Chapter Text
Jean Kirstein was never one to sugar coat things. He had angered too many people with his pessimism, pissing anyone off that had the displeasure of talking to him; and he’d do it again.
What else could it be; was it his tone, his face? Now that he mentioned it, he had been told he always looked either pissed or bored. Not many people want to have a conversation with someone like Jean apparently.
The thing was, he did want to hold conversations with others, but people never had any topics he cared to talk about.
Small talk about the news and the weather bored him to death, and everyone was too scared to delve deeper. Topics about themselves, their own ideas and thoughts, hell he could even entertain the idea of Titans if it intrigued him enough.
Though, nothing seemed interesting to Jean. He wonders when he turned out this jaded.
Maybe it started from the beginning? As a child, Jean was timid and shy, a complete 180 from his current personality. He changed when he was being bullied for his chubby appearance almost daily.
(Kids never held back when they would tease Jean. They would mention about his chubby cheeks, his rounded belly, his ‘ugly double chin’. The list goes on.)
He would come home crying to his mother about what this kid said, what that kid did to him, it never ceased to end in his early adolescence. His mom would often comfort him in her arms, followed by a plate of his favorite meal; a freshly made omelet.
The coddling did not help with his bullying; he had come to realize that when it was mentioned to a group of kids in his class, and they reacted by calling him a ‘mommas' boy’, as if his weight wasn’t enough to joke about.
Jean was a momma’s boy as she always had his best interest in heart, telling her son how special and amazing he was to her. (That may have caused his ego problem, but at least it wasn’t his true drawback.)
Along with that, maybe another reason for his jaded personality was when he had to say good-bye to his father once Wall Maria was invaded through Shinganshina.
Jean could recall that day easily, though the memories of his fathers’ face had begun to grow hazy in his memory; their relationship already strained from Jeans constant need for coddling and reassurance.
Jeans father was more of the macho-silent type and views men as such.
Still, the news hit Jean like a fucking freight train. His father didn’t have a choice in joining the mission to reclaim the wall as it was ordered by the King. His dad finally broke the news to Jean and his mom at the same time, failing to realize how that could be a problem; especially when they sat next to each other.
As soon as Jeans dad withdrew the letter from his pocket, Jeans mother began to cry, recognizing the recruitment papers. Seeing his mother like that frightened Jean. He was only ten years old as he watched his mother rush up to her husband, yanking the paper out of his hand to attempt to rip it up.
All Jean could do was stare at them.
He’s leaving?
Like... for the military?
For the Scout Regiments?
His eyes never left his parents as they both started to yell and freak out, not paying their son any mind while they were focusing on each other. The screaming didn’t help for Jean to process the severity of the situation, sitting stone faced until his parents were red in the face with hoarse voices. Jean didn’t eat dinner with his parents that night.
It took until tomorrow evening for everyone to talk again about the situation. It was futile to argue against going, the military needs soldiers. The reason why there was shortage of soldiers was they people don’t want to be recruited; hence the Kings orders. While they all sat around at the dining table, eating silently with tension in the air, Jeans dad suddenly spoke to him.
He remembered the words to this day; “Jean, I’m not gonna beat around the bush. I may not make it back with the reclaiming of the wall. I know you and your mother are devastated, but this is an important mission that I need to do. The military mentioned they will compensate for you guys' while I’m gone. But... just promise me one thing.” His father leaned towards his son, eyes serious as he stared at his only child, only son. “You will be the man of the house. No more getting picked on, no more being pushed around, you will learn to fight, stand your ground, and pull your weight around. You can’t get by without working, you have to be tough.”
Jean could only stare in shock as his father sat back up and continued to eat his meal, his mother who looked as though she was trying not to cry into her own bowl.
The next week, the dreaded week, Jean and his mother sent off Mr. Kirstien with tears in their eyes, whispers of safe travels and ‘be back soon’. When his father was ridden out of view, Mrs. Kirstein couldn’t hold back and let her tears roam freely off her face. She already misses him.
Jean held back and hugged his mother in his arms, comforting her as he held his own tears back. His mother was short enough to lean onto ten-year-old Jeans shoulder and soak his linen shirt.
The tears never stopped since then.
Jean wasn’t daft, he was observant enough to see his mother's grief-stricken appearance, her dazed out expressions when she would cook and do chores, it was all obvious to her son. There was some nights Jean would peek into his parents' bedroom and see his mother cry and hold onto her husbands’ left behind clothing to her chest, her frame wrecking with sobs that made Jeans chest ache. She was in pain, and Jean held on for her when she needed a rock, he had to be strong for her.
It didn’t hit Jean until he was trying to do his chores, his father's chores.
While working one day, he made a mistake. Jean was trying to busy himself by moving a large pail of river water he had to drag about a couple miles, Trost being a huge city with hard access to bodies of water. His body was small, barely able to do the labor-intensive tasks he was required to do, but he persevered. He kept on cursing under his breath, pissed off that his mother would ask him to carry one of the largest buckets they had to fetch water.
Fuck this, his arms grew heavy, burning all the way to his shoulders and back. His calves were on fire as well with digging his feet into the ground for leverage. The sweat that soaked Jean’s shirt made his skin itchy, clinging tightly to his body adding more to his discomfort.
What if he just drank a little bit of the river water? A tiny sip would only be enough. His throat felt dry as he panted in the heat. Jean had only made it half the distance towards his home, shocking the kid as he could tell this took longer than it would have if his father had helped him.
While Jean spaced out from the sudden thought about his father, he didn’t notice that the pail got caught on some rocks and tipped over. Jean turned quickly and reached out to straighten the it up, but he already lost nearly all of the water from the pail.
He stared at the water that seeped through the dirt and grass, trying to process what had happened. He was tired. His body was aching, deep aches that he felt for weeks that bruised his bones. Jeans eyes felt his eyes tear up, even though he didn’t feel upset about knocking over the pail.
Anger. Sadness. Disappointment.
Jean wasn’t feeling any of those things, he couldn’t feel at all it seemed like.
For weeks, his mind was filled with cotton, unable to focus on the stress his body and mind had been holding onto. The shock from his fathers’ recruitment still didn’t feel real, his absence not helping Jean gain closure.
He had thought about talking to his mother about his father to maybe bring clarity, but remembering how sad she got anytime her husband was mentioned had made him feel reluctant to express his feelings. So, he kept his feelings to himself to spare his mothers.
As he bent down on one knee, movements slow and shaky, he felt something click, and then the tears came.
And they came heavy.
Jean hovered over the puddle he had accidentally made and let his tired mind unravel. He... he spent so fucking long dragging this heavy ass thing home. His mother needs it to cook and do laundry tomorrow. Fuck...
It became real, the emotions rolling over his body, his back heaving into a crescendo of sobs spilling out of his tightly pressed lips. He couldn’t hold it anymore, whining to the ground while grabbing fistfuls of dirt and squeezing. After a couple seconds, he threw the dirt back to the ground, his face reddening.
He let his emotions bubble over, not caring if anyone could hear his wrecked sobs, his screams, or even see him punching the ground that wasn’t mud.
Why him? Why his dad? Why did his dad have to go to the stupid military and leave his family behind. Why did he leave Jean behind with his mess?! He couldn’t handle this grown work; he was just a child that was breaking and the only thing that he could remember was his father's words at that moment.
“You will be the man of the house. No more getting picked on, no more being pushed around, you will learn to fight, stand your ground, and pull your weight around. You can’t get by without working, you have to be tough.”
The crying lasted for a few moments longer than Jean cared to remember. His throat was hoarse from the screaming sobs, his eyes and nose were swollen and red, even his fists were bruised and slightly bleeding from punching the ground. There was no one to blame for the feelings Jean was experiencing, the military had a good reason to recruit his father, they couldn’t refuse.
The Titans need to be stopped.
As the feelings came crashing in waves, the tides start to settle, leaving wreckage along the shoreline to clean up later. The water was still disturbed, but it was manageable.
Jeans breathing evened out from his harsh breaths and his tears seemed to have stopped. He wiped the tears and snot off his face, picking himself up off the ground before he held the pail handle and went back towards the river. His body was heavy and ached, his eyes throbbed too, but his mind finally felt clear and empty.
Jean walked all the way back and grabbed another pail full of water, not caring when he returned at dusk and was promptly yelled at by his mother for worrying her. She was happy her son came home in the end.
The days got easier; the routines settling comfortably for a few months. That was until Mrs. Kirstein one day opened the door to Garrison soldiers with grim faces and horrible news. His father was gone.
There was no proof of his safe return when him and a group went off to search around Wall Maria’s Forest. Infact, his whole group wasn’t anywhere to be seen after. There was a report of some titans spotted around the woods a few hours later.
They drew a conclusion.
The screams his mother let out rattled throughout the house, even alerting confused and concerned neighbors about what happened. Jean came down the stairs in a panic to see his mother clinging into the arms of the officer, letting him know that it happened, the thing everyone feared most that would happen to their loved ones. That was the second and final time Jean cried about his father.
Everything had changed since then.
After that, he didn’t let kids bully him so easily. He started to hold his ground as his home life became the catalyst to his anger. His temper grew short when the usual kids would poke and prod at his sides, calling his squishy, piggy, good Titan meat. Jean swung and didn’t miss. He regularly fought, though it became less of bullying and more of defending himself from the other kids. He had promised his father he wouldn’t let himself be bullied again.
Then came the growth spurt and hormones.
That added the cherry on top.
It happened when he just turned eleven years old, his baby face had slimmed out to show off a rather defined jaw line, his cheek bones high and poignant. His body grew leaner as he was getting used to his new responsibilities.
Jean had to do all the tasks as the man of the house; which included all the manual labor and repairs his father used to do. Even that short while when Jeans mother fell ill and bedridden, he was the only one to help her out and pick up her chores like laundry and cooking. He made sure his mother was taken cared for until she returned to good health, which only increased her doting on him after she got better.
She always argued about having her young son help her when she was bed ridden, but Jean didn’t see anything wrong with it. It was his responsibility anyways.
That was when his mother smiled at him fondly, asking when he grew up so much.
He couldn’t give an answer.
Within that moment, Jean became more aware of his peers around him. For some reason, he was feeling some sort of superiority for growing up faster than the rest. Even when Jean would fool around like an actual child should, he couldn’t help but think he was still more mature and better than the other children.
This may have been the time he changed completely.
Jean soon developed his own morals and opinions with no guidance from others. It didn’t matter if everyone around him didn’t agree with him, he was already confident with his own beliefs.
That was why when Jean told his mother he was going to go to the military as soon as he could, he held his decision with an iron grip; even if it meant seeing his mother cry again. He almost backed down, but he resolved that this would be a better life for him, and hopefully for his mother as well.
He promised her that he only planned to go to the Military Police. Safe inside the interior, away from the Titans, away from the outer walls, safe from any more grief.
The day he was officially enlisted and received his trainee uniform, he never felt so sure in his life.