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The body lying next to me, still exhausted from yesterday’s work and sleepless night, shifts under the sheets ever so slightly. But just the slightest movement causes my eyes to burst open and instantly become blinded by the radiant sunshine illuminating the room. However, it’s not until I turn onto my side that I realise it’s him that’s illuminating every crack and crevice in the room like he always does.
Jean’s practically passed out on the other side of the bed, his arms sprawled out either side of him and one of them is draped over my chest. His eyes are peacefully closed, finally rid of all the shadow that lurks within him. All of it.
It’s been nearly four months since that day. I’ve been counting.
Four months that have felt like an eternity since the night we escaped from the shadows in every sense of the word. The clasps of the king’s unwanted hands are long gone, as is any contact with either Levi or Petra. We haven’t heard anything from anyone since the day we got here. We like to think that one day they’ll all find us, here in Stohess.
But no matter how peaceful and full the nights have become, the memory of what we saw in that forest still haunts my thoughts, and Jean’s. He keeps feeling the need to check himself – to see if his eyes have turned black. They haven’t changed once since that night. They probably never will. But Jean still flinches every time he catches a glance at his own reflection, no matter how many times he sees amber staring back at him.
It’s almost as if we’re not quite done yet – something’s missing. We’re where we want to be, but we’ve left so much behind us that underneath my happiness, a hole lies. Jean has it too. He’s told me about it on numerous occasions. But we can’t ever go back now.
Jean grunts, finally slurring out of his deep sleep. He lifts his head from the crisp white sheets and instinctively runs his hand over my chest like he does every morning. His eyes aren’t even open yet, but he smiles knowingly. “Good morning, my love,” he grumbles, curling into my side as our arms wrap around one another and our bare skin collides. “How’d you sleep?”
Even after four months he still asks me the same question every morning. And I always reply with the same thing. “As long as you’re by my side I’ll always sleep peacefully.”
“So romantic,” he laughs with a rush of breath coming from his lungs. The glow of his skin only makes his smile brighter. And even when he buries his head into the crook of my neck, I can still feel his light washing over me as his smile imprints on my skin. I’ve never seen him smile so much. It’s like he grows happier each day, despite the sense of vacancy I know we both feel.
I place a kiss to his forehead and throw my feet off the side of the bed, scooping him up as I go along with the sheet. I hold him close to my chest as he continues to beam wherever he goes and I stumble over to the window, his legs dangling over my arm as I trip over our discarded clothes from the night before.
Giggling and still dreary from our restless sleep, we stare out at the view from our new home and instantly feel the weight lifted off our chests. Elation fills me each time I look out at this view. I can see the lake from here – the one that we’d dreamt about so many times before we came here. Its calm, blue ripples push away all our doubt and leaves us both still, almost forgetting the life we’ve left behind.
Almost.
The fear still lingers within us. Even after four long months, the fear of being found or never hearing from the others ever again is almost crippling. I haven’t heard a word from Levi or Petra – not since that night. And neither of us have heard any news of Eren or Armin.
Sometimes, Jean feels guilty even though he won’t admit it. He regrets not going back for Eren despite the fact that we could have been killed if we went back. We can never go back there.
“You’re quiet,” he says, tracing the outline of clouds with his fingertip. “You’re not usually this quiet.”
“Sorry, love,” I mumble, kissing the ruffled mound of hair on his head.
Somehow, he seems to know what I’m thinking and he looks up at me with hollow eyes that send a shiver down my spine. I pull the sheet around us tighter, fearing the cold and look back at him to try and read what’s going on inside his head.
“Is it Eren?” I ask, not keeping eye contact for too long in case I become absorbed by him.
He stays silent for a while, returning to look out at the picturesque scene of birds singing and sunshine. It’s all too perfect to be real. Sometimes I forget that the two of us had to crawl through hell to get here.
And to think that this is all possible because I killed The Darkness before he could get to us? To think that I had to kill something that took on the exact image of the one I love? My thoughts can’t cope with it most nights.
“Jean?” I shake him a little as he relaxes completely in my arms, his entire body limp and almost lifeless. But at least there are the beginnings of a smile on his face. “Jean, are you alright?”
He looks to me with wide, wondrous eyes that are filled with the hope that this place illumes him with, and smiles widely, yet with a hypnotic glint that makes my skin crawl. Then he returns to hazily staring back out of the window like he’s in a dream. I’m almost convinced that he’s ignoring me.
“Marco,” he breathes, “who’s Eren?”