The Assassin (Shingeki no Kyojin/ Attack on Titan)

Letters

Chapter 50 spoilers. Well... spoilER.

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Jean's grip on my shoulder tightened, "But that's... m-my dad..."

Everyone else in the room had their eyes on Jean, as if they were expecting to him to throw a fit. But Jean's head simply hung low, avoiding everyone's eyes. Silence hung in the air for a moment before he began to tremble.

"Jean..." Eren began. I supposed he couldn't believe that he and Jean were tied, that they were somehow involved in each other's pasts before they had even met.

"Your dad killed my dad," Jean said shakily. I could not tell if he was angry, but his fingers began to dig into my skin through my jacket.

"It wasn't his fault, Jean," Mikasa said softly, "You heard G. Dr. Jaeger was being controlled." She probably thought that would help, you know, to kind of even things out, but it really didn't help at all.

Jean broke out into sob, his breathing staggered, and his chest heaving. I looked up at him from where I sat. I saw the tears in his eyes and I felt something within me twist and it hurt and it confused me. I had never imagined seeing him like this. I had never prepared for something like this. I had seen people in anguish but... it never made me feel anything like it did at that moment.

"G," Levi said, grabbing my attention. "We'll finish the translation at another time."

I nodded, realizing what Levi was really saying. He could've asked anyone in the room to do it, like Armin, but for some reason he thought it would be best if I'd be the one to take care of Jean. And so I did.

"Hey," I said to Jean. I stood up from my seat slowly and grabbed his hand, "Let's go for a walk. Okay?" And with that, I led him out of the building silently to get some fresh air. Not being the emotional type, I didn't know if that was the right thing to do but it made sense. It's hard to be at peace in a confined space. That was the whole point of the Scouting Legion, after all.

We walked around outside for a short time, all the while Jean's grasp on my hand did not loosen and I didn't mind so much. He wiped his eyes with his sleeves before sitting down against a tree. I recognized it as the same tree under which we had our first actual conversation. With everything that had been going on the past few weeks, it felt like an eternity ago. But I still looked down at my hand, the scar still fresh and pink across my palm.

Jean leaned forward against his knees and I sat with my back pressed to the tree. Tentitively, I placed my hand in between his shoulder blades and began to rub gently. I felt as though a rock was forming in my throat and my face began to heat up. Quentin used to do this same kind of caress, not when I was sad but just when he felt like it was an okay thing to do. And the memory of it filled me with grief and a longingness for him just... come back to me...

"Georgie," Jean said after a long silence. He didn't have to wait for a response because he knew I was listening, "H-How did you...you know... keep yourself from feeling anything? For all those years..."

My eyebrows pulled together. I leaned forward so we were eye-level, and I lightly turned his head toward me so our gazes locked on each other. I said sternly, "You can't do that to yourself, Jean."

"Why?" He replied angrily, pulling away from me slightly, "You've heard Irvin and the other say it a billion times that in this world you have to set aside your humanity to get anything done and out of the way!" His eyes began to water once more, "And... it just hurts. After ten years, it still hurts."

I entered a familiar state of mind in which I didn't have to think about what to say. The only discomfort is that I'd be saying what I truly and genuinely felt.