Jean always marveled at the way the snow fell. He found a simple joy in the way the little bundles of frozen water fell from the sky, somehow emitting an air of nonchalance as they went. Marco, on the other hand, just loved to watch Jean watch the snow. It was rare that they had a spare moment, even in the winter, but when they did the two boys would sprint outside to be in the magical presence of the icy wind. Sometimes Marco would take a break from gaping at the beauty that was Jean, and watch the snow himself. He never could quite figure out how Jean could stare at the sky for hours, seemingly indefatigable.
The year that they were 15 was the year that they were to make the biggest decision of their lives. To put it brusquely, they would choose either to die, or live a little longer. Either way, death was almost inevitable. The boys had two very different reactions to the prospect of Death. Jean would stare Death in the eye and silently dare him to take one more step, while Marco would gently take Deaths hand and tell him that he forgave him. Marco would soon learn that Death is not the one who needs to be told that he is forgiven.
One night while Marco lay away, he looked to his right and into the face of his beloved Jean. He then understood why Death was a misanthrope. He did not have a Jean to keep him company. Death may be a voracious taker of life, especially in the world that Marco and his love lived in, but he was also lonely, which is why Marco guessed that so many had to die. Death wanted a friend. Marco did not blame Death for his desire for companionship. Everyone deserved a friend, even Death himself. One day, Marco promised, he would be that friend to him.
Marco would have to live up to his promise sooner than expected, for the next morning, the attack came. They came through the Wall in mighty numbers devouring any human being that got in their way. They caused mayhem and panic, and Marco watched in terror as one of them picked up an elderly lady, the woman writhing in its giant hand, and snapped her neck before swallowing her whole. Jean stood beside Marco stoically. Instructor Shadis suddenly called for attention from everyone, his face morose. He shoved everyone quickly into their groups, each teen outfitted with the gear and harnesses that would let them fly through the air and hopefully get a good shot at bringing down a monster.
Jean may have been an exemplary student both in academics and physical combat, but he knew that there was a very good chance he was going to perish this morning. He also knew that he had to do everything he could possibly do to protect his Marco. The fighting was brutal, and within moments of the 104th Trainee Squad going out into the fray, they witnessed the horrifying death of many of their comrades and friends. For some this was too much, and they spilled their lunch, but for others this was an all too terrifying reminder of the horrors of having to live inside a cage. They were livestock, there for the taking. That was it.
A lifetime later, Jean and Marco were soaring through the air, a monster at their heels. It was an abnormal, a monster that possessed different qualities that the rest of its mindless kind did. The one that was chasing the two lovers seemed somewhat intelligent, and instead of running on two legs, it was chasing after them on all fours, its mouth open wide in a grotesque smile. The monster must have been 16 metres tall. It started gaining on them, and Jean had a terrifying thought that this might be it. He and Marco could very well die in the next few moments. His eyes narrowed, and he knew that was completely unacceptable. He would not let Marco die, even if it meant giving his own life up in return.
The monster was almost upon them when it suddenly slowed, seeming to be out of breath. Jean slowed and turned to Marco, a grin covering his face. They had done it! They outran the monster! That grin then turned to a face of horror as Jean watched the monster spring from behind them, its naked body stretching to its full length as it pushed its head forward, teeth snapping as it reached desperately for one of the boys.
It's mouth met its target. Marco. The right half of his body was already inside the monster's mouth before Jean had time to react. He desperately reached out, trying to reach his love, and managed to grasp Marcos hand and pull him slightly out of the mouth before the teeth snapped closed on Marco's right arm and part of his torso. The teeth also managed to scrape his head, leaving large bloodied lines where his dark brown hair used to be. Jean screamed, he screamed so loud, and his voice so full of pain that he was surprised the world did not shatter into a thousand pieces in that instant. He screamed and screamed, tears flowing freely out of his wide eyes as he yanked the rest of his beloved Marco out of the abominations mouth.
A flash of silver then, as Mikasa (the best student that anyone had ever seen, and likely will see) dove in, and with the twin blades that each person had, cut a large chunk out of the nape of the hideous creatures neck. This was the only way to kill one. She was gone as quick as she came, likely not having seen Jean and the rest of Marco at all. She was probably looking for more monsters to skewer.
With the disgusting thing eliminated, Jean now had a moment to land. He placed Marco's quivering body gently onto the brick street, blood already pooling underneath him. Marco had moments left, and Jean was not going to waste them. He lowered himself down next to the only one he would ever love, and placed his hand into Marco's. Jean looked over to Marco and brushed his hair out of his remaining eye with his free hand, softly squeezing with the other. He smiled, and when Marco tried to return the action, foamy blood spilled from his mouth, falling onto his ruined uniform.
"Stop." whispered Jean, "Don't try and move. If you move, you will just get more hurt. But see, if you don't move, you will be alright. You'll be alright." His voice broke.
Marco shifted a bit, groaning in agony. He was trying to move closer to Jean. His love realised what he was trying to do, and let go of his hand, instead using the arm to wrap around Marco, ignoring the feel of flayed flesh and hot blood. Marco sighed. He seemed content, although Jean had no idea how. The pain he was in must have been unimaginable.
Marco knew he was about to die. He had known and accepted it the moment he had seen the monster coming right at him. He knew that Death was going to make him live up to his promise. Marco only wished that it didn't have to be so soon. He wanted to grow old with Jean. Or at least older.
As Marco's chest rose with fewer and fewer breaths, Jean leaned down and placed one last kiss on the most precious thing in his lifes mangled mouth. When he lifted his head, the breaths had stopped.
"Marco." croaked Jean. "Marco come one. Come on man." he took his arm out from behind the body.
"Marco please. Please. I can't live in this godforsaken world without you. It's too horrible." Jean was sobbing now, slowly curling up into himself in an attempt to stop this pain from leaving his body. He did not want the pain to stop, because this was pain that was associated with Marco. This was all he had left, this pain, and he was not going to give it up.
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS IT'S NOT FAIR." Shouted Jean at Marco's corpse. "WHY DO YOU GET TO DIE AND I HAVE TO LIVE. ITS SO SELFISH OF YOU." Jean was losing it, he knew that. But he did not care. He would gladly go insane, because he knew that the insane sometimes saw things that weren't there. Maybe he would get to see Marco.
But he did not want to see Marco like that. He wanted the real one. One he could hold, kiss, and talk to. Marco might not be alive anymore, and Jean knew that there was no way to bring him back, but there was a way for Jean to go to Marco.
He looked at the blades still in their cases on his hips, and his fingers ghosted over the release trigger. It would be so simple; they were very sharp. He would hardly feel a thing. It would be over just like that and then he would be with Marco again. With one long gesture, he drew the sword from its case, the sound of metal on metal ringing in his pounding ears. He held the blade at arms length, studying the way the sun shone off it. It reminded him of the way the sun shone off the snow.
He pulled the blade forward a little, the tip just brushing the skin that protected his heart. He was about to push it all the way forward when a hand was placed over his. Jean choked on a sob that had been building up and looked up the arm that the hand belonged to, following it up to the face of what looked like a freckled Jesus.
Marco smiled, his face and body no longer scarred and torn, and he took the blade from Jeans hand and placed it on the ground. His hand moved to Jean's jaw and traced it around, a single silver tear slipping from his right eye. Marco turned around then, and took the hand of Death. They walked together into the street, slowly fading from sight. The last thing Jean saw of them was two matching friendship bracelets, one on each of their hands.