A/N: Does contain -some- spoilers. Also uses official translations of Jean and Marco's surnames (Kirstein, Bott)

To my dearest friend,

Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for going through training with me. You may not understand what you're reading, but I shall explain it.

From the moment I met you, Jean Kirstein, I knew my life would change forever. I don't remember exactly how we met, but I remember that it was during recess at school. You were bragging about how you'd join the military police and live a luxurious life. I had told you that it was impossible, and you betted me money that you would join the military police.

Our bet's still ongoing, even during training. You bring it up all the time and we laugh together. It's one of the few times we still laugh, knowing our lives may end to protect our people.

In case anything happens to any of us, I'm writing this letter.

I wanted to tell you just how much you mean to me; how much bravery you've given me. I didn't want to join the trainees, but you gave me the strength, saying I'd be a hero. I don't think I'd be a hero. I'd just die without anyone caring or noticing, being ate by a Titan. I pray that would never happen. I pray that the two of us will be able to join the MP and live together forever. Let the others join Recon you'd say. I see how you glance at the others, wondering how stupid they are for wanting to join the Recon Corps. You never know, Jean, you may want to join it. You're so stubborn; you change your mind all the time, so I don't know what to expect from you.

Training has been rough. You're really good at using the 3DMG, so you've been giving me lessons. Sometimes you'd spin me around on it just for fun, calling me 'Flying Freckles'.

You've always liked giving people nicknames.

I love that about you.

I'm not even sure if you will read this. Maybe one day I'll have the courage to give this to you one day when we're living in the inner walls.

Yours,

Marco Bott

(P.S., the trainers say that we may have to go fight the titans where Eren, Armin, and Mikasa are from. I hope we both do well!)

Jean sat on his bed, clutching his pillow to his chest. He had found the letter tucked into Marco's bunk. Reading it, Jean couldn't help but to cry. He had finally gotten over him, realizing he'd never come back.

But then he found the letter.

It hurt to read it; the last part of Marco that Jean will be able to hold and to remember. Holding the edges of the paper, Jean could sense Marco's warm and soft hands, feeling the emotion he had put into a simple letter. Marco would never know what would happen, not knowing if either one would die or if he'd be able to give Jean the letter. It made Jean sob harder and harder, knowing his best friend would be stuck not knowing for all of eternity.

Marco's handwriting wasn't the prettiest, but it wasn't the messiest. Looking at it, you could feel his personality, his kindness and compassion. You could feel the life in the letter.

Jean stood up and grabbed his coat, putting the letter back into the envelope. He needed to visit someone, someone who needed the letter more than him.

"Marco! You're home!"

The door flew open and a woman, maybe in her early 30s, grasped her shawl. Her brown hair was braided and her freckles were dark. Her warm brown eyes stared quizzically at Jean. "M-Marco?"

Jean stood in front of her and saluted her. Tears ran down his eyes as he held the letter tight in his right hand. "I-I'm Jean Kirstein! I'm here on behave of the Recon Corps!" He thrusted the paper into her hands.

She was lost for words. Tears trickled down her red cheeks, the mother not making a sound. The letter was in her hands now. Jean knew she needed her son more than he needed his friend. "You need this more than I do." Jean wiped his eyes.

The mother flung her arms around Jean and sobbed hard into his neck. "My son!" She wailed, breaking. "Marco!" She sobbed.

Jean shakily put his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

She hugged just like Marco hugged.

Dear Marco,

I saw your mother today. I gave her that letter you wrote a while ago. We both cried over you. It was silly to cry over you, because we know you're in a better place. You're in a place where you're able to live without worry and you can watch over us. So why are we crying so hard?

You always were one of the nicest guys I knew. I loved that about you. Even if you were being bullied, you'd refuse to get help, saying 'Someone has to be bullied, and I don't want to wish that on someone else.'

I wonder what happened that day. Did you push someone out of the way? Did you give your gas to someone who needed it? Or did one catch you off guard? We'll never know. But you're a hero in my book.

I remember that bet we made when we were kids. I guess we both lost!

So dearest friend, I want to thank you.

Thank you for giving me strength to fight on.

I will avenge you, my dearest friend.

Yours,

Jean Kirstein

Jean walked silently to a memorial. It was one in his and Marco's small hometown. The two of them were the few kids to join the military, so Marco was mourned by the town when the news came.

A picture of him hung on a stone wall with a few flowers under it. In the stone 'Marco Bodt' was carved into it. People had brought flowers and the sweets Marco liked to the memorial. Jean and Marco's family were the only ones that knew that Marco was not buried there, that his ashes were somewhere else.

The letter was dropped onto the patch of flowers. Jean tucked his hands into his pockets, smiling at Marco's picture. "You always were smiling." Jean stared at him. "Maybe your ashes are at the sea right now. We'll go there one day, Marco. I'll write you a letter telling you about it."

Walking away, Jean smiled down at the ground.

"I love you, dearest friend."