#attackontitanjeanxreader

[hopelessdreamersonly]

A FADING MEMORY.

Jean Kirstein x Artist!Reader

angst?

fluff

Hello! It's been a while since I have this idea on mind, but for some reason I felt really willing to do it today, tehee.

I took inspiration from a fanart of Jean where he was trying to draw Marco, but I couldn't find it. :c

Please, if someone find it and know the owner, let me know so I can give them the credits!

Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy it. 💕🐢

It was the ending of the afternoon on a normal day. A few days had passed since your first mission as a member of the military. You've lost a couple colleagues, but you could understand it was something that would become normal.

After putting you now empty plate on the sink and coming back to the dining room, you could see the ambient empty. Well, actually almost empty. A single person could be seen at the end of a desk on the corner of the room. It was Jean. He had his face lying in the palm of his hands while he scratched his head, stepping quickly on the floor.

Anyone could notice easily he was not fine. By otherwise, he seemed to be in agony. While approaching him, you thought it could may be because he was afraid of the death, after seeing it so closely. But Jean was not like that. He was not utterly strong nor absolutely smart, but he did have his strong points like his leadership ability and his good ego. It was exactly because of this last one that you couldn't believe he was just afraid of dying. He would not show it so easily.

— Jean... what happened?

He raised his head quickly, denouncing you failed on your attempt to not scare him using a soft voice. He turned his head to the side, forcing a fake laugh while trying to look manly. It was Jean, after all.

— Haha, what do you mean?! I'm fine. I was just resting here before going to the dormitories.

It was obvious he was lying, but you couldn't just pretend you didn't know he was hurt.

You looked at him for a couple seconds, trying to decide what to do and he didn't make eye contact during this time.

— I see...

You toke a sit besides him on the bank, staring at the nothing in an almost comfortable silence while waiting for him to say or do something.

He slowly started to turn his head back to the front, as if he wanted to look at you but were afraid to.

— Tell me, y/n...

You looked at him quickly noticing his face had now a reddish color and a few drops of sweat in his forehead.

— ... do you remember how Marco's face was?

Was that it? Was that the problem? Jean was so frustrated because he was forgetting his friend's face?

You froze. Not because you forgot Marco's face too, you didn't. But because of that situation. Only now you could understand how dark that was. The blame and the agony a soldier had to pass to help the umanity. The pain and the frustration of forgetting the face of a close friend that died only a couple days ago. And knowing that situation would happen again... that broke your heart.

Jean got sick of your silence and felt stupid for asking something like that.

He cleaned his face with the back of his arm and put himself up, still not looking at you.

— I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ask you that... I'm going to bed.

And he really went.

If he had looked at you even once, he would be able to notice the raising tears stuck in your eye, refusing to get out because of the shook.

You couldn't sleep that night. Still thinking about Jean and what was happening with him.

You put yourself off the bed, sneaking out of the dormitory and going to the library, that was still unlocked for some reason.

You could find easily paper and some pencils, old and still untouched. The soldiers were not that into art or literature.

At all, it took three nights. Three full nights.

You hadn't time during the day and was still kinda rusty by the lack of practice, but still managed to do it.

Before the mission of the day, you ran back to the dormitory, slapping yourself mentally as you forgot to bring what you worked so hard on.

It didn't take long to come back to where the other soldiers were, though.

— Jean!

You finally found him and he instantly looked in your direction, being able to hear your voice after almost three days.

— What do you want?

He was mad, obviously. You "ignored" him in a vulnerable moment and suddenly tried to talk to him, but you could still see he was actually hurt by the way he turned his head to the side and blushed.

— Listen, I'm so sorry if it seemed I ignored you. It was not like that... I've been thinking a lot in what you said and I did something. I hope it can help...

He couldn't help feeling curious about what you made to him when he hesitantly picked the paper of your hands, his eyes going wide and starting to be filled with tears as he looked at the drawing of Marco.

— Thank you... thank you so much, y/n.

He tightened his grip on the paper that now was starting to get soaked by his tears while he tried to cover his face with it.

You hugged Jean's head, bringing it to rest on your chest while you patted his head gently, trying to calm him.

— So he looked like this.

You stayed in that position for a short period of time, but to Jean, who had his eyes shut and was crying the hardest he ever had in the almost flawless drawing you made, it seemed like a eternity where his angst had fade away.