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It was never a problem for Jean that Marco was always cold to the touch.
After all Jean was warm,( like my personal heater, Marco would say) at nearly all times of the day, all days of the year. They complemented each other.
Of course this was only regarded as such by both parties until summer rolled around, where Marco would shove him away during the night, Jean grumbling while crawling back into Marco’s bunk dejectedly, reaching out to wrap his arms around the other, embracing his one and only portable-body-sized-ice-pack.
This incident would repeat merely minutes later of course, a mumble of ‘too hot’ coming out of Marco’s mouth earning a dejected whine back from Jean. It wasn’t his fault he was that warm. Nor that he was too warm, therefore needing a colder body to cool off.
//////
Marco died alone.
Two pairs of hands holding each other.
And Jean found him soon after.
“I love you” Jean whispered, hugging Marco tightly in the silent, dead of night.
Marco smiled fondly in return, gently pushing Jean away from him.
Half of his body no longer, his remaining eye glassed over and dull, his figure (half of it at least) slumped in place.
“Hmmm, I don’t know if I feel the same..”
It had to be a nightmare.
Jean huffed, “come on, say it back please?”
Surely-
Marco looked around as if pondering his answer but Jean knew that glint in his eye, he was up to something.
Surely it couldn’t be real.
“For a price.” Marco grinned mischievously.
Jean rolled his eyes,
Jean’s throat started to close.
“Let me guess, a kiss?”
Marco hummed happily.
Jean couldn’t hear.
Jean brought their foreheads together, before tilting his head slightly, leaning in towards his freckled mouth.
All moisture in his mouth had disappeared in an instant.
His heart was thrumming with excitement as he felt Marco’s breath intertwine with his.
His heart felt like it was ripping. It burned.
He kissed him as gently and slowly as he could muster, before pulling back, taking in the sight of the man in front of him. The kiss had left him breathless.
His breathing turned into wheezes, shallow and frantic. Jean put a fist to his chest.
Jean wished he had a camera with him for the fond expression sitting on Marco’s face. It would be a perfect addition to his barren bunk bed wall.
His vision, static, his legs nearly giving out beneath him.
“I love you too Jean.” He whispered, so earnestly and gently that Jean could have melted right then and there, but instead. a cool touch solidified him, pulling him in for another kiss.
Half of the man that he knew so intimately, lifeless on the ground.
It’snotrealitcan’tberealitcan’tbe-
A sharp voice called to him, snapping him out of his panic.
“Kirstein, identification please.”
By the look on the doctor’s face, this wasn’t the first time Jean was called out to.
He gulped, attempting to bring back the moisture in his throat he had previously lost.
Closing his eyes he steadied his breaths.
He could still see him behind his eyelids so still and motionless and oh how his death must have been painful if only I had been there then he wouldn’t have died alone-
“Ma-“ he wheezed, breaking his train of thought before clearing his throat and steeling himself.
He straightened his posture, closing his legs together with a thud.
“Marco Bodt. 104th Training Corps Cadet, number 7.”
Cold sweat dripped down his forehead onto the bloody ground beneath him, his hands clenched tightly into fists, nails digging into his palms, knuckles bone white.
The doctor hummed in response, tapping his shoulder as she passed him, her figure disappearing as she walked into a nearby alleyway.
A pause.
Jean fell to his knees beside his fallen counterpart, eyes wide, head hung in grief.
Marco gently took Jean’s hand, placing it on the side of his face.
He peered up at the freckled face as his trembling hand reached out to it, cupping it with all the gentleness and steadiness he could muster.
“See?” He smiled, “It fits perfectly”
For a moment Jean let himself stare, dumbfounded, until a chuckle brought him back to his senses.
Jean held his hand as still as his body would let him.
It was still shaking.
He smirked teasingly, “Even your cheek is cold, Marco”
Marco scoffed.
Marco’s cheek was warm.
The realisation at first caused him to huff.
Marco.
Then a chuckle escaped him, his other hand coming up to cover his eyes.
Warm.
It was soon followed by another chuckle, then another few until it formed into a full blown laugh, manic, panicked, foreign in sound.
A corpse.
Soon after, tears started flowing, the man reduced to sobs, slumping forwards toward the freckled hand that lay limp beside him.
He moved his right hand from his face to the hand that lay limp, bringing it up to his wet cheek.
The hand was warm too.
“A warm corpse…” he whispered, the sound quiet enough it fell beneath the wind.
How cruel.
Jean sat there for hours until his squad mates found him, shortly pulling him away and wrapping up Marco’s body in white cloth, loading him onto a cart.
[“I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t remember who said that.
He barely registered the vice grip on his shoulder.]
Jean sat frozen, wide, dim eyes focused on the cart speeding further and further away.
Seeing his body jolt with the harsh movement of the cart with no counter movement to spite it, Jean felt cold bloom across his body.
////////
When it was time to scatter Marco’s bones, Jean knew exactly where he’d leave them. He approached the river near the outskirts of the forest, his legs barely holding his weight, dragging lines in the dirt.
It was where they’d sneak off to between training to get a break from their suffocating reality, something that would otherwise cloud their livelihood like a thick smog, awaiting them back at the camp.
Jean looked at the bank of the river solemnly,
Giggles could be heard from the freckled man,
“Jean- I-I- hAHAHa- NO I GIVE IN-“ Jean’s smirk only got wider as he quickened the pace of his scuttling fingers up and down Marco’s sides.
“If I’d have known you were this ticklish, I would’ve tried this sooner” Marco cackled in response, attempting to pull Jean’s hands away from him.
Jean glanced up at Marco’s face, incidentally locating a freckle under his chin that he hadn’t previously noticed.
In his finding, Jean pulled away for a fraction of a moment, “Is that a new gAh-“ in which Marco took the opportunity to sweep kick him, dragging the both of them into the river.
Jean arose seconds later, sputtering “Hey!”
Marco could only wheeze in response, eliciting a fond smile from the, somehow considerably more, drenched man.
A more sullen version of the smile could be seen on his face now as he stopped walking, reaching the edge of the shallow water leading into the river.
He didn’t even register when he got into the water, nor how the freezing substance drenched his boots, wetting his socks. If this was any other day he’d be internally complaining at the lack of spares he has at camp. The scouts have never been known for their resources.
He squeezed the chips of bone in his palm, blood starting to trickle from the nails that dug into it.
Jean stood in place, looking into the reflections of the water. It took him a while before he realised it was himself being depicted.
He started taking in the features on his face.
His cheeks -resembling the sunken in state he’d found Marco in- his eyes -almost as lifeless as the one Marco had left-
Jean harshly blinked away the train of thought, instead throwing the bone shards into the river.
It was an act of impulse.
Although, it was what Jean intended to do eventually, he admits, in retrospect, he wanted to wait longer before parting with Marco- the bones.
Jean groaned in exasperation.
Shit.
Like a man possessed, he threw himself into the river, cool water enveloping his body, hugging him tightly.
He reached to go deeper, when his hands came into contact with more familiar freckled ones.
Jean almost jumped out of his own body.
Marco-
With a blink, the figure was gone, leaving Jean staring absently into the depths of the water.
Shaking the ordeal off, he glanced around, locking his eyes on the bone fragments a couple of metres in front of him, still descending slowly, spiralling.
He scoffed internally,
you always took your time letting things go, huh, Marco.
Jean stayed unmoving, letting the current move him in slight, gentle circular motions.
A sudden wave of cooler touch over his back sparked a memory in his mind,
Jean, sitting up abruptly on his bunk heaving large breaths in cold sweat.
A gentle voice next to him,
“It was all a dream, shh shh it’s ok now,”
A cool hand, rubbing gentle circles into his back.
It was another one of his nightmares, this time involving his parents, eaten by titans as he stood there, powerless.
“It-“ he paused to take a steadier breath “felt so real this time-“ Marco reached out to his face, cupping it.
His touch was always so gentle.
Jean leaned into it, turning himself more towards him, his head slumping on Marco’s shoulder, freckled hands moving back to his shoulder blades, continuing to rub gentle, pressured circles.
“It’s ok, it’ll all be ok Jean.”
Their breaths combined into steady shallow ones, falling asleep cradled in each other's arms.
If only this was a nightmare.
you said it’d all be ok Marco, you liar
Jean reached out towards the fragments, yet to no avail as the current swept them further away from him.
Jean became more frantic,
Goddamnit Marco, don’t slip away from me now, not like this
He kicked harder, angling himself downwards to chase the falling pieces, his hand stretched out, ready to grab until-
I’m dead, Jean, a voice called out.
Jean froze where he was.
Marco?
Let me go, Jean.
The bones morphed into a person, a freckled, familiar, wonderful person, reaching out to him.
Marco.
He saw -felt- two hands cupping his face, so gently, so Marco, and Jean, Jean could only accept the coolness of it, melting into it, yearning for more.
For a split second, he could no longer hear the water moving, nor feel the current moving him. It was almost peaceful.
As fast as it came, it left, replaced by agony.
Jean’s lungs began to burn, his body setting alight by the lack of oxygen, lactic acid burning its way into every part of his body, water worming its way into every part of him, his eyes on fire.
I’m going to die
Once again, that feeling did not last for long, soon replaced by a gentle but prominent warmth. It was the warmest he’s ever felt in his life, so comfortable, so calm.
Jean relaxed into it before slowly opening his eyes, meeting two brown ones looking into them. Steady, understanding, familiar.
Home.
He let his eyelids succumb to their heaviness, leaning into the cool, gentle touch that cupped his face.
And he swore,
He swore it felt just like Marco.
Jean sat up with a start, coughing the water from his lungs while looking around frantically,
“Marco-“ he wheezed, “Mar-“
A hand clamped onto his shoulder.
He whipped his head up, meeting the gaze of a sombre, concerned Armin.
“Jean? It’s me, Armin, we found you in the wat-“
“What the hell were you thinking?” Connie interrupted from the sidelines, his eyebrows furrowed, seething. Armin sighed in front of him.
“You think Marco would want you to die too? Huh? And to drown at that? Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?!”
A moment of silence fell over them.
Jean stared incredulously, before taking a steadying breath.
“I wasn’t trying to die-“ Jean averted his gaze from his angry comrade, “I was scattering his remains.”
He scoffed at himself internally for how resigned he sounded.
Connie scoffed externally, turning on his heel.
“Don’t you dare try that shit again man, I’m serious.” As a final gesture he turned his head back, eyes locking on Jean.
“We can’t lose you too. Got it?”
Jean nodded, lifting his gaze to linger on his retreating comrades.
Once out of sight, he sighed, looking down at his hands, clenched tightly into fists.
He unfurled his fingers, revealing a single shard of bone in the centre of his palm.
“Marco..” Jean whispered, a smile blooming on his face.
A pause.
He scoffed.
Guess Marco doesn’t want to let go either
Another pause.
He hung his head back, a laugh bubbling in his chest.
When released it was loud and hearty, filling every corner of the open space around him.
He laughed until he had tears streaming down his cheeks, as for the reason, he did not know.
And in the moment soon after, as his laughs came to a stop, and the sun set further down in the sky, Jean swore he could feel those cool, gentle hands cupping his cheeks to wipe away the tears.