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The war memorial grounds were usually quiet but today the sound of rain filled it completely. Jean Kirstein’s boots crunched under the gravel pathway, his hands full with a simple but still beautiful bouquet of white flowers. He knew exactly where Sasha lay, not only because he’d been there before but it was more that it was in the newest set of tombstones. They were bright and pristine, even now they stood out as the rain seemed to be making them shine.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jean could have sworn he’d seen a sparkle upon Sasha’s grave in the distance. His immediate thought went to his friend, was her ghost guiding him to her?
“Now I know I’ve lost it…” He muttered under his breath as he walked forth towards it, telling himself it was just the rain and the sun playing tricks on him.
The rain suddenly let up and the sun appeared again. Another odd moment that made a shiver run down his spine as he approached the grave. He stood in place, hesitant to lay the bouquet just yet. Especially as the sun began to shine.
“Oh? So you control the weather now?” Jean asked the nonexistent Sasha. “Well if it is you stop being weird.”
Jean turned his head and had a quick look round to see if anyone else was nearby. He breathed a sigh of relief as he found no one. Deep down, he was glad no one else was here. Especially not Niccolo or her family. The scout officer didn’t know if he could take seeing them again so soon after the service. However, he’d promised Connie he’d take her some more flowers. So of course, he did it.
His hazel eyes scanned the engraved message on her memorial, he already knew it by heart from the amount of times he’d visited her. And he was glad to see the spot was still tidy and there were many more fresh flowers there too.
“Well, here you go, Sasha. It’s from Connie too. He bought them but uh, he couldn’t bring them to you today. Sorry.”
As he took a knee down on the grass to lay them, he flinched as he spotted somebody sitting, slouched against the other side of Sasha’s grave. Despite the initial scare, within moments, he knew who it was.
“Jeez, Mikasa, you scared me!” He let out, breathlessly, falling forward a little on his hands, the bouquet still in his grasp.
“…Sorry.” The girl replied in a whisper, her mouth still covered by the red scarf.
The man sighed, his cheeks flushed from being caught out talking to a grave, even though he knew Mikasa wasn’t the type to judge him or anyone for something like that, it was embarrassing all the same. He laid down the flowers before rising to his feet again. He gave the stone a friendly pat before turning his attention back to Mikasa Ackerman.
“No, I'm sorry.” He couldn’t help but feel even stupider for interrupting his friend's moment with their deceased friend. “I wouldn’t have started blabbering away like that if I knew you were here first.”
And then silence.
Jean’s fingers began to curl and uncurl themselves as he awaited a response from her. And then he heard the faintest sniffling. She was crying. And hearing that felt like his heart had been ripped into a million pieces. Without hesitation, he stepped around the grave and offered his hand out to her but she buried her face in her hands instead.
“Mika…” Jean crouched down before her, a gentle but firm hand went to her shoulder. “How long have you been out here? Come on, the rain is picking up again. You'll catch a cold.”
His hand went from her shoulder to the thick mass of black hair, he gently attempted to move her bangs out of her eyes. A sad half smile appeared on his face as he did so, it was hard getting used to her with such short hair. If only she hadn’t gotten her hair caught up in that-
Well, it didn’t matter much to Jean anyway, he still thought she was beautiful, just the same as the first time he’d met her. He remembered how she pouted after having to cut it. She’d spent the entire summer with a cute ponytail and most unlike Mikasa she expressed how much she missed her long hair to him. That was in a moment where he’d caught her trying to style it in the barracks. Jean had told her then that she looked great and that hair grows back.
He sighed as he realised she wasn’t ready to leave Sasha’s side just yet and so he took off his formal military coat and lifted it over his head and hers, to protect her from the rain.
It took Ackerman a while before she noticed the absence of raindrops on her head. Mikasa revealed her face and looked up at the makeshift rain cover. Her cheeks were flushed from her sobbing, her eyes glistening with unspilled salty tears. Seeing her grief reignited his own, except instead of tears his chest felt like it was encased in lead.
“Thank you.” She uttered.
“No problem.” He struggled out in a gruff voice, quickly removing his fingers from her raven hair. Ackerman shook her head.
“It’s not fair, Jean.”
“I know.”
“She should be-“
“Here… I know.” Jean nodded, he averted his eyes for a moment as they began to sting like hell.
“Why wasn’t it-“ She whispered.
“Because it wasn’t, Mikasa.” Jean said with a heavy sigh. The survivors' guilt had been plaguing them all one by one since her assassination. But the same phrase kept going round and round in his head: I wouldn’t let that happen to you. Even though he wished he could have saved Sasha just the same. “It just wasn’t.”
“I don’t like that.” She muttered, sniffing and looking at the man with disappointment for not having the answers to her impossible questions.
“Me either. Trust me.” Jean frowned, he reached his hand towards her and began to gently wipe away her tears with his thumb, the other arm still holding the coat above them. He swallowed down a lump in his throat that felt as hard as stone, losing a dear friend in their group had been inexplicably difficult and at times, Jean had found that he had been the one to continually pick up the pieces after them. But Ackerman? It hurt much more to see her like this. “Come on, I got you.” He instructed her in a tone as soft as butter. He stood and held out his hand for her. And of course, not wanting to be selfish or impose herself on anyone, Mikasa nodded and grabbed a hold of his hand and stood up. But quickly she buried her head into his chest, quietly sobbing while he discarded the coat and put both arms around her.
“Niccolo… They were supposed to be married.” Mikasa sobbed quietly.
Jean cleared his throat, forcing down the relentless lump that kept forming, threatening to break his strength he had built just for her. It was just too heartbreaking to think about that crazy Marleyan cook and his devoted admiration for his just as crazy friend. They proved that a union between enemies was possible. At least until now. Jean put his arms around her and without thinking he kissed the top of her head. Again and again.
And Mikasa didn’t think anything of it, except that it felt comforting. Needed, even. The war made her feel incredibly lonely at times. Eren was gone, Armin was putting his talents to good use. Even though she was the strongest of them all, she truly felt that in the last few months, she had been protected by Jean Kirstein. He knew she had a heart of glass behind the muscles. Lately, their relationship had begun to change, they’d both softened to each other, the affection between them had naturally increased day by day.
“At least they had something.” Jean said as he tried to muster up something meaningful for the Ackerman. “No matter how weird it was.”
“Yes.” She chuckled, despite her tears, “it must have been nice.”
His cheeks flushed as he watched her look up at him expectantly with those dark eyes of hers. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes studying her expression for any hint of permission for what he was about to do. And then she closed her eyes and without wasting any more time, he put his lips upon her own. She kissed him back with a reassuring force.
When they came apart, their eyes remained closed and Jean rested his forehead on to her’s. He needed a moment to recover from what felt like a thousand butterflies attacking his insides.
“I liked that.” Mikasa confessed, a warm smile forming on her lips, liking it even more after she’d declared it.
“You did, huh?” Jean opened his eyes and beamed down at Mikasa, their hands interlinking in a mess between them. “Something told me you would.” He confessed back, whilst his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.
“Sasha will be pleased.” Mikasa’s gaze turned to her friend’s final resting place.
“Did you want to stick around?” Kirstein asked, knowing he could stand all day and night in the rain if Mikasa wanted to. He hitched his coat on his shoulder, looking down at her only with admiration. Jean always had figured that Mikasa’s caring side deserved the utmost devotion. But that was just his opinion, of course.
She looked to the grave and then broke away from Jean, she knelt down and rearranged the bouquets, so they stood upwards against it. Something about it just looked better to her. And as she stood up again, Mikasa felt a little lighter, despite their clothes becoming damp in the rain. The raven haired woman turned back to Jean and shook her head.
Jean held out his hand in response and as she took it they began to walk along the path heading out of the cemetery.
“We’ll come back tomorrow?” She asked.
“Sure, why not.”