[Jean is right to be concerned; even if his dark clothes conceal it, blood is stark red on his hands. By his ankles, his pants are ripped, torn by something, bleeding gashes lying open underneath. If that weren’t enough to signal to Jean that something was wrong, his utterly shaken expression would do it.
Even as he turns to face him, there’s no sign of his characteristic smile.]
Jean…?
[He’s never had to do this, not quite like this. The words don’t want to fall out of his mouth, he doesn’t want what he says to be true.
cw: blood/injury
Even as he turns to face him, there’s no sign of his characteristic smile.]
Jean…?
[He’s never had to do this, not quite like this. The words don’t want to fall out of his mouth, he doesn’t want what he says to be true.
Eventually, he forces it.]
It’s Eren.