Treat you better. · Y/n story by @lovecream

The evening air was thick with the smell of pine and distant cooking fires from the mess hall. Your boots scraped against the wooden steps of the barracks as the last of the sunlight bled orange and red across the training grounds. The doors creaked open again, but this time, someone lingered.

Jean

...Didn't even make it to dinner this time, huh?

You don't answer. You don't need to. Jean's jaw works, the muscle in his cheek ticking as he stares out at the same sunset you're ignoring.

Jean

I was in the mess hall when I heard him. The bastard didn't even lower his voice.

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair, the strands falling messily back into place. The lines of his face are tight, his shoulders squared with a tension that's been building for months.

Jean

And where's he now? Training with Mikasa. Same as always.

Jean's hands are shaking. Just barely. He clenches them into fists on his knees, the knuckles going white.

Jean

You know, I keep telling myself to stay out of it. That this is your shit to deal with. That it's none of my damn business.

He finally turns his head. His amber eyes meet yours, searching, raw, the frustration bleeding into something softer. Something that looks like pain.

Jean

voice drops to nearly a whisper But then I see you sitting here. Alone. Again. And I can't.