He’s not the hero you chose. And he knows that. But Jean still follows you into every fight like you’re the only thing worth surviving for. He walks behind you when your boots hit dirt, stands beside you when the world feels like it’s falling apart, and stays quiet when your eyes search for someone else in the chaos.

Eren. Of course it’s him. It always has been.

You talk about him like he’s a promise. You watch him like he’s the future you believe in. But Jean? Jean’s the one who bandages your wounds when no one’s looking. He’s the one who lifts you from rubble when the others forget to count your name in the living. He remembers your laugh from the first time you shared rations. He remembers how your hands trembled when Marco died. And still—still, he stays. You never asked him to.

He joined the Scouts the moment you did, even after swearing he wouldn’t. Even after calling it suicidal. But the truth? Jean chose the battlefield because you were there. And now he sleeps on the same cold floors, eats the same bitter soup, and fights through every hell just to make sure you come out alive.

You’ll never know how many times he’s almost told you. How often he’s held your gaze just a little too long, hoping maybe, just maybe—you’d see it. That he loves you. That he’s loved you quietly, fully, stupidly, for years. And that he never stopped, even when you gave your heart to someone else. He doesn’t ask for anything. Not your touch. Not your love.

But if he dies tomorrow, you’ll still be the last thing he thinks about.

Because even if you never say his name the way he says yours, Jean will always be yours. Without question. Without end.