The sun shone brightly on that day, just like it did today. Jean reached his hand out, touching the hard rock that sat in front of him. He ran his fingers along the etching, slowly spelling out every letter of his name: Marco Bodt.
He came here every day. Every day that he could, at least. The sun shining on Marco's gravestone made it warm, almost the temperature of his skin. Sometimes he leans against it and imagines Marco with him, embracing him from behind and telling him everything would be okay. The polished rock was nearly as soft as his skin - almost.
The teardrops falling from his face stung. They stung like the feeling you get when you realize you've lost everything; like your heart's been ripped out of your chest cavity, but it was a feeling Jean was used to. He's lost more friends than he could count in his days since he graduated from military training.
He just sat there in front of the Marco's gravestone. The sharp rocks he was sitting on were starting to make his underside ache, but the numb pain that had overtaken his body made him too groggy to care. As silent tears fell from his eyes he forced a smile on his soiled face.
Jean stared at the flower he had brought with him. A single daisy in a sake cup sat in the center of the gravestone, the tips of the pedals reached out and touched the bottom of the C etched plainly on the gray stone. He remembered when he and Marco had started making gravestones for their fallen comrades.
Marco was sitting on a large flat boulder, letting his long legs hang over the edge. His usually white pants were slightly darkened and his knuckles were scraped and bloody. "Hey, Jean?"
"Yeah?" Jean was staring at the clear water in front of him. His attention was focused on skipping rocks across its surface, hoping to get them to the other side of the small pond.
"You think we could make gravestones for Thomas and Franz, and maybe some others?" The freckled boy looked up at him, a hint of sadness tugging at the corners of his eyes, nearly spilling over the edge.
Jean stared at him, not sure how to reply at first. "Marco. You do know... They burn the bodies? It wouldn't do anything but give their loved ones another reason to hold on." He was honest in his reply, wondering why Marco would suggest the idea in the first place. He hadn't been particularly close to either Thomas or Franz and the boy's suggestion puzzled him.
"I know. I just... I think it would be nice to have a place to leave them flowers. I don't think we should forget them." Marco stared down at his boots, kicking his feet upward and allowing them to fall back down and bang against the rock beneath him. It grounded him.
"Well, I guess. I'm not sure the superiors would be to keen on the idea, so we'll have to do it ourselves. I'm sure we can find some large rocks near the wall. If you want, we can carry them to the big apple tree in the center of the old corn field on the eastern side of the gate. It's about a 20 minute walk away from the Karanese District," He paused for a moment, successfully skipping an unusually thin rock across the water. "We can use our blades to etch their names into the stones and people can pick flowers from the field..." Jean looked over at his comrade, checking for some sign of approval.
"Yeah. That'd be perfect." Marco smiled. The squinting of his eyes gave just enough pressure for his tears to trickle over the edge. He wiped them away with his sleeve and stood up. "You think we can start now?"
The memory of his fallen comrade forced more salty tears out of his eyes and Jean clenched his jaw tight, hoping to keep from crying out. His memory of the freckled boy was the only thing that kept him going now-a-days.
Wiping his tears away, Jean regained his composure and smiled. He spoke, "Marco. Marco you ass. Now that you're gone I don't have anyone to sit next to at dinner but that damned Jaeger. Always smearing his idealistic views on everyone. I hate him."
Jean turned his head to the left, staring down at a little ant on the ground. It scurried under a leaf and when it came out it was carrying a large stem, nearly twice the length of its body. Seconds later it disappeared into the ground and Jean's attention was refocused on a dandelion shining brightly in the sun. It reminded him of his Marco.
"I've decided to join the Recon Corps with Eren and Mikasa. Others have changed their minds too. I know my decision before wasn't final, but I've made up my mind now." he paused, taking a deep breath to keep from heaving. "I'm going to join the Recon Corps and see the world for you. I'll bring back little pieces of the outside world and leave them here."
Jean reached out to touch the dandelion. He brushed his fingers along the soft pedals and down the stem before plucking the healthy young flower out of the ground. He placed it in the cup next to the daisy and positioned it to balance against the gravestone. The sake cup was too short to hold the weight of two flowers.
Pulling his arm back he took a look at his hands. The pollen had stuck to his fingers, painting them a soft shade of yellow. "The daisy is from Trost. Our mission was a success," he chuckled, his mouth breaking out in a ginormous grin. "Eren did it, Marco. He did it! And it's all thanks to your sacrifice."
The young soldier stood, wiping the dirt and rocks off of his pants and smoothing out any indents and wrinkles in his uniform. He glanced down once more at the gravestone in front of him before turning to walk away, "Thank you, Marco. I'll never forget you."
