Writer: Oddcompass

Pairing(s): None

Warning(s): None

Disclaimer: Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin does not belong to me. It belongs to Hajime Isayama. This was made for not profitable purposes, just pure fan based fun.

A/N: Hello again. I really like Bertholdt and Jean noticed on tumblr that the two were sometimes together when Bertholdt wasn't with Reiner. I couldn't find that post to save my life but I tried to make something in character with them interacting. I probably didn't get it just right but I tried my best. Anyways, I hope you enjoy my story and if you see any errors to please excuse them.

Bertholdt woke with tears streaming down his cheeks, a scream stuck in his throat. What was he dreaming about? He doesn't know but he was a gnawing feeling in his gut that it had to do with what he was and what he has done and will do. He could hardly think about it now, seeing as he has made a few actual friends here aside from Reiner and Annie. Marco was sweet to him every time they spoke to each other and Bertholdt felt eternally happy around him. Marco would even seek him out at times and usually knew where to find him. Armin was a good guy too. He knew that Bertholdt also enjoyed reading and recommended books for him to read. The two would sometimes read together in a comfortable silence, words not needing to be spoken between the two. Then there was Jean.

Jean was a different story from Armin and Marco. To be completely honest, his opinion of the other teen was that high when they first met. Jean was brash, rude, inconsiderate, and, frankly, an asshole. He always got into fights with Eren and try to find something to brag about.

But then Bertholdt got to know him.

It was on a stormy night and Bertholdt had decided to sit outside under the shelter of a little cabin's porch. Cold rainwater still sloshed on him but he didn't mind. Thunder clapped all around him, some even sounding right next to his ear but it was alright with him. Even the lightning didn't bother him. He enjoyed the storms that would roll by. It had its perks and then training for the next day would be cancelled, allowing Bertholdt to either sit by himself and read or clutch onto Reiner wherever he goes. The tall boy took a deep breath of the stormy air and sighed gently.

Footsteps sounded and there was Jean Kirschstein. He looked solemn and kind of sad. His golden eyes found Bertholdt's green ones but he didn't say anything. Actually, it looked like his eyes were pleading to him. But about what, exactly? What happened to him?

Jean stood on the other side of the porch, his back to him. Bertholdt wanted to ask what was wrong but thought that it would be a bad idea. The only person he knew that Jean would open up to was Marco and he found that out on accident after having woken up from a dreamless sleep and hearing Jean cry his heart out to Marco. That's when Bertholdt's thoughts of Jean began to change a little.

There was a heavy silence hanging between the two and Bertholdt began to sweat a little. Did Jean want him to say something? Did he want him to ask him what was wrong? What did he want?

Thankfully, Bertholdt didn't have to open his mouth yet.
"I'm not all that bad of a person, am I?"

Bertholdt sputtered at the question. Was this what he was sad about? "Honestly?" He waited a moment before answering. "You're a really sour person."

Jean laughed bitterly at the response and turned to face Bertholdt. "That's what you think of me? You think I'm sour?"

"He nodded. "I can't blame you for being sour, though. I'm sour, too."

Jean looked at him with a look of anger and incredulousness. "You're bitter? You got to be fucking joking me. You're not bitter, just a wallflower."

He flinched at the truth in his words. "A bitter wallflower, then."

It was silent again. The wind changed directions and blew the rain on Jean's shirt. He didn't seem to mind. Lighting struck and casted an eerie glow on Jean's sharp angled face. Jean spat into the rain.

"What do you have to be bitter about?"

It suddenly struck him that he could tell Jean everything that was on his mind. Tell him what he's done, what he is, what has been plaguing him for years. He opened his mouth to do so, the urge so strong, practically pulling him forward. He caught himself and closed his mouth, berating himself for almost blowing their cover. "Just trust me. I've done some things that should require people to hate me."

"Like what?" There was a curious tone in his voice that Bertholdt was scared he'd satisfy.

"I can't tell you."

Jean narrowed his eyes at him and took a step closer to him. "Why?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you the questions?"

Bertholdt isn't sure where that came from and Jean looks just as taken aback by his question. But it's true, Bertholdt realizes. He should be asking Jean the questions.

Jean practically growls and turns away.

The rain came down harder.

They didn't speak to each other the rest of the time they stood there together. The green eyed teen watched Jean most of the time after that. He wondered about what had happened to him and why he was always so impulsive in the first place. He could ask and he was sure Jean might divulge the inner workings of his mind but he didn't press on.

Jean would watch him too and Bertholdt was sure that he could practically feel Jean thinking about him and what he's hiding.

The storm had let up and the two had gone their separate ways, neither saying goodbye to the other nor greeting each other in the hallways. They would occasionally sit in silence together on stormy nights.