Corpses thrown against the walls, scattered over the rooftops. The buildings that used to look so lively now only reminded people of the end, of the death that awaited them all. Eaten, or ripped into pieces. Spewed up on the street in big balls of yellow. Their last emotions still readable on their faces; fear, of death and the enormous beings that hunted them. The monsters that penetrated the wall which had stood for over a hundred years.

The survivors walked the streets now, it had been a victory. But unfortunately it had been an expensive one. So many of them had lost their lives, so many had lost a family member. Fathers and sons, even daughters; lost, gone. Dead. The only positive thing was that the Titans were gone, for now. The had won the battle which they had thought were lost since they wall breached five years earlier.

Positioned in the center of the mess was a soldier, a boy named Jean. Clearing up the streets and identifying corpses were his, and many others, duty. The only thing he hoped for was that he wouldn't find someone he knew. As he walked the streets of doom that was the only thing he could think of. Everything would be alright as long as he didn't find that someone with freckles. Of course he wouldn't find the freckled boy.

... He was so wrong.

Jean couldn't do anything else but stare at the corpse in front of him, the only thing left of his best friend. The remains of his massacred body stared up at him, judging him with his cold and empty eyes. 'Why weren't you here when I needed you? Why didn't you save me?' A shiver crawled up Jean's spine, made him shudder. "Ma-Marco...?" He swallowed hard. It was not possible, it couldn't possibly be Marco, just some random dude who looked just like him. It was not his Marco, not his Marco. At least that's what he tried to convince himself of. But he knew.

He knew the man on the street, with his half-eaten body thrown against the wall. He'd watched his sleeping face for so long, seen his face twisted in pain and fear. Seen him all happy and giggly. He'd been by his side at nights when the memories of his former home kept him awake, comforted him while holding back his own tears. Always always by his side, together forever. Just like it always been, but it isn't. Not anymore. Yet while looking at Marco's body, he kept telling himself it was just a bad dream; a terrible nightmare. That he'd wake up in the morning and Marco would be smiling at him like always. He'd be looking at him with his with the same friendly expression as usual. With the same caring look in his eyes. And this time Jean would do it. But the dream never ended.

He opened his mouth, reaching out his shivering hands towards the older male. "Hey, wake up..." Jean let his fingers slide over Marco's cold body, over his freckled face. "Marco..." He leaned down, closed the distance between them. "Don't leave me Marco." The brunette kept staring back at him; cold, empty, dead. "Ma..." The rest of his name got cut off as Jean began to sob. "Please Marco, I beg you... Don't die." Tears slowly began to sipper down his cheeks. He cried out his name, over and over. Reminiscing about the past, the time they shared. He sat down beside the crippled body, took Marco's left hand in his. "You know, I never got to say it when you were alive. But I..." He slowly began, closing his mouth halfway into the sentence. It was no longer any idea to tell him. He was already gone.


A freckled angel stood in front of the mourning boy, smiling sadly. Before he knew it he was kneeling down, and embracing the man sitting side by side holding hands with his corpse. "Stupid, I already know what you are going to say. I figured it out ages ago." He murmured softly into the blondes ear. "I knew it, but never said anything at all. I... I pretended to not know. Pretended to be asleep. Pretended to not feel..." He blinked just to feel how the tears started flowing down his transparent face, dripping on Jean's shoulder as he whispered everything into his ear. "The only regret I have in life, is not telling you my own feelings..." Slowly he moved his face and lightly brushed against the other boy's lips with his own. "... and I will never ever get the chance to." Slowly disappearing "Farewell my love... Until we meet again."


"Hurry up or you'll be late again!"

The morning sun lit up the blonde boy's room. Shining in through the window, followed by a soft summer breeze. A man stood by the opened window, hands on his hips. Bending forward just a few degrees, waiting for the younger boy to get up. "Yes! yes.. just a few more minutes.." The boy mumbled, still half asleep. Still hugging his pillow. "Jean Kirschtein, get out of the bed this instance or there will be consequences!"

The blonde opened his eyes, "Like what..?" he whispered. Slowly, carefully. Afraid of the answer. The brunette didn't answer. "What kind of consequences?!" Marco grinned like the cat which ate the canary, "... no more kissing."

"Fuck you Marco." He cursed.
"Oh what a tempting idea!" He chuckled and sat down at Jean's bedside, leaning in to kiss him. Laying a hand on his thigh, gently. Breathing on the other's lips, "It's such a great idea I'd love to accept, except I'd be the one fucking your pretty little behind; turning you into a moaning mess..."

"Try me.."
"Get out of bed Jean."