AN- Still writing this. It's more for myself than for anyone else. FEELS.

Warning: Rating will most likely change, eventual yaoi.

Disclaimer: I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin, and even if I did I wouldn't change it. It's a wonderful manga/anime.

It was a few weeks later that Jean was allowed to leave, and during those weeks Marco had not visited him at all. The blonde didn't really know what to expect, they weren't exactly close, were they? It was actually lonely. Actually, no one had come to visit. The only person he spoke to was Dr. Smith, and that was only to talk about his health and wellbeing.

To the doctor's surprise, Jean had recovered well. Though he would need to walk around in crutches and keep the cast on for both his right leg and arm, the teenager was glad he could finally move around alone.

He collected what little stuff he had and limped his way towards the door. Jean's mother, who was waiting outside of the hospital room, took the day off of work to help her son settle into their home. The blonde smiled at his mother. It was obvious she was worried about her son by the tired look on her face, but with work she never got the chance to visit him while he was bedridden. She gently grabbed the clear bag with Jean's belongings so he could use his crutches properly.

'This is going to take a while to get used to.' His mother walked ahead of him, leading the way out. He followed behind with much difficulty, still lost in his thoughts. 'Why didn't Marco visit at all? I thought we...were friends. Were friends. Why am I even stressing over this?' He furrowed his brows and had something akin to a scowl on his face.

"If you keep that look on your face, it's going to stay like that." Jean's mother interrupted his thoughts, flicking his forehead. He rubbed it with his good hand and gave her a look of disbelief. "Is something bothering you?"

"I don't really want to talk about it…" His mom gave him a look that knew he was lying. Truth was that he wanted to talk about it with someone; he was just being reluctant about it. "Do you already know? That I can't remember anything about…Marco, and how I even ended up here?"

"Yes, I Dr. Smith told me all about it. He said it doesn't happen often, losing your memory that is, and that you may never reacquire your memories again. It really depends. Each case with your condition was different." She answered truthfully, but Jean still had a grimace painted on his face. "Anything else you want to say?"

"I can't help but feel...I don't know...sad? I keep finding myself thinking about...Marco, like all the time. And the more I think about him the more empty I feel, like a piece of me has been torn out. He didn't even come and visit the whole time I was here. I find it hard to believe that I risked my life for an ass-ouch…" Jean pouted when his mom smacked him over the head for using that kind of language in front of her. 'Leave it to my mom to not care that I almost died and inflict more damage.' He huffed. "How could I risk my life for a person who doesn't even care about me? He just left the day I woke up and I never saw him again since! Why do I want to see him so much?! How can I feel this way about someone I don't even know? Ugh...it's like I'm a schoolgirl in love." He threw his left hand up in the air, cursing the world in his head. The teen had no clue why, but he could feel tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. Jean had so many emotions going through him that he couldn't tell what was what anymore. It was like his heart knew something his brain couldn't comprehend or remember.

The blonde clutched his chest and shut his eyes to keep from crying. 'Why? Why am I acting like this?' He sighed, feeling a single hot tear roll down his cheek. His eyes shot open as something came back to him again; a memory. It was raining and cold. Another person was hunched over him crying, hot tears dripping onto his own face. Jean wiped the tear away, groaning because he was remembering something, but he didn't know what. Nothing, not even the physical pain he was feeling, could compare to the pain he was feeling deep inside.

"Are you done whining?" Mrs. Kirschstein asked. Jean sniffled a little and nodded. "Good. Well, what do I think? I think you really miss him, or at least the you inside of you. That brain of yours might not remember all the things you and Marco went through together, but your heart-and everyone who had the opportunity to witness such a relationship, including myself-remembers it. The two of you were close. And maybe, he's just been busy with school and other stuff. Not everyone can lay around and do nothing. So quit moping!" His mom had a point. She frowned and flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "Let's go." And with that, she marched her way down the hall and towards the elevator. He stared at her back; a little confused.

'What if he really was busy this whole time and I thought he was ignoring me? GOD, I feel like an idiot.' Jean smiled to himself and began to hobble after his mother. 'Yeah, I think everything will be okay.'

The car ride home was rather silent. It bothered Jean a little, but when he reached out to turn on the radio, his mom smacked his hand away. He pouted, of course, and huffed in annoyance. Maybe she wanted him to really think about what she had said. It was working.

'I could try calling him when I get home... He'll probably answer, right?' Jean rummaged through his bag of belongings, and found his phone. Flipping it open and immediately going to his contacts. 'Why didn't I think about this before? Oh, right. I was being an idiot. Let's see...' He kept pressing the down button until he reached the M's and looked at the people's names. There it was, "Marco". It made him giddy, and he wanted to call him right then and there. However, his mom was present, plus school was only half over.

The teenager smiled smally as he closed his phone and dropped it back into his bag. Before he knew it, they were pulling up into the driveway of their home and Jean couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief and happiness. Quickly, he undid his seatbelt and opened the car door, stumbling as he got out. He looked at the house, seeing just as he remembered. Another flash of a memory came back to him.

"Why don't you just stay over? It's late, and I'm sure your parents won't mind." Jean smiled at the figure in his memory.

"I guess you're right..." The other person smiled back. Jean grabbed the other person's arm, pulling him inside the one-story house.

"Ugh." He rubbed his temples. 'I'm getting sick and tired of all these memories that just keep coming back.' He made his way towards the front door and stood there, waiting for his mom to unlock the door for him. Mentally, he praised the lords that he lived in a single floor house. The blonde could only imagine how difficult it would be to have to climb up a flight of stairs just to get to his room or something.

"Still thinking about what I said?" The woman asked as she inserted the key, unlocking the door, and wiggling it back out. Jean looked up at his mother. She pushed the door open and placed the keys on a table near the door.

"Sort of…" He glanced back outside, feeling someone's eyes on him, as he walked into his home. 'It's nice to finally be back.' He smiled to himself.

"I'm going to make lunch, anything you want?"

"Nope."

"I'll call you when it's ready." Jean didn't bother replying and just headed over to his room. He leaned against his door, forcing it open and tossed his bag on the floor somewhere. 'My room...' It was clean, courtesy of Mrs. Kirschtein. He didn't particularly like his mom cleaning his room, especially when he wasn't there to supervise, but he didn't mind it since there was no way he was going to clean the room himself. Yawning, he limped over to his dresser, already ditching his crutches, and pulled out fresh set of "lazy" clothes.

The blonde sat on his bed, pulling off the loose t-shirt on as carefully as he could. He looked over at his body mirror and saw in the reflection his light tan torso masked with bandages and scars. Gently, he traced a recently healed cut with his index finger, shivering at the feeling. Jean snapped out of his odd trance and pulled a white tank top over his head and onto his body. He stopped to take a break. 'This is more of a workout than I thought it would be. I'm starting wish that I stayed in the hospital a little longer...' Unwillingly, he raised his hips a bit to pull his shorts off with much difficulty. Heaving in a painful breath, the teenager managed to take it off. He pulled on some old black shorts with more ease than it took to get them off.

Jean laid back onto his bed, relishing in the feeling of his fluffy thick blankets under him. 'But then again...these blankets are way better than the thin and itchy ones they have at hospitals.' He grinned childishly and sighed in content. Sure, he was still in a lot of physical pain, but that's what painkillers were for, and for some odd reason, the teen really couldn't keep his stupid smile off his face.

AN- I'll stop it here. Yay! Why not? Jean talking about his feels is by far my favorite thing I've ever written. Reviews are nice :3