Summary: A year after titans were driven to extinction, Jean finds himself wandering outside the walls at night. A short fic inspired by Vanilla twilight from Owl city. JeanMarco, I guess.
A/N: To anybody who has not yet listened to Vanilla Twilight by Owl City, I recommend them to do so, because it's awesome and it oozes tingly JeanMarco feels. The bunnies were biting me this time so I had to get this down, and the whole way through I had Vanilla Twilight on repeat. Oh and to those who couldn't bother checking the song out, I'll add the lyrics at the end so you get a glimpse of how amazing this work of art is.
Disclaimer: If I owned SnK, I wouldn't be writing fanfics and crying over Marco. And I'd be rich too, on a second thought.
It's been one year since the titans were destroyed. One year since Eren was crowned Saviour of all Humanity. The long awaited peace has finally come. And this unsettling peace is the reason why Jean finds himself wandering in the middle of the night outside of the walls.
It's been one year since Sina, Rose and Maria were officially declared unnecessary, and people were free to go outside as they wished. But towns were rebuilding themselves slowly, so not many moved outside to live.
Jean stands completely alone, atop a hill somewhere in the woods, and almost everybody else was home, either sleeping safe and soundly, or awake drinking beer with their friends.
It was a warm and sunny week, rare where he lives, the night sky is void of clouds and galaxies covered every inch of the inky darkness, bringing light into anyone's eyes that happened to look up. Jean is one of them.
He sit down and, leaning backwards, basked in the starlight.
If Jean bothered to examine the veil of opaque and it's luminous residents, he would be able to see the constellation of Sagittarius winking from afar, shining directly above his eyes.
To the others, stars were mere decoration. A sight to behold, but decoration nonetheless.
But to Jean, the gems in the sky were solemn souls only those who deserve so much more could really appreciate.
Only to them do the stars cry a lone, sparkling tear as they abandon themselves and forgive the mistakes the universe has made to guide desolate dreams to reality.
I'm not one of them, Jean thought to himself, almost nonchalantly, because even the stars can't seem to dull the longing. He reached upwards, wondering that if he tried hard enough he could grasp one of the stars.
Ever since peace was bestowed upon humanity, and more than a good night's sleep was possible, Jean hasn't been able to close his eyes for more than a couple of hours each day.
As the world darkened into beautiful twilight, he would often run outside to seek comfort as past caught up to him, in the form of crashing down from the sky, hard.
And there he would sit, or lie on the grass, for hours on end, sometimes until the first crack of daylight, thinking, reminiscing, wondering.
Sometimes Jean would talk to the stars, as they were great listeners, about all the hardships one endured in life, until the breeze would carry him to sandman's terrain.
Jean almost missed the days when everyone was too preoccupied in finding ways to wipe out the titans to mourn for anybody.
On those days he could easily suppress the guilt, grief, the yearning that built up and most of all, the love that will always remain unrequited.
Of course, he will not deny that he loved Marco.
He still does, even after that day. And it hurts more than anything to think about it, but like a drug, Jean just can't stop himself. He misses the way Marco always gave him that adorable smile, the way they would talk for hours late at night, the way Marco would comfort and occasionally give Jean a bone crushing hug to tell him that everything was alright-
Jean clenched his fists, blinking tears away. Shit, I'm doing it again.
Eren, Mikasa and Armin had visited Jean a few days ago to talk things through, because obviously something was wrong with Jean – he stopped arguing with Eren. If that wasn't enough evidence, then Armin didn't know what else was.
It started with Eren's much-too-straightforward statement:
"Get the fuck over Marco's death." Which made Jean's jaw drop to the floor with a dramatic clatter.
Even Mikasa was shocked at how irritatingly obnoxious the titan-shifter was being.
An argument had broken out pretty rapidly after that, with remarks like "He's been dead for over a year!" and "How would you feel if Levi was the one who died?" being thrown around recklessly and thoughtlessly, not unlike their punches.
Eventually they were pried apart by two vice-like grips.
Jean had deflated almost immediately after Armin let go, and he sank onto the floor as the words yelled by Eren earlier somehow chose to register in his mind in a repeating, monotone mantra.
He's been dead for over a year!
He's been dead for over a year.
He died over a year ago.
Marco died over a year ago.
"Yeah," Jean whispered so quietly the trio had to strain to hear what he was saying, "Marco's dead."
A tear slid down his cheek, followed by another. "I knew that."
Eren's eyes widened at the sight.
"Oh no no no I didn't mean tha-"
"I KNOW HE'S DEAD!" Jean screamed, fists banging the floorboards and shocking Armin to jump back and Mikasa to still.
"I know!" His voice hitched, "I know. I- Just…leave me alone. Please."
And with that, Jean brought his knees to his chest and broke down not for the first time.
"Marco…" Jean choked out, "I bet you're having a great time up there, this place sucks." His eyes started to water again, and this time Jean finds that he couldn't bother to wipe it away. A cracked laugh forces its way out of his throat.
"I miss you so much." Jean brings his hands up to cover his eyes and eventually he can't stop the pained sobs wracking through his body as he cried freely. Since when did he become so weak?
"I know." A soft voice all too familiar make Jean stiffen and he throws his guard up out of habit. He sits up quickly and through his watery haze Jean couldn't make out the person. Though he would bet a whole loaf of Sasha's bread that it's Eren.
"If you're here to do some sort of sick prank I swear to god-"
"Shh." A finger touched Jean's lips, effectively silencing him. The other hand is brought up to cradle Jean's face, a thumb catching stray tears.
Said boy blinked a couple of times, and when his vision comes back into focus Jean gasped at what, or who, he saw: A handsome face, mere centimetres from his own; a mop of soft brown hair; a heart warming smile, and freckles that dotted his face like stars dotted the horizon.
"M-M-Marco?!" Jean stammers, completely dumbfounded.
"Yeah," Marco smiles. "I've missed you too. It gets lonely up there sometimes."
"But- I thought you were… you know," He hesitated. "dead."
"I am dead, dummy." He chuckles, bumping their foreheads together. His skin is warm. "Right now I'm more like a memory than anything else. But you're not insane, I promise."
"No way. I swear you grew more freckles." Jean deadpans.
"That's just your imagination."
Gold eyes meet chocolaty brown, and both burst into fits of laughter; a sound Jean hasn't voiced since the day of humanity's final triumph. That was when Jean officially declared he had too much spare time to sulk-
"Don't." Marco's stern look cut him off the thoughts. "Don't think about them."
Jean faltered, still high and overwhelmed by contradicting emotions at opposite ends of the spectrum. It's not everyday that you feel suffocating dystopia, tear-jerking happiness and lots of confusion all at once. Especially if your dead friend is involved and sitting in front of you.
So instead of speaking, Jean snakes two arms around Marco and rests his head on familiar shoulders.
"This feels like a dream." Jean says after a minute of comfortable silence. The other sighs.
"Maybe it is."
"What do you mean?" He asked, but Marco just shakes his head.
"Nothing." And they lapse into silence again.
Jean is just about to doze off in Marco's arms when the latter suddenly pushes him away.
"What's wrong?" Jean asks watching Marco stand up as if in a hurry. There is a worried expression on his freckled face as he pulled Jean onto his feet.
"Shit. I've only got five minutes over here." He sighs.
Jean has to resist the urge to roll his eyes and just opts with raising an eyebrow. "There's a time limit to coming here?"
"Well, yeah." Marco starts. "Coming here wasn't exactly an easy job to do, you know. It took me weeks to sum up the energy to actually take form."
Jean, for a lack of better phrasing, looks bewildered. "Wait, so you're not just my imagination…?"
"I am your imagination." Marco chuckles, "Because only you can see me."
Jean is about to say something when Marco cut him to the chase.
"I'll come back. I know I will."
Jean gulped. "W-When…?" His fingers itched to hold Marco's hand, maybe out of habit, or to feel the solid warmth that isn't exactly there.
"Maybe in a few days." Marco said, his voice laced thick with fake cheerfulness. "Maybe in a few weeks. Or months. Or maybe a couple years."
He takes one of Jean's hands in his own. "But whether I'm here, in this weird spirit form, or up there," he looks up at the lone centaur poised to shoot, "or nowhere really, because my physical form is, well, not here anymore," Marco places a hand over Jean's heart and closed a fist, "know that I'll always remain in there. So don't break your heart over my death, or you'll break mine too." He smiles, a sad smile enough to bring tears to Jean's eyes.
"Move on. For me." And Marco chokes, unable to continue as the boys start to sob in their hug - too tight to be called a gentle squeeze, and too sad to be called a loving embrace.
"I'll miss you." Jean manages to voice out. "S-so much."
"I know." Marco grins, despite all, and pulls away from Jean.
They take a few moments just to look at each other, and Jean mirrors the smile, even with tears in his eyes, because everything suddenly seems so clear.
"I'll see you one day then, I suppose."
"Yeah, one day."
"Promise?" Marco nods.
"One day, definitely. So don't miss me while I'm gone." And just before Marco turns away and, Jean works up the bit of courage he has left to say one last thing.
"Marco?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
And Marco smiles. A real, heart-warming, happy smile.
"I love you too."
A/N: And here's the lyrics to Vanilla Twilight:
The stars lean down to kiss you
And I lie awake and miss you
Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere
'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly
But I'll miss your arms around me
I'd send a postcard to you dear
'Cause I wish you were here
I'll watch the night turn light blue
But it's not the same without you
Because it takes two to whisper quietly
The silence isn't so bad
Till I look at my hands and feel sad
'Cause the spaces between my fingers
Are right where yours fit perfectly
I'll find repose in new ways
Though I haven't slept in two days
'Cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone
But drenched in vanilla twilight
I'll sit on the front porch all night
Waist-deep in thought because when I think of you
I don't feel so alone
I don't feel so alone
I don't feel so alone
As many times as I blink
I'll think of you tonight
I'll think of you tonight
When violet eyes get brighter
And heavy wings grow lighter
I'll taste the sky and feel alive again
And I'll forget the world that I knew
But I swear I won't forget you
Oh, if my voice could reach back through the past
I'll whisper in your ear
Oh darling I wish you were here
Please please review! I'd like to know what I could do to improve! Because honestly I don't think I made this sad enough and everything seems so rushed but I don't know how to slow it down either TAT… And I'm still debating about whether I should make this a multi-chapter thing or just stop here, but for now it's a oneshot.
Thanks for taking your time to read this!