When I made it back to the classroom I found Jean slumped over, asleep against the tan classroom wall. Shit, I thought, I took too long. His breathing was slow and heavy, and his white collared long sleeve was stained red— it seemed he had coughed up more blood. I put my hand on his side. It was swollen and probably horribly bruised. I knew that was what I should get started on first.

A bit of his chest was exposed already, and I could see purple marks peeking through. I put my hands over his chest and began to unbutton the button closest to his face. It was a few spaces down— Jean never wore anything buttoned all the way up— it was too formal. I smiled to myself and then stopped, pulling my hands away from him. My cheeks felt hot; it felt wrong for me to do this. Sure, I had seen Jean shirtless before in the hot tub on our trip, but this was different. It was more private and more... vulnerable. Jean coughed again, but did not stir. I realized I had to push the awkwardness aside and help him. I clumsily unbuttoned the rest of his shirt— my face scarlet from having to stare at his muscular figure so exposed— and assessed the damage. My eyes widened as I observed all of the dark marks on his side. His breathing was weak, but I checked his pulse and his heartbeat was steady, so he was probably okay, for now. In this condition though, Jean would never be able to stand up on his own. I didn't have anything sturdy enough that could support his side, so I had to improvise. I scrunched up Jean's bloody cloth shirt until it became a somewhat hard ball. I put the ball against his side and wrapped it and his torso in bandages. Even through all of the blood, I could still smell ginger and rum. Finally, his side was supported enough to where I could lift him up and set him down on a chair. When I did so, Jean began to stir.

He opened his eyes slowly and fixated his gaze on me.

"Ouch," he mumbled quietly. He looked around the room and oriented himself. My cheeks were burning— maybe he's too out of it to notice that he isn't wearing a sh—

"Where's my shirt?" he asked weakly.

I stumbled over my words. "I— uh— I had to use it to help bandage you up. I— I hope you don't mind, um... I just didn't want you to get caught by Shadis and get, um, get suspended."

He smirked, "So, you took it upon yourself to escort me out of class and patch me up yourself?" Jean clicked his tongue, "I dunno, (Y/N), sounds pretty suspicious to me. And pretty dangerous too. What if I had died?"

I tousled his brown hair and smiled, "That was never a possibility."

He blushed, and then his expression changed to one of confusion: "Why are you bleeding?" He put his hand on my cheek and softly touched the bruise Eren had given me.

I sighed, "Eren accidentally punched me instead of you when I stepped in, and after I beat Eren up, Mikasa punched me again."

Jean's face lit up: "Wait— actually? That's awesome!" He stopped himself and pulled his hand away. "I mean, well, it's not 'awesome' but um..."

I stopped paying attention to what Jean was saying. All I could think about was the way his hand felt on my face. Calloused, yet soft, and it was warm. I wished he didn't pull away, but I knew nothing would've happened anyway. We were both too beat up for romance.

"... (Y/N)?"

I turned my focus back to Jean— his face had turned scarlet. "Yeah?" I asked.

"What's your answer?"

"To what?"

Jean dropped his head and sunk into his seat. "Never mind. Maybe another time."

I wasn't sure what he had asked, but, judging by his reaction, it was probably best to move on. "Let me get the peroxide to clean your cuts, Jean. And here's a towel to rub the blood off of your lips," I turned towards him, "Do you still feel like coughing?"

"No," he replied calmly. "I feel normal... besides the extreme pain coming from my side." The corners of my lips turned up as I met his brown eyes. He was smiling too.

"You're smile looks creepy with all of that blood," I commented.

"Heh, I could say the same about you," he said as he wiped away the red liquid smeared across his face. Jean tossed me the towel and I cleaned myself up too.

I grabbed the peroxide and stepped towards Jean to bandage him up, but he stopped me.

"(Y/N), let's pass on cleaning my cuts for now." Jean stood up slowly and stumbled to the door of the room. "More than anything, I just want to go home," he said.

I nodded, a bit sad, and helped him through the halls. We passed by the infirmary and I made eye contact with Eren, who was still stuck on the bed. I ignored him and walked away, Jean's arm wrapped around me as he struggled to stand straight.

The school was empty. When we stepped outside, the afternoon glow signaled that it was probably around four pm. Jean and I sat on the curb of the bus loop for a quick break. His skin was golden and his sharp jaw was perfectly outlined by the light. I watched from the corner of my eye as his chiseled chest rose and fell with his breathing. His soft two-toned brown hair moved slightly with the warm breeze as he stared blankly into the distance. Even with cuts and bruises all over him, Jean was still handsome.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I could tell from the look in his eyes that Jean had something on his mind. As much as I wanted to enjoy the view of AOT High's parking lot, Jean's presence was very distracting. I couldn't pull my eyes away from him.

"Jean..." I said quietly. He raised his eyebrows and looked at me. "Are you... ever going to kiss me again?" I averted my gaze. God, this is probably the stupidest thing I've ever said.

He was surprised by the question and paused to think of an answer: "(Y/N), I..."

"It's okay," I said, "You can say no."

"You think I don't want to?" Jean asked in dismay, "Are you crazy? Kissing you again has been the only thing on my mind since we first did it!"

"Then, why haven't you done it again?" I asked innocently.

He shook his head. "If we're being honest here... I can't find the courage. And I don't want to take you away from someone else."

"Huh? What do you mean 'take me away'?"

"(Y/N), I'm not a fool. I see the way you look at Eren. Even in hatred, you look at him like he's the only person in the room," Jean sighed. "If you like him better, it's not my place to claim you like a chunk of land. It doesn't matter how much I like you. No matter what happens, to me, it will always and forever be your choice."

Jean's words reminded me of what Mikasa had told me on the trip: "(Y/N), do you truly think I am that possessive over Eren that I would deny him his happiness to be with me instead?"

"You sound like Mikasa," I commented bluntly.

"Eh?" Jean raised an eyebrow.

"Both of you leave it up to the other person to decide instead of taking what you want. In a way, that makes you selfless." I paused. "But, it also makes you weak."

He stared at me, dumbfounded. "Wha—"

"If you like me so much, you should have said something. Telling me how you feel doesn't stop me from having a choice. It just adds another option." I met Jean's brown eyes— I could see the setting sun reflecting in them. "I give you my consent. For once, I ask you to do what you want to do."

He looked deep into my eyes, trying to understand.

"Just do it, Jean." I whispered.

He put his left hand on my cheek, covering the bruise that Eren had left there. With the other he brushed my hair out of my face. He brought his perfectly sculpted face close to mine, until our lips were millimeters away from meeting each other, and paused.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he asked in admiration.

I stared at him and smirked. "For the love of God, just kiss me al—"

Jean's lips cut me off as we kissed. Finally. A resolution.

He never pulled away, never waited for another signal. He just stayed with me. I stopped thinking altogether. About school, about Eren, about everything. The only thing I could focus on was how soft Jean felt against my mouth, how all I could breathe was ginger and oak and rum. I leaned back to take a breath— before I could even exhale Jean's lips struck mine. My heartbeat raced. The boy I was with was no longer shy and prudent; he was decisive and self-assured.

He had waited too long to do this.

I ran my fingers through his soft brown hair and down the nape of his neck, feeling every muscle relax and tighten as he moved with me. He slowly brought his lips down to my shirt. With one finger he tugged the collar away, exposing my neck.

"Do you mind?" he asked, breathing heavily.

"Not at all," I gasped.

The bite sent a shock up my spine. I pulled Jean away from my neck and back to my face, pressing my lips against his without a second thought. Hell, I couldn't even remember where we were right now. I opened my eyes for a split second to reorient myself. Ah, yes... the bus loop, that's right... How romantic...

At the school entrance on the corner I saw Eren, Mikasa by his side, staring across the pavement at me and Jean. His face was scarlet and his teal-green eyes were full of rage.

I pulled my lips away from Jean's, but kept my forehead pressed against his.

"Jean," I whispered, "I think we're being watched."

Jean looked over as inconspicuously as he could: his eyes widened at the sight of Eren.

"I suppose that's our cue to go home, huh?" he grinned.

I nodded. I stood up and helped Jean off the ground.

"How's your side?"

Jean rubbed it and flinched, "Still hurts, but I can walk. That support system you built with just my shirt is impressive." He looked at me in awe.

I smiled at him and we walked home together, enjoying each other's presence despite feeling Eren's burning stare through the back of our heads.