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The city picks up sound beneath the terrace. Vendors bargaining, children playing, and drunks arguing. Across the street, wind breaks through the line of flags adorning the chateau’s roof. The smell of baked bread carries from the local pizzeria on the lower floor.
Jean breathes it all in, a blend of rejuvenation and confusion filling up his lungs. The vibrant atmosphere brings him peace, more than he’s used to, but he can’t remember for the life of him how he got here. Fingers tap along the small dining table he’s seated at, his only company a bottle of whiskey, a bottle of soda, and a combination of the two drinks in a half filled glass.
He takes a sip. The ice presses against his lips, the liquid rushing down his throat like a bird taking flight. It’s only now that he realizes how parched he is. It’s been too long since he’s had something to drink. Or had something to eat. That bread’s heavenly aroma taunts him from below. Perhaps he’ll head down and purchase some.
Soft giggles sneak up behind him. The sliding door to the terrace is slightly ajar. He was under the impression he was alone. He starts to head inside, but pauses once his hand wraps around the doorknob.
If Jean has no recollection of how he got here, then he can’t be sure of the situation he’s walking into. What if this is someone else’s flat and he somehow wound up here as an intruder? It seems unlikely. Jean doesn’t break into homes. He works to keep his people safe, not terrorize them.
More giggles erupt through the gap in the doorway. They tickle Jean’s heart. His mouth curves into a full smile. He doesn’t know what it is about this particular laugh that sends him into this much bliss, but that precious sound pushes him to leave the terrace and enter the unknown. He’s desperate to hear it from a closer distance.
The source comes from the linen couch pressed against the left wall. A baby in a pale gray onesie squeals with delight. It’s a boy. He’s too young for his gender to be obvious, but somehow Jean just knows.
He’s adorable. Tufts of brown hair crown his head. Little hands clench in and out of fists as he coos playfully. Jean has an innate desire to snuggle up with him and kiss his chubby face. Wants to watch his chest rise and fall as he sleeps. Protect him from the cruelties that haunt the outside world.
The woman holding him rubs their noses together. She must be the boy’s mother. Jean can’t see her face. Strands of dark hair shield her profile. The rest of it cascades down her back. It’s gorgeous, probably the prettiest hair Jean has ever seen. And when she joins in on the boy’s giggle fest, a sense of peace flows through his veins. He wishes he had his canvas on hand to duplicate this image.
He’s quiet when he closes the door shut, but the click of the lock catches her attention anyway. When she looks at Jean, he’s taken away by what he sees. Bright eyes. Heart shaped lips. Faint freckles spread across her button nose.
She’s beautiful.
Jean has no clue who she is.
She frowns. “What’s wrong?” Her voice is sweet. Calming.
He doesn’t know how to answer. Plenty is wrong, but he’s lost for where to start. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s in a stranger’s flat yet said stranger doesn’t seem the least bit uneasy around him.
“Jean?” she says.
She knows his name. How does she know his name?
He’s suddenly aware of the living room decor. The art supplies piled on the workstation by the sliding door. Baby toys sprawled across the playpen on the center rug. A shoe rack with pairs for both men and women. The men’s look to be Jean’s size.
And the walls. Framed picture after framed picture. Plenty of them include the baby in some capacity, but Jean and the woman are in a few. Some of just the two of them, some with a group of people. Jean recognizes his parents and grandparents, so he assumes the others are the woman’s parents and grandparents as well. The centerpiece of the cream colored wall is a photo of Jean and the woman in a soft embrace. Jean’s in a matching suit and top hat, the woman in a satin white dress.
As if he doesn’t want to believe it, he checks his hands. A gold band wraps around his left ring finger. Confusion strikes him, then clarity. But the truth is a lot harder to swallow than the whiskey.
“What the…”
The woman cradles the baby and kits her brows together in concern. “Did something happen?”
Clearly something did, Jean thinks to himself. He doesn’t know how, but he can’t deny what’s in front of him.
This woman. This baby.
They’re Jean’s—
Two knocks rasp against the front door. Jean dashes for it immediately, deciding it’s easier to deal with a visitor than whatever the hell is going on in here. Taking long strides, he pinches his shirt and separates the fabric from his sweaty chest.
The woman doesn’t call after him. She’s back to giggling with the baby. Jean ignores the way his heart swells at that. He can confront his conflicting emotions later.
Right now, he can use a distraction.
He opens the door, thankful to meet whoever’s on the other side. But when he comes face to face with the new arrival, he’s even more perplexed.
“Eren.”
Eren Jaeger looks as lifeless as he did the last time Jean saw him. When the hell was that, anyway?
“Hello, Jean.”
Jean blinks in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
Instead of answering, Eren brushes past Jean and enters the flat.
“Hey,” Jean snaps. “I asked you a question.”
He looks around. “Your place is nice. I like that plant.” He points to the ficus next to a bay window.
“Stop ignoring me!”
Eren stops to watch the woman and baby. The baby tugs on her hair, putting some of it into his mouth. Her love for him is palpable from across the room. Eren’s expression stays neutral, though his shoulders drop a bit.
“Oh,” Jean says to the woman. “Um, this is Eren.” He’s about to introduce her, then realizes he still doesn’t know her name.
The woman ignores him. She’s too enamored with the baby. Jean can’t blame her. The voice in his head screams to walk over and ask if he can hold him. His hands burn like they exist for that very purpose.
“She can’t hear us,” Eren says.
It makes no sense, but he’s right. The woman isn’t ignoring him, she literally doesn’t know he’s there. If he takes two steps forward he’ll be within arms reach, yet she hasn’t got a clue.
And yet, she’s not questioning it. Moments prior she was concerned about Jean. Addressed him by name. Now she’s acting as if he never stepped foot in here at all.
The pieces click in his brain. He may not understand what’s going on, but he understands who’s at fault.
He turns to Eren. “What did you do?”
Eren keeps his gaze on the woman. “She’s pretty, isn’t she? Kid’s cute, too. Be grateful he looks more like her.”
“Who are they?” Jean asks, not even acknowledging Eren’s petty attempt at an insult.
“Come on, Jean.” Eren looks his way this time. “You’re dumb, but not that dumb.”
No, he isn’t. He sensed it the moment his eyes landed on them, that they’re connected. Bound by an intense love that Jean’s been chasing his whole life.
This is Jean’s family, the one he created. This should make him happy, but a sadness rips through his heart. He can’t remember any of the important milestones. Meeting his wife, asking for her hand in marriage, the birth of their first child, they’re all a blur in his memory. It’s like he opened the story of his life to a random page instead of the beginning.
But who’s to say any of this is even real? He can’t trust anything directly involving Eren Jaeger. Now that Eren has the power of the Founding Titan, he can invade Jean’s mind and do whatever the hell he wants.
“You’re not saying much,” Eren tells him. “Do you not like it?”
“Like what?”
“This.” Eren gestures back to the couch. “Your family.”
Pressure twists in Jean’s gut. He should like this. All he’s ever wished for was a peaceful life in the interior. He wished for a family full of love and a partner who made him a better person the same way he would for them.
Beautiful flat. Beautiful baby. Beautiful life. It’s all so perfect.
And yet, this isn’t how he wants it.
He whispers the words out. “I don’t even know them.” A half truth, but he can’t bring himself to speak his real issue with this.
“Of course you don’t,” Eren says. “None of this has happened yet.”
Jean’s face breaks the same time his heart does.
“So, this is real? Is this my future?”
Eren peers around. “Maybe not these exact details, but I tried my best. I modeled the woman after your ideal type. I almost considered making her Mikasa, but then chose not to because it felt weird.”
Good call. Jean had a crush on Mikasa for all of five seconds when he was twelve. But at nineteen, he only sees her as a respectable comrade and friend.
As for Jean’s ideal type, Eren got the basics right. Jean has an affinity for brunettes, especially those with long hair. Light eyes, infectious smile, Eren basically crafted Jean’s perfect romantic prospect.
He did miss out on one crucial detail, but Jean won’t hold that against him. It’s not like he’s ever mentioned his preferences aloud.
Jean closes his eyes. “Eren, why’d you bring me here?”
Eren allows a beat of silence. “I wanted to show you what your life will look like,” he says. “After I’m gone.”
Gone. The word splits Jean’s soul into two. Before, where he could turn a blind eye to the atrocities of the world he was born into, and after, where his worst fear can no longer be ignored.
It’s happening. Eren is going to die. Probably sooner than later. Definitely sooner than Jean is ready for.
“What are you talking about?” He opens his eyes and narrows in on Eren. The nonchalance in his expression both saddens and infuriates him. “You’re not going anywhere. We can still fix this.”
“Jean,” Eren says. “I’ve already seen it happen. Nothing can be done about it. I’m going to die.”
“No,” Jean chokes out. “You still have four years.”
“I don’t. The Rumbling started. You guys are going to stop me.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to die.”
“You don’t get it. I've already killed eighty percent of the world's population. Killing me is the only way to stop me.”
Jean’s lungs deflate because he knows it’s true. He begged Eren to stop The Rumbling. Tried to get through to him. The Eren he spent his cadet days with would never support mass genocide. Seven years later, he hardly recognizes the Eren standing before him.
But he isn’t ready to let go. Maybe it’s foolish, but he’s positive the real Eren is buried deep within this hollow exterior. As long as there’s a chance that he hasn’t completely lost the Eren he knows, Jean can’t let him die.
“Please,” he begs. “Just come home, Eren. You’re not helping us by doing this.”
You’re not helping me. Can’t you see this is killing me?
Eren doesn’t give in. “It’s too late.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
Jean sucks in his teeth. Rage bubbles in his stomach. It shoots up his esophagus, dripping from the tip of his tongue.
“So, what? Is bringing me here your way of making it up to me? Showing me this picture perfect life with a wife and kid whose names I don’t even know? Do you honestly think this is what I want?”
He looks back at the couch, only to find it empty.
“They’re gone.”
“They were clearly bothering you,” Eren says.
“They weren’t bothering me. I just can’t fathom why the fuck you thought bringing me here was a good idea.”
Eren looks like he wants to answer, but he stays quiet. It pisses Jean off. His world is falling apart, all thanks to the idiot next to him, yet Eren can’t pretend to care.
Selfish. He’s so fucking selfish. Eren could’ve found a better path, one that would’ve protected him and his loved ones. All he had to do was ask for help.
But that’s just Eren. He always tries to do more than he’s capable of. He ends up in deep shit because of it. Only this time, it’ll cost him his life.
So, Jean punches him. With his future family out of sight, he has no reservations about unleashing this anger.
Eren falls over, his back hitting the hardwood floor. Jean springs on top of him and punches him again, this time with the other fist. The wedding band has disappeared from his ring finger. Eren makes no effort to shield his face, so Jean connects with full force.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jean says. He grips Eren’s shirt with both hands. “Why would you do this?”
Even with their faces close, Jean doesn’t detect a shred of warmth in Eren’s green eyes. It’s as if he’s already dead.
“I had no other choice,” Eren says.
“Bullshit!”
Another punch. Eren takes it with no reaction. He doesn’t yelp. He doesn’t flinch. And he certainly doesn’t try to counter.
This isn’t right. Jean’s been in more fights with Eren than he can count, and the reason there have been so many was due to their mutual refusal to back down. When Jean talks shit, Eren throws it right back at him. When Eren lays out a punch, Jean follows up with one twice as painful. That’s how their dynamic works.
Eren knows this, yet he refuses to give in. He’s caught in two fights, one with Jean and one with himself. And he’s losing both.
Above them, the ceiling disappears. A blood stained sky hovers over their heads. Clouds of smoke rise with the tension in the room. The effects of Eren’s murderous plan takes shape. The sight burns through Jean’s retinas. A direct glimpse at the end of the world.
Jean jumps to his feet, then yanks Eren up with one arm. He gives Eren a shove. Not hard enough to knock him over, but he does stumble back.
“Come on,” he says, “fight back.”
Eren doesn’t, so Jean punches him again. He doesn’t use full force. He doesn’t want to knock Eren over. Which is bullshit, because he shouldn't even consider going easy on Eren. Especially now. After what Eren’s done, he deserves no mercy.
“You damn suicidal maniac!” He hits him again. “Fight back!”
Jean punches, pleads, and prays, but Eren gives him nothing. He accepts Jean’s hits with no resistance, no change in expression. With every punch Jean lands, the harder it is to hold back the tears. When the first one escapes, the rest fall like dominoes.
They leak from his eyes, but his whole body cries in pain. His back, his ribs, his chest, everything aches. Eren says he’s going to die, yet Jean feels like the one who’s already one foot out the door.
He drops to his knees, his sobs now inconsolable. He hides his face in his hands. It’s embarrassing to cry in front of Eren. The damage is done, but at least this allows him some dignity.
Eren joins him on the floor. Which, Jean soon realizes, isn’t a floor at all. The flat around them has evaporated into a celestial atmosphere of sand and a bright light that shoots up like a geyser. Jean’s been here before. Eren called all the Eldians here when he first started The Rumbling.
Jean doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go home. Crawl into bed with his ears shut and hope the world corrects itself.
But he can’t. This is the life he chose. The life Eren forced him to choose.
It takes him several attempts to stop crying. When the tears stop, they’re replaced by shallow breaths and chattering teeth.
“What happened to you?” is all he manages to get out.
“Nothing,” Eren says quietly. “This is who I’ve always been.”
Jean sniffles. His eyebrows furrow at a harsh angle. “Don’t give me that. I’ve known you for seven years, dickhead. I know the real you.”
He wants to believe it’s true, but he truly doesn’t know anymore. Still, he wants to live in denial just a little bit longer.
Eren passes over Jean’s comment. “It was going to happen eventually.”
Jean shakes his head. “Not like this. You chose this.”
Several seconds pass before Eren responds, each one sinking the dagger deeper into Jean’s heart. “You’re right.”
Jean’s lost for what to do. He wants to grab Eren. Shake him. He also wants to hold him tight and never let go.
“I hate you so much right now,” he says.
Eren scans his face. “Do you?”
The tenderness in his voice catches Jean off guard. His eyes lock on Eren’s. There’s finally a hint of life within them. Jean appreciates the sight, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time.
Because he knows what Eren’s implying, and there’s no way to deal with this without coming out hurt on the other end.
“Jean,” he says, “this is the last conversation we’ll ever have. So if there’s something you want to say to me, now’s the time.”
No. Jean’s not going there. Not now, not ever. He’ll happily go the rest of his years with his deepest desires tucked away in a safe, not even unveiling them on his deathbed.
So, he lies.
He stands up and turns away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Eren doesn’t buy it. “Jean.”
It’s not fair. Eren can’t turn himself into the devil and then ask Jean to reveal something he’s kept secret for seven years. Though, clearly, it wasn’t a well kept secret.
He shifts his gaze to the blinding beam in front of them. The coordinate. It really is quite beautiful. It’s also incredibly tragic. Isolating. Jean's glad to have someone here with him, even if his feelings about Eren are being pulled in all different directions right now.
Eren circles around Jean and forces him to look into his eyes. “Please,” he says. “I don’t want you to have any regrets.”
Too bad for Eren, Jean has plenty of those. His biggest regret is not saying something sooner. Maybe if he had, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe Eren would’ve turned to him, knowing that Jean would have his back no matter what. If anything, maybe they would’ve had more time.
But to say it now? What good does that do? His heart is already shattered. This may be Eren’s twisted way of torturing Jean for a final time.
Then again, this is the most humane Eren’s sounded in a while. His face is softer, his mouth curved the slightest bit downward instead of in a flat line. He’s not just asking for Jean. He’s asking for himself.
If Eren’s going to die, he wants to hear Jean say it before he goes.
Deep down, Jean thinks he always knew how Eren felt. He just didn’t want to admit it because he was scared. Looking back, it seems dumb. What the hell was he so scared of? One of them dying? Like Eren said, it was going to happen eventually. All Jean will have now are memories of what could’ve been.
He wonders if that’s ever crossed Eren’s mind.
He dips his head. “Only if you say it back.”
Another pause. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not capable of feeling that way.”
It pains him, but Jean sneaks a glance at him. Eren’s staring at the coordinate again, hands shoved in his pockets. Jean hates that after causing so much destruction, he still finds Eren remarkably beautiful. “What does that mean?”
“I’ll always value my freedom over everything else,” Eren says. “Someone like me is better off alone.”
“You can’t possibly believe that.”
But judging from Eren’s refusal to respond, Jean realizes that Eren one hundred percent believes that. That makes this hurt even more.
“Maybe fate was always meant to take you at a young age,” Jean says. “But I could’ve made you really fucking happy until then. We could’ve enjoyed the time we had left instead of you doing all this.”
“Jean.” It comes out as an order. “I brought you here to say goodbye. When I’m gone, I want you to live a long life. I want you to find someone and have the family you’ve always wanted.”
Jean should’ve punched him harder. How dare Eren bring up Jean’s future family right now. How dare he toy with Jean’s heart just to smash it into a million pieces.
How dare he let Jean fall for him in the first place.
“I wanted that with you,” Jean whispers.
Eren nods, but it’s for show. He already knows. He’s probably known this whole time.
Tears brim in Jean’s eyelids again. “Promise you’ll say it back.”
“I can’t.”
“Please.”
Jean hates how desperate he sounds. The crack in his voice. The tight hold Eren has on him. A hold he’ll still have on Jean long after he’s gone.
The tears trickle down his cheeks. “You’ve hurt me enough. The least you can do is make this right.”
Eren holds strong. How the fuck can he show next to no emotion while Jean is a damn mess right now? Does Jean mean that little to him?
“We were never going to work out.”
“I don’t care,” Jean insists. “I would’ve liked the chance to see it myself.”
Eren shakes his head and takes a step closer. “I would’ve destroyed you.”
Jean follows up with a step of his own. “Too late for that.”
When their eyes meet again, Jean sees him. The Eren he fell in love with. The rowdy, stubborn, feisty Eren Jaeger that captured his heart the moment they met. He’s still in there. That version of Eren wants to stay here with Jean. Hold him. Kiss him. Spend his last moments with him while they exchange the words they should’ve exchanged years ago.
But that Eren is no match for the one who caused The Rumbling.
“I don’t know how to love someone,” he says. “How can I when I don’t even love myself?”
“I could’ve shown you.” Jean grabs his face. “I love you,” he says, more tears sliding into his mouth. “Fuck. I love you, Eren. Why wasn’t that enough for you?”
He catches Eren in a tight hug. He holds him like it’s possible to transfer his love through touch. Eren wraps his arms around Jean’s middle. His hold isn’t nearly as strong. Lifeless hands ghost over Jean’s back.
Then, as if Eren can’t break his heart any further, he simply says, “I don’t know.”
Jean squeezes him tighter. Leans his head on Eren’s. “Please. I’m not ready to lose you.”
Eren buries his face into Jean’s shoulder. “It’s better this way.”
“Stop saying that,” Jean hisses. “Don’t say anything unless it’s what I want to hear.”
He waits. And waits. He tells himself that at any second, Eren will say the words. Jean’s feelings will be reciprocated. Even if Eren only has minutes left, at least Jean can spend them knowing that he holds a special place in Eren’s heart. That all these years loving him weren’t for nothing.
Then, Eren speaks.
“I have to go now.”
If Jean had anything left to live for, Eren just stripped it away. That’s what he gets for holding on to hope. Eren has always been a tornado in his path. It’s Jean’s fault for never moving out of the way.
Yet, if he had the choice, he’d get caught up in Eren’s destruction all over again.
Eren pulls out of their embrace. Meets Jean’s gaze. Inches forward, then hesitates. Green eyes trace Jean’s heartbroken face. They start to water, but Eren’s stronger than Jean. He holds back. He always does.
But the small hint of tears is all Jean needs to go for it. If he has to say goodbye, he’s going to do it right.
He cups Eren’s face. Appreciates his beauty one last time. Fills his mind with all the memories of their younger years, before everything went to shit.
Then he brushes their lips together, leaving his stresses on pause for just one second.
It’s quick. Less than a second. But it’s powerful enough to repair the withered fragments of Jean’s heart. Even if he does eventually move on and have a family with someone else, his lips will always remember the feeling of Eren’s pressed against them.
When he opens his eyes, Eren’s gone. He’s back on the battleground, surrounded by his comrades. But something has shifted in the atmosphere. The titans are gone. The world is quiet.
And that’s when Jean knows.
He hangs his head, bitter taste of heartbreak forcing him to grit his teeth.
“Now I remember…you conscientious piece of shit.”
A voice rings through his head. Even though it’s faint, he’d recognize it anywhere. And when he registers the words, he knows he'll carry them with him for the rest of his life.
I love you, Jean.