The weekend whizzed by, and soon enough I was back in Shadis' classroom, reunited with my friends. The moment I walked into classroom 104A, a brunette smashed into me at full speed.

"(Y/N)!! We missed you!!" she continued talking excitedly as she pulled me into a circle with Jean, Connie, and Marco. "Last week Connie found the best fried chicken place ever— you have to come with us!!"

"Jean, maybe we go for your birthday," Marco chimed in.

"I dunno guys... that's like three months away," Jean scratched his head.

"We can't wait that long!!" Sasha yelled in fear. She called to Historia: "Historia!" The blonde girl looked away from Ymir, Reiner, and Bertholdt. Sasha continued: "Isn't your birthday coming up?"

"Yes," she blushed. "It's actually in two weeks."

Sasha's face lit up. "Great! How would you like to get fried chicken—"

"And have a party at (Y/N)'s house after with all of your friends?" Connie butted in.

I shoved Connie and whispered angrily: "I never said you could do that!!"
"Yeah, well, Historia's birthday would've been boring if it was just fried chicken. Besides, we'll need a break after finals."

"I'd love to do that with you all, Sasha! ... (Y/N)?" Historia asked, "Are you sure you're okay with throwing a party?"

I didn't want to be an asshole, so I agreed. "Of course! It'll be my pleasure. My parents are still going to be out of town by then, so the whole house will be free."

"It's settled then," Jean said with his nose in the air. "Round two at (Y/N)'s!"

Shadis called everyone to their seats and the school day began. My first Monday back since my injury started as usual: class would break for lunch, Jean would walk with me to my locker to pick up food while the others waited for us at our corner table, then back to class, and finally, we'd all walk home together.

On Wednesday, when Jean was walking with me to my locker, I saw Eren leaning on the wall a few spaces down with his arms behind his head, waiting for someone. His teal-green eyes flashed in my direction and then hit Jean. Upon seeing him, Eren got up and walked away. A minute later, Mikasa walked out of the Girls' bathroom looking around through the crowd of students and started panicking when Eren was nowhere to be found. She immediately sprinted down the halls to find him.

Jean laughed, "Jeez— I don't understand why the two of them won't get married already. It's obvious she's in love with him."

"Yeah, but Eren has to like her too for it to work, Jean" I replied stiffly.

Jean lifted his eyebrows, "Uh, yeah... Yeah, I—I suppose you're right," he said awkwardly.

Things with Jean had been going normally, despite what happened on our final day of the trip. We never talked about it, actually, but he didn't seem to hold anything against me. I guess he had a week to think it over before he had to decide whether or not he should be mad at me when I returned to school. He chose to ignore it, which was surprising, since the last time Eren had gotten close to me, Jean had freaked out. Underneath all of this "standard" stuff though, I could feel a sense of unease in him— a strain had formed in our relationship. But, some things are better left unspoken.

"Anyway," he changed the subject when we arrived at my locker: "I was wondering if you'd like to come roller skating with Connie and Sasha, and Marco and me." (If you're confused as to why Jean grouped Connie and Sasha together, it's because they're with each other so often that everyone basically referred to them as one person.)

I opened my locker and saw Eren's hoodie stuffed inside one of the shelves. I shoved it further back so I could fit my pencil case.

I hadn't talked to Eren since I had come back. I'd been meaning to give him his hoodie back for awhile now, but there never seemed to be a good time. Sometimes, I'd catch him looking back at me from the front of the class, but Shadis would yell at him before he could mouth anything to me. I had texted Eren multiple times, telling him to meet me after school at the fountain, but he never responded and never showed up. I guess he wanted me to approach him in public. That wasn't going to happen, though. So the sweatshirt stayed in my locker untouched. I wonder if I chased him down after school—

"(Y/N)?" Jean interrupted my train of thought. "Hello?" he waved his hand in front of my face.

"Huh?"

"Skating. With Sasha and Connie, me, and Marco. Tomorrow."

"Isn't tomorrow a Thursday?" I asked.

"Yeah— but, on Thursdays kids eat free. Sasha's building a fake child for her and Connie to bring."

"That's not gonna work," I sighed, putting my head in my hands. "Besides, the food is probably terrible there."

"Hey," Jean slapped me playfully, "don't insult my favorite skating rink."

I closed my locker and smiled back: "Whatever, Jean."

The next day after school the five of us met up at the bus station to head to the roller rink. Sasha sat with her fake two-year-old child, making it talk in a baby voice to Connie, who sat next to Marco.

"Okay Connie. You need to be as convincing as possible," Sasha said seriously. "Now, pretend this is your child. How are you gonna talk to it in front of the waitress?"

"Hi cutie-pie! Are you hungry? Yeah? Okay, how about Daddy orders you a plate of chicken tenders?" Connie said sweetly.

"No, no, NO! Connie, that's all wrong! We want pizza, okay? And, you can't forget that it's our child's birthday— meaning we need an entire pizza. For everyone. And try to convince them to give us dessert too."

"What if they notice that our kid didn't invite any friends?"

"You'll both be long finished with the pizza by then. I wouldn't worry," Jean chuckled.

He sat beside me, his arm hanging around the back of my side of the seat. Marco, Jean, and I placed $15 bets on whether or not Sasha and Connie's fake child would succeed. I bet that they'd at least get a free kids' meal, Marco— probably to be encouraging— bet they'd get everything they'd planned for, and Jean bet that they'd fail.

We waited in line to get our wristbands for the roller rink, Sasha keeping her fake child, now named "Jean 2", close at hand.

"I named it Jean because it looks just like you!" Sasha grinned. "You guys have the same face!"

"I don't have a Horse-Face!" he yelled.

The party went silent. "Uh, Jean?" Marco said, "No one said anything about you looking like a horse."

Jean turned around and bought tickets for the arcade to ignore everyone's attempts to hold in laughter.

"Crap!" I said, "I forgot to bring extra cash for the skates!"

"I can cover you," Jean offered. "Money won't be a problem after I win this bet."

"You're only winning like $30," Connie observed.

"Still more than you have in your bank account, Connie," he argued back.

We walked into the black carpeted room, arcade tickets in hand, smiling at the disco ball that send rainbow lights spinning across the wood of the roller rink. Music blared in our ears and the carpet was covered in stains, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. After we had slipped on our boots and headed onto the rink, Marco and I were quick to discover that we were the only ones who knew how to skate. Marco held Connie up during the turns and I pulled Jean off the ground when he slipped, which was often. Later on, Sasha appeared, finished with her food/child endeavors.

"You're back early," I commented as she slipped onto the floor.

"Jean 2 was a bust. When they asked him to tell them how old he was and he didn't reply, they got suspicious. Then, they asked him to smile for a photo, and his mouth didn't move for that either, so they caught on that Jean 2 wasn't real." She frowned. "But— for my efforts and extreme craftsmanship they gave me a free kids' meal."

I whooped. "That means I won! Jean, you don't have to cover me anymore."

"Well, it doesn't even matter cause—" Jean flipped onto his back and hit the floor. We never heard the rest of his sentence.

Sasha skated animatedly with Connie, while Marco herded them from behind. I was still stuck with Jean, who seemed to be getting worse at skating by the minute. He had fallen over twenty times by now, so I decided to develop a new method. Instead of me just waiting for him to fall, Jean would hold my arm and use my momentum to swing him around each turn at the ring, preventing him from having to lift up his feet at all. It worked the first try, but during the second one he lost his grip and let go of me. I extended my hand out to grab him without thinking, and his weight sent both of us crashing into the floor. I smacked my head onto the ground next to Jean's skate.

"Oh shit, your concussion!" Jean remembered. He put his hand on my head to check if it was okay. "How does your head feel? Are you hurt? Bleeding? Anything?"

I pushed myself off the ground and jumped back onto my skates. "I'm fine, don't worry. I think we'll have to try a different approach this time."

Jean looked at me questioningly as I helped him off the slippery wood. Once he was back on two feet he started rolling away. I grabbed his hands to hold him steady. His cheeks flushed while he pretended to admire the ceiling.

"This time, I'm going to put in the work and actually teach you how to skate, so you're not relying on me the entire time," I said. With a hesitant 'okay' I led Jean and I to the wall of the rink. "So," I continued, "It's quite simple. You just kind of walk, but keep your feet pointed a bit outwards. And, I'm a little extra, but I like to kick my feet back behind me a bit. I'm not sure if it actually does anything, but it feels like it helps. So, keep holding onto the wall and now you try. And don't forget to commit. Unless you commit, you aren't going to go anywhere."

Jean steadied himself and kicked his foot forward. He flew onto his back again. After a few failed attempts, he was finally able to somewhat glide. Of course, he still relied on the wall. It seemed every time that he gained enough speed to ride alone, he tensed up and backed off, sending himself flying.

"Jean, look at me," I said. He stared up at me from the floor, sweating slightly, his cheeks red from the hundred times he had fallen. "You need to commit. Stop backing out. I promise if you do, you'll be able to skate with me and Marco." I looked over at the three of them: Connie and Sasha had given up on skating and were playing arcade games while Marco chaperoned. "Commit, Jean. If you keep backing out at the last second, nothing will get done."

Jean thought to himself for a moment. It seemed he had faced similar scenarios to this more than once.