[Jean let out a sigh, half exhausted and half frustrated with the entire situation.]
This isn't about Armin, other than the fact he wants to tell Marco despite not even being there himself. It's about Marco.
[This was just fucking great. What was the record for dating someone and then breaking up, because he thought he might have it if things kept going in this direction. He was too tired to deal with this. Normally, he'd feel like shit at seeing Mikasa cry, and he still did. But he didn't have the energy, not when they were talking about Marco. Marco dying, Marco's corpse, the smell of charred flesh and bones--
He didn't want her sorries. He didn't want excuses. And now she was running away.]
None of you were there!
[He practically roared, slamming both hands down on the table. He didn't care if the cafe just went silent, or that they're in public. They could get the fuck out if it bothered them so much. He wasn't even paying attention. It was all a blur. All he knew was everything was going to hell, again, and he didn't realize it, but his hands were shaking.]
Don't talk to me about room to speak. You all act as if you know better, but you weren't--you didn't see it! He was my best friend, and now he hates my fucking guts, and I can deal with that if it means he's safe, I actually get to see him smiling again instead of--instead of nothing.
[This place was too fucking small. He had to get out. Someone was behind him, asking him to calm down, but he didn't pay attention, pushing them out of his way. All he knew as he had to leave, but not the same way Mikasa was going, because he didn't want to get close enough to see her tears, or face another reminder of how much he had fucked up.]
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This isn't about Armin, other than the fact he wants to tell Marco despite not even being there himself. It's about Marco.
[This was just fucking great. What was the record for dating someone and then breaking up, because he thought he might have it if things kept going in this direction. He was too tired to deal with this. Normally, he'd feel like shit at seeing Mikasa cry, and he still did. But he didn't have the energy, not when they were talking about Marco. Marco dying, Marco's corpse, the smell of charred flesh and bones--
He didn't want her sorries. He didn't want excuses. And now she was running away.]
None of you were there!
[He practically roared, slamming both hands down on the table. He didn't care if the cafe just went silent, or that they're in public. They could get the fuck out if it bothered them so much. He wasn't even paying attention. It was all a blur. All he knew was everything was going to hell, again, and he didn't realize it, but his hands were shaking.]
Don't talk to me about room to speak. You all act as if you know better, but you weren't--you didn't see it! He was my best friend, and now he hates my fucking guts, and I can deal with that if it means he's safe, I actually get to see him smiling again instead of--instead of nothing.
[This place was too fucking small. He had to get out. Someone was behind him, asking him to calm down, but he didn't pay attention, pushing them out of his way. All he knew as he had to leave, but not the same way Mikasa was going, because he didn't want to get close enough to see her tears, or face another reminder of how much he had fucked up.]