No one expected Jean Kirschtein to be the one to make people feel better after nightmares, or listen to long rants and worries about the future.
Sasha didn't expect it to be Jean's door she knocked on almost every night after nightmares.
"Nightmare again?" He'd ask, rubbing his eyes and letting her in.
She'd sit on his bed, huddled against the wall. He'd sit next to her, hold her hand and ask her if she wanted to talk about it.
And she would. She would tell him what her nightmare was, all while holding his hand tightly. He would listen, tell her she was being stupid, that Connie was not a titan-shifter. He would calmly tell her some nice, sweet thing to help her fall asleep and be there for her when she woke up.
When Mikasa paced around the kitchen at night, she didn't expect Jean to walk in and make her a cup of tea. She didn't expect him to sit on the floor, holding it for her between sips and listening to her mumble about how worried she was about Eren and Armin. She didn't expect him to carry her back to her room once she fell asleep -leaned against him and the wall- and put the cup of tea on her nightstand in case she woke up and needed it. She didn't expect that to happen weekly.
Armin didn't expect Jean to be the one that remembered statistics when they vanished from his own head. He'd constantly walk to Jean's room, knock, and ask if it was twenty-three percent or thirty-two percent. He didn't expect Jean to sit tiredly in bed while Armin sat at the desk, going over numbers for hours until he felt calm enough to leave.
Even Eren didn't expect to knock on the wall separating their rooms, ask "Are you still there?" and get, "Yeah. So is Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Connie, Krista, Ymir... Everyone. We're okay, Eren. Go to sleep."
No one expected Jean to be the one who didn't return from an expedition beyond the walls.
Levi had waited until the squad was gathered before he handed Sasha his jacket, spattered with blood.
Krista didn't expect to be the one that screamed first.
None of them realized how much they needed him: the unofficial caretaker of the 104th trainees.
Sasha would knock on his door, crying quietly; asking Jean if he would listen to her. He never answered.
Mikasa would be found sitting in the hall, her head in hands, no tea beside her. He stopped making it for her.
Armin would pace his room, going over numbers for hours until they swarmed his head and he still couldn't remember the statistics. Jean stopped reminding him.
Eren would knock on the wall and whisper, "Are you still there?"
But he wasn't.