Work Text:
The air is thick and gross, at least that’s what Jean feels like it is ever since seeing all those bodies burn away into the sky. The smell of burning flesh present in his mind, in the air around him despite him being far away from the wall. Jean wonders if this is what nightmares are made of.
It’s been days since Trost, it’s also been a while since Jean made up his mind about which division to choose. Everyone in the 104th trainee squad was ready to make their way to their new headquarters, the Survey Corps.
The brunet was the only one not carrying his personal belongings, afraid to go into the barracks. He doesn’t want to walk in, bend to pick his pack from under the bed and see Marco’s sitting next to his. They were close friends, very close (he refuses to say they had been), and they had plans and silly dreams together.
When you live in the world they live in, you chase dreams. You try to stay afloat and not sink along with hope. So him and Marco found their bubble, the one that kept them going up. It was what they worked hard for, the dream that pushed them to graduate in the top ten of their class.
But Marco wasn’t here with him any longer. His bubble burst, his hopes and dreams were at the bottom of the abyss. Jean didn’t want to see that bag next to his but along with Marco’s bubble his own burst into nothingness. So he sucked it up and walked into the barracks to get the packs. Anything belonging to the deceased was going to be either donated if possible, or burnt just like their remains. Jean wasn’t going to let that happen to Marco’s precious belongings.
He grabbed the sort-of-heavy bag and flung it on his left shoulder as his own was swung on his right. Without looking around twice, Jean stepped out to the road of his new dream. The one Marco wanted for him.
~
The day had been exhausting. Jean and the rest of the group met their commander in person (he was just as intimidating as when he explained the Corps to them), and also their corporal (a short and just as scary guy).
They also got to see Eren again, which cheered most of them, but not Jean. So when the sun started to set, instead of gathering around the green-eyed brunet, Jean retired to his sleeping room. As he walked in and changed from his uniform to his sleeping clothes, the brunet grabbed his pack and pulled everything he owned out and shoved it into a drawer next to his bed.
His eyes moved from the drawer to the other pack sitting on his bed. The name tag with the last name ‘Bott’ sewed to it reminding him of who wasn’t there keeping him company anymore.
His fingers itched and he reached for the bag. Without thinking twice about it, Jean undid the buckles on the front and peaked inside, wondering what Marco held as his most important possessions.
Sitting on top of everything inside was a small brush, something Jean never used but Marco did all the time. Pulling it out, he noticed the raven-haired boy’s favorite vest. A smile broke on his face thinking back on how both always insisted on dressing in a similar style for no reason whatsoever.
Breathing in and then exhaling, Jean jumped on the bed and scooted to the middle of the mattress. If he was going to be nosy, he wanted to be comfortable while doing so. He grabbed the bag once more and carefully pulled the next item out; a small handkerchief with a pencil inside. When he put it down next to the vest, Jean noticed a piece of paper sticking out from one of the folds from said vest.
Unfolding it open, his eyes stared in surprise. The note had the message ‘You remind me of a strawberry-” scribbled on it with scratchy writing. It was a note he gave to Marco when the taller boy laughed at the stupid nickname Eren gave him.
The piece of paper was years old. He could still notice the folds from when he crumpled it and threw it at Marco’s head in irritation.
Pulling it down, he took all the rest of the clothing out before stopping on a shirt that sparked interest in him. It was his, Jean’s. He remembers losing it months ago, and then he had to do without one undershirt until now. His thumb traced the ‘JK’ written on the back of the neck, long faded from all the past washings.
Why was it on Marco’s bag? Maybe he found it when they were packing before Trost happened. That’s probably why it’s here.
Moving on to whatever was left in the bag, Jean pulled out an envelope that wasn’t sealed. He opened it and dropped dozens of carefully folded pieces of paper on his lap. His heart thumped in his chest harder, or maybe he became aware of his beating heart, he wasn’t sure. But the little squares looked familiar.
The first one he unfolded was a conversation they had about Shadis one morning. They had passed the piece of paper back and forth discussing whether the man was a terrible drill sergeant or not. The note was sort of random, and Jean wondered why Marco kept it, let alone hold it in an envelope folded carefully.
He read a couple more, realizing they they were all from him. One of them was about one time he wanted to kick Yeager on the face. Another one was about a day Jean needed to practice some one-on-one combat.
Jean didn’t want to come to conclusions when his friend wasn’t here to correct him, but this notes, they seem to have been treasured by Marco. For some reason his friend found the silly notes worth cherishing. It warmed Jean’s soul. He never felt cherished before in his life.
Taking a couple of seconds to calm his shaky hands, the brunet put all the pieces of paper back in the envelope and checked the bag one last time to see if he missed anything else. His hand reached in and it bumped with something hard and bulky.
Pulling it out, Jean realized it was a book. But as he stared at its leather wrapping, he remembers it on Marco’s hands some nights before they went to bed. The picture clear in his mind; his friend hunched over on the bed furiously writing before the lights were blown out.
He undid the small knot keeping it tightly closed and flipped it open to the first page. It was dated a few years before they joined the military training. The very first entry listed some items Jean had no clue what they meant: bread, goats, pants.
He decided to flip through the pages and noticed the entries were not daily. In fact, as he read a couple in a row, Jean reckoned they were all days in which something significant happened to Marco.
Curiosity got the best of him and Jean looked through the pages until he found the date when they talked to each other for the first time. His heart jumped when he in fact found an entry with the date and his name scribbled and underlined.
— Jean is not so bad after all.
He keeps getting in trouble with our superiors and picks fights with lots of other trainees, but I couldn’t help but to sit with him to eat lunch. I have noticed he likes, or rather prefers to sit alone. At first he ignored me but after I told him I wanted to be in the Military Police, he started talking back to me.
I think we’ll be good friends.
Jean smiled with a tinge of sadness as his eyes skimmed the rest of the entry for that day.
So Marco noticed he sat alone and decided to talk to Jean for that reason. It was- sweet.
Flipping through some more pages, he skimmed for his name and found quite lots of entries talking about him. As the content went from one unimportant thing to another, the stuff about him started to become prominent.
—Today Jean decided we will do all the chores together. I’m glad he was the one to suggest it. I like talking with him. He’s very smart and also funny.
He makes me laugh.
—Jean woke up taller than me today. It’s weird having to look up to his eyes, and he keeps making fun of me. Maybe I’ll wake up tall like him someday.
—Chief Shadis told both Eren and Jean to run a hundred laps for disrupting our training today. I purposely kicked chief’s ankle while practicing so he’d make me run laps with them. I only had to do twenty laps, but at least I got to keep Jean company. When I see him alone, it reminds me of the reason I spoke with him for the first time.
I keep having this urge to be by his side.
His cheeks reddened at that last entry, memories from that day coming back to him. Jean remembers feeling surprised when Marco ran up to him telling him he had been punished as well. It had been unlike for him to be punished. Now he knows why that happened.
This made the brunet want to read the rest of the diary, wondering what else he was going to find out about the raven-haired boy.
—The way Jean’s hair sticks to his forehead makes me wonder.
—He questioned me today why I don’t clean up with him but I didn’t know what to answer. I feel guilty for making up such a blatant lie, but he believed me and never questioned me again.
I’m sorry I lied.
Jean chuckled loudly at that entry. He remembers wondering why his friend refused to shower at the same time as him. He had asked Marco and the raven-haired boy told him he felt self conscious about his freckled skin. Jean recalls thinking that was an odd thing to be self conscious about, but at the time Marco was the only guy with freckles so he dropped the issue to not make Marco uncomfortable.
—I finally woke up taller than Jean. Now he looks up to my eyes when we speak.
I really like looking down to his eyes instead of the other way around.
—Jean’s eyes had a special shine in them when I told him what I thought about him and his abilities. I think it’s silly that he thinks so little of himself, that he doesn’t give himself enough credit. There is a possibility my feelings run deeper.
I like the way his eyes shine when he feels embarrassed.
—During practice Jean decided to fight with me and he ended up punching me hard on the face. He fussed and catered to my needs all day even though I was fine. It was so cute.
He called me his best friend.
—I love the feeling I get when Jean confides in me. I wish I could tell him he’s my most precious person.
—Jean made a joke about the Military Police uniform, it still makes me laugh. Everyone is telling me to shut up and let them sleep.
—Last night Jean and I promised to each other we would try hard to rank on the top ten trainees. If we do, then we get to choose the Military Police as our division. What I liked the most was him coming to my bed so we could whisper our promise. He felt so warm next to me, it made me wish I could wrap him in my arms but when we were done talking he went back to his bed.
I liked the warmth.
—I can’t believe I’m writing this but while Jean folded his clean clothes, I took one of his undershirts. This is so embarrassing, especially because I didn’t want it to get washed.
It smells just like him.
—Today all Jean talked about was Mikasa.
—We did it. Me and Jean will fulfill our promise to each other and join the Military Police. I can’t wait for the day both of us wear our unicorn jackets.
The smile on Jean’s face made my stomach flutter.
—Today I was told by Jean he wants us to be roommates when we go live inside the wall.
I can’t wait.
—I want to see his smile every night before I close my eyes. I will never tell him this is the reason why I walk to him to tell him good night.
—I love his smile.
There was no doubt this time that his heart was beating crazily inside his chest. Jean felt something tight in his throat as he read more and more of the entries. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows furrowed. Not noticing he went through the whole book, Jean flipped the last page and saw one last solitary entry. It was dated the night before they got sent to Trost. His lips trembled as his eyes moved from one end to the other.
—I promised myself to tell Jean how I feel about him once we leave for the Military Police.
I’m not waiting any longer.
Jean’s hands were trembling as his vision blurred from tears threatening to fall. His best friend, his most important person loved him. The person Jean trusted the most and felt safe and happy around was in love with him and he never knew.
Putting the diary down, Jean stared at the last entry until his tears fell and stained the words with salty water. He never knew, he never noticed. All the time he thought Marco was just as glad to have him as a friend as he was, not that he harvested deeper feelings for him. This was breaking his heart. He didn’t know whether he felt the same way for Marco, but now he’ll never know.
If they would’ve stayed friends or forged a love relationship was something Jean will never know because his friend is dead. All the awful things he felt while looking at the bodies burn flourished once more, making his shoulders shake and his hands grip his pants tight. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair for either him or Marco.
Looking down to Marco’s stuff spread around him, Jean started to put everything back in the pack one by one. The diary, the envelope with the notes, the handkerchief with the pencil and the everyday clothing as well. He left his undershirt, and the vest out. Staring down at the two items, Jean grabbed his stolen undershirt and shoved it inside the pack, leaving only the vest out this time.
He put the pack down under his bed and readied himself to go to bed. The tears started flooding back out when he grabbed the vest and brought it with him under the blankets. Blowing his candle out, Jean lifted the black fabric up to his nose and smelled it, remembering the warm and masculine aroma that Marco was.
The air was thick, but now it smelled of Marco. Jean laid there with the vest gripped tightly on his hand wondering what his friend would think if he saw him crying like this. Like he just lost the love of his life and he’ll never love again.
He’d probably laugh and pat his back, telling him to man up and be the leader he is.