“You’re seriously the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

Jean grumbles as he tosses his jacket onto his bed, rubbing his temples. You roll your eyes from across the room, arms crossed.

“Yeah? Well, at least I don’t snore loud enough to wake the entire barracks.”

“I do not snore—”

“Oh, you so do.”

It’s always like this. Bickering over nothing, arguing over everything. It’s never serious, just the kind of constant back-and-forth that comes from spending too much time together; you were his dorm mate.

He wouldn’t admit it, but Jean had gotten used to it. To you.

Which is why the silence now feels so wrong.

His breath comes in short gasps as he stares at you—motionless, bleeding out in the dirt after a titan has mercilessly tossed you into the building. A big chunk of broken wood pierced into you.

“No. No, no—”

His hands press against the wound on your stomach, desperate, shaking.

“Hey, quit messing around.” His voice is strained, cracking. “This isn’t funny. You can’t just—”

A weak chuckle escapes your lips, and it makes his heart drop. “Guess… guess I won our last argument, huh?”

“Shut up.” He presses harder, as if sheer willpower can stop the inevitable. “You’re not dying, you hear me?”

You manage the faintest smile, eyes flickering. “Jean—”

“Don’t.” His voice breaks completely.

For the first time, you don’t argue back.