clementines. 🍂 a jean kirstein collection

heaven.

warnings : none!

a/n : i know I promised chapters of belonging and the new girl fic but. i have no excuse i started college and have been SO busy between socialising like a Normal Human Being and assignments I literally have no time but I heard this one (1) song from mitski's new album and yeah. that's it. thats all. maybe the real fics were the mitski songs we heard along the way. i hope you guys enjoyed this! 

song to listen to while reading : Heaven by mitski!

-🌼-

"so what you're saying is you'd rather kill a man with your bare hands than-"

"no! that's what you heard. i simply said something that's completely up to interpretation," you say, laughing. Jean's own laughter rings out in your bedroom, his presence creating a dip in your mattress.

"totally not what you were saying," he argues, still with a smile laced into his tone. you heard it, even if you were mockingly rolling your eyes.

"im simply the artist, jean, you can perceive what I said in any way. not my fault-" you say, cutting yourself short with a laugh as he scoffed loudly, "not my fault you want to see it in a negative light."

"yeah, yeah, you and your words. you're gaslighting me right now, I hope you know." he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. you laugh softly again, shaking your head.

"oh, look who's using his big words now."

he laughs at that, and you swear your heart almost gives out. making people laugh is an achievement in your own terms, but somehow, making jean laugh sounds prettier. it sounds beautiful, a sound meant only for your ears to listen to. he doesn't cover his mouth when he laughs, unashamed of laughing at your jokes, his shoulders shaking with the weightlessness of being with you.

there was a low warmth in your room. between the illumination of your soft orange desk lamp and Jean's imperial warmth beside you - your belly felt full and aching with laughter. you supposed thats how you always felt with him, full and light and aching just a little - enough for you to appreciate it. jean wipes the corner of his eye with his index finger, an action you take as a win. you hoped his own belly ached as much as yours did. if he didn't love you back, atleast he'd be in the same boat as you, and maybe that would be better than being in love with you. less of a liability, more of a space, the same weightlessness.

the end of his laughter forces a pause in your conversation-turned-banter. and for the first time, you didn't feel the need to fill in the spaces. the large gaps were already filled with concrete - the comfortability of each other. maybe that was better than being in love with you, less of a trap, more of an understanding.

you lay your head on his shoulder with a small smile still on your face. he lets you, as if your warmth was meant to entangle with his own, as if his heat was less of a home to him than yours was. he inhales, something you can feel, before he starts his sentence. his arms are still crossed over his chest, his hands laying on his biceps, his thumb doing the small and endearing thing it does; stretching away from his palm, almost towards you, like he's reaching out, fidgeting. his thumb taps on his bicep before he starts speaking. you close your eyes, content.