A/N: We are 3/4 through this 12 chapter story! (Also, I changed the title because Christmas is the 12th day I am writing in the story and so there are 11 days leading up to it. I can't count for my life.)


Everyone folded their slips of paper and stared intensely at each other.

Since a few other soldiers had returned from home in the next morning, Connie and Sasha announced they had an idea.

"Does it involve dressing up and running after people?" Jean asked wryly.

Sasha and Connie folded their arms impatiently. "No …"

"We're thinking -" Sasha started.

"Just hear us out -" Connie cut in.

"- of doing a Secret Santa activity!" They both finished.

And that's how about a third of the Survey Corps were gathered in the library (as some had not yet returned), writing down their names on a small slip of paper. Everyone folded it and a red Christmas stocking was passed around as each soldier dropped their paper inside.

Finally, it got to Connie who put in his paper and grasped the end of the stocking tightly. He shook it hard for about 5 seconds before drawing a slip of paper.

Then, Sasha took the stocking from him and drew a slip of paper before passing it on again.

Connie and Sasha gasped excitedly, causing everyone to look at them.

"Oh my god!" Sasha exclaimed.

"We got each other!" Connie hugged Sasha.

"This must be fate!" She said, hugging back tightly.

"I thought this was supposed to be secret?" Jean muttered under his breath as he took the stocking from an amused soldier. Sticking a hand inside, he pulled out a piece of paper and passed it to the next person closest to him.

Still shaking his head at the comical duo, he unfolded the paper. He saw a name that made him still.

Armin Arlert.


Armin walked out of the library briskly. He needed some fresh air.

"Hey, Armin!" Eren called from behind as he caught up. "Who did you get?"

Mikasa ran up to them too. "Armin, I got -"

Armin raised a hand to stop her. "It's okay, I don't want to know."

"Why? Aren't you curious?" Eren asked.

"No," Armin sighed, stopping suddenly. "See, if you guys tell me, you'll pressure me to tell you who I got."

"Why don't you want to tell us?" Mikasa frowned.

Armin took a deep breath. "It's nothing. I'm just … doesn't this activity require secrecy?"

Eren was puzzled. "Yeah but - you can tell us … We can be trusted you know -"

"I know," Armin said a little curtly. "But look, that's not the issue. The issue is that I want to keep the identity of the person I drew a secret but you're not respecting that."

"But -"

"Eren, please stop. I'm having a headache and going out for fresh air. I'll see you two later." Then Armin walked away quickly, almost running.


Jean headed back to his dorm, deeply troubled. Of all people, why did it have to be Armin?

And why does he feel so nervous because it was Armin?

He sat down on his bed and thought hard. He didn't even know him that well. How was he going to find him an appropriate present? Should he ask Eren or Mikasa about it?

The thought of that made him shiver. Probably not. Eren would tell Armin and everyone else he knew. And … Mikasa, well, she'll tell Eren and then everyone else will know.

Feeling like a deflated balloon, Jean decided to rummage through his trunk for items. Perhaps a more general gift would do.

After much ransacking through useless items, Jean touched something paper. Pulling it out, he realised it was a brown bag of essential oils his mother had given him when he left. He was suddenly reminded of something …

Christmas was nearing and he hasn't written to anyone in his family yet. Although he had been unwilling at first, Jean had been considering such a course of action more and more each night before bed. Maybe Armin was right, maybe contacting them may be the first step to rebuilding bonds. Or maybe, that plan would just fall flat on its face. But at least, Jean can say that he tried.

He hesitated for a moment, then shut his trunk and pushed it under the bed. He ran towards the library, clutching the bag of oils. Jean was going to force himself to write those letters before he got cold feet.

Upon reaching the library, he found that it was empty which comforted him a little. He didn't think he'd be able to write anything if there was anyone around. Privacy was one thing he treasured.

Jean sat down at a table, grabbed some paper, an inkwell and a quill. He dipped the nib into the black ink and hovered it above the paper.

Now what?

Jean didn't know how hard it was to start. For some reason, all the generally acceptable things one would say in letters had dried up inside of him.

I should be honest. Jean thought to himself, gripping the quill tightly. He decided he'll start with his sisters first. It might be easier starting with them first and then building up to his parents.

Then, he set the nib down and began to write.

"Dear Liese …"

He paused, then continued. He wanted to tell her that he missed his older sister, and that despite the age gap, she always made him feel close to her. Then, after another pause, he apologised for his disinterest in maintaining the close bond that they once shared.

The more Jean wrote, the easier it became to express his feelings. Surprisingly, he was already done with the letter to his older sister just a little past noon. Sure, there were little cancellations and corrections here and there, but generally, Jean felt that he had written honestly without thinking too hard. It was after all, how he really felt towards Liese.

He placed the paper aside, waiting for the ink to dry as he started on his next letter to his younger sister, Ethel. He stopped to think, but halted that thought. He needed to be honest and say what he wanted to say. Straightaway, he wrote an apology to her from the first sentence. He wished he could have been a better older brother and cared for her more. He wished he hadn't been so distant …

That letter was also soon finished too and he put it on top of the one to Liese. Now, his father. Jean wracked his brain. What should he say? He barely knew his Dad seeing as his parents divorced when he was only eight. He let out a painful sigh. It must have been tough on Mum, raising 3 kids alone. Feeling some frustration at his father, Jean penned down his thoughts on that too.

Just then, the doors of the library swung open. Startled, Jean looked up to see Historia walk in.

"Oh!" She exclaimed noticing Jean. "You're here … I didn't see you eat lunch."

Jean shook his head. He wasn't feeling hungry.

"Do you," Historia started with some uncertainty, "- do you want me to get you something?"

He shook his head again. Then, noticing she was approaching him, Jean scrambled to hide the letters. A strange feeling came over him instantly. Why should he hide them? It wasn't like he was ashamed.

"What's all that?" Historia asked as she took the chair opposite him.

"Letters …" replied Jean reluctantly. "... to my family."

"Oh!"

She hunched her shoulders up. Jean thought she looked a little nervous. "You've never mentioned them before."

"I … I'm not very close," he shifted a little in his chair. "I'm writing to them because I'm uhhh … re-establishing ties?"

Historia's eyes widened. "That's a great idea!"

"You think?" Jean gave a small smile. He wasn't sure if these letters are going to fix anything but at least he felt good after writing them. It was as if he were slowly making peace with his family members, and himself.

He'd have to thank Armin … "A-actually," he told Historia. "Armin gave me this idea."

"Of course."

She looked as if she wanted to say something. Jean swallowed. Historia was fidgeting in her seat a lot. Was she uncomfortable?

After an awkward pause, she asked abruptly, "Jean. You and Armin seem close."

He did not see that coming. Caught off guard with the statement, Jean struggled to come up with a reply. Close? He furrowed his brows together. Well, he supposed he could say that have recently been acquainted … Jean flashed back to ice-skating yesterday with Armin, that time they were stuck in the storage room, and the other day when they danced together on stage …

Jean tried his hardest to stop the blood from rushing to his head. What is wrong with me?

"You know," Historia said thoughtfully. "I haven't been completely honest with you." She considered her next sentence. "I … took a liking to you, Jean."

He wasn't sure if he heard her correctly. It seemed his brain had stopped working.

"After, umm … after Ymir … had left," Historia took a deep breath. "I was really lonely. Though everyone was so kind to me, I really miss her …"

"Historia -"

She shook her head, indicating she wanted to continue. "At first, I was drawn to you because you share some similarities with her. But in the end, you're a different person and I'm sorry I ever confused you two. That doesn't mean I dislike you now though." Historia smiled gently. "I think you are a wonderful person but someone's heart is beating harder for you now."

She stood up, resuming her usual composure. "I hope you are well, Jean. And … I'm glad you're finally able to express your feelings. You must have found someone really special."

And then, without explaining herself further, she promptly left the library.

Jean felt slightly dizzy even though he was sitting down. Things were moving too fast for him. He wasn't even sure if he fully understood Historia's words.

Historia was drawn to him? Beating hearts? Meeting someone?

Apparently, his brain had died on him. Feeling like nothing was making sense anymore, Jean kept the letters he had written so far in his trunk and headed to the pantry to find something to eat. Perhaps food will help him.

He found some bread and began munching on it mechanically in a dreamlike trance. Soldiers who had come in to get things from the pantry stared at him oddly but Jean paid them no heed.

So … if he had heard correctly, and wasn't dumb enough to misunderstand, Historia … liked him?

A long time ago, Jean would have been happy. Overjoyed in fact. He would have been gloating to everyone else around him. But now … now he just felt indifferent to it. Of course, it was a little awkward for him, but it still doesn't change the fact that he didn't have feelings for Historia.

She also mentioned someone … Jean thought about everyone he knew. Realisation dawned on him. No, she couldn't have meant …

I'm jumping to conclusions. Jean reasoned with himself. She couldn't, she couldn't have been referring to …

He suddenly became very flustered and hot, thinking about it. No way. Not … Armin Arlert.

More soldiers were giving him a look of alarm. Some even came up to him asking if he needed medical help.

Jean ignored everyone, shoved the rest of the bread in his mouth and dashed off. He didn't know where he was headed to but he didn't want to be around people now.

He entered the dorm. Thank goodness it was still empty. The other soldiers must be outside playing with the snow. But he didn't care about any of that. Jean was feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him.

He started to perspire and almost laughed at the thought. Perspiring in winter …

Jean felt his head. Was he having a fever?

Does that mean … I'm gay?

He took up his pillow, smashed it against his face and screamed into it. What was wrong with him? He couldn't be. Armin was … Armin was a friend, maybe even a close friend, and nothing more. Jean wouldn't ever dare think about touching a member of the Golden Trio (okay besides Mikasa but that was in the past), let alone … making advances on …

Jean threw the pillow away, clasped both hands to his head and steered himself. He must get a grip on himself.

But what if … what if he were gay? What if he did like Armin?

Pigs would start flying. Jean considered it. Trees would uproot themselves. Levi would start having fun. All sorts of catastrophic possibilities would happen.

Breaking down a little from all the stress. Jean flopped down onto the bed. He needed to distract himself. People like him weren't made for thinking. It hurts the brain.

His eyes travelled to his trunk, hastily shoved half under the bed so that the other half was sticking out.

The letters! Right, he hasn't finished writing all of them. The one to his father was still half-done and he hasn't even started on the one to his Mum yet.

Jean grabbed the letter he had wrote halfway to his father and headed to the library. For now, he'll just focus on finishing them before … before thinking about other things.


Armin sneezed. He had just returned from a long walk around Headquarters and through the forest. He sneezed again and rubbed his nose. Was someone thinking of him?

Nah, he doubted that. It's probably just because he had been out in the cold for so long. He liked it though. He had always liked winter and he had always liked long walks. It calmed him.

Armin wrapped the scarf around him tighter as he returned back to Headquarters. Unfortunately, while walking did cure his headache, he still had no idea what to get Jean for the Secret Santa activity.

Why of all people, why did it have to be Jean? And why was he getting so worked up over it? People were always telling him he was bright. But how could he be if he couldn't even figure out himself?

Armin entered his dorm and plonked onto the bed. He lay there, still, with his arm resting on his eyes to shield the sun. He let his body relax, feeling heavier and sleepier …

As he drifted off, a crazy thought came to mind: Maybe he liked Jean.

Shooting up from the bed immediately, Armin clutched his head. Did he really just think that?

Wide awake now, he reasoned that thought was ridiculous and completely out of the blue. Sure, he admits he did feel happy with Jean around, but that's the same feeling he gets with Eren and Mikasa too!

Or is it?

Armin contemplated it. He recalled all the times they had spent together these last few days. He thought about Jean treating his wound on bare skin, Jean lifting him up easily so that he could place that star on the tree. He remembered how free he was feeling, skating and racing Jean on the ice. It was almost like they were in a world of their own. A blush came to his cheeks.

But, the thought that they could be more than friends … it was impossible. Armin bit his lip. Jean would never think of him like that … not in that way.

He sighed. He needed to focus at what's more important currently: the Secret Santa activity.

Armin rested his head on his knees. Going back to the Walls alone was not an option, obviously … so he couldn't purchase a gift.

Although … Armin slowly straightened up. He could certainly make something!

He stood up quickly as an idea struck him. Armin rushed to the pantry to outsource his ingredients. It was time to start baking.

As luck would have it, he found all the ingredients he needed to make cookies! Calculating everything in his mind, he estimated he only had enough to make 10 cookies or so. Armin frowned, feeling the pressure. 10 cookies was enough to fill a small jar, making it a suitable gift. However, he could only make one batch. So it had to be flawless for Armin wouldn't be able to try again.

He took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Putting all the necessary ingredients into a large bowl, he started making the cookie dough. He had to be very careful. One small slip-up and the whole batch of cookies could be ruined.

But, as usual, Armin was resolved to do this perfectly. He was going to make the best cookies Jean will ever taste.


Some time later, Jean was done with his Dad's letter and put it aside. This one had the most cancellations and corrections. It was a little untidy and Jean hoped he got his thoughts and emotions across.

Now … his Mum.

"Dear Mum," Jean paused for a long while. He struggled internally with what to pen down. This was the hardest person to write to. His mother, who had done everything for him and his siblings. His mother who had raised them from scratch, worked long hours a day to bring food home and still find time to do chores and take care of her children.

Jean drew in a shuddering breath.

"You seriously rock. Without your hard work and care, Liese, Ethel and I would have died a long time ago. Thinking back, I can't remember a time when you weren't there for us. You always struggled through things, staying strong, even as Dad left … I'm sorry I couldn't have been a better son. You were so selfless and I was … I was just taking things for granted."

His hands were shaking now but he pressed on.

"Even now, I'm still sorry. I had hoped leaving to become a soldier would ease your burden, but I probably made you feel really lonely. I'm sorry for not writing to you sooner. I was always a coward, wasn't I? But, being here in the Survey Corps actually made me realise one thing. You can't move forward if you don't try. So I'm going to write to you and everyone else regularly now. Ma … I'm having a lot of fun here. I want you to know I've met … really great friends and I'm happy."

Wiping his cheeks furiously, Jean scrawled his last two sentences.

"If anything happens to me, I hope you know I love you … very much. Merry Christmas."


Armin took the hot tray of cookies from the oven with a glove and a piece of cloth. They looked round and perfect. Armin had decided to roll them into tiny balls instead of baking them as conventional flat spheres. He poured some melted sugar over them and drop them one by one into a bowl of icing sugar.

Rolling them around, Armin made sure each cookie ball was fully covered in icing and placed them carefully into an empty jar he had found and washed.

He sealed it tight with the lid and secured a ribbon around it. Perfect. Armin wiped his brow, relieved. Now Jean had tiny cookies looking like the snowballs they were throwing at each other in the forest the other day. Armin smiled, that was a lot of fun.

Putting the jar aside, he started to clean up the place. It was almost 8. A lot of people had been coming in and out of the kitchen since he started baking. Everyone was staring curiously and some even stopped to ask what he was making and for whom.

Of course, Armin didn't say anything that might reveal his intentions. He was just glad that Eren and Mikasa weren't any one of those soldiers that walked in. Perhaps, they were all having fun somewhere and got someone else to come in and get food for them.

Finally, he was done washing up. Drying his hands, Armin took the jar and walked out of the kitchen. He turned it around in his hands, admiring his creation. He wondered if Jean would like it.

As if on cue, Armin gasped as he turned the corner and saw Jean walking in the opposite direction. Luckily, he seemed to be examining some envelopes in his hand and hadn't noticed. Armin shoved the jar in his jacket. It made quite a noticeable lump but he could just give an excuse for it and run away quickly.

Hearing the gasp, Jean looked up and stopped in his tracks in surprise. Armin stopped too and raised a rather shaky hand.

"H-hi, Jean." Armin blushed. Why was he doing that? He already felt like just running away without giving an explanation. Was it Jean's unruly hair? His dishevelled clothes? What was it about him that made Armin react so strangely?

Jean clutched at the envelopes in his hand even more tightly. "Hey …" He seemed nervous and … was he turning red too? Armin couldn't be sure and dared not jump into conclusions.

"What's that in your jacket?" Jean asked, pointing at the lump.

Armin tensed up. "N-nothing … just, umm … food from the pantry."

"Food?"

"It's uhh … I have to hide it because it's not mine."

Now Jean was looking a little amused. "You know everything in the pantry is shared right?"

Armin wanted to slap himself. "It's umm … liquor?"

Jean raised an eyebrow. Armin barely managed to force his legs to stay still. "It's not mine … wait. I mean … uhh. I'm taking it for someone … for Eren!"

Bemused, Jean nodded. He wasn't sure what to say. It was obvious the other boy was lying and hiding something but … he decided not to press it.

Armin quickly pointed to the letters in his hand. "What's that?"

Jean smiled sheepishly. "Letters … I umm … spent the afternoon writing -"

"To your family?" Armin asked excitedly, all awkwardness forgotten.

Jean nodded. "Yeah," then he laughed softly. "I'm finally going to deliver them."

Armin reached forward and took his hand. Wrapping his fingers around the other boy's, Armin exclaimed happily, "Jean! I'm so glad!"

The two stared at each other for a moment. Jean was at a loss for words. Those blue eyes … filled with joy. He thought they looked beautiful.

Suddenly catching himself, Jean pulled away quickly and Armin too, dropped his hand. They avoided eye contact.

"I, umm. I should get going," Jean said hurriedly, raising a hand to hide his embarrassment.

Armin glanced at him quickly before glancing away. "Me too."

"Well, I guess … have a good night then."

"You too, Jean."

And with that, the two parted ways, both deep in thought, battling new, stirring emotions within themselves.


A/N: I'm so happy with this chapter!