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Armin finds me on the roof staring at the stars, tracing new constellations .
"I thought I'd find you here," He says, taking a seat beside me on the tiles.
"Happy fucking Anniversary." My words slur a little, though I'm far less drunk than I want to be. I swirl my half-empty bottle of rum, watching the amber liquid sparkle in the starlight.
Armin frowns and takes the bottle from me, taking a swig before placing it down on his other side, out of my reach. He only gags a little as the liquor goes down.
"Five years." He comments.
"Five fucking years." I agree.
We sit in silence for a moment. Trost is quiet tonight. The air smells of the flowers that lie piled around shrines and memorials all over the city. Candlelight flickers through windows. Occasionally, a mother’s sob is carried over by the wind. Hundreds- no thousands- lost loved ones when the titans attacked. And yet, somehow that was only the beginning. How many more will grieve before this war ends?
"Fuck, I miss them." I say finally.
Armin nods, then takes another swig of rum, gaging even less this time. "Me too."
"We lost so many that day. Thomas… Mina and Franz, and..." Somehow I still can't say it. Like saying it- or even thinking it- makes it real. As if it could get more real than holding his ashes in my hands.
"And Marco." Armin finishes for me, his tone soft and sad.
"Fuck." I say again, pressing my face into my palms. Why him? God, why him?
"You miss him a lot, don't you? You hardly talk about him, but I see it in other ways..."
"I still fucking look for him at the mess hall," I confess, voice raw, definitely just from the liquor and nothing else. "I still hear his fucking voice mixed in with the others, like if I just turn around I'll see him laughing at one of Connie's stupid jokes. Sometimes when something happens I think about telling Marco. Then I remember seeing him in that alleyway all over again, and I just... Fuck! I can’t fucking stop seeing him like that. All... broken and... cold." I feel my eyes prick as my lungs constrict. Marco, always so warm and bright and whole, reduced to a cold corpse in a pile. His beautiful face turned to ashes in the wind. The whole world has seemed darker since.
"You two were very close. I don’t think any of us even realized how close until... after."
"I don't think we even realized. It just sort of... happened..."
"Did you... like Marco?"
"Yeah. Obviously."
Armin blushes. "I mean... Did you LIKE like him...?"
I sigh and drop my hands from my face. "Fuck, Armin, I loved him."
"Oh."
I look away before he can catch my gaze and stare back at the stars, willing the tears away. Marco always loved the stars. I never cared much back then, I just loved watching him while he watched the sky. I wish I could go back and listen to him prattle on about stars and planets just one more time.
"Did... he know?"
I think back to the first time I held his hand. The first time we sat under the stars and talked the night away. The first time he kissed me.
"I… I always thought I'd have more time. I was… scared. I didn't want to loose him, but I was so scared to admit how I felt. I thought once we were safe in the interior, once I proved myself, maybe then we could…" I trail off, thinking back to my parents and our tiny village of busy-bodies. I had been so afraid of them, so desperate for their aprroval. I hadn't wanted to risk that. And then our time ran out.
"He was good at reading you, Jean. I think he knew, even if you couldn't say it."
"It's not the same, Armin. I shouldn't have left him guessing. I should have told him, and now… It's too late."
Armin looks up at the sky, pulling his knees to his chest. "After my parents died, my grandpa told me they would always be with me, watching over me, even if I couldn't see them. We used to talk to them, late at night when I was really missing them. We'd tell them about our day and how much we missed them. It… helped, somehow. Maybe it's not too late to tell him how you feel."
Armin stands. "I have to get some sleep." He picks up the bottle of rum and pours it over the edge of the roof. "No more drinking tonight, alright? It's dangerous to do that alone."
I frown at him. "Hey! That was expensive!"
"Goodnight, Jean."
"'Night, Armin. Thanks… for checking on me."
"Any time."
Armin disappears and then I'm alone again. Just me and the stars that remind me so much of the freckles I'll never get to see again. I wish I had known, then, how precious those peaceful moments were. Just him and I, tracing pictures on his skin, listening to his voice.
"I love you, Marco." I whisper my confession to the stars, hoping that somewhere, somehow, he hears me. "I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to tell you. I… I'm sorry."
I break down into sobs. I haven't let myself cry like this since that first night in the barracks, when the bitter taste of ashes- his ashes- was inescapable, the image of his ravaged face still fresh in my mind. But that's not what I see now. I see his big brown eyes and goofy smile. I remember tasting his mouth for the first time. I remember the feeling of his arms holding me, making me feel safe even when the world was hard and cruel. I just want to feel him again.
Suddenly I feel a tiny warmth on my shoulder. It spreads across my back and down my arms, pausing my shivering sobs. I rub my eyes and look around, chest still heaving. The roof is still empty, but the warmth remains. Slowly, I move my opposite hand to my shoulder. I can feel the wamth there still. I rest my hand on the spot and squeeze. Maybe Armin was right. Maybe he is watching me. And maybe, just maybe, this is his way of saying 'I love you too.'