Work Text:
They’d started out in that wooden shack full of cadets, all filling their stomachs and gossiping to their heart's content.
They were chest to chest, face to face, fuming with anger as they spat insults at each other.
He’d only been angrier when he saw the way that puny little kid so easily captivated and awed such a beautiful, strong girl.
It wasn’t even that he was in love with Mikasa. Sure, she was gorgeous, she was strong, kind, honest, talented, she was perfect. He wasn’t hopelessly in love with her, though, not like how she was with Jaeger. He just felt angry that Jaeger didn’t appreciate her more, he was angry because even if he didn’t want her too badly at the moment, if did have her he would love her and appreciate her like Jaeger never could.
By the end of the week, everyone in the 104th knew that Jean Kirchstein hated Eren Jaeger.
When Marco died, his mangled and lifeless body nothing but ashes in Jean's left hand, he couldn’t bring himself to hate Jaeger half as much as he used to. He didn’t know who else he was supposed to take out all of this grief, regret, and anger on, though.
At the end of the day, though, no matter how heated their fights got, Jaeger still would offer him a genuine smile.
Somehow, at some point, they’d become friends. Jean hated him, still, but only a little bit. Jaeger was a fucking asshole, and it was kind of impossible for Jean not to resent him.
When they traveled to Marley, and Mikasa had softly rejected Eren, Jean felt light and fluttery. His heart would quicken and his head felt light every time Eren looked at him, and god, he was terrified; because the last time he felt this way it ended up with a half eaten corpse staring into his eyes with so much terror that Jean felt it in his bones.
Eren had pulled him aside that night and confessed that he was thinking of making a stupid decision, one that would hurt everyone. He wouldn’t say what it was, but he just kept saying that things would work better if he did it alone, that they’d all be better off without him. Jean was furious.
“Have you ever thought about the fact that none of us would even fucking be here right now if it weren’t for you? And now you’re going to leave us!? You’re the most selfish piece of shit I’ve ever met. I hate you, Eren Jaeger, and I always will.”
They never spoke again, not one on one, but just as Jean had feared, it ended in Jean staring into Eren's lifeless eyes. They weren’t scared like Marco’s, they were just sad. Jean wasn’t choked up, he wasn’t sad, he was just angry.
Eren had left Mikasa alone, and of course, Jean would love her with everything in him, he’d take care of her for as long as he could. He told himself he wasn’t doing it for Eren, but sometimes he’d walk onto the balcony of their two story home and look at the stars.
“She’s safe, she’s okay, and I think she’s happy.” He’d say, and if the wind picked up and enveloped him in an icy embrace afterwards, it was just a coincidence.
Just because the war of the Titans was over, did not mean that war had stopped completely. Jean, experienced, hero of humanity, former member of the 104th and the Levi squad, was drafted when a new war began. After saying his goodbyes to Mikasa and their daughter, he’d gotten on a ship.
“I request a few hours before we depart.” He’d said to the captain before exiting the ship.
He rode the train that he had built the tracks for and crouched down at a lone headstone under a tree in Shiganshina. Abandoning any pride, all alone, he kneeled into the grass and rested his head against the grave.
“It’s a good thing we’re not soulmates. We’d never have a happy ending. That said, I wouldn’t mind the chance to love you properly, Eren.”
He left Paradis after that, and he never made it back.
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The bell tied to the door handle rang, and Jean peered up from where he sat on the floor. His hands, rough and calloused, held his battered old tools. He was attempting to polish them up a bit.
“Who is i-” A boy, probably the same age as him, kneeled in front of Jean and covered his mouth with his soft, thin hands.
The boys' eyes were the color of emeralds and sapphires melted together, swirling and pooling together behind a glassy sheen. His green and gold cloak covered his hair and his body, but his bright eyes, strong nose, high cheekbones, and perfectly curved and pinkish lips told Jean he was of a noble bloodline.
The boy glanced at the door behind them before tentatively removing his hand from Jean’s mouth. He brought a finger to his puckered lips, his eyes pleading.
Jeam, stunned, only nodded in understanding. He quietly got onto his hands and knees, crawling behind the counter that sat in the middle of his family's store. He fumbled with the piece of loose wood in the floor, hissing as his finger slipped and a piece of wood caught on his nail, tearing it in half. The wood flipped up, eventually, and Jean grabbed at the trap door handle that sat under it.
He lifted the trap door, which led to a poorly lit staircase, motioning for the boy to go in first. He looked skeptical at first, fidgeting and glancing from the main door, Jean's face, and the trap door. Eventually he shook his head and climbed down the stairs.
Jean followed him, attempting to shove the loose plank of wood back into place once he lowered the door. He had no way of knowing if it worked, but it was worth a shot.
They were swallowed by darkness for a few moments, and Jean could practically hear the boys heart rate picking up before he reached up and pulled on a cord, lighting up the basement in a weak, yellow glow.
He walked down the stairs, motioning for the boy to follow him. There was a candle and a box of matches sitting on a table in the corner of the room, so he lit the match and held it above the wick. It didn’t do much for light, but neither did the lone lightbulb he had turned on. It was definitely too old to still be working, and if it went out, at least they’d have the candle lit.
“This place is decently soundproof, so as long as we dont drop something or yell, we should be fine.” Jean commented, climbing back up the stairs to flip the lock on the trap door.
“Thank you.” The boy nodded. His voice was shockingly deep and husky, and when he pulled down his cloak, Jean could see his scruffy brown hair sticking up from the friction of his hood.
“So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or…” Jean crossed his arms, trying to look anywhere but at the boy. He was stupidly attractive, much more than any nobleman he’d seen before. Granted, he hadn’t seen very many.
“Uh… no, I’d rather not.” The brunette said, barely above a whisper.
Jean’s eye twitched. Who did this kid think he was? He runs into Jean’s shop, asks Jean for help, and now he wont even tell him why!
“I don’t need a fucking life story, but I’d like to know why I’m harboring a fucking stranger in my goddamned basement!” Jean hissed. To his surprise, the boy flinched.
“I… I’m running from some people. The place I lived was bad, but they’re all hellbent on keeping me there anyways. I just need to stay here until I know they’ve given up.” He looked at Jean with those stupid, pretty, pathetic green eyes and Jean sighed.
“How long?” He asked.
“Uh… a few weeks?” The boy answered, his voice breaking.
“Ymir, kid! Are you running from the entire Reiss-Jaeger family or something?” Jean exclaimed, shaking his head.
The kid didn’t respond, he only sat down and began unbuttoning his cloak. The deep green fabric slipped off his broad shoulders, pooling at his hips and draping over the edges of the chair he sat in. His shirt's laces were loose, revealing his tan skin and prominent collarbones. Jean pressed the heel of his palm to his eye immediately, because fuck no.
“Well, I can’t stay down here with you for the whole time, but there’s meat, bread, and cheese in the icebox. I’ll bring you a new pitcher of water every few days, so don’t drink too fast. Our well is running dry.” He explained, sitting down on the stairs.
Eren looked up and froze for a moment, simply staring at Jean. Jean could only see one half of his face because the candle sat directly to his left, and complete darkness enveloped the rest of him. Something about the way his wide, lively eye faded into pitch black, the shadows swallowing the other half of his face sent Jeans heart to the pit of his stomach. Jean didn’t know why, but he’d always had a fear of body parts being torn off. It wasn’t the gore that disturbed him, but something about it shook him to his core.
“You’re here alone, at this shop, how old are you? You look young.” The boy tilted his head.
“17. My father is overseas, and my mother is dead, so I’m watching the shop for now.” Jean shrugged, not particularly keen on elaborating.
“Oh, so am I.” Was all the brunette said in response. He looked away after that, seemingly dissociating.
Jean returned to the shop and continued on with life as usual, only going down to the basement every few days to give the green eyed boy fresh water and maybe share a meal with him. The boy was quiet, and quite rude, but so was Jean. They never exchanged names, but he didn’t really care to ask.
One night, Jean was up late working on fixing one of his shelves, when he ran out of nails. Naturally, he headed down to the basement where he stored everything. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw the brunette boy asleep in the chair, his head and folded arms resting on the table. Next to his head, there was a piece of paper, and a little jar of ink with a quill sticking out of it.
Curiosity got the best of Jean. He didn’t feel bad for snooping, why should he? He was feeding and housing this boy, and soon they’d never see each other again.
He picked up the piece of paper and read:
To, The Ackermans
I am currently sheltering in a very arrogant boy’s basement just outside Wall Sina. He’s got strawberry blond hair and a face that resembles that of a steed. Anyways, I’m only staying with him while I wait for the guards to give up their search. Once I feel the time is right, I will board a train and travel to the docks, sneak on a cargo ship, and find my way to your estate once I reach Marley.
From, Eren Jaeger
Jean was staring at the letter with wide eyes.
He’d been housing and feeding a descendant of Historia Reiss? A Jaeger, nonetheless? His stomach churned as the possibilities entered his mind. Eren would fetch a pretty penny on the black market- sure, but the Reiss-Jaeger family was probably offering enough to give Jean a comfortable life inside Wall Maria for the rest of his life!
Jean walked in circles, clutching the letter in his hand and devising a strategy. He could send a letter to the kingdom at sunrise, and keep Eren from leaving by locking the trap door. Sure, it was cruel, but he hated the stupid Jaeger boy for being so privileged that he would give up such a lavish life so easily. He despised the royal family in general, but this was just plain ungrateful.
He kept pondering, a shiver running up his spine as he thought of being able to open up a shop in Maria, a place filled to the brim with rich folks.
Suddenly, warm air hit the back of his neck. Very, very warm. Hot, actually. Jean jumped, turning around to see Eren, fury in his eyes, holding the candle that sat at the table.
“You’ve got a terrible habit of thinking out loud, you know. You should work on that.” Eren sneered.
Jean opened his mouth to speak, but the burning on the back of his neck once again drew his attention.
His hair! He reached back, trying to put the fire out, but the fire burned his fingers and he instinctively retracted his hand.
“Shit, that burns!” Jean was so distracted, reaching back to bat his burning hair, he didn't see Eren grab a knife from a pocket inside his cloak.
Jean put the fire out, but the skin on his neck and hands felt like it was melting, and tears blurred his vision.
All at once, the same soft hand that had covered his mouth only days ago roughly grasped his neck. Jean choked back a gasp, only for it to push its way out from his lips when a sharp pain shot through the base of his neck, just above where his collarbones met. Everything was going dark, and the blood flooding his mouth and throat sounded like waves crashing together in his ears.
His body hit the floor, his head bouncing against the wood planks, and everything went black.
His last thought before dying was that perhaps he should try harder in his next life.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jean walked into his place of work with a skip in his step. His dream would come true today. He’d done it. He’d earned his pilot's license. Today, he would officially fly a commercial airplane with passengers for the first time.
Jean has been working towards this for years, he’d wanted it since he was in pre-school, playing with toy planes.
It was about four in the morning, so cold out that he could see his own breath, and the hot coffee in his hands stung his freezing hands, but he was far too excited to care. He glanced up at the massive plane before him, tingles running up his spine.
Outside, standing by the stairs that led to the plane, were two people who seemed to be deep in conversation. One of them, he recognized as his mentor. The other, however, he did not. As Jean got closer to them, he could make out the sharp features of the unknown man. His brunette hair was tied up in a neat bun, and he was dressed in a pilot uniform. His eyes shifted to look Jean up and down before returning to the older pilot that was speaking to him.
His mentor turned around and sent a brief smile at Jean, reaching him out to pull him into the conversation.
“Glad you’re here, Kirchstein. This is Eren Jaeger, he’s gonna be your co-pilot.” Jean nodded politely at Eren, who gave him a wide smile in return.
Hours later, they were in the air, flying from Marley to Liberio. Everything was going smoothly, except for the fact that Eren was the fucking worst.
If Jean had to hear Eren call him ‘horseface’ one more time he would jump off the plane. Eren was annoying, rude, and irresponsible. Jean had no idea how he had made it through flight school.
Eren had a tendency to stand up and stretch right as they hit a patch of turbulence, and he would always fall over in the least graceful manner Jean had ever seen anyone fall. He was truly a dumbass.
Jean was going to request that they never worked together again as soon as the work day was over.
Jean’s request did not work out. Probably because he didn’t actually submit it.
Stupid Jaeger and his addictive personality. He was the most annoying bastard Jean knew, but Jean couldn’t get away! He was like a siren or something, but a platonic siren- well, semi platonic. He’d get this half lidded look in his eyes towards the end of the day and Jean couldn’t tell if he was tired or horny but it sure as hell made Jean horny.
Eventually, they started carpooling to and from work, and splitting the cost of a (two bed, mind you) hotel when they couldn’t make it back to their hometowns. It saved money, and made everything a lot more convenient, and that was absolutely 100% the only reason Jean agreed to it.
“Eren, you suicidal motherfucker, sit back down before you bump your head!” Jean snapped as Eren stumbled around the cockpit, giggling like a maniac.
Eren reluctantly sat back down in the chair resting his enblow on the dashboard so he could prop his chin in his palm.
Eren had a pointy ass fucking chin, in Jeans opinion. How did that not hurt his hand?
Jean rolled his eyes, then looked back out the front window of the plane. The clouds ahead were dark and heavy with rain, Jean noted.
“How much fuel we got left?” He asked Eren.
“Uhh.. we’re gonna refill once we land, there’s just enough to get us to Hizuru.” Eren replied before leaning back in his chair.
“Let’s hope this storm up ahead doesn't reach Hizuru, we wouldn’t be able to stay in the air and wait til it’s clear.” Jean grunted. Eren only nodded.
The storm did reach Hizuru, and Jean did his best to circle above and wait it out, but they’d be out of gas in the next 20 minutes, give or take, and they needed to land.
One moment, they were successfully making it through the storm and the next, all the lights went out and Jean's stomach flew up to his throat as the plane began descending rapidly.
“The electricity.. It’s out. We must’ve gotten hit by some lightning. We need to evacuate everyone before we hit the ground.” Eren said, far too calm for their current situation. Or, maybe Jean was overreacting. He had trained for his, he knew that his chances of dying were low so long as he followed protocol.
Eren was already speaking to the passengers, who were erupting into chaos. Jean grabbed his parachute, and handed Eren his. He was hyperventilating now, and his fingers were shaking so much he couldn’t work the parachute.
“Here, let me-” Jean slapped Eren's hand away, lashing out.
“Don’t fucking touch me! I’m better at this shit than you, know your place, Jaeger. I don’t need help from you!” Jean spat. When he finally managed to get his parachute on properly, he glanced out the window to see they were now flying face down, only a few thousand feet between them and the earth. The air pressure was going crazy, so Jean knew that the passengers were already evacuating.
He didn’t have much time, and it was nearly impossible to stand up. He and Eren both used the handles on the wall to climb towards the emergency exit. They were pushed up against each other, cheeks squishing together as they hauled themselves out the emergency exit. Jean's hand slipped, though, and as he was falling back into the plane, Eren's hand gripped his wrist.
Eren flung him forward and out the exit, and the last he saw of Eren was his hand slipping on the door frame, him flying back into the plain violently, and blood splattering against the white walls.
Jean screamed, shocked and traumatized. He didn’t even think to pull the string, and when he hit the concrete ground, he didn’t have time to scream in agony. He heard the splat and crunch and oh god that was his body, wasn’t it?
Jean decided that the third time was not, in fact, the charm.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jean was too young to understand death when Eren died. They were in third grade and Jean kind of hated Eren, but the boy was always chasing him around and talking to him anyways.
Jean was too young to understand death, and Eren was too young to understand why he wasn’t allowed to cross the street without looking both ways. So, maybe, Jean thought, maybe he should try to understand death.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jean had a new favourite hobby, and it was annoying the pretty barista at his local coffee shop.
His nametag said Aaron, but he seemed to always be covering it, so maybe the guy just hated his name. He sure hated whenever Jean used it.
“You’d be prettier if you got some sleep.” Jean commented, teasing the barista for his heavy eyebags and messily tied up hair.
“You’d be prettier if you shut up.” He grumbled in response to Jean's taunt.
He pretended to be annoyed by Jean, but he had his order memorized and ready for him every morning, so Jean doubted it was true annoyance.
The next day, Jean brought the Aaron guy a cup of black coffee from starbucks, because he’d mentioned one time that he hates the taste of starbucks coffee and wanted the entire chain to go out of business.
He wasn’t sure how to break the news to the grumpy barista, but that would never fucking happen.
The day after that, Eren put salt in Jeans coffee instead of sugar in retaliation.
Jean’s revenge was foolproof. He had his friend put a realistic temporary tattoo that said “Aaron” across his forehead. He waited outside the coffee shop until he saw the brunette go to take a sip of coffee, then barged in. When the barista looked up, he immediately choked and snorted the coffee out of his nose.
The next day, Jean expected something cruel, but all he got was a note on his coffee cup that said ‘it’s Eren, douchebag’.
Jean went in the next morning excited and unsuspecting, greeting Eren with a snarky, triumphant smile. When he went to pick up his coffee, though, the bottom had been carved with a knife, and it immediately spilled all over Jean, burning his skin and staining his clothes. That was too far.
Jean was pissed.
Stupid fucking barista with his stupid snobby name- who the hell spells Aaron with an E?! Snobs, that’s who.
He was so pissed, he started going to Starbucks instead, just to make Eren panic.
He went back on his first day of fall semester classes, expecting to see Eren. When Jean realized he wasn’t there, immediately asked the barista who was currently working the front.
“Oh, didn’t you know? Eren was only here for the summer. He lived overseas, he was just visiting family. He’s long gone by now. I can give you his number, if you want?” The barista smiled sympathetically.
Jean appreciated her offer, but he knew that it would probably freak him out to get a text from someone he once served coffee to who lives in a different country, so he shook his head and ordered his coffee. It didn’t taste the same, not at all.
A few years later, he saw on the news that the son of the founder of Jaeger & Co. died from an overdose. He switched the channel, that shit was depressing.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Titan Era was something Jean learned about in school plenty of times, and from his own parents. Apparently he was named after one of the great soldiers who helped end the war. He could care less about that history bullshit, though. It was thousands of years ago, and Jean cared a lot more about the present.
The present being making out with the hot chick from his AP Calc class.
“Hey, do you wanna come out with me and my friends after school? We’re gonna go skinny dipping!” She giggled. He couldn’t remember her name, but she was pretty, and who was he to say no to a pretty girl?
Her friends were all pretty cool, except Eren. He was an annoying prick and also really hot and Jean felt so confused because how could he hate someone's presence so much and still want to jump their bones? It made no sense. Eren made no sense.
At one point, Jean had jumped off the rope swing and landed uncomfortable against the water. He nearly drowned (embarrassing) and ended up getting saved by Eren (double embarrassing).
Eren dragged him back to their car to give Jean some water and oops, they had sex. It really was an accident!
The first time.
He didn’t like Eren, no, actually they got detention together frequently for fighting at school. They resolved their fights by fornicating like rabid animals in the janitor's closet.
Then, Jean's mom died. He was still 17, so he got put in the foster care system.
Jean was 17, motherless, and he wanted to fucking kill himself. So he did.
The last thing he saw before he passed out was a text notification from Eren. It was probably a nude or something. Jean was only good for sex. He’d be better off dead.
So he let himself fade away, and the text from Eren went unopened.
Truth is, Eren had only said “Thinking about you, and I kind of miss you, is that weird? I know we hate each other, but maybe we don’t have to.”
Eren assumed the lack of response was a rejection and that was fine, because fuck Jean anyways.
Right?
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jean loved his husband, he really did. He just had to remind himself that Eren loved him too.
Probably.
Maybe.
Or, maybe, Jean was about to have his world ripped to shreds.
But, hey, you only live once, right? He didn’t want to spend his life with someone who didn’t love him.
He took a deep breath, then opened the door to his and Erens apartment. He hoped with every fiber of his being that he was being crazy, but when the door swung open and he was met by the sight of his loving husband sticking his dick in some guy Jean vaguely recognised as a coworker, he broke.
On the news that night, the reporter told her audience about the tragic deaths of two men, and the arrest of one Jean Kirchstein, who had called the cops on himself after committing the crime of passion.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jean knew he was a bully, he knew he took it too far, but something about the Jaeger kid pissed him off. He felt a twinge of satisfaction every time one of his remarks would cause the boy's blinding smile to flicker out for a moment.
The feeling of his fist connecting with Jaeger's skin, the sounds of him choking and crying, they were so much more tolerable. Eren was more tolerable when he wasn't making Jean’s heart flutter, wasn’t making him feel sick to his stomach, wasn’t making Jean feel such disgusting things. Eren made him feel sick, and the only time he didn’t feel sick anymore was when he was hurting Jaeger, rather than listening to him and watching him.
Jaeger always came to school with fresh bruises, one’s that Jean knew weren’t from him. And everyone knew not to touch Eren Jaeger, he was Jean’s punching bag and his alone.
Jean, ever the observer, started teasing Jaeger about the fresh bruises.
“Did you daddy do that to you?”
“I’ve got to ask him for some pointers.”
“Good on him if he can actually shut you up.”
“He’s just trying to undo the damage of bringing your pathetic ass into this world”
Jean kept going at Eren until middle school, when he finally realized that he didn’t hate him, he just liked him. He liked him too much.
So, Jean avoided Eren like the plague throughout middle school, and he never made any comments when Eren would show up to class with makeup caked on his face to hide the black and blue that nested on his cheeks.
Jean avoided Eren so much, he didn’t realize that he hadn't showed up to school until it was announced on the speakers that he had passed away.
Jean felt sick.
Passed away, yeah right. Jean had a hunch about what really happened.
His hunch was proved right when he caught wind of the rumor spreading through school that Jaeger had tried to confide in the teachers about his home life, and they hadn’t listened.
It was confirmed when he saw that one of the local businesses had shut down, the one that Jaeger's family owned. He asked one of the neighboring businesses, even though he really didn’t want to know the answer.
“Didn’t you hear? Dr. Jaeger was arrested, honey.”
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jean Kirchstein, the failed author, the bankrupt business owner, the burnout gifted kid. That’s what everyone in his hometown said, and yeah, they were right, but it still felt like a stab to the gut every time he heard them whisper.
He decided that even if he was worthless, even if he didn’t deserve it, he’d treat himself to a break from the constant judgment. He gassed up his car, packed himself some food, and went to the city for the day.
There were lots of things to do in the city, but not many that were free, which is how Jean ended up at a public art gallery.
All the art looked dull and uninteresting to him. The only thing that intrigued him was the historical figures portrait section at the very back. Every painting was beautiful, felt alive, felt so real to him.
Queen Historia Reiss, General Keith Shadis, Commander Erwin Smith, Cadet Mikasa Ackerman. Every portrait brought him a comforting sense of nostalgia, like maybe he’d seen them before.
Maybe he’d come here as a child and simply forgotten about it.
He spent nearly twenty minutes studying a small sketch portrait of a man named Marco Bodt from the 104th. Every stroke of the pencil looked familiar, and the art style was so similar to his own. He found this far more beautiful than his art, though. Maybe it was the subject of the portrait, or maybe this artist was just far better than Jean. Maybe both.
He was startled when the click of boots against the marble floor alerted him to another person entering the sectioned off room full of portraits. Jean looked over his shoulder and observed the tall, broad man walking towards him. He was easily over 6’, and his long, waist length hair was tied in a half up half down style.
His ironed, expensive looking clothes and thick framed glasses told Jean that he was far more sophisticated and well off than Jean would ever be. Still, intrigued, Jean backed up, standing next to the taller man and looking to where the man's gaze lingered.
It was a large, proud painting of Ymir Fritz. It was eerie and unsettling, but captivating. She looked miserable, her eyes so dull and lifeless they may as well have been scribbled over to achieve the same effect. Her clothes were plain, her hair was straight and long, and her lips were pinched into a forced smile.
“You can see just from this portrait how miserable her life was.” The man next to Jean said aloud. Jean grunted in agreement.
The two men glanced at each other for a moment, and Jean's spine tingled.
They both looked over at a section that was all real photos, in black and white and quite messed up from years of simply existing, but still real photos.
The description above the photos noted that these were all taken of the 104th and their superiors when they visited Marley, leaving Paradis Island for the first time. There was one of a girl holding an ice cream cone, smiling happily while a shorter boy with a shaved head leaned in to take some of her ice cream.
The second one was a grouchy looking man and a taller person with an eyepatch who he couldn't decipher the gender of, but they seemed to be taking joy in the man's unease.
The third picture was a kind looking boy with a bowl cut and a girl with short hair both smiling. Under the photo, it noted that this was the only known existing photograph of Mikasa Ackerman, one of humanity's strongest soldiers.
When Jean reached the fourth picture, his heart stopped beating in his chest.
It was a picture of a man who looked achingly similar to Jean himself, with his arm thrown over the shoulder of a brooding boy who resembled the man next to Jean, just with shorter hair and no glasses.
Underneath, it read: “Jean Kirchstein and Eren Jaeger, the man who saved humanity and the man who nearly destroyed it, enjoying their day together.”
Jean looked over at the man. He was already staring at Jean, eyes wide with wonder.
“Eren?” Jean whispered.
“Jean.” Eren smiled. Everything clicked in that moment, and he knew he’d done it right this time.
They kissed, there in the museum, in front of the photos of the soldiers from thousands of years ago, and it felt like only a few days had passed since then.