A small knock lightly resounded through the room, so quiet that you had almost thought you had misheard. You paused at your position at the small desk in the corner of your room listening for any signs of life on the other side of the thin wooden door that separated your small room from the long corridors. It was quiet for moment until you heard it again – that same tiny, easily mistakable knock. You turned off the small desk lamp off before rising from your chair and making your way towards the door, flicking on the main light on the way.

"Jean?" You opened the door to see the taller man standing there, his eyes widening for a moment when you appeared before him as if he hadn't expected you in the slightest.

"Oh, hey, _. Were you sleeping?" He asked quietly. You realized he hadn't wanted to wake you.

"Oh. That explains that pathetic excuse for a knock. Don't worry, I wasn't sleeping. Come in." You pushed the door open fully as you turned around, trying to stop the tiny smile that had crept into your features at the realization.

"Oi, that's rude. I was being considerate." Jean's voice was a regular volume now as he shut the door behind him. You grabbed the chair you had just been sitting on, placing it beside the bed and taking a seat, motioning Jean towards the bed. He took a seat, albeit awkwardly, and you realized once again that he wasn't really the most socially inept person in the world either. But that was okay too.

"So what's up?" You asked somewhat impatiently. It was obvious he was nervous being in a girl's dorm at near midnight but his habit of just sitting there averting his eyes got on your nerves sometimes.

"Ah, right. Nothing really important so stop giving me that dumb look." It was easy enough to push his buttons a little though, so it didn't take long for him to start speaking in his usual brash tone. "Just checking in I guess. I wasn't tired at all so I thought I'd kill some time. Do you mind?"

"No that's fine, I was up reading anyways. Are you having trouble sleeping?" You asked, pulling the reading glasses you had forgotten you were wearing off your face. Although you kept a small desk light on beside you, reading the in the dark still strained your eyes enough that you were cautious. You rubbed your eyes lightly and folded the glasses up, throwing them lightly on the bed.

"Nah it's nothing like that. Beating you was so easy during practice today that I didn't burn as much energy as usual I guess." Jean reached over to the glasses that landed beside your pillow, unfolding them and inspecting them from different angles. "Reading glasses?"

"Oh I see. You just came here to brag some more didn't you?" You ignored his question and leaned forward in your chair with a small glare. Jean lifted his eyes to meet yours, a small smirk played across his thin lips.

"Don't try to put me on your level. I'm not an idiot so I wouldn't be so happy over something that small." He put the glasses he held in his hand on his face, taking a quick glance around the room with that same damn grin plastered all over his face. You glared at him as his eyes finally stopped and met yours, his lips pulling upwards farther to reveal a small portion of his straight white teeth. He placed his finger between your furrowed brows and nudged. "You're gunna give yourself wrinkles, you know."

"It's obvious you're happy with that shitty grin on your face. Just because you put on glasses doesn't change the fact that by your own definition you're an idiot." You swatted his hand away from your face and pulled back, sitting up straight once again. Although, if you were being honest with yourself, they did actually suit him more than you would have guessed.

"You didn't answer my question so I had to check for myself." He pushed the glasses up as if he was accustomed to wearing them as he stood up and walked towards the desk. "What were you reading?"

You let him reach the desk without an answer, his eyes landing on a book laid spread open on the desk – you didn't have a bookmark so you just left it open to keep your page. It was the book he had given you before your arrival here. The book that had belonged to the only real mutual factor you had between you both.

Suddenly a realization hit you as you faintly heard Jean's murmured breath. Without Marco, would you have ever met Jean? You weren't sure exactly if Jean considered you both friends or not but besides Marco, Jean was the only person who you made regular conversation with within your own classmates and comrades.

Even when Marco wasn't with you anymore it seemed like he was trying to help you.

And it stung. It felt like you had ingested a rose bush and the thorns were imbedding themselves into your skin from the inside. They must have gotten really stuck on the way down or something because somehow it felt incredibly strenuous to swallow. It was probably due to the fact that you had been reading his book and thinking about him beforehand but suddenly it felt like the still-healing wounds had never began to heal at all.

"Hey, I swear to you, okay? I promise you – so believe me. You'll never be alone. No matter what happens – you will never be alone."

"Do you think we would have met if it wasn't for Marco?" Jean's voice filled the otherwise quiet room once more and you snapped your head up, trying to shake away the memories along with the sudden stinging you felt behind your eyes. Jean's back was facing you as he placed a hand on top of the book, tracing the writing as if they were something more than just flat words on a paper.

"I mean we never talked before, right? Even though I knew who you were I don't think we ever said anything more than a simple passing greeting or something whenever Marco would switch out between us. Isn't that weird to think about?" Jean's voice was soft and much quieter than he had been earlier. Was he also in the same pain? Did the memories haunt him like they did you?

There's no way something like that could be true.

"Hm." You gave a small hum of acknowledgement. In honesty though, it was probably all you would've been able to manage with the way your throat seemed to have clenched up.

"I bet he wouldn't have guessed we'd be friends now." Jean mumbled as his hand left the words in the book and reached for the glasses still placed on his face. He slid them off gracefully and set them on the desk top before continuing, "Or maybe he could've? I hate to admit it but I guess you and I have some stuff in common personality wise. Maybe he saw that?"

It seemed like he was hardly talking to you anymore and rather just muttering his thoughts out loud. You took a deep breath, rubbing your fingers along your throat as if the problem was a physical one instead of emotional. You closed your eyes as you let the breath escape your lips, successfully ridding yourself of that damn annoying stinging. You were going to be stronger, remember? When you're strong you don't cry.

Especially not in front of others.

"Hey, _. It's okay if you hit me for asking but are you okay?" Jean's voice regained its volume once more as he turned now to face you. Had he seen you? Had you made him have to worry yet again?

"What are you talking about? I'm fine." You're reply was quieter than you would have liked but it was good enough. It sounded firm, right? You didn't stutter, right?

"Yeah I know that. Shut up with that already. I meant with everything – like Marco's death. You sure you're not up crying yourself to sleep at night or something like that?" Jean's words stung more than you would've liked in your state. Normally they'd just be another batch of his usual backwards tone lacing his genuine concern but right now they felt like lead traveling through you.

It was too damn heavy.

Did he think you were that pathetic? Did you come across as that weak?

"Shut up – like hell I would do something like that. I don't need your pity, Jean." You were lashing out – you knew you were. Your words were harsh and your tone even worse than it had been on that first night.

"Who said anything about pity? It's called being worried dumbass. It's what friends do." Jean made his way towards you as you glared up at him.

"I don't need it. It's annoying." It felt like time came to a stop as you and Jean shot daggers with your eyes at each other, neither of you saying a thing. Suddenly, though, Jean's eyes closed and he let out a sigh as loud as he had when he first approached you.

"You know, you're personality is really bad. I take back what I said about us having stuff in common personality wise – you're a damn nightmare. Where does that attitude come from, anyways? Were you always like this? Even with Marco? How the hell did a nice guy like that put up with it I wonder?" Jean's tone was light and he probably wasn't trying to attack you in a malicious way – you knew that, you really did – but the blood had already started to boil within you and headed straight for your big, stupid head.

"Shut the hell up, Jean. You don't know a damn thing about Marco's and my relationship so don't act like you do or I'll rip your fucking shitty tongue right out." You finally stood up from the seat you had taken when he first arrived, stepping closer to the tall boy as your body became more and more tense.

"Hah? You couldn't even beat me in practice today and you're threatening me? That's some confidence you got there. Care to prove it then?" Jean reacted to your threats in the exact way he always did, half way between serious and joking. He placed his hands on his hips and leaned his face forward – still looking down on you – as if to mock your height.

If it was another normal day, his words wouldn't have held so much weight. You would've been able to see through his aggressive exterior to the true meaning behind his backwards speech just like usual. Why did it hurt so much all of a sudden? It felt like he was somehow looking down on you and that made it so much worse. On top of the still-fresh wounds of Marco's death were new worries you hadn't noticed begin to pile up. Or maybe you had noticed but just pushed the realization away so you could safely run away again? Your head seemed to be becoming more of a mess lately and the confusion just added to your ever-growing list of worries. All you knew for sure right now was how hot your blood felt in every inch of your body.

"I swear to fuck Jean I'm going to put you in the damn infirmary." You grabbed his collar and yanked him down further so that your faces were only inches apart and the glaring match began anew – this time at a proximity that would've normally been out of the question for you both. It went on for minutes upon minutes as you waited for his smart-ass reply so you could give him the well-deserved punch in the face he was asking for.

But it never came. Time seemed to drag on until finally Jean let out another sigh the same as he had done just minutes prior – this time you could feel the warm breath trickle along your already burning skin. His shoulders relaxed as he closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them to meet yours with a gaze you couldn't quite read. Your eyes shifted away while you followed his right hand as he lifted it and placed it on top of the fist you had his collar bunched up in, although he didn't make an attempt to remove it.

And then suddenly, catching you off-guard, something hit your forehead.

You turned your gaze once more to find Jean's face a mere few centimeters away from yours now as his forehead rested against yours and his eyes closed calmly.

"Will you carry me there when you're done like you said you would?" His words were quiet again as his voice became more of a relaxing whisper. "Although truth be told you're the one who's burning up again. Careful, or you'll get yourself sick working too hard."

"I'm not sick." You're reply was just as low as your head raced for a different reason that it had been a few minutes prior.

"Sorry. Did I make you mad? I didn't mean to. I tend to just say whatever comes to the top of my head without really thinking about it too much. It's like a bad habit. Sometimes I say stupid things but I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." Jean's words were wrapped with sincerity so strong that you could've sworn you felt it as his breath hit your skin with each word.

"You don't understand anything. You can't say things like that." That irritating stinging returned to the back of your eyes and you were quick to crash your eyelids closed.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. There's no way Marco thought anything like that. You said I don't know anything about your relationship but the way he talked about you was enough to know. I shouldn't have said anything like that. I was wrong." You felt Jean's other hand find it's place on the top of your head as you loosened your fingers from his collar, letting the hand he had placed on top of them to take the place of the now severely wrinkled shirt.

"... And you?" You're voice was still low and your eyes stayed shut out of the fear that you would cry again any second now. "Do you think less of me? I know I have a bad personality so it would make sense. Do you think I'm weak?"

"Like hell I would. I said it earlier but I'll say it again. I'm your friend so I worry about you but that doesn't mean I pity you or anything. That doesn't mean I think you're weak. You might have a bad personality but I'm in the same boat, right? After all, I made you cry again."

"I'm not crying." You snapped your eyes open as if to disprove his words and you were met with Jean's warm eyes looking gently back at you.

"Yeah, you're right." He smiled at you, finally pulling his forehead off of yours and placing a natural distance between your faces'.

"I won't cry anymore. I'm going to become strong so I can't cry anymore. I don't want to." You hoped that your words came across with weight despite the fact that your eyes so obviously trembled.

"Crying doesn't make you weak, you know. Besides, isn't that what shoulders are for? To let people cry on – o-or something like that... I'll let you. If you can't hold it in you can cry on my shoulder whenever you need to. I won't say you're weak because of it." Jean's hand squeezed yours ever so lightly as if to provide some sort of reassurance.

"You make it sound like it's bound to happen or something even though I said I didn't want to." You pushed away the hand that still rested on your head so that you could turn your face.

"Of course it is. Everyone needs an outlet every once and a while, right? Because we're human. Everyone has their own weight to carry. Sometimes it can wear you out and you need help carrying it. That isn't a bad thing, you know. I said I'd help you carry it, didn't I? So this much is fine." Jean took a step to stand in front of your face again in a childish way of getting you to feel the credence of his words. As if the warmth his palm provided wasn't enough to get your full attention.

You let out a small sigh before smiling ever so slightly to yourself, meeting his eyes once again. How hopeless could you get? No matter how you felt in the minutes prior, Jean had a way with words that made you give in. The worst part about it was that you were so used to it by now that it felt like a natural response. You weren't even mad at yourself for believing in him this time. At least, not for the moment. You found yourself wishing for it to last, even.

"You don't give up, huh? But I guess that's a good trait of yours. Hey, Jean, we're friends right?" You waited for his nod before continuing, "Then it's a two-way street. I'll let you carry some of my weight but in return I'll carry yours too, okay?"

"Of course you will, idiot. That's how it works. I'll be relying on you when I need it so you better do the same, got it?" Jean's hand finally loosened its grasp on yours as he let go and took a seat on the chair you had placed beside the bed. There wasn't a breeze and yet suddenly your hand felt cold compared to the rest of your body, as if Jean had been the one providing body heat for it instead. "You can start by taking a seat right there and telling me what's up with you already. I know you say you're fine but it's obvious that's not the case so just spill now."

Jean's forceful gaze reminded you of when Marco had made you to talk in a similar manner. Did Jean pick up on his tricks somehow? He must have, considering the way he had been able to dictate your emotions so easily with just his words.

"I have trouble sleeping." You stated simply, finally giving in and taking a seat on the bed before Jean.

"Like you have nightmares or something?" Jean asked.

"Sometimes. But most of the time I just can't sleep for no real reason. I end up tossing and turning for hours and then realize it's already morning. Or I'll fall asleep only to wake up minutes later – wide awake again. It used to work out in a way that I'd tire myself out eventually and be able to get a proper rest but lately its worse I guess. That's why I ended up getting sick the other day. I must've been awake for days by that point. I can't tell you how much my eyes were burning."

"How long has it been going on?" Jean asked slightly as you leaned backwards on your hands, staring up at the ceiling.

"A long time. I've never liked the night so as kid I had trouble sleeping."

"So you're scared of the dark?" Jean was only half teasing.

"No, not anymore. I actually like the nights now since I've gotten used to it, honestly. It's calming and we know the Titan's aren't as active which is another comfort. It's just my body that don't listen. No matter how much I want to sleep, it doesn't come."

"But it's never been this bad before, right? I mean I know we weren't close but I don't really remember you ever passing out like that before this."

"I-It's gotten worse since Marco's death, I guess." You were starting to regret opening your mouth at all when you realized how pathetic this whole thing must have sounded. If Jean meant what he said he wouldn't think less of you but it still felt like part of your pride was losing. As quiet enveloped the room you found yourself wishing that you could leave the room and stop the conversation as it was now.

"Ah, so I was right then. Maybe you're not crying about it but it's definitely keeping you up at night, right?" Jean's voice was verging on playful and you quickly sent a glare his way. He really did always just say what was on his mind, didn't he?

"Well, it's true, right?" Jean stood from the chair and took a seat on the bed beside you instead. "I'm just curious – and you don't have to answer if you don't want to – but Marco knew, didn't he? I caught him a few times sneaking back into his bed at the most bizarre hours. He was with you, right?"

You nodded in reply to his now serious tone, sitting up straight and shifting a little in your position.

"He never told me even when I asked but I thought that was the case. Shit, now I feel bad for teasing him about it." Jean placed a hand over his face quickly. Tease him about what exactly? Oh well.

"He would comfort me. He said would say stupid things like I was still scared and so I needed him there and he wouldn't leave. And so he'd sit there and hold my hand and tell me "I'm here, its okay." as if that was the solution. Although, I guess I can't really argue since it always worked. I'd always fall asleep in the end and he'd be gone when I woke up. He was too nice, you know – he never asked anything in return even when he did so much for me." You looked towards the desk where Marco's book lie and his small notes were hidden.

Hey, Marco – I still need your help, you know? Even though you said you wouldn't leave you're not here.

"What, so it's that simple? Say something sooner if that's the case, idiot." Jean stood up abruptly and put his hands on your shoulders, pushing you down onto your bed.

"W-What are you doing?" You asked as he started playing with the blankets and placed them over you.

"I'll do it. I'll stay here and help you fall asleep. I'll even hold your hand if you want." Jean gave you a small grin as he stood above you.

"What? No way. I never asked you to do that." You pushed the blankets off as you sat up again.

"I'm offering, idiot. I said I'd help, didn't I?" Jean was quick to push you back down once more.

"Either way there's no chance. I refuse. Absolutely not." You struggled against him but his arms were stronger than yours, no matter how much you didn't want to admit it. This situation felt vaguely similar to the sparring match from earlier today.

"Just shut up and accept other people's kindness once and a while will you?" Jean's face floated above yours and you could definitely feel your heart beating against your chest now.

"No, no, no. Just no. I didn't tell you all that so you could start saying dumb things like that. It's a shitty idea okay? So no way." When did he begin to make you feel like this? This nervousness, this anxiousness, this completely unexplainable arrhythmia. You were sure you had never felt anything like it before.

"...Is it no good? Will it not work if it's not Marco? Sorry, did I suggest something really dumb?" Jean's expression changed suddenly as he loosened his grip on your shoulders. You stopped struggling and looked up at him as his eyes were filled with a strange sadness you knew too well.

"No, it's not like that. Sorry. I overreacted." You sat up once more, not sure what to do or say. For all of the times you'd been comforted, had you ever done the same? Did you even know how?

Marco – and now Jean, as well – did so much for you just to stop you from being lonely, or stop you from feeling pain. Had you ever done anything in return? For all your talk about friendship just minutes earlier, weren't you the one being the most unfair? You kept telling yourself that there was no way Jean understood the unpleasant and overwhelming emotions that boiled inside of you – but he had lost someone as well. Whether or not he understood exactly how much it hurt – did that even matter? How did you skip over the fact that regardless, Jean was also in pain? It didn't really matter to what degree he understood you since he was trying. Could you say the same thing about yourself? Had you done anything to ease his pain in the slightest?

Hey, Marco. I've changed my mind – you were really bad at judging others.

You realized for the first time the extent of just how much Jean had helped to ease yours.

I'm weak. I'm so weak it's pitiful.

Those eyes that met yours on that night – was that really a look of pity you saw? Or perhaps it was just the same loneliness reflected back at you and you had just been too selfish to realize.

Once again you realized something about yourself that you had hidden. A part of you wished you hadn't – you hated yourself enough already at this point, isn't it enough? You were childish and evasive so you wanted to make more excuses, to run away from all the thoughts in your own head.

"Ah, did you just apologize? The world must be ending or something." Jean's smile almost seemed forced for a second as he stood from the bed and faced towards the door. Did he plan on leaving?

Hey, Marco... I have something to say.

"Yeah. I'll apologize as many times as you want me to. For just now and for earlier, too. I went over the top before and acted like a kid. Sorry." You stared at Jean's hand as you spoke as something inside of you was screaming at you to grab a hold of it.

"It's fine. I shouldn't have said that stuff in the first place, though. Although you really shouldn't get so aggressive when I'm your only real friend, you know? What're you gunna do if I end up leaving, huh?" Jean turned his head over his shoulder to meet your eyes and his tone was jesting once more.

"Don't." You looked down at your own hands on the blanket in an attempt to run once again. Not only for Jean but from yourself; you knew you were in over your head from the moment that word escaped your lips.

"Don't? What?" Jean asked in confusion as he turned his body to face you once more. Your heart felt like it was beating in your throat as your pride tried it's hardest to prevent the words from leaving your lips. There was a part of you, however, that knew you needed to. For both Jean's sake and your own.

"Don't leave, idiot." You laid back down on the bed you had fought so hard to get out of earlier, pulling the blankets above your face in the most childish attempt of escaping you had done yet. Even if you wanted to face him head on, after saying something so embarrassing like that it was surely impossible. With nothing but the sound of your damn annoyingly excessive heartbeat and your breathing you could feel the heat in your face rising.

"...Mm. I said I'd stay, didn't I? I haven't broken a promise to you yet and I don't plan to start." You could've sworn you could hear Jean's smile as his voice filled the room accompanied by the sound of the bed creaking. You pulled the blanket's from your eyes to be met with his staring back at you with a warmth you could almost feel. You shifted onto your side, averting your eyes from his once again to try to stop that stupid color that painted your cheeks from deepening.

"Now, move over, will you?"

"Huh? What're you doing?" You rose to your head as the bed began to shift suddenly, your blankets being removed from you as Jean made his way into your bed.

"Going to sleep, idiot. I'm not Marco so I'm not gunna sit there until you don't need me anymore and then sneak back on my own – I'm not that nice of a guy, you know. So instead I'll just sleep here." Jean's voice was its usual condescending tone as if there was nothing strange about the situation at all.

"You're going to sleep in my bed? Beside me? Do you even hear yourself?" Yours on the other hand, was in almost panic as Jean now lay inches away from you.

"I don't see another bed here. Besides, it's easier this way, isn't it? You can't run away like this. If you're worried about something else then don't bother. I'm not going to attack you in your sleep or anything." Jean's hand intertwined with yours underneath the blanket and you wondered where the awkward, timid boy from earlier went? It took everything you had in you just to mutter a couple of out of characters words and yet he seemed to so easily shift from that boy to the man you were very much aware of before you.

"I'm not worried about anything like that! Why would I care, anyways? And who said anything about running away? Besides, think about what you're even saying! This isn't exactly a bed made for two, you know?" You felt like your thinking was becoming less coherent and hoped it didn't come across outwardly.

"You're the type of person that would run unless they had no other choice, right? You're so damn evasive it's hardly even cute anymore. It'll be fine so just shut up and go to sleep." The warmth from Jean's hand made its way into yours once again as he pulled your head back down with his other, practically slamming it into the pillow.

"...Either be a nice guy or an asshole, Jean. You can't have it both ways." After a few moments you had calmed down enough to regain your thoughts. Jean opened his eyes, his face mere inches from yours, before closing them again just as quickly. Could it be that he was nervous as well?

"Shut up already. You won't get any sleep if you keep talking." His reply was as usual but you could swear there was definitely a light shade of pink in his cheeks that wasn't always there.

"The lights, Jean. They're still on. Aren't you forgetting the most important step?" Yeah, it was definitely there. Jean lifted himself out of bed and quickly made his way across the room, flicking off the lights before returning towards the bed.

"Ow. Shit." Jean's voice was a low grumble as you heard a distinct bang.

"Try not to break my stuff, will you?" You smiled as you felt Jean climb back into the bed with you, the blankets shifting for a few moments before settling again.

"Oi, do you know how much that hurt? I think my small toe is what's broken." Jean's voice was so close you could feel the breath as he spoke graze your skin.

"You were bragging about beating me earlier and yet furniture can break your bones?" Ah, it happened again. Somehow all the nervousness and anxiety that had filled your heart moments prior was being melted away by Jean all over again. How did he manage to strip away all of your worries so easily like that? Every wall you built came crumbling down before him as if it was nothing.

"Shut up already. Ah, dammnit. I can't see a damn thing. Where's your hand?" You felt Jean's rough fingers shifting across the bed and you placed yours on top of his without hesitation. If you thought about it logically, this entire situation was wrong. Jean shouldn't be in your bed, you shouldn't be okay with it, and you should definitely not be holding hands as you lay together like some old married couple.

But you weren't thinking about it logically anymore. All you knew about this moment was that annoyingly gentle warmth seemed to be all you needed to feel comfortable again.

"Ah, here. Now get some sleep. I'm here, so it's fine now. I won't go anywhere."

"Yeah. Goodnight, Jean."

Someday you would have to thank him properly.

"Mm, goodnight."

I wish I could have said it in time.