Work Text:
It was another day. That’s how he saw it. Jean had stopped counting days, stopped measuring time. Time was no longer existent for him. He used to be reallyconcerned about time-passing before that fateful day. He used to be scared that more time would go by and he wouldn’t have the opportunity to tell the person he loved the most in this damn world how he felt about him, to cherish every moment they could together, because they both knew how cruel their world had become.
So they clang to eachother, they were eachother’s safe place, a home even.
Marco had called him that once "his home", a place where he wasn't afraid in or at least a place where they would understand and accept eachother's fear .
Just days passing, that's how his heart had decided to measure time until his death. There was nothing else he had to wait for anymore, much like before he started his relationship with Marco .
He couldn't remember exactly the time he realized he had feelings, that kind of feeling, for his friend. He would always think of it as something pre-existing in him, a force that was bigger than his sense of duty and pure professionalism, these feeling he would say, just needed to be surfaced , and they did...they absoloutely did .
He wasn't ready, although he knew that he would never be ready for something like that, not really . Their world had made it clear that the people who live in it would never be ready for what life would throw at them. So he had risked everything.
He had never regretted that, and he would never, ever.Because of that risk he had earned the privilage to sleep and wake up next to him. His love, the most prescious existance for him .
Marco would sometimes ask him if he was really worth it. Jean would just smile kindly and without a hint of hesitation say yes, every single time, and every time he meant it even more .
He ate, barely . Mikasa would always make him eat and he would always surrender when she brought up that Marco is still watching him and that he doesn't like seeing him like this . The truth is, he would give in just so that she would stop mentioning him. He hadn't talked about him. To anyone. Ever. Everyone knew, he was aware of that much, but, he believed, that they didn't really know about their relationship . They might have thaught htey were just lovers, but it was so much more. And honestly , he didn't want them to know. Marco was his and he...he was Marco's and Marco's alone. He had never and would never belong to someone so fully and unconditionally as he did to him.
So he ate and he slept, whenever that was possible.That's all he did besides fighting.
Days were passing just like that.
Jean repressed everything. He thought it was the most appropriate thing to do.
It seemed to him that it was usually really sunny these days.
He didn't enjoy sunny days, he hadn't before and he hasn't since. He would get hot and sweaty and feel trapped inside his body.
Marco used to say that he preferred the rainy days. According to him, rain always cleared out the sky and bu nightfall, the stars could be seen shining so bright, as if they were right above his eyes . Jean quickly picked up on that idea of his, without noticing at first, but at some point he realized that the time he spent star gazing with Marco had been the most enjoyable moments of his life .
Marco's freckles were his biggest turn-on, not only sexually . It was the first thing he had noticed about him.
He would always see them as constellations. His face was an endless beauty, resembling at that the night sky. The constellations made him believe in something, in the person that was standing right beside him and made him believe in whatever force, fate, Marco would say, that had not only brough this angel in his life but also allowed him to share his soul with him, to become his home .
The real question for him had always been why?
What good had the universe owed him?
He wasn't worth of Marco's love, he always believed that. Although, whenever he would express his doubts about this particular issue, Marco would gently take his hands into his own, kiss his knuckles and place them on his cheeks .
He would let him touch him, or more accurately explore his face and sometimes, for split seconds, Jean would think that it was possible to find himself in those constellations, as if he was a vital part . Maybe he was only a single star. but still important enough, for without unique stars, constellations wouldn't exist.
He ate and he slept, and that was another day gone, and another, and another.
All, sunny days he wasn't interested in. They reminded him of the day he had lost his other half.
It was such a bright day that Marco had wished that it would rain the next one, so they could go up the rooftops and just be with eachother . For as long as they could, as long as this world would let them.
He had nothing left of him. Nothing that would prove that he existed, that he was real and not just a creature of his own imagination.
Nothing.
Nothing, except his memories, the realness of which he sometimes would even doubt himself...but then again, there was somehting else .
A letter. An unopened letter from the love of his life
It was given to him by Annie a few hours before he had found his body. She had told him that Marco wanted he to give it to him.
He didn't know why.
Why her? And why a letter?
It seemed like he knew he was dying. But still...why Annie?
She didn't say anything else.
When? Where? Why? Nothing.
He couldn't understand that, no matter how hard he tried. Marco was never that close with her, not that Jean knew of anyway.
Questions. Questions that remained unanswered. Questions that would always hunt his mind.
Better than what hunted his dreams. That face. That beautiful endless galaxy, a see of stars that he wished to see again, at least for one last time.
He knew that Marco would have wanted him to open the letter when he felt ready, ready to hear his lover's words.
Jean had no intention of ever opening it, from the moment it was handed to him he knew that there would never be a good enough time to do so . Nor he wanted there to be one.
He would think of it as a way to heal himself, despite also knowing that something like that was truly impossible . So he kept it as a reminder of his lost love. "Maybe , he believed, if I never open it, it'll be like he never left me. If this letter remains unopened, then so does my heart." A heart not only opened, but brutally broken and shatteres into pieces.
A year had past since that awful sunny day and even in autumn and winter the weather had been "kind to them" as Sasha said.
To those words Jean would reply
"It depends on how you define kindness".
That was probably the most he had spoken in months. No one demanded he spoke more. The have lost family before, they know what it's like to loose someone, especially under those kind of circumstances .
Bert and Reiner sometimes went to sit near him. They didn't say anything, they would just sit there. Unmoved. Silent.That silence, Jean felt it to be...guilty. As if they were to blame for what had happenedto him. Maybe he thought they had taken it as their duty to protect Marco, as a part of the team.
Whatever the silence was or wasn't , Jean didn't think twice about it.
He didn't think anything at all. His mind was empty end at the same timeso full to the point he wanted to scream.
He never did. Once again he thought the time wasn't right. Until it was, he would cage everything in.
Days kept going by.
Time seemed to pass so quickly for everyone he surrounded himself with, but for him, time-passing had become a slow torture, pure suffering that would , at some point lead to his eternal release .
He wasn't so much "suicidal", as some would call him, he just didn't mind dying anymore.
Jean knew that Marco would have wanted him to keep on living for as long as he could, even if it was only so that he would be able to save another human being, to help humanity become a better place .
Jean agreed with that concept on some level. He mostly thought that if he could make the world a better place than it was, a place that doesn't separate soul mates or destroy families, and make you doubtful about your every move, then yes . he wasn't opposed to living through, or better surviving, another day.
He didn't even know when he had fallen asleep, he didn't care either.
Jean hardly slept anymore and the few times he did, he always woke up from nightmares...always nightmares .
They hunted him, even when he was awake. He used to describe unpleasant experiences of his every day life nightmares.
No, this was so much worse, mainly because they all started by giving him hope, and hope in this world was like a drug or a sick idea that somebody would use to manipulate you, and despite knowing that...he always fell for it . Every. Single. Time.
So he dreamt about his dead boyfriend being alive, he dreamt about them being happy, being together . Sometimes he begged to whatever God there was that he did not wake, that he would stay like that forever. But, like most things in life, what one wants is not what one gets.
So it always ended
And always in the most crude way possible
He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment with the love of his life. But when he opened them he was disappearing.
He watched him, it was as if he was an ethereal existence made out of sand and beautiful flower that you blew in the wind and were gone in mere seconds .
The only thing worse than watching Marco leave him over and over and over again was the scream.
The scream of his own name coming from the mouth he had so delicately touched with his fingers and had so passionately kissed time and time again .
That's what absolutely destroyed him.
Yes, that was by far his worst nightmare.
Days passed, and even more days.
Jean had fallen asleep and he was dreaming of Marco again.
He was at the good part of his dream still, resting in his boyfriends arms.
He suddenly got interrupted by hands that were shaking him back and forth, bringing him back to reality .
He thought of Armin as a little brother. One that he should protect and he sometimes felt like Armin understood him, at the point he could of course.
Jean cursed under his breath.
Marco used to hate that, because he knew it meant his love was feeling vulnerable and he felt the need to calm him down.
But Marco wasn't here anymore, another reminder , as if he needed one, so Armin didn't comment on the swearing and waited for Jean to get ready .
The way he was dressing was pretty much a routine by now.
He could hear the blonde boy rant about the day that was ahead of them.
Armin told him that they were going to train inside that day because of the rain and after the training Commander Erwin had ordered that all the corps were to meet .
"Is there a specific reason for th-", Jean cut himself of. He kept repeating Armin's words in his mind and he kept stumbling on something...
" because of the rain"
it's...raining
Jean run to the window nearest to him and looked outside.
He couldn't actually believe it, he didn't allow himself to do so.
He walked to the exit door and extendes his arm to open it, expecting to see another boring sunny day.
He didn't.
The rain was so heavy.
It was like hundreds thousand of shreded diamond pieces were falling from the sky .
Marco used to say that, when you would watch the rain in the right way and see this exact sight, you could understand why this specific phenomenon was called by many "tearfall" .
The tears of all the people that had died, leaving a loved one behind.
That's how they's let them know that they were still there, right beside them.
Jean let out a breath he didn't notice he was holding but immediatly after that he felt his throat shrinking.
...the rain
Marco...
He swallowed so hard, to hold back the tears. He thaught he would pass out.
His mind travelled back in memories, memories that were not enough for a lifetime lived without their protagonist . At that realization Jean felt like he couldn't move.
And then he remembered.
The letter.
He thought about it all day.
He had to stop himself from abandoning everything and going up a roof to feel the rain pour down on his naked face and feel as though Marco was with him .
No, he repeated to himself.
By the time that, normally a sunset would appear, the rain was falling still, like a few sprinkles from the afternoon sky .
His day was pretty much done. He went back into the cabinet and unlocked the drawer he had, so neatly , put that letter in.
He thought of that letter to be a part of his heart, forever to be sealed .
Only it didn't.
It was nightfall, he had climbed a roof, the roof, the one they would always sit on together.
They would talk, and flirt and tease each other...and kiss.
Getting lost in each other.
Everything was different now. He was by himself.
It hadn't rained in so long.
He was telling himself that he had forgotten what it felt like, and maybe he really believed that at the time.
But when he looked up, everything came back to him.
The breeze that touched his skin, the humidity that pierced through it and reached his bones, making him shiver .
The view when he looked down. Seeing everything and realizing how small things were when being looked at from a different perspective .
The sky.
Trying to explain how Jean felt upon looking at this night sky - so clean and full of stars - would never do justice to such breathtaking view .
And above all, him.
He was...he was everything, everything to him.
Sometimes while listening to Marco's words about the stars, he would find himself on the verge of tears.
How can a man like this exist?
How can a man like this love me of all people?
How can a man like this...die.
Jean slightly shook his head, as if remembering why he was up there and more importantly what he was holding.
Marco always said Jean was the most "indecisive stubborn" person he had ever met. Jean only now understood why.
He had convinced himself never to open that letter but...right then he swore on his love for that beautiful boy than nothing would stop him from reading it .
Maybe the sky made him brave.
He carefully opened the envelope and as soon as he got out the letter he smelled it...him
it smells just like him.
He knew he would never be able to describe such a distinct smell.
It had the aroma of everything he had dreamed of in his life.
When he had tasted this unique smell for the first time, he had hoped that,that would be the scent of his future.
"Well that's not happening, is it?", he bitterly thought to himself.
It was time, if he didn't do it that day, he never would.
He unfolded the paper and stopped breathing as soon as he started reading
"My love...", it read.
Jean felt it, the pain. The pain of knowing that from now on he would only hear those words in his mind, in the sound of his voice...his and only his.
My love,
It is a beautiful night right now. I'm sure you're reading this after a rainy day, on the top of the highest roof, our roof. So I thought it's only right that I make it feel like we're together right now.
always a hopeless romantic , Jean thought
For some time now, there is this idea in my mind that something is going on, concerning three specific individuals . I can't help but think that. God help, if I'm right, things in regards to the titans, are going to be far more complicated than we initially expected . As you already know, I prefer always being prepared , hence why I'm writing this.
The thing is, I dont want to talk about that stuff.
At a moment like this I want to talk about us.
Jean, I...
I wish that a simple "I love you", would fix everything. I want you to know that if that was true, if that was the case, I wouldn't have written anything else on here, I would have put "I love you" over and over again, so that it would be ok .
But, it won't, I know it won't...No, actually I could only imagine what it would be like. Loosing you. I couldn't have bared it Jean and that's only one of the reasons I've always believed you were tougher than me.
Jean, my Jean...I had thought, of so many things I could say. But now that I'm actually writing... I can't remember a damn think apart from your smile.
You always asked, what was the first thing I adored about you, since I knew that for you it was my freaking freckles. Well, it was your smile, (not the one you put on when you're being cocky) the one you shared only with me.
He chuckled, in inspite of himself, tears reaching the finishing lines of his lips
I've always thought, that it was mine to keep forever.
But this cruel world we are forced to live in, thought in right to take our forever away.
I won't let it Jean, I won't.
Neither will I, Jean whispered
I will always belong to you, I...
I don't know, I don't know what to say my love.
I'm sorry. I am so so sorry I couldn't protect us and I am grateful that it was me and not you.
Marco...
My Jean, I love you. I love everyhting about you.I love the unique colour of your eyes and the way the widely opened the first time I used sarcasm with you . You were so taken aback, I could tell. Your lips parted to say something, but they never did. You kept staring into my eyes. I thought I would explode.
I had imagined what kissing you would be like, but nothing could compare to what I felt at that moment. it was so unexpected and at the same time it was like...
Jean would never forget that moment, it was the happiest of his life, it was a promise
It was like I was destined to kiss your lips that time and all the times that followed.
I wish I could kiss you right now Jean. I wish I could hold you in my arms
I wish I hadn't caused you so much pain.
You're so stubborn, that you would argue for hours about whether I am worth of all you have to go through after my passing .
Stubborn. My indecisive stubborn.
I think , you're the only thing I will miss, my love.
You know, you never answered me if you agree with the "tearfall" theory. I hope it's true, although I'm quite sure I'll soon find out.
Jean, don't cry too much for me okay? You shouldn't anyway
Neither should you
Knowing you, you are blaming yourself for whatever happens to me.
I beg of you my Jean, please don't.
It's only done.
The only thing I wish I could do after I'm gone is keep telling you how much I love you, even if it would take a whole eternity to believe me...
I love you...
I love you my Jean
I love you so much, it hurts every moment of my existence with the sweetest pain.
Jean knew this pain all too well
I want you to know, I don't regret meeting you, knowing you, "falling for you"
Marco never like using that term since he felt like it was more of a " fly" than a "fall", Jean smiled
I don't regret us.
I never had and I never will...
And I hope you don't either, because Jean... you are the best thing that ever happened to me.
You are beautiful in every way possible and as you would say "I'm so lucky I found you"
Jean remembered all the times he had told him that. Yes, Marco never believed in luck, only in fate.
P.s. Please do me a favour, love, and tell them I forgive them, all three of them. It wasn't their fault, be sure to tell them that.
Forever Yours, Marco
Jean couldn't move.
His body ached.
His heart felt like it shattered into a million pieces all over again.
But then again, constellations are made up of broken pieces...
So he cried and he screamed his lungs out.
For hours that was all he did.
When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of rain.
So much rain that no human being could survive.
But there was no other human being there, it was only him and the rain.
And when he woke up it was another sunny day.