Trust ~ Jean Kirschtein x Reader/OC

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE ~ Devotion

NOTE: Hey everyone! I'm so sorry that I haven't been updating recently! I swear the final year of school really smacks you in the face... anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter and the ones coming!!

--

Ever since I brought Jean back from the exhibition, I've been by his side. The only time I would leave was when I was told I had to return to the sleeping quarters during the night, but even then I couldn't stop worrying about him, my every thought was about him. It was concerning that he hadn't woken up yet, and as each day passed without him waking up, I would grow even more fearful.

For the first full day I spent in the medical wing, after having my own cut and bruised hands bandaged as well as having a progress check on my pre-existing injuries, all I did was sit on a seat beside his bed with his hand in mine. Armin was also there, checking in on Zariya. He was either sitting beside her, pacing up and down the room, or checking in on Eren and Mikasa - which was surprisingly quite rare. I would usually never see him outside of five metres from her bedside. We talked occasionally, but my mind was always too preoccupied with Jean's health than anything else. I think Armin was also too preoccupied with Zariya, Eren, and Mikasa, as I don't think he left the room once that day. During meal times, I would bring two servings of food, one for me and one for him, but neither of us would ever finish our meals.

Sasha and Connie often came to visit as well, but they didn't stay for too long. They were often asked to do random chores here and there, usually because Sasha stole a random food item and Connie would end up being dragged into it.

It's now the fourth day that I've sat beside Jean's bed. Zariya had awoken fully just yesterday, so no one I really knew that well was here anymore. But once again, I'm sitting in the same chair, with his hand between mine, and my head down on my forearms. I stare at my boots, they're covered in dirt from the countless exhibitions we've been on now, and each scratch counts as a memory from them. It's as if they're scars, but they can be easily removed and forgotten - unlike the ones that carve into human skin.

I rub my thumbs over the back of Jean's hand. His hands are warm, much warmer than mine, which are ice-cold all the time. I take in a deep breath and shut my eyes, my right leg bouncing up and down anxiously. Why isn't he awake yet?

I suddenly feel his hand close onto mine. My head shoots up to look at Jean, seeing if this is a sign that he is awake or if it was just some muscle reaction. When I look at his face, his eyes are slightly open, and he gazes at me with a smirk on his face.

"Are you following me?" He asks, his voice strained after days of not using it. It's the exact same question I asked him back on the wall.

My eyes widen as a smile grows on my face, beaming at him and standing up. I practically jump on top of him and throw my arms around his neck, beginning to sob into his shoulder - even though I knew he wasn't dead. He props himself up using one arm, and wraps the other around my upper back, digging his face into the crook of my neck. To finally see him awake is absolutely euphoric, the feeling of euphoria coming out in endless tears, and I hug him even closer than before. We hold each other like this for a few more seconds before pulling away, but I keep my hands on his shoulders, realising that I'd soaked through his shirt with my tears.

"Sorry," I laugh quietly.

"It's fine," He smiles.

He reaches up with the hand that was on my back to my face and brushes away the small tears that fall down my cheek. It feels as though my face bursts into flames and becomes even more red than it already is, and I avert my eyes from his, feeling the 'something more' I realised back in the field.