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For the trainees, mail day was the one day of the week where they’d have contact with the outside world. Once a week, the instructors would hand out mail at their own discretion, and once a week trainees would drop letters in the bag by each barracks to be delivered.
Every mail day for the 104th trainee squad devolved into pandemonium. For the most part, mail days would start with eager, impatient trainees waiting for their letters, and end with eager, irritable trainees finally receiving their letters. Throughout the course of the day, half of the trainees would make the journey from impatient to irritable, with various stops at unwarranted aggression and explosive defiance. Additionally, this year around Shadis had to deal with both this journey from impatience to irritability and the consistent solemness of trainees who wouldn’t be receiving letters.
This mail day, Jean hadn’t lasted long. He’d gone from impatient to irritable in a moment’s notice, and everyone could tell. Shadis had the joy of making him run for four hours before he could read his letter. And when that torture was over, Jean quickly tore through his envelope to read its contents.
It was a response from his childhood neighbor, Peter. It would have been a stretch to call the boy a friend; most of their interactions consisted of constantly one-uping each other or punching each other out. Jean, being older, earned the bragging rights to harass Peter about how glorious his training was going. Or, at least, the small details about training that weren’t ‘I feel like I am going to vomit’ or ‘I am going to murder Eren.’ He hadn’t really bothered sending letters during the beginning of training, mostly due to the fact it wasn’t going swimmingly, but now that he had some interesting tidbits to show he’d actually sent a letter.
Jean valued honesty more than anything else; there was no use in lying about the pitiful future of the Survey Corps, or his selfish reasoning for joining the Military Police. However, Peter managed to play off his bubbling insecurities and Jean would always abandon his dedication to brutal honesty for terrible, see-through lies just to try and beat him.
In this case, it meant not telling the full truth in his first letter to Peter. The letter he’d sent wasn’t much; he’d just written about the highlights of training (Mikasa) and not about any of the problems (Eren.) Peter had responded with some generic best wishes and congrats, but added the taunting tag-along line of ‘I bet you’re not gonna have that girl by the time you got back.’
Oh, he bet.
Despite being exhausted by the end of the day, Jean managed to find the energy to devise a brilliant plan. Honesty was always thrown out the window by that little shit, and this time was no different. Values be damned, he was going to win. Grinning and gripping a pen in his hand, he scribbled a reply.
Peter,
Sorry to say, but you’re wrong. Dead wrong. I already got the girl; there’s a lot of competition, but I got her. Her name’s Misty. Pretty, too. Long black hair, mysterious eyes, perfect skin, like really not a spot on it, looks like she could kill anyone in about five second.
She’s the shit. Everything you’d ever want.
Training’s going great. There’s a lot of shits here who don’t understand anything about reality, but they’ll probably face it sooner or later. Might even die. In training. You’re lucky you’re not here, you’d probably have passed out and pissed yourself the first day.
Jean
Also you already lost your bet you have to pay up.
Delighted with his elegant prose, Jean shoved the letter in an envelope, into the mailbox, and passed out on his bed.
When he woke up in the morning, it took him awhile to realize what he’d done. He’d been occupied with shoving a boot on his foot when it occurred to him that he’d just sent a letter about a girl who didn’t exist- or he at the least wasn’t dating- to a guy who would want to know everything.
When his foot missed the boot and his toes hit the bunk, everyone wrongfully assumed that Jean’s flippant curses were due to a stubbed toe.
The next mail day, Jean skipped the eager and impatient stage, instead going straight to rage. Everything offended him; from Connie tripping into him, to the color of his breakfast paste. He almost got in a fight with Eren for blinking at him in an aggressive manner.
By some dumb stroke of luck, he managed to last without getting in trouble. And, being paired up with Marco, he shouldn’t have gotten in trouble in sparring practice. Sparring practice should go normally, and Jean would continue raging elsewhere.
However, Jean’s rage made it difficult for him to land any hits on Marco. Both were normally pretty evenly matched, but this time Jean either missed or had his punch caught and slammed to the ground. Marco had attempted to resurrect Jean’s pride by missing occasionally, but despite his best efforts Jean still fell flat on his ass.
After about five times of Jean crumbling to the ground, Marco finally crossed the bridge no one was willing to cross. Reaching out a hand for support, Marco gave Jean a look of concern. “You look like you’re about to snap,” Marco said as he pulled Jean up.
“You have really dumb bangs,” Jean retorted, avoiding the topic with skill and finesse. Marco laughed, and It stopped him from asking more, but not about giving those occasional, dumb, concerned looks.
The looks were warranted. When mail time came, Jean outright glares at his letter. He looks at it like he looks at Jaeger; a loud, offended rage. The other trainees made sure to stay away from him, and Connie made sure that he dragged Marco away from him.
He’d parsed through the missive three times. The little shit hadn’t believed that he had a girlfriend, and only because he didn’t want to share any sappy stuff. Jean, ordinarily, could make fun of Peter for ages for wanting to know more about his romantics, but not with his own integrity on the line.
Stomping off to the barracks, Jean grabbed- well, stole- some pen and paper from Armin’s bunk, and scrawled his response.
Peter,
Asshole. You don’t think I have a girlfriend because I didn’t share enough details with you? Well, here’s some sappy-ass shit for you.
We’re probably going into the same branch. As said, she’s pretty good at combat and fighting and stuff, so she won’t have a problem getting into the Military Police. Even beat me at sparring today, as little as I’d like to admit. Kept trying to make it seem like I had a chance, so she’s a bit too nice for her own good.
Other people like her too because she’s nice. And pretty. And I am dating her.
It’s great.
Jean
Satisfied with his work, Jean shoved the letter into the mailbag and stalked off to sleep.
Jean got his response late at night; Shadis hadn’t let anyone have their mail before the finished dinner and everyone was anxious. Slowly, Jean opened the letter and dove into his contents.
Jean sped through it once, and gave it a look of confusion, then a look of horror. This wasn’t his letter. Scrambling to the heading, not labeled with “Jean” or “Dick” or “Asshole,” but “Marco.”
Slowly, Jean lifted his head, and with a look of horror saw Marco looking perplexed over a letter that was not for him. Then, feeling even more like he wanted the ground to eat him up, Marco looked at him with a small grin on his face.
Jean mouthed “No,” or what looked like no. In reality, it could have just been his jaw dropping very slowly, but either way the connotations remained. You did not see that, said Jean’s face. Jean shoved the letter in his hand to Marco, waving it at him like a white flag.
Marco took the letter, and had the audacity to giggle.
“What,” Jean aggressively whispered, as much as he could whisper. Marco just rolled his eyes, which isn’t very potent as sarcasm since it’s Marco. It just made Marco look like he’s teasing him.
Marco tilted his head, “What about when he finds out that you made ‘Misty’ up? You can’t have a fake girlfriend forever.”
Jean glared, but it looked more like a pout. “Hey- it’s not like I’m going to ever see the little shit again. I’ll just brag to him that I got to the Military Police, he’ll never get in because he’s a little punk, and I’ll be off on my way.”
Marco didn’t seem convinced, but let it slide for the moment. He looked from Jean’s bunk to the rest of the room, then asked, “What if I tell them?”
Jean’s paused and then snorted, giving Marco a You wouldn’t face. Marco shrugged, then changed the question, “What if they find out on their own?”
Turning away from Marco, Jean huffed and replied in his most ominous tone, “They’ll never live to tell anyone else.”
Marco just laughed.
Looking, explicitly, at Not Marco, Jean began to read his actual letter. Peter ate the up the ‘fake girlfriend’, and Jean seemed marginally satisfied with himself. It wasn’t like he put a lot of thought into the letter, so he just had to be a magnificent liar. It was a strange revelation, oddly satisfying, disturbing, and deep in the back of his mind incorrect.
Still looking in the direction of Not Marco, Jean grabbed a pen and paper to draft his response. He had to keep lying at this point; there was no way out of this tangled web other than to tell Peter more stories about his fake girlfriend.
Peter,
You’re damn right that I’m not making any of this shit up. You’re just a sap for wanting this information, admit it.
Anyway. This week has been pretty dull. There’s this one kid- Eren- who’s a complete and utter idiot. He wants to join the Survey Corps. He’s going to end up getting killed. Immediately. Probably before he even graduates.
Got in a fight with him, too. I won, obviously.
Misty doesn’t really approve of the whole trying to beat Eren up thing, she doesn’t think he’s a complete idiot, but she doesn’t think anyone’s a complete idiot. It’s naive and shit, but whatever. It’s not bad, I guess.
Jean
P.S. Made out with her today between training. She has short hair, which isn’t the greatest but it doesn’t get in the way when we’re going at it.
Peter,
Don’t be grossed out by the fact I’m getting laid and you’re not. You’re just jealous.
And you should be.
But I’ll get back to the sappy-ass shit you seem to like. It’s a shitty thing that she doesn’t think Eren is the child from hell that he is, and it’s really naive but, other than Eren, she’s marginally good at reading people. You know, like, understanding their strengths. It’s sort of weird, but it’s nice. She also won’t take anyone giving me shit which is better.
Anyway. It’s not all smiles and roses. She’s a terrible bunk mate and snores like a fucking bear. You know how you always complained about your pa snoring? She’s like, ten times that. I mean, it’s not like I’m getting any sleep with her anyway….
Jean
Peter,
They totally have co-ed bunkers here. Don’t question it, it’s not that scandalous. I mean, they can’t really stop it. And by it I mean me.
Don’t know what sappy shit you want to know about today. We keep having team things with the 3DMG, and Misty’s always the one to look out for everyone. You know, like, she knows her shit but lets other people take the glory sometimes.
I’m sort of worried, really. I don’t think she’ll get into the Police if she keeps that shit up. She’s better with people than me but is too damn nice.
Jean
P.S. She has freckles.
P.S.S. Everywhere.
It was weeks since Jean sent the first letter, and now he had a growing collection of replies wrapped in twine under his mattress. He should probably get rid of the evidence, but, embarrassingly enough, it’s an ego-boost at this point. So he kept it hidden, and no one but Marco knows.
That is, until everyone else also knew.
People hadn’t actually given much thought to Jean’s mood changes on mail days. Sure, they noticed it, but it wasn’t something they particularly cared to investigate. They only find out after Connie made the terrible decision to prank Eren with a rotten egg in his bed, without the knowledge that the smell radius would be larger than a single bunk.
Since it was Eren’s bunk, and it was a dumb plan, Jean had been blamed and made to run laps and everyone else had been made to clean the barracks. Jean had protested gallantly, but they were all for naught as Connie ‘admitted’ to seeing Jean pocketing an egg when they were cleaning the kitchens.
Everyone else was left to clean out the rancid smell from the bunks. While an impossible goal, Shadis still insisted that cleaning the entire barrack would help. No one questioned his reasoning until they were in the safe comfort of a barrack that smelled repugnant.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” said Eren, whose cleaning makes more of a mess than there was in the first place. He tore off the sheets and threw them into a pile in the center of the room. “That jerk egged my bed and I have to clean up after him!”
There was a murmur of agreement in the barracks; the only people who didn’t seem to agree are Connie and Marco. Connie cleaned faced away from the others and uncharacteristically quiet, and Marco cleaned watching Connie and uncharacteristically sombre.
Marco shook his head, then looked around the room just to find the central pile of sheets. When Eren finished with his rampaging sheet-lifting, the pile needed to be shuffled out and washed. Looking to the rest of the group, Marco said “I’ll take these outside and finish them up. Leave you all to the smell.” With a small but vaguely forced smile, Marco hauled the mountain of sheets out of the barracks.
There was a long pause, before Reiner remarked, “Is Marco acting a bit… off?”
Another murmur of agreement sounded among the group, with Connie piping in, “Hey, it’s not our fault his boyfriend went and egged the whole place, right?”
“Damn right,” Eren mumbled. Now that he had no sheets to tear down, he’s busy scrubbing down the bunks. As he’s shoving over a mattress, the ultimate treasure trove splayed to the floor. Picking up the bundle of letters, Eren looked lost between opening them and shoving them back. With a shrug- the ass did put an egg in his bed, after all- he opened the letters, and then burst out laughing.
He wasn’t able to stop; everyone stared as Eren cackled in a terrifying manner only Eren could manage. He eventually dropped the letters on the floor so he can sit on the bunk and catch his breath.
Connie, while still uneasy due to the fact he really did not want the blame for the egg thing when Eren’s in this state, scuttled over to the letters and began investigating for himself. After reading the first few lines, he’s no better than Eren in his cackling.
The others look on in confusion, Connie finally stopped laughing. “Oh my god,” said Connie, “He made up a girlfriend.” Connie’s previous forlornness lay forgotten in the wake of this revelation.
Eren continued laughing even harder, and Armin picked up one of the more recent letters. While the gaggle of boys around him cooed and cawed at the hilarity of the situation, Armin scrunched his eyebrows and delved into the details of Peter’s letters. There’s a couple of lines that really stick out- I can’t believe you like freckles man, and how the fuck do share a bunk with your girlfriend? and typical that the only person in training that could stand you would be your girlfriend.
“Hey you guys,” Armin started, and the others looked over, eager to hear Armin’s addition to the cackling. “I think Misty is actually Marco.”
The cackling laughter subsided slowly, until the boys were all staring at Armin in confusion. Connie blinked owlishly at Armin, in a state of disbelief. “So Jean just based the whole thing around his friendship with Marco?” asked Eren.
Armin shook his head, “It could be, but, given Peter’s reactions, and the fact Jean really can’t lie, whatever feelings he wrote actually seemed genuine.”
“So it was a cover,” Reiner stated, and Bertlhold looked nervously between the two. Armin nodded, “I mean, he didn’t start writing until we’d already been training for a while. It would make sense.”
There was a pause as everyone considers this new information. Eren looked like he believes Armin but not what Armin’s actually saying, and Reiner looked like he’s about to say something when the door creaked open. All eyes turned in terror to the incoming visitor. Marco, carrying a bunch of freshly cleaned sheets, dropped them to the fate of a dirty floor when he saw the group, herding around opened letters.
The room remained completely silent. Marco breathed out, slowly, and the noise filled the air like a gunfire in the night. He wasn’t smiling. It was a mix between panic and disappointment. The group blinked in the terror of the moment, unsure how to proceed. Everyone was much too interested in watching Marco’s reaction of muted panic.
“So,” started Armin, and he was about to lead into a well-crafted and supportive message when Reiner interrupted, “So, you and Jean, huh?”
Marco’s muted panic becomes full-out panic, and he made a pained noise. It’s a noise that’s trapped between how did they know about that and how did they get that from Jean’s letters. This noise was widely misinterpreted as an admission, leaving Marco bombarded with ‘what’s, ‘seriously’s, and ‘why the fuck do you put of with that’s.
Marco, uneasy and most of all confused at this attack, just shuffled over and collected the letters. “Just-” Marco started, then looked between the curious and fairly frightening group, “Don’t tell Jean. I’ll tell him myself.”
The standoff was intimidating and lasted for longer than anticipated. Marco looked nervously between the group, and the group looked disbelievingly back at Marco. Marco just bound the letters in twine and shoved them back under Jean’s bed. The group dispersed soon after, to finish cleaning and to whisper among themselves. Armin kept looking toward Marco and trying to understand his reaction, while Connie convinced everyone that ‘don’t tell Jean’ meant that they could tell the girls.
When Jean came back from his laps, he was so exhausted that he didn’t even notice that Marco avoided eye contact and everyone else watched on with rabid curiosity.
The next morning, everything was weird. Jean noticed it from the get-go, when everyone who looked at him giggled and Marco wasn’t giving him straight answers about it, just saying they needed to talk later. Jean’s questioning didn’t continue for long, since they’re not paired together for sparring practice and he instead has to try and punch Christa.
She didn’t seem to be putting much effort into the whole thing, instead watching him carefully. Finally, as he gave an obviously fake punch and then muttered, “This would be easier if you actually tried.”
Christa dodged the obviously fake punch, and returned it with an obviously fake kick. “Eren found your letters,” she said, and Jean trips over Christa’s kick. As he spluttered on the ground, she lent him a hand that he ignored. Pushing himself up off the ground himself, he looked at Christa like she was holding a blade to his neck.
Christa talked to him lightly, like there’s some troubled emotional reason behind creating a fake girlfriend. “Listen- I know it might be difficult to tell Peter the truth, but it’ll be better that way. You’ll find more acceptance in it.”
Jean scoffed- acceptance in the fact that he lied about getting laid? He threw another fake punch, and Christa blocked his fist with her arm. This was pitiful. He was pitiful. Christa was just making him feel worse. However, she continued, despite Jean’s obvious lack of enthusiasm. “II mean! I’m sure Peter’ll accept the fact that Misty is really Marco!”
Jean stopped. He stopped and looked Christa in the eye with the look he normally reserved for Eren’s stupidity. “What,” Jean deadpanned, “I. What. I’m not- I’m not dating Marco!”
Christa just patted him on the back, “I’m sorry we found out this way- we shouldn’t have been looking through your stuff.’ Jean spluttered some, but Christa continued, “But it was really obvious who you were talking about in your letters, and you shouldn’t have to lie to anyone about that!” Christa gave him a small smile that was supposed to look reassuring. Then, she threw him a fake punch that managed to be harder than all the one’s he gave her, said “Good Luck,” and left Jean to gape alone.
Jean still hadn’t moved. Instead his mind whirred about how his perfect fake girlfriend sounded like Marco, and then the pieces began awkwardly fitting together. He hadn’t really been describing some wild fantasy girlfriend, he’d been describing Marco, down to the last detail and personality tidbit. That’s why Peter kept questioning his lies- not because the girl seemed fake, but because his initial fake girlfriend and transformed into a fake boyfriend.
Jean finally realized he was in love with Marco Bodt and he had no idea what to do about it.
It didn’t take long to figure out what Jean needed to do; it took longer to actually find the time to do it. He needed to just talk to Marco, but that was difficult when everyone in camp decided that they wanted to find out more information for their gossip train.
Connie pestered him continuously, using threats alluding to the egg fiasco to try and mine more information. Sasha would tag-team with Connie, coming up with some surprising and terrifying plans of action. Armin just apologized, frequently, for reading the situation incorrectly and causing this mess.
Eventually, both Marco and Jean had finally cornered each other, behind the barracks. Thinking the other was going to flee, Jean grabs Marco’s arm just as Marco reached to grab his. They’re stuck there for awhile, arms extended with Jean’s grip tightening on Marco’s wrist.
“I need to talk to you,” Marco stated just as Jean stumbled “We need to talk.”
“Um,” said Marco, as he looked from Jean’s hand to his reddening face. Marco had this whole thing planned out; he’ll explain the situation, both the fact that everyone thinks they’re dating and Marco wouldn’t mind dating, but values Jean’s friendship more than awkward feelings. He’ll say in order to hide the fake girlfriend from them for eternity, they can pretend they were dating. Then, they’d have an awkward break-up and be able to stay friends after the whole ordeal.
“I like you,” Jean attempted explaining, “I made up a fake girlfriend and it was dumb, but then over the course of time I mean I thought whatever this is a quality girl I’d like her after making up all these stupid details. And then, for whatever reason everyone in camp starting thinking I was dating you and writing about it in the letters but I wasn’t but I was and it took me awhile to realize it.”
Marco blinked, slowly. He knew he was starting to smile, but Jean didn’t really see it as he continued his bumbling.
“If you want, we can still get along normally and pretend we had some awkward break up about whatever and I can break up with my fake girlfriend too and we’ll just-”
And Marco laughed, just like he had at Jean’s idiotic retort in sparring. It became oddly normally for Jean to be laughed at, and it was strangely okay for him if it was Marco. Though, all things considered, this may not be the best timing.
Jean scrunched his face and looked away; Marco just continued laughing. It’s a while before it died down, and by that point Jean could feel his entire face heat up. Dropping his grip on Marco’s arm, Jean took a step back to flee when Marco grabbed Jean’s arm.
“I like you too,” Marco said and Jean looks at him with a disbelieving and slightly irritated face. Marco shrugged, not bothering to explain his earlier response, instead smiling softly at Jean. That appeared to work, as Jean smiles dumbly back.
There’s an awkward moment when both think the other’s going to lean in for a kiss, so they just stared at eachother for a while. Jean ruined the moment before either of them could actually lean in. “No one has to know, right?” he asked, “About the fake girlfriend thing. We could just say they were right and we were dating the whole time.”
Marco snorted, then scratched underneath his nose. “You can’t even kiss me, how do you think we can pull off pretending that we’ve been dating forever?”
“Hey- you couldn’t kiss me either!” Jean started, a bit too loudly. Marco placed a hand over his mouth and raised an eyebrow. Slowly, Marco moved his hand from over Jean’s lips to the side of his face, then leaned down until their lips met.
Jean’s reaction isn’t perfect. He’d obviously never done this before, so for all his bravado he starts pitifully. Trying to guide Jean into not fucking the kiss up anymore, Marco placed a hand on the back of Jean’s neck.Eventually, Jean pushed back against Marco, lips finally moving in what would seem like a kiss and hands tangled in Marco’s hair.
As they run out of breath, Marco pulled away and smiled down at Jean. Staring back, Jean remained flushed and flabbergasted at what just happened. Marco tilted his head and remarked, “I think that’s convincing enough that Misty’ll die with us.”
Jean blinked, hand unmoved from Marco’s hair. By that time, thoughts on the letters had been eradicated from his mind. “Maybe we need more practice,” he quipped, finally gaining some sense back.
“Was that supposed to be a pick-up line? Aren’t we supposed to be dating? You don’t do that.”
Jean groaned and placed his head on Marco’s shoulder, “Damn it, you’re going to laugh at me, aren’t you? I’m just being honest, you know.”
Marco didn’t contest either assessment.