The Moment Of Truth

Author note: Based on this post.

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The morning of their final evaluation arrived and only few had gotten a good night’s rest. Expectedly Bertholdt had slept like a log, but even he had rolled, twisted and turned more often in his slumber than usual. The position he found himself in upon wakening was tremendously awkward, his long limbs covering not one but three people as he had shifted from a vertical to a horizontal pose. Out of the three people squished by his large frame, only Jean complained.

“Get off, you’re pressing down on my stomach” he groaned in between Reiner and Marco, pulling an arm free from underneath the blankets to remove Bertholdt’s bony hip. Even after the tall one sat and freed them, the ache to his stomach didn’t fade and Jean rolled onto his side with an uncomfortable grunt. A concerned look crossed the giant’s face shortly, Reiner’s large hand patting his shoulder while drowsily mumbling Jean’s exaggerating again.

It didn’t seem the case today. Marco was first – as he’s always – to notice his discomfort. Under the pretense of checking his body for bruises, Marco was quick to pull back the covers and lift Jean’s shirt. He found nothing out of the ordinary, except that when he pressed his hand to Jean’s abdomen gently, he heard another grunt.

“You’re bloated” Marco mentioned, getting his hand slapped aside by a cranky Jean. “Did you eat something bad last night?” he asked when Bertholdt and Reiner slipped from their bunks and began to dress. Jean rejected the suggestion with a firm shake of his head.

By the time Jean’s feet touched the floor, most trainees were finished with their gear and got on their way to mess hall where they hoped to eat their last breakfast, their minds set on graduating today. Two pair of feet passed him, boys talking amongst themselves. “I better skip breakfast, I’m nauseous” one told the other who nodded in agreement. Sounded like a plan, Jean thought to himself. “Morons, not eating means no energy which means bad results” Reiner spoke next, motioning for Bertholdt to get a move on and together they left as well.

“He’s right, you know” Marco said when all was quiet, the only one not ready yet being Jean. Marco looked down at the sulking man and shook his head in pity. “Want me to help?” he offered kindly. A hand waved him off, Jean’s abnormal silence concerned the retreating freckled boy, but he knew better than to push Jean’s buttons when he was this uptight. He was sure to brawl with Eren again if he showed up for breakfast, Marco thought idly, and in case he didn’t show he’d sneak some food out of mess hall. He went on his way without knowing the pain in Jean’s stomach was only increasing. He struggled to get into his uniform and gear, doubling over several times whilst suffering from cramps.

By the time he left their sleeping quarters, his stomach made the oddest of sounds and Jean passed mess hall in favour of utilizing the restroom. While everyone was eating, he pulled his pants back down and took a seat, sighing deeply. A long, silent minute passed. Jean buried his head in his hands and cursed loudly.

Twenty minutes later Keith Shardis’ voice boomed through the hall, ordering everyone to clean up and get going. Marco stood with uneasy eyes shifting through the crowd. Jean was nowhere to be found and this revelation worried him. He rushed back to the quarters, returning empty-handed and slightly panicked to a frowning Reiner. “Where’s Jean?” he asked when Marco showed signs of Bertholdt’s usual perspiration. Before he could reply, his and Reiner’s name were called out as one of the first to be evaluated.

“Kirschstein!” Shardis called out next. Marco and Reiner returned to their place in line, curling their arms in a salute while catching their breath. Hand-to-hand combat had been easy, but tiring because of the pressure created by Shardis’ penetrative stare. Messing up was not tolerated today.

There was no reply and Marco still couldn’t find Jean’s face amongst the crowd, eyes searching and locking with Shardis’ when the man marched up to him and demanded to know the whereabouts of his missing soldier.

“He disappeared before breakfast, sir!” Marco replied in all honesty. A soft murmur spread, people wondering where Jean had run off to without even Marco knowing.

“Probably pissing his pants somewhere” Eren commented to Armin who gave him a pointed look. Now was not the time for insults, something horrible could have happened – the blonde thought and the same dreadful mind pattern gawned at Marco’s conscious. ”Find him!” Shardis ordered, sending Marco off and resuming his examination.

It took him ten more minutes to find Jean, albeit coincidentally when he stopped by the restroom to empty his bladder. One of the stalls was closed, indicating someone was utilizing it. With the trainees gathered outside; was it a superior perhaps? It was peculiar that the person made no sounds at all; bathroom shy? A sudden grunt echoed through the room and he turned to the closed door, knocking on it. “Jean?” he asked recognizing the sound.

“Marco..?” came a careful reply. Marco sighed slightly, smiling at the stall door in relief.

“What’s keeping you? Shardis is truly mad at you for skipping examination!” he said with sudden panic of what might happen upon their return. Finding Jean had been first priority, but Shardis was a brute and Marco worried this could very well influence Jean’s final ranking.

“I can’t” Jean groaned desperately.

“Is taking a dump more important than joining the Military Police Brigade with me?” Marco asked astonished.

“Of course not!” Marco could hear the determined look in the other’s eyes. “I’m just..” he felt silent as did Marco.

“Constipated?” was the freckled boy’s first guess. The awkward silence commenced from Jean’s side of the door, confirming Marco’s suspicion. “Well, push harder!” he told Jean.

“I can’t, it won’t come out!” Jean bellowed angrily, frustrated, nearly crying out of embarrassment. Man, just his luck – missing his ultimate future because he was unable to take a dump. Jean leaned his head back, pants still resting around his ankles. It was the stress disrupting his regular bowel movements. In the end it was his own fault, his own subconscious prohibiting him from taking part in the tests. Jean gritted his teeth and slammed a hand to the side of the stall. “I’m too pressured!” he exclaimed.

Marco jumped slightly, having pressed an ear to the door when Jean drowned in self-pity. “What’s there to be pressured about? Your hand-to-hand-combat is great, you use the 3DM gear highly efficiently and you’re fast, sober, strong – if you don’t make it in the top 10 than neither will I and I’m pretty confident to make that spot today” Marco ranted on to sooth his frustrated friend.

A weak grunt was Jean’s reply. It was uncertain if he believed him, but Marco had said all he could. Patting the door lightly, he began stepping back. “I’ll wait for you” he told Jean. Whether he meant outside the restroom or for Jean to show his potential and join his side in the Brigade was a bit dubious.

But it worked.

Jean emerged from the restroom with a red colour on his face. He looked relieved though ashamed when Marco looked up at him from his spot on the floor. His eyes narrowed in an inaudible warning, one Marco had no need for. “You meant what you said, didn’t you?” he asked the freckled boy. “You already know the answer or you’d still be in there” Marco responded cheekily. He stood and placed a hand on Jean’s shoulder, head motioning to the training grounds.

Jean shrugged the hand off and took the lead, quietly mumbling a ‘thank you’ as he did.