Work Text:
Another slow day surrounded by books.
He doesn't mind working of course, quite the opposite, but he's grateful to only have to talk when giving book recommendations or ringing up a customer. It's a local used bookstore with regulars who don't hassle or bother him at all. When he's not having a pleasant brief conversation about a recent release, he's shelving and organizing stock in the back. It's therapeutic and gives him space to think. After he's finished up all of his work, and nobody is around, he's free to read at the counter as soft music plays from an old CD player his grandpa gave him.
Armin couldn't have asked for a better job.
The doorbell jingles as Jean walks in. A couple of orangey brown leaves follow behind him. Sometimes, he tells Jean to wait outside as he finishes reading the chapter he's on, but Jean came in at a good time today. He sets down his book and waves.
"Hey Armin!" Jean is carrying two drinks. He hands one to Armin. It's his favorite: a tea cloud. Iced earl grey tea with steamed milk and simple syrup. It's a weird mixture of flustering and flattering that Jean remembers his go-to order. Armin takes a big sip and immediately feels better. His love of iced drinks sticks around even in colder weather.
Jean visits him almost as often as Armin works there. His grandpa has offered Jean a job multiple times, but he always refuses. He's never really elaborated on why, but Armin assumes he's somehow still hung up on "not being smart enough to work a job like this" which is a boldfaced lie anyway. Armin knows Jean is well read and studious. His grades stay in the top ten and often reside in the top five of their year. In the few times Jean has let Armin into his room, he's scoped out a number of books he's read himself. But, even though he does feel guilty when Jean insists on helping out with big restocks, he doesn't press Jean.
"Soo, what are you here for today? Me?" Despite his voice being laced with sarcasm, Jean still chokes on his drink. Armin can barely hold back his laughter. Though, a small and irritating part of him wishes for that to be true. He ignores it.
"Urgh, shut up you. I'm on an errand for my mom. She wants some old cheesy romance novel." He shakes his head. "I don't remember the name."
"Wow, that's worse than last time. I'm sure I could find you something, but you know your mom better than me. I'll need your expert opinion." He extracts himself from the counter and wanders into the romance section. He picks up a couple of duds before getting into better parts of the section.
His knowledge in the genre is lacking, but he knows a couple of sappy picks that would be appealing to the average middle aged woman reminiscing on the past. Most of these names are unfamiliar to him, so he's going off of a quick glance at their descriptions. He can't decide between a bigger book for a slow burn or smaller book for a fast paced drama. As he turns to Jean to ask what length his mom would prefer, an unassuming slip of paper falls out of the smaller book. They both see it happen. Armin bends down to pick it up as Jean walks over.
"What's that?" Jean peers over his shoulder at the folded note. It's yellowed, and when he opens it, the writing is written in cursive with ink.
"This must be a letter. And a pretty old one too." Each letter is written with precision and care, and the letter itself seems well kept despite its age. He looks up to see Jean squinting at the writing.
"Damn, I can't read this very well. You probably know cursive, right?"
"And you don't?" Armin smirks while Jean lets out a loud sigh.
"Aw, c'mon man. This is old timey cursive where they had plenty of time to make it completely illegible to the average person."
He feels Jean glaring daggers into his neck before he starts reading aloud.
"My love, I will hide this letter in the back of the book you are reading. I know you insist you do not read, especially not indulging in the drivel of the romantic (though I know you are quite a sap), but nothing brings me greater pleasure than seeing the way your eyes flicker through countless words and pages by candlelight when you think I am asleep. Will you read this letter with the same exuberance? I do hope so.
I cherish small moments like these where I can see your bright beauty enter the world, even as you sleep. I cannot look away. Truly, I think you are light itself. In the same way my eyes adjust to the sun as I exit my house every afternoon, I have to adjust to your presence on the daily. You are the sun. You represent warmth, light, and love. I suppose if you are the sun, I am the moon? Your burning luminosity illuminates me, and I would not shine with such splendor without you. Your love brings out my own beauty. As I am yours, you are mine. I could not be anymore happy to complete you in the same way you complete me.
I am a private person, and yet, I want to scream all of this love to the world. At least, I will scream this love into a letter for you. I love you. My heart is completely and irrevocably yours.
With everlasting love,
A"
"Woah." Jean seems unable to articulate anything further than that.
"This is clearly a love letter. And judging by the book's release date, it's at least a hundred years old." Armin pauses to think. "Still, I bet you can relate to whoever A is talking about, what, with your insistence that you never read."
"Oh yeah? "A" sure is a private person like you, huh?" Jean counters without any real malice.
It takes a couple of seconds, but they realize they're comparing each other to two lovers. They whirl away from each other as if burned. What is Jean implying about him? He's not sure he wants to know. Gosh, now that's never gonna leave his head.
"W-Well, anyway, I wonder if we can find more of these letters throughout the shop. I should close up for the day." Armin tucks the letter back into the novel and places it back on the counter.
The intense daytime glow pouring in from the skylight has shifted into a few stray golden rays seeping in through the front windows. A reasonable number of customers dropped by today. Armin puts back a couple of stray books, picks up other things that have fallen, and flips the sign on the door to "CLOSED" as he locks up. He walks over to Jean and notices he's inspecting the book.
"Did you notice that red mark on the spine?" Jean points at a small red dot. "Do you think this will help us find other letters?" Armin hums in agreement.
"Alright, I think we should start looking now. Since this book dates back about a century ago, and this letter has a date from around that time, we should probably stick to sections that have books from that era."
"Right. Even though this letter was a bit cheesy, it's cool to see history firsthand like this. I wonder what else we'll find." Armin points Jean to the mystery section, and then he scopes out the nonfiction section. He realizes he's going off of his own preferences, which by all accounts shouldn't have any correlation with this random person from a hundred years ago, but Jean ends up finding another book with a red dot. He pulls out the second letter from the back of another book. Armin rushes to Jean's side to begin reading more cursive, but this time the words are fast scribbles rather than precise cursive. Jean starts to read.
"My dear, I found your letter. It was a good surprise coming upon it at the end of my book. I know you called me a sap, but I am not. You have simply changed me into one. Your love possessed me and made me buy a book I'd sooner throw into a river than read a year ago. I do not regret this at all. After being around you so much and for so long, I have taken on parts of you. How could I not integrate parts of you into myself when I love you this much? Ah, but that is so embarrassing to admit. I have not changed there. (Though, I want to. Did you not feel awkward in that letter of yours spilling all of your feelings so easily? It seems I still have much to learn from you.)
I noticed you called me the sun in your letter. I find that hard to believe. Compared to your reserved introversion, maybe (ha, only joking). It made me feel so warm inside. I am not one for poetry, but I believe the sun looks forward to seeing the moon every night as it watches from below the horizon. After spending all that time burning, it must enjoy taking a break to watch the moon glow. I can certainly relate. There is nothing like seeing you talk about whatever is on your mind after a long day out. I love you so much, my dear. I may have trouble divulging this love to other people, but when we can, I know I will be unable to stay quiet about it.
I do not have much more to say. Just in case, I will say I love you again. I love you.
- J"
When Jean stops reading, Armin realizes he's been following too closely to think of any witty remark. He feels like he heard something he shouldn't have. The different ways Jean said "I love you" is echoing in his head. A strong sense of guilt is overriding the warmness tinting his cheeks. Jean never meant it to be taken like that. And yet. He read those words to Armin.
"They both have said they can't talk about their relationship in public, huh? I wonder if it's a forbidden love thing."
Armin jumps out of his spiraling thoughts. "Lovers between different races or social standings? Or maybe," he trails off without finishing. There's no way, right? This is going to be awkward to explain if it is. He hasn't even come out to Jean yet.
"Whatever it is, I'm having fun learning about it. It's like a scavenger hunt or something." Armin smiles at this. Jean is right, whatever it is, this is the most exciting thing that's happened to him in a while. Maybe he's misinterpreted something about what he's read. He does have a tendency to overthink. They continue looking.
An hour or so passes, and they've found quite a few letters. So many, Armin wonders how he never stumbled across them before. He guesses it's because he doesn't pay much attention to the really old books. Each letter has "A" and "J" talking about their relationship, how much they love each other, and lamenting about how they can't tell anyone about it. It's ambiguous, but when reading how they describe each other ("boyish charm" and "square jaw"), it becomes clear to Armin that these two lovers are gay men. Jean hasn't caught on yet. With the way Jean's reading all of these profound love letters, it's making Armin nervous. He's not sure how many more times he can hear Jean say I love you without saying it back.
Up until this point, they haven't found anything useful on the back of the letter. But, on the next letter they find, there are capitalized and bold small letters at the bottom right of the back that read "FINAL." They exchange an odd look at each other.
"Is this really the last letter? It feels like we were finally getting somewhere, and then it just ends? Like that?"
"Jean, I think we should reserve our judgements for after we read it, alright?" Armin says that, but he can't help feeling disappointed too. Why is the "FINAL" written so small? What happened to them?
He waves away these thoughts. "Hey, what if we read this "last" letter by candlelight in the dark? Wouldn't that make it all the more dramatic?"
Jean shakes his head in lighthearted exasperation. "Sure, sure. If we're going all out, let's go upstairs too." He seems to have calmed down some from joking around. Armin always remembers to do this whenever Jean gets uneasy.
Armin finds a fake candle in the back of the shop and brings it over to Jean. He raises an eyebrow as if to say "really?"
"I don't want to cause a fire!" Jean rolls his eyes and takes the candle.
Armin turns off the lights, and then the bookstore is enveloped in darkness. Their eyes adjust after a bit, and the candle helps. The moon is hiding behind a cloud, but some of its beams are poking out. They make their way upstairs and sit on a few pillows in a corner. Jean sets the candle in between the two of them. Even though there's a bit of space between them, Armin feels like they're way too close, but he can't bring himself to say anything now. They open the "final" letter with anxious anticipation. Since they've been alternating on who reads, Jean reads this time.
"My darling, my world, my life, no matter how many hours we work in labor, no matter how many days or months go by in captivity, I will always love you. I know you know my love for you, but I love telling you my feelings now. So much has changed from when we were young men sending shy declarations of love to one another. The law is cruel, but I don't want to hide this anymore. I understand your first letter to me so much better now. Even though you are smarter than me and keep us from spending years locked up, I can't resist going to gatherings with people like us on occasion. I guess your preference for loving me at home has saved us from being arrested on many a night. I'm rambling like you now. Oh how I love you! I simply can't get enough of you. Nothing will ever stop me, but this will be the last letter. From now on, I will whisper it to you away from nosy officers. Maybe I'll shout it at an empty field, morning seashore, or midnight clear sky, all with you by my side. Either way, this love carries on, and so do we!"
Armin stopped looking at the letter long before. Everything around him has faded away as he drinks in all of Jean's expressions and words. He realizes this is not enough to satisfy him. And it is never going to be. How could he go on like normal after hearing this? After hearing Jean say this? Would he say this to anyone else? The lines of what's past and present are getting crossed.
"And so I say, to whatever kind soul or souls who may pick up our letters, understand this. We are gay and in love. We are two gay men in love. In this time, gay love is only acceptable in underground parties where our people can congregate under the city between darkness and booze. But, we are just getting started. I swear, people will remember us, someone will remember us, even in another time. Gay love is not wrong. If you are gay, you are not in the wrong. Love will always be good. Seek it out wherever you can. - J"
"Armin, what do you think this mea—"
The words die pressed against Armin's lips. After hearing Jean say all of that, he couldn't help himself from kissing Jean at least once. Could they be like those two lovers?
Jean's lips are a bit chapped, but they're so much softer than he imagined. Their kiss lasts only a few seconds, but a few seconds is longer than he ever thought he would get. When he comes to his senses, he jerks back. Armin can't even look into Jean's eyes anymore. A hiccup escapes him as he feels tears building up in his eyes. What kind of expression is Jean making now? He can't imagine. He doesn't want to imagine.
"J-Jean, I-I'm sorry I—"
Jean kisses him. He kisses him. Oh god, he kisses him. It's warm and their breath is mixing. They're clumsy, but they're trying so hard to move together. Armin needs to get closer and for more and more. The feeling is burning him up from the inside. He feels as if he presses his lips any harder into Jean's he'll pass right through him. His arms have made their way around the back of Jean's neck, and Jean is clutching onto Armin's face as if he'll slip through his fingers at any moment. His eyes are closed, but he can feel the rest of his body lighting up with every sensation bombarding his nerves. He needs to breathe though. They pull apart panting with heaving chests.
Time falls back into place. Seconds, minutes, or even hours could've gone by within that kiss. He wouldn't have known.
The cloud in front of the moon parts, and the moonlight streams onto their faces. It's hard to see details in the dim lighting, but there's a faint red puffiness about Jean's lips. A strange giddiness settles in him. He did that. And also, oh my god, he did that. Jean kissed him too, didn't he? What does it all mean? His heart might beat out of his chest at this rate.
Jean scoots closer to him and brings his hands to Armin's face. Again? And so soon? He wishes he had more time to prepare, but at least he can close his eyes and—
He pinches both of Armin's cheeks. "Ow!"
"I can tell your thoughts are going a mile a minute right now. Do you think I'm dumb? You always get the same silly look on your face. You've had it on the whole time we've been reading these letters."
"I'm shorry..."
Jean stops pinching and sighs. "Look at me, dammit."
Armin opens his eyes and adjusts to the lighting again. He sees Jean looking at the moon with his hand in his hair. The light casts a white glow all over Jean's skin, and he can see a dark blush radiating on Jean's cheeks. Peering even closer, he can see the full moon reflecting in Jean's pupil. A beat passes, and then he turns to face Armin. His reflection is in Jean's eyes now.
"Have you figured it out, stupid? I love the moon. You get that, don't you?"
Armin's brain kicks into overdrive as he puts everything up until this point together. "A," private person, the moon, me...his face bursts into flames when he realizes what Jean means. There's no other way to rationalize it.
"Only you'd make me say something so convoluted and cheesy. And all because you think too much." To have Jean know him so well as to predict he wouldn't believe him saying he loves him straight out, it's too much to bear. This much love feels like being known. And it's so embarrassing!
He buries his face into Jean's shoulder.
"Are you trying to hide? How are you going to hide from me like that?"
He grabs Jean's hand too and laces their fingers together. Jean seems to understand.
"You're a real piece of work, you know that." He kisses Armin's head and turns off the candle.
All that's left is them, the moon reflecting the sun, and the love of those two lovers carried on.