I may as well have killed him. I may as well have killed the man I loved. I stumbled into my home, drunk off my ass to try and numb the pain of his death. I could hear him in my head, telling me it wasn't my fault, that I should love again, let him go. I drank from the bottle again and slammed it down onto the table. In the haze of alcohol I somehow was able to make it to the couch and stumble down onto the cushions. I took another swig from the bottle. I didn't deserve to live, or love ever again. I shot up and quickly ran (unsteadily I should add) to my room. I reached into the bedside table and yanked out a wooden box. I stumbled back to the living room again and plopped onto the cushions. I felt slightly sobered, so I drank some more. I opened the box and stared at the pictures inside. The man I loved beamed from pictures inside. I removed the smaller box from inside and set it aside. I picked up the pictures with trembling fingers and stared at him.

Marco Bodt smiled at me from pictures taken by his family, his friends, his teammates, me. There were a few serious shots, but even then he seemed ready to smile, his perfectly freckled face ready to grin at me. I stared at the man as memories overcame me.

"Hey Jean," he said, grinning at me. He looked so wonderful in his tight black shirt and jeans. He grabbed my face and kissed me.

"You're a leader, Jean," he said as we refilled our gas for 3DMG.

His freckled face shone as the light hit his hair and gave it a gold sheen. His eyes glittered and sparkled at me.

Then came the darker memories.

All that blood. Marco fighting beside me. Marco's beautiful body being lifted up by a Titan. Marco... Gone, his last words to me echoing in my head.

"I love you Jean. And if I die, no I need you to make this promise," he had insisted as he kissed me.

"If I die, move on. Find another man to love. I want you to be happy. Promise me."

I had mumbled the promise, but I'd never expected having to follow through.

I stared at the pictures, unaware of the tears flowing freely down my cheeks. I swore and slugged down some more alcohol. I tossed the now empty bottle across the room and rose unsteadily to go to the cupboard to get another bottle. I distantly heard the door open and shut as I jerked the alcohol out of the cupboard. I turned to face the guest. Even through my blurred vision, there was no mistaking those sapphire eyes and golden blond hair.

"Armin," I breathed.

"Oh Jean, what are you doing?" he whispered.

He stepped towards me and reached for the bottle.

"No," I growled, jerking my hand away.

That movement upset my precarious equilibrium and sent me falling. Armin was quick though, and had caught my upper body, unable to catch my legs because he was quite a bit shorter than me, 5 inches. With surprising strength he pulled me to the couch and laid me down, jerking the bottle out of my hand and tossing it aside.

"Jean, stop this," he murmured, brushing sweaty hair out of my face. Up this close to him, I could smell almonds coming off him and see the mosaic pattern of darker and lighter blue in the irises of his eyes.

"It's all my fault," I whispered brokenly, and started crying.

Armin maneuvered his way underneath me and propped me up against his chest and in his to where I could cry against him.

"Jean, no it's not."

"Marco died because of me!"

"Not true. He knew the life he was choosing when he started training. He knew the dangers. That's why he told you to let him go if he died."

I gazed up at Armin, hiccupping from tears and alcohol. "How do you know what he told me?"

"He... He told me himself."

"Wh-Why are you here?" I hiccupped.

"I felt like I should be here."

I started crying again. "I don't deserve to live. I should just find a way to die."

"Marco wouldn't have wanted that, Jean."

That stopped it. I looked up at Armin. He was right. Marco would have hated it, hated himself if I had died. He would never speak to me in the afterlife if I didn't carry through with my promises.

"I... I loved him, Armin," I choked.

"I know Jean. I know," Armin sounded unbelievably sad.

"He told me to find another man to love. But I... I don't want to hurt anyone else. Who in their right mind would want someone so angry, so guilty?"

"Jean," Armin said. I looked up into the soft face. His eyes sparkled with cutting intelligence and a fierce fire. He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine.

"I still want you."

"Armin?"

"Marco told me the promise he made you make because he knew I loved you. He knew I'd take care of you. He knew I'd let you go if you wanted to be with someone else."

"Armin," I said.

He didn't respond but pulled back, eyes glassy with tears.

"Jean, please. It's not your fault Marco died. Please don't blame yourself. It kills me. Please Jean, please," Armin begged me, tears sliding down his face.

I was hurting him.

I didn't want to hurt another person.

There was someone who cared about me.

I could hear Marco whispering, "He loves you. Please Jean. Let me go. Love him."

"You know I can't let Marco go completely," I said.

Armin gazed at me.

"How many drinks did you have?"

"A bottle, but that's not much."

"You're drunk, Jean. You don't know what you're saying."

I could not have been more alert. And I knew in my mind that I had always had feelings for this sweet boy, just Marco had come first. And now Marco was begging me to let him go. So I did. I put all the love I had for Marco and gave it to the boy whose tears were falling and kissing my cheeks.

"I... Armin. I love you."

"Stop Jean! Don't raise my hopes. I know you still love Marco. Don't delude yourself, don't say this," he pleaded, sobbing at what I was saying because he thought it was all in a drunken stupor.

"No Armin. I'm letting Marco go. That's what he wanted. I want to belong to you."

"Jean," he started.

I cut him off with a kiss, harsh, a little of the alcohol driving my desire forward. Armin didn't pull away. His lips parted slightly. I raised my head more to get closer to him, tasting the leftover alcohol in my mouth and mint in his. His breath slid hotly across my skin as his lips claimed mine. He wrapped his arms around me as my fingers slipped under his shirt, searching for a way to get closer to him. He closed and opened his lips against mine, fitting our mouths together. He jumped slightly as I slid my tongue into his mouth, feeling the rounded points of his molars and the smooth wet muscle that was his tongue.

"You should sleep, Jean," Armin murmured into my lips.

"Don't leave me," I gasped.

"Never, Jean. I love you."

"I love you Armin."

I noticed a surprising lack of JeanxArmin and JeanxMarco fanfictions. So here's my contribution to the pool!