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Jean pulled his scarf up around his nose and mouth, keeping the frigid air out as he walked through Karanes. There were too many things on his mind, too many worries and fears. He heard someone catcall at him, the occasional brute who thought he could insult the Recon Corps without reprimand, but kept walking… he wasn’t even sure where he was going or what he intended anymore. Everything was too much and too little all at the same time.
Marco. His shoulders trembled and he nuzzled his face further into his scarf. Losing his best friend was a shattering blow, and knowing that all his decisions since had been guided by that… would he be proud? “Huh?” He glanced up and could have sworn he saw a familiar undercut ahead of him. “Marco?” He blinked and it was gone, vanished into the crowd. I swear I saw him. He pushed his way forward, hoping to get to the shop where he’d seen him and stopped to look around.
There he is. It was a quarter profile, the angle of his nose and cheek barely visible as he turned away and looked at a merchant’s wares. “Marco!” He said a little more loudly, only for the figure to turn away. “Marco please!” He was stopped by a horse and buggy, looking beyond it longingly even as people muttered around him about how he’d gone mad and ‘All these Recon Corps and their nutters’. Have I gone mad? But there it was again, smiling as it turned. “Marco!” He finally made his way to where he was and found only dirt on the ground.
He’s never coming back. He felt his shoulders shake again. I’ll never see him smile again. I’ll never hear his voice again. His eyes burned as he stood in the middle of the street and he lifted his hand to rub the tears away. Shit. He looked up just in time to see him turn and nearly threw himself into the alley where he had gone, knocking someone over in the process.
“Agh!” Jean reached out and grabbed the figured before it could hit the ground, jerking him up to his chest in reaction. “Oh shit I’m so sor--” He looked down to see Armin’s eyes lifting from the coarse fabric of his cloak. “Sorry, Armin.” He searched his face for a moment before the blonde smiled warmly.
“It’s nothing, Jean.”
Was this what you were leading me to? Were you trying to tell me to find someone to be happy with again? He let Armin go, flushing a little at his clumsiness as Armin reprimanded him playfully. Thank you. He could have sworn he’d seen his smile in the shadow of the alley as hot tears burned his face, his friend catching his hands gently. He didn’t even ask, holding him as he cried, supporting Jean as he had been for a while now.
Support he needed more than anything.