Author's note : Jean/Marco hurt/comfort thing, rather short. Well, super short ._. I love this pairing so much i can't even ARGH ;n; anyways, yaoi (though doesn't really seem like it), has bits of spoiler from eps. 13 in it uwu basically what happens after the Battle for Trost. hope you guys enjoy it! :D
No matter whether it was day or night, Jean still couldn't let go of him. Marco Bodt was gone, and he knew it. But he pretended he didn't, and so his heart did so. Even before battles, his mind would recall the moments they've been through together. Training together, until the last moment Jean saw him; where he was distracting a Titan away from Jean.
"Someone must've seen him in his last moments!", Jean would yell. How could they just ask his name, and told him to mourn later? He was his friend, his best friend! His love! How can they just told him to let go? How pathethic, Jean would scoff in his mind.
But he needed to let go, but he just couldn't. The memories were too painful for him to bear, he wanted to erase it but he couldn't. Something was keeping him from doing so. But what is it? Jean couldn't make sure of it, puzzled by this question he asked himself. Maybe it was the feeling whenever their skin touched? Jean's mind took him back in time. Marco would sit next to Jean whenever he was sick, waiting all night long, guarding him like he was his guardian angel. He would keep him updated with what had happened lately, and even missing meals just to stay by his side. Marco would kiss him on his cheeks every time Jean got pissed off, and his soothing voice calmed him.
Jean felt like stabbing his own two eyes, making himself blind. He didn't want to see the world without Marco. He even thought of suicide. It's just not fair! How come did Marco got to die? Why didn't other people die instead of him?! This frustated Jean so much, he felt like jumping into a deep abyss, disappearing and never to return ever again.
Some days, he would sit next by the river, throwing a rock across the river like he did with Marco. Sometimes he'd talk by himself, like he was talking to Marco. Sometimes he was confused why people would stare at him, whispering something like, "Who is he talking to?". Sometimes he wondered, couldn't they see Marco? He wasn't dead, why did they all act like he died? Then Conny would pat him the back, shaking Jean out of his thoughts. Then Jean would reply that he was just fine, and told Conny to just fuck off.
Some nights, he would feel a hand feeling his cheeks when he sleep. Sometimes, tears trickled down from the corner of his eyes, leaving stains of tears down his cheeks. Sometimes, he felt like having someone speaking to him at night to let go. Sometimes, he'd cry even more, knowing whose voice it was. Why would he say that? He wasn't dead. Why did he even thought he was dead? Then Bertholdt, Reiner, and even Conny would wake him up, out from his dreams. Then Jean would tell them it was just a mere nightmare, and told them to just fuck off.
The thoughts, the memories... They were the real ghosts of the past. Marco Bodt was dead, and Jean knew it but he did not, somehow. He acknowledge the death of his team mate yet he did not. Jean decided to face the truth, the truth he had been avoiding all this time. It hurts, and it hurts, but he had to let go.
He would let his heart acknowledge that Marco was gone, away in a place far more peaceful beyond this world. He would sometimes go to the street, the exact place where Marco's corpse was found, half of his body lying against the stone street. He would bring a white rose, placed it on the street. Then he would take a few steps back, mourning and crying at the death of his team mate. He would choke back a sob when he felt a hand on his shoulders, a calm voice telling him that it was okay, but he needed to let go. Jean would only nodded, before leaving the place and return back to it the next few days, to leave another white rose and let the same thing happen to him over and over again.
Jean knew Marco Bodt was dead, and his heart did too. But he wanted to preserve the memory of his team mate until his last breath. Maybe he shouldn't let go, he didn't want the memory to die away along with Marco's passing, as if it was something that didn't matter to him at all.
And so Jean cling onto these memories, preserving them in his head, haunted by the ghosts of the past.