Reiner notice the bruises covering half of Jean’s face.

“I got in a fight,” Kirschtein mutters, his lips purple—from cold or fists? Who knows.

Well, Jean has a reputation for getting into fights with everyone except Levi the janitor, so Reiner doesn’t think twice about it.

“What’s with your stomach? Are you hurt?” Reiner gestures toward Jean’s frostbitten hands, still curled protectively around his abdomen.

“Not really,” Jean mumbles, unzipping his jacket with stiff fingers.

Reiner notices several things at once: holes in Jean’s t-shirt, smears of blood, and… a hamster. A hamster, curled up snugly against Kirschtein’s belly, its tiny black eyes sparkling as it stares back at him.

The state of Jean’s clothes makes sense—he’s clearly gotten himself into trouble, probably challenging someone stronger than him. The hamster, though? That’s unexpected. Reiner knew Kirschtein had one, but still—

“Why the hell are you taking your hamster for a walk?! In this weather, of all things!”

“I’m not taking him for a walk,” Jean growls, clutching the little creature closer.

“Whatever. What’s your address?”

“Piss off. Take me to the supermarket.”

“You’re not going to the supermarket in this state. I’m taking you to the hospital—”

“NO HOSPITALS!” Jean snaps, his voice sharp.

“You’re getting blood all over my seat,” Reiner counters.

“Then I’ll leave right now. Fucking jock.”

Jean starts fumbling with the door handle, trying to get out. But Reiner, bless his soul, had locked all the doors with a press of a button before they even started talking.

“Let me out!” Jean looks like he’s ready to throw hands again. 

Reiner just sighs and starts driving. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this to himself. Jean is clearly set on making things difficult, and if he doesn’t want to go home—probably afraid of the scolding his mother will give him—maybe Reiner should just drop him off at the damn supermarket.

But Jean is hurt, and Reiner is an athlete. He knows how to handle injuries. He tells himself that’s the only reason he’s doing this.

In truth, it’s also because of the extremely cute hamster, whose name, as Reiner later learns, is Ozzy Fuzzbourne. Reiner likes hamsters. He always wanted one, but his mother’s allergies made that impossible.

So, he takes Kirschtein to his house. While Jean struggles with the boot stuck on his swollen leg, Reiner finds a large jar, lines it with shredded towel paper, and places the hamster inside. He even treats Ozzy to an organic carrot from his self-indulgent shopping spree.

“I need help,” comes a tiny but unmistakably pissed-off voice, and Reiner turns to face Jean.

Jean’s hair is in disarray and wet from the melted snow, and he looks on the verge of tears. His ankle is so swollen that Reiner has to unlace the boot before it finally comes off.

“Did you meet the final boss?” Reiner asks with a grin, and Jean glares at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you back in shape in no time.”

Reiner knows all about sprained ankles and injuries—his collection of ointments, painkillers, and bandages speaks for itself. But the extent of Jean’s injuries and his reluctance to show them surprise him.

It’s a long afternoon filled with yelling, cursing, and Jean begrudgingly letting Reiner help. Eventually, Reiner convinces him to shower and change into clothes two sizes too big. With his injuries taken care of—save for his wounded pride—they can finally rest.

Neither of them notices the worsening weather until the power cuts out mid-argument about what to watch on Netflix. That’s when they realize—they’re snowed in.