Breathe

Author note: Because every time I think of Jean/Marco, I cry a little.

Jean woke in the infirmary, feeling weak and looking pale. The cut to his midriff was deep, had barely injured his lung, and he wasn’t stable yet after losing so much blood, the nurse said when noticing he was awake and dazedly looking around. He was lucky to have made it back even if they could only wait for him to recover on his own, she told him. They had disinfected him, but now he had to struggle to make it through the day and upcoming night.

“Who.. Who saved me?” Jean managed to ask despite the great effort it took.

The female tilted her head and took a moment to recall the name of the soldier.

“Mikasa Ackerman” she then said with a light smile. She rather not have him talk and hushed him further.

Mikasa. Mikasa had saved him? Jean would feel warm and special was it not for the only memory he had of his previous fight preventing him from doing so. The one fending for him, that voice, it had not been Mikasa’s, had not been female at all.

Jean closed his eyes and the nurse left him to rest. But rest he did not. Jean tried to recall whatever little detail he could of that horrible confrontation yesterday – how the recon corps had left on another expedition and an aberrant titan had taken them off guard, appearing after they passed a deserted village where it probably had been laying low, because as soon as they went by, it crawled onto its feet and gave chase. In front of them lay a wide field, no trees in sight, nothing to help them use their 3DM gear to its fullest. His squad had panicked when the titan’s speed exceeded that of their horses and lunged at them. Jean wondered if his comrades and horse, Buchwald, had survived.

“They didn’t make it, and you won’t either if you don’t rest” a familiar voice said from beside him.

Jean turned his head slowly, eyes widening at the man who smiled down at him. Those freckles.

“Mar..co?” he breathed out thinking he was delusional.

“Don’t speak, I can hear you just fine without” the other said reaching out and wiping several strands of hair from his sweaty forehead. Jean’s eyes fluttered at the feather light touch.

He closed his mouth, chest heaving quicker than before caused by the sudden appearance of his former best friend, now seemingly well and alive. Impossible, Jean knew it couldn’t be true. He coughed and groaned in pain. Marco’s smile changed, the corners of his lips turning downwards.

“You have to recover, Jean” Marco told him, “as much as I want to continue talking to you, we can’t” he added and Jean saw the way his eyes began to shine with unshed tears. “You have to survive.”

What did that mean, Jean wondered. Wasn’t it a miracle that Marco had appeared before him when he was in dire need, when he was.. dying? Jean parted his lips in realization. “I’m dying, aren’t I?” he asked hoarsely. Breathing began to pose a problem. Jean wheezed several times and flinched at the pain that soared through his body. He was balancing on the line of life and death, and it abled him to see the one person he had longed to see the most. Had Marco always been there, beside him, after his death?

“I’m a little bit selfish” Marco told Jean trying to look sheepish despite the tears that started rolling down his cheeks. Jean watched astonished to find out even ghosts could blush. “Even though you’re hurt, while you’re suffering, I’m happy” Marco confessed, reaching up to wipe the tears from his face. Marco composed himself, wiping his nose on his sleeve and returned to smiling. “This is enough though. I just.. wanted you to know I’m still here.”

That soothing touch returned to his cheek, Marco stroking his pale skin gently while Jean gazed at him with equally bloodshot eyes. Marco shook his head at him when the thought of dying and joining him crossed his mind. He leaned down and rubbed the tip of his nose against Jean’s like they used to when neither could sleep at night.

“Breathe, Jean.. Breathe for the both of us” Marco whispered against his lips, sealing them together in a kiss that brought the colour back to his body, oxygen back into his lungs and the fire back into his eyes. His heart gave a heavy throb, blood rushing through his veins with a sense of adrenaline. He felt the warmth returning to his limbs caused by Marco's passion.

Closing his eyes, Jean reviled in the pressure of Marco’s lips and gritted his teeth when it suddenly disappeared. It took him a long minute before daring to open his eyes once more. He knew even without looking that Marco was gone, though not entirely.

“Thank you, Marco” was all he whispered, showing a small smile to a seemingly empty room.