A/N This is my first serious Attack on Titan fic, so I hope you enjoy it! Please review and like if you enjoyed!

"I can't believe you!," Marco screamed, livid, into his cell phone receptor, the sounds of highway traffic were in the background, "I can't believe that you lied to me!" He sounded broken up. I gripped my steering wheel tighter and took a deep, stabilizing breath.

"Marco," I stated calmly, "You don't know what you're talking about, Eren was drunk, he was making up nonsense." I heard him scoff on the other end. Scoff! Marco never did that, he barely even raised his tone. Ugh, tonight was a train wreck from the start.

"Oh really?! Yeah, well I know from experience that when Eren gets drunk, he just recounts things that actually happened." I grit my teeth, honestly, how does he seriously believe that blundering idiot?

"Marco, no, do you seriously believe that-" I get cut off.

"Did you sleep with Eren, or not?!" well, he's blunt, at least. Just faintly behind his accusation, I could hear his voice break a little. Oh, Marco.

"NO! Marco, do I need to keep repeating myself? Eren was five drinks in, and barely able to stand! He was rambling nonsense, he made it up!" I shout back at him, glaring at the receptor, as if he'd know I was doing?

"...It was detailed, though, Jean," his voice was small and full of hurt, "Armin's face went white and he tried to shut him up, like it was a secret, not just some drunken tale." I shake my head, that boy notices everything.

"It probably happened in a dream," I try to play it off, "Eren's into Mikasa or Professor Levi, or some other shit. But who really knows, I mean Professor Levi could very well be with Professor Zoe, or even Professor Smith. It's weird thinking about our teachers like that, but how else could Eren ace Levi's class, I mean-"

"Don't change the fucking subject, Jean!" He was irate. I'd never heard Marco angry like this before, and it was kind of scary. I could feel him glowering at me through the phone, so I fixed my eyes back on the road. We both sat in silence for a minute until it was broken by a small sniffle from his end.

"Marco…" It hurt me to see him wrenched like this. I felt a tug at my gut. It was guilt.

"Jean," his voice was small and sounded overwhelmed, "Please tell me the truth, were you two ever together?"

"Well, we thought about it," I blurted, cracking under the guilt, "Dammit," there was no going back now, "It was after we broke up a couple years back… It was barely anything! We didn't do anything!" I stammered out.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I heard his tense voice slacken a tad, but it sounded a little bruised.

"We didn't have sex, for crying out loud, Marco!" Why couldn't he just understand that? "It's not a big deal! I just fell asleep on his bed, and that's as far as it went! You ran out of there before either of us could tell you about it! You overreacted about absolutely freaking nothing! Feel better?" I screamed, berate. There was a shocked silence for a couple seconds.

"Aren't you supposed to tell your boyfriend about all of your other relationships? No matter how embarrassing?" he sounded like a little kid.

"Oh my god, Marco! Are you fucking serious? You sound like a whiny teenager," I am fuming beyond belief by now. It's so stupid, but he started it, so I have to finish it. "Do you seriously have no faith in me at all?! What about all those times you've slept at Bert's house?! I know that you couldn't be 'sleeping' with him because, one, Riener would murder you, and two, you said you loved me! I told you the same thing, almost daily! And you have that little faith in me?!"

"It's not that I don't have faith in us, it's just-" He choked on a sob, but it was abrupt, and there was a loud second of him laying on the car horn, "Are you drunk or something?" He let out an exasperated sigh, not directed at me, but it brought me back to my state of driving, and I was going way over the speed limit. Thank god there weren't any cops around. I adjusted myself, and zoned back in to our conversation. I was starting to pick up static on his line, but I could make out most of what he said.

"-So maybe you should stay at Connie's tonight," I sat there, awestruck.

"Excuse me?" I snapped back.

"Well, you need to calm down, Jean-"

"Calm down? I'm the one that needs to calm down?! YOU need to calm the FUCK down!"

"Jean, I-"

"You're kicking me out of the house?!"

"No, Jean, listen-"

"Well fuck you, too, Marco," I seethed through clenched teeth. He was silent. Oh god. I fucked up. I fucked up big time.

"Jean..." He whimpered. I could tell he was holding back a dam.

"God fucking dammit," I growled at myself. I'm such a mother fucking hot head. I can't believe I just cursed out Marco, sweet, precious, love of my life, Marco. I took a hand off the wheel and fumbled it through my hair, "Ugh, Marco… I'm sorry-"

"No. Just don't," His voice cracked slightly. This was his voice when he tried to conceal that he was crying. I could always see through it, "Jean, stop," His voice started to rise in anger, "Don't come home tonight."

The only sound that came out was a moan of disgust, aimed at myself, "Marco, I didn't mean it, you gotta know that, I'm just a short fumed idiot, and-"

"No. I don't want to hear it, Jean, just please, stop. You're only making it worse-" He was trying and failing to hold back tears. All of the sudden, there was the sound of screeching tires, the shattering of windows, the inflating of airbags, and the crumbling of steel frames. I practically jumped out of my seat.

"MARCO! You there? Marco?!" and the phone line went dead. Oh my god. I tossed my phone into the passenger seat and sped forward, Marco left the bar only minutes before me when I went to flag Eren down a cab.

There was no way Marco could have gotten into an accident. No way…

I saw smoke before I saw the crash. There were two cars, a dark blue Ford Explorer, which barely had a scratch compared to the other which was… My heart sank down into my stomach. A small yellow 2005 Toyota Camry. Oh god, please no. That car was absolutely totaled. I immediately looked away, before I could take in any details. That car was also the car Marco was going to drive home from the bar in. I pulled onto the side, phone already dialing 911 and giving every bit of information to the dispatcher.

As soon as I was parked, my sight changed into tunnel vision. The only thing I could see was the driver's side door handle on the bright yellow 2005 Camry. I had to get him out. I sprinted the distance, and tried to pry open the door, not even bothering to look inside the window. You're okay, Marco. He's okay, you're going to say sorry and kiss him, and you'll both go back to normal. I kept repeating that on loop in my head.

I wasn't focusing on anything but the door handle, trying to muscle it open, until I noticed that the entire door was crunched, and not going to open. But the window was another story, there was none, and I was standing in a pile of glass. I slowly averted my gaze from the door to the open window, and looked inside. Oh god.

My mouth stood agape, and I cupped a hand over it to muffle any strangled cries that were threatening to tumble out.

Oh god, Marco. He was slumped over the steering wheel, eyes tightly shut, and blood gushing from his forehead that dripped all over his face, I think it came from that cut, or maybe it was the one gash on his cheek, the millions on his arms, almost as many as his freckles. Or was it from..? It was everywhere. The windshield had almost completely shattered in on itself, and most of the large shards were in the airbags or my beautiful boyfriend. Any uncovered part of his body,there was a blood stained shard sticking out of the skin. The leather interior was splattered with blood and littered with glass. I heard a small moan and he shifted half an inch to the right. That brought me out of shock.

I have to get him out. The door was useless, and since the window was already broken… I carefully unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed under his arms, and pulled him out of the car, as gently as I could. I laid him on the ground next to the totaled Camry. He wasn't responsive at all.

My heart was racing as I took in every detail of his injury. There was a wide gash on his cheek, and one on his forehead. HIs wrists looked mauled, and were probably broken from the impact. His arms were crisscrossed with cuts from the shards, and there was even a rather large piece lodged in his shoulder. What worried me most was the peculiar shard sticking out of his neck. That one was still bleeding. Badly. I wasn't even going to try to take out any of the shards, so there wasn't much I could do. I didn't know what I should do!

I looked around for help, but no other cars had passed us, it was just Marco, me, and the other car. I carefully stepped away from Marco, promising that I'd be back, even if it fell upon deaf ears. I scoured the second car, and there wasn't a driver or passenger to be found. I was seething. The idiot had just ran off! Not even looking to see if Marco was okay! I vocalized this distress with a low, guttural wail.

I wasn't about to go run off and try to find the hit and run, not while Marco still lay on the pavement, broken and bloody, so I ran back to him.

"Hey, Marco?" I tried in a soothing voice. No response, no movement, no nothing. I tried giving his shoulders a little shake, "Hey, babe, you okay?" My voice caught on the last part. It was impossible to believe that this was the person I was talking with just an hour ago. That person had a wide smile that lit up his face full of freckles, and made them even more prominent when he tilted his head back in laughter. However, this person… This person was different. This person wasn't smiling or laughing, he was just laying there, eyelids relaxed and lips slightly parted. The color had drained from this one's face, too. The freckles were there, but they didn't look the same. His hair was caked in blood. And… And…

And this one wasn't breathing.

"Marco!" I exclaimed as I immediately jumped into CPR. Two breaths, one second each, thirty compressions, and repeat. Checking for any sign of life, a pulse, a breath, a smile. Sobbing all the while, I wouldn't let up, "Marco, come on! Please, you can't leave me! I never said sorry!" He still thinks I hate him, "I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it! We never even got a chance to say," my voice caught in my throat, "Goodbye."

The sirens came, and with them, they brought the other driver, drunk and bambling, into a cop car, and they took Marco, out of my arms, and into an ambulance. Each EMT and officer had a solemn expression on their face, they'd barely look at me during the spectacle. I followed in my car behind the caravan of emergency vehicles all the way to the hospital. I parked as quickly as I could and rushed into the emergency room.

The head EMT was there to greet me, I looked up at him expectantly, and he shook his head. My senses swirled out of control and the next thing I know, I'm doubled over, hyperventilating, and choking on each and every sobbing breath. I don't remember much from that point on.

All I know is that I wake up back at home in my bed, but Marco's side is empty.