Chapter 1: The Fundamentals of Engineering
Summary:
Jean is over a thousand miles from home, but he is doing his best to stay connected to Georgia.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jean groaned. The annoying beeps of his alarm rang out clearly through his lofted bedroom, and he rolled over to slap the top of the chunky clock. In his daze, he squinted up at his blinds.
The sound of busy Boston commuters zipping by could be heard from below, as his apartment was located directly above part of the city near his new school: Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He had been attending classes there for a few weeks at that point, but he was nowhere used to being away from Georgia yet.
He felt a pang in his heart, thinking about Georgia. Thinking about everything that happened there.
Thinking about Marco, his boyfriend.
Marco had chosen to wait for Jean to finish out his degree, to continue their relationship despite the incredible distance. They had only just confessed to each other at the beginning of the summer, but now Jean had to tackle the fall semester all by himself.
The hardest part was, the more romantic aspects of their relationship had just begun when he had to pack up and leave.
Jean was studying engineering at the Massachusetts University, a votive his parents had pushed him towards. He could hear his father’s voice now,
“Son, it is a great privilege and an honor to be able to attend university. Especially one of this prestige. You will appreciate that more when you are older and have a respectable, well-paying job.”
He rolled his eyes as far back into his skull as they could go, falling back against his pillow. The perspective had him staring at the concrete ceiling. He lived in a loft building of sorts, the apartment had brick walls and concrete floors. As Marco would say, it was ‘cold enough to freeze the teats off a frog’ in the building.
That thought caused a smile to spread across Jean’s lips. He glanced up the alarm clock, which read 7:00 in bright, bold, big red font. Marco should be up as well by that point, working on the farm chores.
Since they had graduated, Marco had resorted to putting his all into fixing up the barn and farmhouse. If he had decided to go to school, his family was going to put the house up for sale, and that was an option Marco was never going to let near the table of consideration. He was working himself so hard lately, Jean hoped he would take it easier when he finally came home for fall break.
For now, Jean would remain 1,022 painful miles away from Jinae East, and away from his heart.
By heart of course, he meant Marco. He never saw Georgia as a home for him until Marco showed him what being home meant.
Jean pulled out his phone and took a quick snap of his swollen, squinted eyes, his cracked lips, and his disheveled bed head. He hadn’t cut the length since he left Georgia, it was starting to grow longer than it ever had. But without his parents around to tell him it was gross, he couldn’t care less about finding a barber.
Much less leaving his apartment for anything other than class.
He sent the snap to Marco, and then typed out, “Can’t believe I have to wake up once again to an empty bed. This blows absolute ass!”
He sent it to his boyfriend with a grin. Who knows when Marco would respond, his chores kept him busy all morning. He was typically more active in the evening, after dinner.
Jean pulled back the covers and forced himself to sit up, sliding his feet into his navy-blue slippers. He shuffled into the bathroom and switched on the overhead bulb, the florescent lighting doing absolute horrors to his pale completion.
Goodbye, summer tan he thought. It was nice to look like I got outside a little while it lasted.
Jean made quick work of brushing his teeth and washing his face, and he put his contacts in once he could pry his eyes open wide enough. Moving on to his shamefully small kitchen, he popped a k-cup into his Keurig and made himself a coffee, drinking it black from his class thermos.
It was going to be a long, long day.
He had a fundamentals of engineering class at 8am (Who’s brilliant fucking idea was that? Let’s teach kids complex math and science equations in the early hours of the morn!), an environmental issues class at 1:30pm, and finally a literature class at 3:30pm.
He sighed, taking a swig from his coffee cup. The bitter liquid burnt his tongue, but he couldn’t care less. he needed the caffeine desperately.
College was a polarizing difference from high school, and yet it still held some level of familiarity.
The class schedules and classroom setup were similar, but the teachers also connected to their students on a mature level, Jean didn’t feel like he was being babysat all day anymore. The activities and the passion for academics was a lot stronger in college too, and the students here were focused, razor sharp.
But there was still, to some degree, assholes and bullies just like Floch here too. Jean supposed they would just be reoccurring in life forever; some people never learn to change.
He would always be grateful to Marco for pulling him off of the path of becoming cold and bitter, just like the rest of his family.
The whole time Jean drove to class, he thought about Marco.
The student had to leave his bike at home, it was neither convenient nor safe for him to have it without a garage to store it. He wouldn’t risk anyone scratching it up or worse, stealing it, leaving him transportation-less in Boston.
He left Marco with the keys, so that when he came back, he could take him for as many rides as he wished.
For school, Jean’s parents had bought him a shitty silver BMW, a throwaway car. But Jean kind of loved it.
Despite the ear piercing accelerator that drew in needless attention, she was fast, and had stellar base.
Jean turned up the radio as he maneuvered through the busy downtown Boston streets, until he turned out to a street that ran along the Charles river.
He rolled the windows down and glanced back and forth between the road and the river, and soon his school came into view. It was a massive structure, its capacity housing thousands of students that gathered for their lectures.
The white pillars that supported the main school building gleamed proudly in the sun, and students were either commuting to class or sitting on a bench, reading and writing notes down in their textbooks.
Jean wished he could enjoy college as much as most people do when they finally get to experience it. A chance to be your own person away from your parents for a little bit, meet potential lifelong friends, and study for your future dream career?
Who wouldn’t want that?
It wasn’t his dream. Maybe some time ago it was, maybe he dreamed that he could make his parents proud. That the only way to do that was to dedicate his life to a job that would provide for them financially. Jean had been tutored, trained and groomed to perfection by his parents to be the perfect son, the breadwinner, the skilled and talented youngest.
But he had to fill his brother’s shoes. Louis went to NYU, or rather was still in his final year there. He was already working on his Physical Therapist License, and their parents were clearly demonstrating that Louis was higher on their priority list at the moment.
Jean saw himself as the pathetic son, the lazy son, the one who didn’t want for himself what they wanted for him. They were never going to understand what he truly fancied. He didn’t even understand fully for himself, his feelings were so new.
He had never liked a guy before Marco. At least, he hadn’t had feelings for any guy that was strong enough for him to understand what they meant.
Jean hadn’t spoken to his parents about the party yet, about the video. Floch was suspended for a week in May when the school found his video, and they nearly expelled him. But Floch’s parents pleaded with the school, as it was his senior year too. He graduated like the rest of them, and hopefully they would never have to hear from him again.
That asshole ruined a moment that Jean would savor forever. Well, he supposed it wasn’t entirely ruined, it was a damn good memory.
And, an insane first kiss with Marco.
If his parents ever found out about Marco, Jean didn’t know how they would react. There was a time he once fantasized about introducing Marco to his parents, before he could see any of their relationship coming. They wouldn’t necessarily have been impressed by Marco, other than maybe his work ethic.
But it was a lot easier for Jean to introduce Marco as his best friend, rather than his lover.
His parents weren’t exactly… progressive.
Jean parked in the school’s commuter garage, and with thermos in hand he began the short walk to his classroom. When he emerged from the parking lot, his phone chimed, hearing the familiar sound of a snapchat notification.
Eagerly, Jean snatched the phone out of his back pocket and opened it, seeing a snap from Marco.
Jean grinned and opened it. The video attached was of Marco, in a sweaty Gray t-shirt, blue boot-cut jeans, boots and cowboy hat with a mischievous smile, lifting a hay bale up and over his shoulder. As he threw it, a couple stray straw pieces fell into his hat, and some stuck to his shirt. He laughed, winking and saying “Howdy” into the microphone.
Jean closed the video, but saved it to his camera roll. Marco was a fine fucking cowboy, looking more ripped every day that he worked on that farm.
Marco used to have the babiest of baby faces, one that Jean loved so much. Lately, his form reminded Jean of a Greek statue carved out of a slab of marble by a tragically gay, repressed artist in the Hellenistic times. He still looked too innocent for his new shape, but Jean wasn’t complaining whatsoever.
Most importantly, Marco looked happy. Like he belonged. He was in his element, nobody could deny that. Why had nobody told Marco that not going to college was an option before?
Maybe it was because Jean was a wishful thinker. He had hoped that maybe Marco would follow him all the way to Boston.
But MIT was expensive and offered only a specific type of education, so Jean didn’t know why he thought Marco would ever follow him here. For school, that is.
Jean wanted Marco there no matter what, even if he wasn’t studying anything but Jean’s body.
Shortly after Marco’s snap came through, a call request from Marco lit up Jean’s screen. He answered it, and held the receiver up to his ear.
“Ok Brokeback Mountain, you didn’t have to turn me on at eight in the morning.” Jean teased, running up the stairs on the walkway through the quad. His first class was a building near the back corner of campus.
“I thought you might like the hat. Glad my intuition’s still in tact. Wait, you’ve watched Brokeback Mountain?” Marco asked.
Jean flushed and his eyes widened, but Marco couldn’t see him. That’s the most appalling piece of that sentence to him?
Jean chuckled, shaking his head.
“Next question, how do you make lifting haybales so sexy?” Jean switched, pushing through the engineering-building doorway.
Marco hummed on the other end, and he could hear the sound of the cattle mooing in the background.
“Couldn’t tell you, I think that’s exclusively your opinion. You have three classes today, right?” He asked, grunting as he no doubt threw another bale over his head.
Jean let his imagination fill in the blanks as he approached the door to his classroom.
“Yeah, unfortunately. I’m going to be out here for a good while, probably until dinnertime.” Jean answered.
He swung the door open and stole a seat closer to the front. The back of the room left him to his own devices for too long, it was too distracting to sit where you could hardly hear the professor.
“Are you there now? Can you facetime later this evening?” He asked, and grunted again. Another haybale.
“Yeah, I’d love that, Bodt.” Jean hummed into the receiver, his eyes glancing around at the chairs around him.
He was a bit early, but that was the point. The more time to chat with his boyfriend, the better his day would turn out.
The classroom had a vast display of windows on the east side, if it was angled a little more to the left you might be able to catch a glimpse of the tall city buildings of downtown Boston.
Jean was no stranger to city living, even when he lived in France it was never the countryside. His parents were indulgent in their living spaces, and his father was an architect, so he crafted up blueprints for large cities like this. But he had seen enough of the city, when school was over he contemplated finally retiring to his countryside dream.
A dream that hopefully involved Marco.
“Okay, well I have to go, Gina is up and we have to take the horses out soon.”
Jean frowned.
“Already? That stinker couldn’t have slept a few more hours?” He asked, as a few more students began to stream in. Jean checked his watch, it was about ten minutes until class began.
“She’s selectively productive, I don’t know what to tell ya.” Marco laughed, and Jean could hear Gina calling out his name in the background. He smiled, hearing her voice. This was as close to true family as he could get, the Bodt’s were angels sent to deliver him from his misery.
“Hey Gina, do me a favor and go back to sleep!” Jean joked, and Marco sighed.
“Ok babe, be safe, make some friends and take some notes. I’ll see you this evening?”
Jean brushed a piece of hair behind his ear, thinking warmly of what the evening will bring. He already missed Marco, or maybe that was just the feeling of homesickness in general. It was hard to tell these days.
“I’ll see you this evening.” Jean agreed, trying not to allow his disappointment to ruin the goodbye. He loved facetiming Marco, but it just made him want Marco to be there more than anything. Long distance was so frustrating.
“Say hi to Reiner for me, would you?” Marco asked. Jean nodded, leaning up to glance at the front door again. The blonde guy wasn’t there yet, but he would be soon. They luckily shared the fundamentals class, as well as a tool design class on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
“You bet. Don’t work yourself too hard, and tell Mrs. Bodt I said hi too.” Jean asked. Marco grumbled something Gina said, but agreed.
“I love you.” Marco said.
And just like that, Jean’s heart skipped a beat. He would never be tired of that, when Marco said the words I love you, it felt like he was hearing it again for the first time.
“I love you too.” Jean said. They both hung up after exchanging byes, and Jean took another sip from his thermos. The coffee was still hot, but it didn’t burn his tongue that time.
Reiner entered the classroom after Jean finished his sip, and he waved at the brunette.
“Hello Romeo!” Reiner called, and Jean rolled his eyes. It was his new nickname since they had started at MIT. Reiner’s personal little inside joke, back when Jean was still figuring out his feelings for Marco.
He recalled when Reiner had first started calling him that. Poor Romeo, he said, He just wants Juliet to see him as he sees her, for the beauty she is and not the family she is a part of.
They were reading Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet for senior year Lit. class, and Reiner just couldn’t help himself. His friends all had the advantage of knowing how the two of them felt for each other from behind the scenes, but it took Jean a long time to muster the courage to declare his undying love for his Juliet.
At least our relationship wouldn’t end up with both of us dead, he thought. Or at least he hoped, he wasn’t naïve. He knew his parents would eventually find out about Marco, or at least they’ll find out about the two ways he swings.
“Did you bring it?” Jean asked, arm leaning against the table to support his chin.
“Bring what?” Reiner asked, a look of confusion on his face. When Jean thought he was serious, Reiner laughed a few moments later. “Just kidding, of course I brought it.” Reiner said, producing a video camera from his school bag. It wasn’t anything expensive or fancy, but it would do the trick.
“Thank god. I was about to kick your ass.” Jean said, grunting and taking the camera carefully from Reiner. It had a white exterior and a side flap so you could watch what you were recording. The microphone on the camera wouldn’t have the best sound quality, but Jean didn’t need it to be expensive for it to matter.
“How could I forget! Marco is my friend too, and your gift idea sounds adorable. I’m so glad you have each other.” Reiner mused.
Marco’s birthday was in June, and that was over half a year away. The gift was going to be technical, and special. Jean Kirstein’s own documentary in the making.
“Thank you, I just wanted to do something for him, something that would make him feel like he was here with me. Or maybe I’m the one who wants to feel less lonely.” Jean admitted, picking at a string on his pocket. He chuckled at how desperate that sounded.
“Jesus, I’ve hardly been gone two months and it feels like I’ve abandoned him, I don’t know how to function.” Jean groaned. More students were filing in through the front doors, and he glanced at his watch again. Two minutes until class time.
“It’s so romantic though! I know it’ll take more than a little distance to do anything to shake you guys. He will wait for you.” Reiner reassured. Jean shook his head, but turned to face his full attention to the front, where the professor was now unpacking his bag.
“Do you think he’ll really like it? Or am I being selfish and thinking too much into this. Be honest.” Jean asked.
He planned to film Marco a few of the moments of his time at school. He thought maybe Marco would enjoy a little home video of Jean demonstrating to him the inner workings of his mind, and express how much he wanted Marco to be there with him. It was hard for him to tell Marco straight up just how he felt sometimes. It was much easier to be vulnerable for a camera, at least for him it was.
“I think that is exactly what Marco needs. He’s ok, but I know he misses you. Bertolt tells me when they hang out just how much he talks about you.” Reiner teased, kicking Jean lightly under the table. Jean flushed, thinking about what Marco could possibly have to gush about.
The two of them dropped off the rest of their conversation as class finally started, but Marco was on Jean’s mind the entire lecture. He wondered if, maybe, he was thinking of Jean too.
Once classes finally ended, Jean made his way back to his apartment, climbing the four flights of stairs to his front door.
The place was more on the run-down side in the main office and the hallways, but the apartment itself wasn’t awful. The loft feature was pretty cool, and made the whole space feel bigger than it was. There was no elevator, so Jean would have to get used to the climb every weekday.
He threw his keys onto the kitchen island once he was in the door and slipped out of his sneakers, coming around to the sink to wash his thermos. He scrubbed the walls of the cup while he stared at his bag, which he had already unloaded onto the island next to his keys.
He thought about what he should record first. What would be a good way to start the documentary? Would he have to face the camera and talk to Marco directly, or would he narrate everything for him from behind the scenes? What would even be interesting enough to film?
He stressed himself out thinking too far into it, and ended up ripping the sponge he was using to clean the cup. He ground his teeth together, feeling a pressure weigh heavy on his chest.
Jean put the cup down in the sink and backed up into the livingroom, crashing down on the couch as his vision began to swim.
He had occasionally felt this way since moving, there wasn’t much he could do to prevent it. Nobody was around to tell him what to do, not unless he told them what was going on first.
Jean wasn’t always able to pull himself together. It was a flaw he hated, but couldn’t change on his own. Marco had been a huge help to him when he was coming out, so patient and understanding. Any time his anxiety would take over, Marco would be right there to ground him.
It was a shame he lived so far now, Jean’s anxiety was ten times worse at university, and Marco couldn’t be there to bring him back down to the ground.
Jean opened the laptop on the coffee table while rubbing his chest, right over his heart. He was going to make himself dinner before calling Marco, but he couldn’t eat feeling that way. He also didn’t want to test standing back up, in case he passed out.
“Breathe, dammit.” He commanded his lungs, but they didn’t get the memo for a few more minutes. He took a few deep breaths, like Marco had taught him.
Counting backwards slowly from ten, he clicked on Marco’s contact in his laptop and stared at his profile picture for a minute.
It was the picture that Gina had taken of them over Christmas break with her polaroid camera, last year.
It was a mid-hug photo from when Marco gifted Jean his hoodie, on Christmas day. That was still his favorite thing to wear, but for now it was still too hot for the over layer.
He looked at Marco’s shocked but genuine smile, and Jean wouldn’t admit it, but it was his favorite photo.
It reminded him most of home.
He would have to take countless more photos over break, so Marco could help him calm down even a thousand miles away.
When his heart was finally beating as normal, Jean clicked the call button.
Marco picked up on the third ring.
“I was just wondering when you’d call me.” Marco said, his tone playful. He was covered in mud and dirt, but he was toweling off in his upstairs bathroom. Jean recognized the shower curtain from when he last visited the Bodt residence.
“Yeah, I had to uhm…. Wash some dishes before I could call. But I’m so glad to be here now.” Jean grinned, not mentioning the mild panic attack he had before he called.
It was over now, it wasn’t like mentioning it would do anything to change that it happened. Marco didn’t need that on his plate, he was clearly working hard enough as it was.
“I’m so glad you’re here now too, I’ve wanted to tell you about my day since it started.” Marco grinned, removing his shirt and tossing it into the hamper.
Jean allowed his eyes to wander Marco’s chest, to trace his scars with an imaginary hand.
He counted them one night when he slept over at Marco’s last summer, coming to a total of 64 scars from his abdomen up to his chin. The scars on his face were more entangled with one another, but the little linework going up and down Marco’s left torso was a pattern Jean was infatuated with.
He reminded himself to take his time kissing each one when he returned to Georgia for fall break.
“Well ok Bodt, I’m listening. Tell me about it.” Jean said, relaxing back against the cushions with his arms crossed.
Marco rattled off to him about how the cattle was doing, that one of the cows was ‘lame’, referring to the way she walked.
“She’s been limping, so I called a trimmer to come out and help us with their hooves,” He explained.
Marco gave updates on Mink and Gina, and he gushed over his mom.
The way Marco talked about the farm made Jean desire to be part of the action more than engineering could ever hope to inspire him. He spoke for the animals as if he could hear their thoughts, like they were his family too.
Jean listened to him vent about his day, and tried his best to imagine what he was describing. Marco also gave him the latest on the girls, and on Bert.
“The girls are getting into some clubs, Ymir found a women’s Softball League that does their own practices and games.” He explained.
Jean could picture Ymir in softball getup, she was a tomboy through and through. Trying to imagine Historia playing sports was a hilariously different concept.
“Bert has been trying to find work. Right now, he works for the old theater downtown, you know the one?” Marco asked, as he was finally in clean clothes.
Marco had carried Jean to his room and he fell back against the covers, the computer bouncing gently down on the mattress beside him. Jean chuckled once he heard Marco’s little oof from the impact.
“Yeah, Reiner was telling me. He said it wasn’t anything exciting, but at least he can see free movies.” Jean replied, looking at Marco’s bare walls.
He remembered what it felt like to lay next to Marco in that room, and suddenly the walls around him in his own apartment felt leagues smaller.
He hated the new place from the second he walked in. It wasn’t exactly fair of him to judge it on feeling alone, he simply hated it because it was Massachusetts, not because the place was bad. Ever since he moved in, that depressing feeling had lingered in the old brick and stone.
Marco noticed Jean’s silence, and sat up to look at the screen with concern in his eyes. Jean offered him a smile, and Marco smiled softly back, his dimples appearing.
“Everything ok?” He asked, “You’ve been quiet. How was your day?”
“Well,” Jean started, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t do a whole lot today other than class. I saw Reiner this morning, but he has different classes.”
Jean struggled for his next words, realizing that was the only real update he had. He wasn’t good at small talk.
“Have you made any more friends?” Marco asked.
Jean hadn’t exactly tried to make any new friends. He didn’t want to be there, why would he? He had all the friends he needed back home. He couldn’t tell Marco about this opinion, the freckled boy would call him reclusive.
“Not yet.” He answered instead, looking down for a minute before breathing deeply.
“But I’m starting a new project, it’s a surprise.”
Marco’s eyes brightened, and he leaned forward.
“do I even get a hint?” He asked, his expression mischievous.
A scar ran across his lip, folding into his smirk. Jean brought Marco out of his meek shell, he loved seeing Marco so playful.
“Nope. You’ll just have to wait.” Jean said, rubbing his shoulders. “But I’ll show it to you over spring break, so mark your calendar.”
Marco crossed a finger over his heart twice, quoting “marked and noted” as he did.
Jean checked the clock in the corner of his screen, and frowned. They had been calling for two hours, which wasn’t a bad thing, but Jean would have to hang up soon to make his dinner and study. He could listen to Marco talk forever if he could.
“I have to go, but can I call you tomorrow?” Jean asked, his knee bouncing.
Marco’s expression fell as he checked his own watch, but he nodded solemnly.
“Why can’t there be more hours in a day?”
Jean hummed, shaking his head.
“Because the universe knows I’d spend all the extra hours here with you, and not doing my work.” He answered.
Marco groaned and fell back against his bed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing Jean, I think that would be perfect.” He mused.
“It would be, until you realize the longer it takes for me to graduate, the further apart we will stay.” Jean reminded.
Marco frowned, and Jean knew the truth of that sentence was significantly heavier than he had intended it to be. But he couldn’t unmake the sentence, and it was a truth that deserved to be heard.
Jean’s parents would keep him in school until he could land a (good) job. That was the sad reality of his life.
“I wish they knew there was more to life than careers, or money.” Marco said quietly, referring to Jean’s parents.
Jean glanced at the carpet.
“Me too.”
After a short pause and a few minutes of saying “bye” and “I love you” to each other, Jean closed the top of his laptop and collapsed back against the couch.
“Fuck.”
Notes:
Hey y’all!! You made it to the end of the first chapter, and I’m so glad you chose to read this story. If you’ve already finished Senior Year, then you’ll know how much this story means to me and Growing Pains is no different. I really think this sequel might actually be better than the original, dare I say!
If you want to, drop feedback or any other thoughts in the comments! I appreciate any engagement, it helps me share this story with anyone who might need light in a dark place <3
Chapter 2: Farmer Boy
Notes:
I am continuing this work after the last chapter of Kill Your Darlings is posted, on 6/16! Be on the lookout for chapter 3
<3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Marco shoveled old straw from Midnight’s pen, humming along to the stereo in the corner of the barn. This is how most mornings began for him, getting straight to work.
Ever since his mom had confided in him about potentially selling their property, he had been kicked into a new gear, and assumed the role his father previously filled. Gina started her sophomore year in August, so she couldn’t help with chores during the week, but Marco didn’t mind doing it all himself.
It was nice to clear his head and to use his hands, it distracted him from feeling as lonely as he did.
Ever since his boyfriend Jean and friend Reiner had left for MIT, and his best friends Ymir and Historia had left for Hunter College, the world felt thirty times smaller than it had before.
The chores he did everyday were somehow more rigorous than ever before, he was responsible for everything from the vet bookings, grooming, feeding, maintenance and product distribution.
Marco had never helped his dad sell the eggs from the chickens, or the milk from the cows when he was still alive. He admired the photo of his dad while he worked, and paused to press his fingers gently against the wooden picture frame.
Maybe Jerimiah Bodt was proud of Marco for taking over his work wherever he was, even if his son had never shown interest in doing so before the accident.
Marco found himself enjoying the farm more than he realized, it was how the responsibility made him feel. If he wasn’t there to do it, it would all fall apart. He had a sense of purpose, a sense of fulfillment. The animals depended on him, and he would be damned if he let them down.
After shoveling the stall, he ducked under the door and into the hallway, and sat in the chair in front of the horse tacks and saddle equipment.
A quick glance at the calendar reminded Marco that the appointment for the cow hoof trims was in about thirty minutes. Marco knew the hoof trimmer well, he had been working with his family for a while just checking on their herd tri-monthly, but Marco had never been there to observe.
His father had been a jack-of-all-trades in the farm department, he could trim the cows himself if he really wanted to. Marco wanted to be this knowledgeable too, in case he found himself high and dry. There was so much he still had to learn about maintaining a farm.
“Marco, are you there?” A voice called from the desk against the wall, and Marco’s eyes fixated on the walkie talkie sitting on the charger. His mom was calling for him.
Marco moved over to the desk and scooped up the radio, pressing down on the talk button. “I’m here, good morning by the way.” He responded into the receiver, resting his hip against the desk. His boots dug into the dirt floor, making sole imprints in the ground.
“Good morning Hun, I was wondering if you wanted some coffee?” She asked. The walkie talkie was mostly used for either emergencies or important messages before, but lately Marco’s mom used it to maintain connection to her son while he worked outside for hours.
“Sure, I’ll take a coffee. I would ask if you want to hang out with me in the barn today, but Furlan will be here soon.” Marco responded, smiling softly. He loved that his mom still kept him company. She knew better than anyone did about how lonely he felt.
Marco didn’t want to burden Jean with those feelings, he didn’t want his lover to feel guilty, or at fault. Sure, he was over a thousand miles away and that sucked, but Jean didn’t have a say in the way things were. They just simply, were.
Marco fiddled with his promise ring as he thought, frowning at the silver.
“That’s ok, I have a book to read, per Lesley’s recommendation.” She said, and Marco thought about Lesley in fondness. He would have to see if she needed another yard trim soon, he knew Ymir’s mom felt just as lonely as he did with her daughter away at college.
“Sounds like fun. Thank you for the coffee!” Marco said, mimicking a kissing sound into the walkie and setting it back on the charger. And with that, it was back to work.
About ten minutes after he had begun another chore, he spotted his mom walking through the horse field, making her way to the stalls where Marco was already sweating through his tank top.
She placed the mug in his hands and left him with a kiss on his cheek and a smile, waving as she made her way back into the house. Mink walked slowly by her heels, the cattle dog looking more aged and tired as the days went by.
Marco grinned, and after a few sips he heard the familiar sound of Furlan’s trailer pulling up their long driveway. Marco spotted the local trimmer off in the distance, the dust from the uneven, rocky road billowing up as the truck parked outside the cattle barn.
Marco glanced at the cage-like machine attached to the truck on the trailer in awe. It was a bright green captive mechanism, with fasteners to keep the cow’s legs secured and a door that held the cow firmly in place. Marco had seen it before, but not this close. It was a confusing mess of joints and cushions, meant to keep the cow calm and still while they trimmed the hooves.
“Howdy!” Marco called out, as Furlan hopped out of his work truck. He was twice Marco’s age, but slightly scrawnier with a vicious farmers tan and messy blonde hair. He had sharp brown eyes, almost the same color as Jean’s, but much more aged and withered from many years of blue-collar work. He smiled at the freckled guy and waved, but made quick work of disconnecting the trailer.
“Hey Marco, how’s she doing ey?” He asked, referring to his mom. He had been there for his whole family after his dad’s accident. Marco nodded and smiled. “She’s fine.” He hummed. Furlan nodded and dressed up his hands with some heavy-duty orange work gloves. “Lovely.” He said, a twinge of his Scottish accent coming through.
“Go grab the forklift yeah? Let’s get to work, we have a lot of lassies to attend to today.” He mused. Marco gave him a thumbs up, and made his way to the shed where all of their tractors and other machines sat until they were ready to be used.
Marco remembered when his father used to take him for rides in the tractor, and would let him sit on his lap so Marco could steer. The farm felt much more alive back then, it was a labor of love more than it was a chore.
He brought the forklift around the trailer, and hopped out so Furlan could maneuver the machine into the barn.
“It’s called a crush. You’ve seen it before, haven’t ye?” He asked, slapping the green paint on the metal bars of the Crush. Marco nodded, looking the machine up and down once more. It was intimidating, but really helpful.
“Yeah, I’ve never used one before though.” Marco acknowledged, helping Furlan set out his tools. Furlan handed Marco an eye guard, a big visor that flapped down over their eyes to protect their face from flying keratin.
Furlan hummed while he set up shop, and Marco watched him prepare all of the tools and supplies the might need. He even went so far as to take notes on his little notepad he kept in his back pocket, making sure to include each meticulous detail so Marco could practice himself. There was much to learn, and much to remember.
“So now that we’re all set, we need to get the ladies lined up and ready to get into the crush.” He explained, gesturing to the line of metal fence leading up to the machine. “That way they all line up and get trimmed one at a time.” He explained.
The Bodt family had about thirty acres of land and about twenty cows, as well as two bulls, a couple of sheep and chickens and a rooster. They also had three horses, but the horses weren’t used as production livestock or for competitive work. They were just simply family pets, otherwise Marco would have no free time for anything, ever.
The boy thought about what his life might look like if he was a professional barrel racer, or just a racer in general. He might be more successful if he had taken that route, but anything involving horses not only required patience, but extreme caution. Horses could be unpredictable at times, Marco had seen a number of accidents involving barrel racers breaking their bones or paralyzing themselves from something as simple as one tumble.
That wasn’t for him.
Furlan and Marco made quick work of rounding up all of the cows, Mink doing her job corralling them into the fence to line up for their trim.
After the first cow stepped into the crush, the fence gates closed around her head and she stepped into the leg lifts. The machine groaned and hissed as it lifted the cow’s hoof up and flipped the sole up to face them. Furlan grinned.
“And now for the fun part.” He explained, pulling Marco’s eye cover over his eyes. Furlan grabbed a trimmer, which looked a lot more like a circular saw, and powered it on. The loud sound of the blade whirring filled the air as Furlan took the trimmer to the cow’s hooves, barely grazing the blade against the sole of her foot and taking it down a few inches. He caved in the sides of her hooves as well, shaping the arch so she could walk more balanced.
When he finished trimming the hoof, Furlan placed the trimmer back in its pouch hanging against the crush, and removed a knife from his hip satchel, holding it up to show Marco. Marco studied the blade carefully, noting that the tip was angled like the letter C.
“We use this to make more precise cuts, in case the heifer has a sole ulcer, or a cavity. Or if the trimmer just doesn’t do the full job.” He explained, placing the blade against the edge of the hoof and raking it down with force until the keratin of the hoof trimmed away, piece by piece. Marco watched him work, and noted his exact knife strokes until he was satisfied.
“We want to be careful though,” He cautioned, gesturing his finger to the newly white sole of the cow. “We don’t want to cut too deep, and penetrate the Corium. That would really hurt the lass, and would cause a lot of bleeding and unnecessary harm. Just keep that in mind.” He finished, patting the cow’s hoof and letting the machine guide it back down to the ground.
Furlan showed Marco how to trim the other hooves of the same cow, and made it through a few more members of the herd before he offered Marco the trimmer.
“Want to give it a try?” He asked, smiling at him. Marco bit the inside of his cheek, but he nodded. It couldn’t be that hard, he reminded himself he has to take his time, and favor precise movements over quick ones.
As the next cow entered the crush, Marco hooked one of her back legs up and stared down at the greyish-black hoof. He felt himself sweating, afraid he could mess up and hurt the animal. He swallowed the anxiety and pulled his eye guard down over his eyes again, activating the trimmer and getting to work.
By the time the last cow had entered the Crush, Marco felt comfortable with the trimmer. Furlan himself would use the knife if he had to, Marco wasn’t yet ready to try it, but the trimmer was easy to use.
The last cow was the lame one, limping on her back-right hoof. She wouldn’t let any weight on it, she looked pained, discomforted. “She’s going to be a piece of work, I can already tell.” Furlan lamented, but nevertheless he hooked her hoof into the machine and pulled it up to get a better look at it.
Marco watched over his shoulder as he pointed out where the problem could potentially be, and they started trimming.
Right away, the cow began to groan in pain. Furlan frowned, brushing a gloved hand against the hoof. The cow once again moved and rocked in the crush, the discomfort sourced from a tiny black spot on the hoof.
“She’s got a pressure buildup in this cavity, watch this.” Furlan said, taking out his knife and slowly scooping away at the hole. As he removed each piece, the spot became larger, until he broke through the layer. Dark liquid dripped out onto the ground, and Marco had to cover his nose.
“Oh my god, that smell.” Was all he could manage as he plugged his nostrils with his thumb and pointer finger, grimacing. Furlan laughed a hearty laugh, shaking his head.
“It’s enough to take the soul right out of you yeah? You get used to it.” He explained, removing more chunks from the ulcer. “The most important thing to remember is were trimming her, not fixing her. She can heal this herself, but in order to get there we have to clean it all up and make sure she is balanced.” He explained. “We can’t leave behind any detached hoofhorn.”
Furlan showed Marco how to affix a block to the other side of the hoof claw to keep the weight off of the ulcer side, and he sprayed it down with iodine before showing Marco how to wrap the bad side.
After the cow had the rest of her hooves trimmed, they released her from the crush. She took a few hesitant steps on the bad hoof, but finally let herself relax more, and she joined the other cattle in the back of the barn.
“Once that pressure is released, it’s amazing how much better they appear to feel.” Furlan explained, and began to pack his things. It had been about two hours since they had started their work, lunchtime was now upon them.
Marco helped Furlan move the crush back to the trailer and paid him, asking him if he wanted to stay for lunch. Furlan held up his hands with a polite grin.
“I would, but I have an appointment with a farm nearby in an hour and I don’t want to keep them waiting.” He explained. Marco instead sent him off with a bottle of coke and a smile.
Making his own way back to the house to see what he could make himself, he realized gleefully that he had obtained another skill.
He couldn’t wait to tell Jean about it.
After lunch, Marco moved on to the housekeeping tasks. All of the animals had been fed, taken care of and the ones that needed medication were all given their doses. Mrs. Bodt had left shortly after one, off to run errands and to pick up PJ from school, so Mink joined Marco out on the farm. She resorted to occasionally charging a sheep or barking at cars that passed by the fence.
Marco stretched out in the barn and cracked his back, dislodging his phone from his back pocket to see if he had any new messages from Jean.
He missed his boyfriend more and more every day. He felt the weight of his absence all around the farm, around the entire town. It was uncomfortable, silent. Too lonely for Marco’s taste, even if he had his family, the animals or the occasional farmhand.
There was a company that only Jean provided, and nobody else could replicate it. He fit perfectly against Marco, he was the end of the song of his heart. And with him being so far away, Marco could barely hear the harmony.
He saw a snap notification from Jean, and opened it to a picture of MIT from across the Charles River, which Jean had told Marco about when he was first settling into his apartment.
“There’s this huge river separating downtown Boston from MIT, and there are so many bridges and people out and about all day. I mean, I’ve known cities like this one before, but none this crowded!” Jean exclaimed, rambling. “It’s definitely not Jinae East.”
Marco felt his heart twinge at the memory. He investigated the snapchat for a moment longer, before sending him a picture of his own surroundings: The barn wall closest to the supply closet, where the family stored extra farm supplies and gadgets.
There was a barrel or two tipped over in the corner, filled with nothing but dirt and sand to weigh it down. A cherry red retro clock hung above the closet door, and a mini fridge filled with old fashioned cola bottles sat on the work table, the lightbulb above flickering.
Marco smiled, sending him a text.
Looks like a beautiful day! Wish I could be enjoying it with you.
His finger hovered over the send button.
He knew between the two of them, Jean was taking the separation and distance much harder. Marco had a family, a support system, even a few of his friends were still in town.
Jean only had Reiner, and a big city full of strangers. One thousand miles away.
He never wanted to make Jean feel guilty for being so far away. It wasn’t like he had a say in what school he attended, and Georgia had been his home for so long now, it had to be extremely difficult to be away. His family still hadn’t moved back to France like they originally planned, either.
At least, they hadn’t yet.
Marco prayed they never would. He knew Jean would have to go with them when he wasn’t in school. Jean’s parents had always seemed controlling, and kept their children on a tight leash when it came to their futures.
Jean tried to be his own person, wearing what he wanted, gauging his ears, riding a bike. It was partially because he liked those elements, but it was mostly to spite his parent’s idea of a perfect image. He would earn a win or two here and there, but most of the time he had to cut his losses and obey their command.
Marco could see Jean was coming out of his shell the more they grew as a couple, though. Their relationships continued to knock down barriers between the two of them, and Marco would never fail to be impressed by the fact that obstacles only caused them to become more entwined with each other.
The only thing he couldn’t do was physically be there.
He knew it was all just a waiting game too. Waiting for Jean's parents to find out, what they would do. He didn't really want to think about that.
Marco had thought about surprising Jean by visiting him for fall break, but Jean announced happily that he was coming to him for fall. That left Thanksgiving or Christmas, but Marco had never been away from home for one of those holidays. Not since the accident.
Part of the reason why he hadn’t ever spent a holiday away from them was because he felt like he would let his mom and sister down if he didn’t share the day with them, but he knew his mom would encourage him to have one to himself for at least a year if he wanted to.
The much more looming reason was the fear that something terrible could happen again. A fear he kept deeply to himself, just how much he still felt haunted by that drive. He escaped with his life once before, but a thousand miles one way was a massive step for him.
He had to at least try, for Jean. He was grown up, He could take care of himself.
Marco glanced with his good eye to his left and noticed his father’s photo frame. He gently scooped up the wooden frame between his tender hands, and rubbed his thumb over the dust and dirt buildup on his father’s face.
Jerimiah Bodt. A strong man, but a stubborn one.
“Please, keep me safe.” Marco whispered, hugging the photo frame.
“I love him, and I can’t do this without help.”
Notes:
A little Marco POV, as a treat. I misguided y'all in the tags a little that this was solely Jean's POV, I feel like this story will benefit from having both of their experiences so I hope that is okay!!
It won’t diverge much from Jean, however here and there it will!
Chapter 3: New Friends, Old Habits
Summary:
Jean begins his documentary, but his outing is interrupted by two familiar faces.
Notes:
Happy Fathers Day! Chapter 3 has arrived early, and I hope you all enjoy <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jean had no idea what he was doing. Why did he think he could mastermind a project like this? He wasn’t a film student, he didn’t know where to even start with filming a documentary.
He had zero plan, and no script. He didn’t even know if his life was eventful enough for him to record anything worthwhile. The worst thought of all though, was realizing he didn’t even know how to edit videos.
But despite Jean’s amateur recording skills, or his horrendous lack of computer knowledge, he knew he had to do this project. It was important for him to show Marco how much he cared about him, how much he thought about him while he was away. He wanted to do something, anything to pay Marco back for all of the kindness and unconditional love he had showed him.
Jean was a little awkward when it came to emotions or feelings. He couldn’t even talk to his own reflection in the mirror about his issues, there was nothing he deemed worthy enough to mention to anyone. But Marco was different, and Jean knew that he would be happy with whatever Jean came up with for him.
At least he hoped Marco would be.
Jean stared out at the Charles river as it chugged on, sitting on a park bench near the riverbank. He could see the pillars of MIT from the park, and from the moment he had seen the city on his first day in Boston, he knew he would have to cherish the little pieces of nature he could find.
This was one of those spots, and it would be one Jean wouldn’t be afraid to show Marco if his boyfriend miraculously decided to come and visit. It was peaceful, aside from the sound of traffic.
He shyly pulled out the video camera that was tucked away in his bag, shaking his head. He didn’t know how to film in public either, he already hated drawing any kind of attention to himself unless it was under the protection of his bike helmet. He much preferred to blend in with everyone else, but this wasn’t about him.
Anxiously, Jean wiggled his finger above the record button. He glanced around for a subject to start filming, and decided on walking to the edge of the riverbank. With a deep breath, he pressed the record button and held the camera pointedly at MIT, just beyond the other side of the river.
“Look at how big that shit is, it’s ridiculous. I mean, it’s cool, but it’s so unnecessarily big.” He rambled into the camera, zooming in and out of the school and fucking around with the camera angle. He didn’t know if he’d include this in the final cut of the documentary, but he did know that he had to start somewhere.
He filmed a few things in the park, like a few trees and plants. He noticed a couple of squirrels playing by the bench he had been sitting at a few minutes ago, and he recorded them too while snickering. He captured a few birds as they took flight, and some strangers as they passed further up the road, and anything he could see really.
Eventually he turned the camera to face him, and stuck his tongue out at the screen.
“This isn’t as fun without you, I’ll admit.” He confessed with a sigh, kicking the rocks at his feet. “I’m not really good at this, but I hope you at least liked watching the squirrels play.” And with that, he collapsed the screen and shut down the recording.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Jean had brought his notebooks with him to the park, attempting to get some fresh air. He missed sitting in his mother’s backyard chair swing, which she spent a fortune on and never touched it once herself. He missed the feeling of the humidity weighing him down to earth, and the cicadas and the bees. He wished he could be there instead, studying under the leafy canopy and listening to music in his earbuds.
Jean also missed his bike. He hadn’t realized just how much it had become his favorite mode of transportation, he loved the feeling of the wind resistance and the rush of racing past other cars. He missed the roar of the engine, and the look people gave him when he passed by. That was the only time he allowed himself to be confident, when he was protected by the anonymity and aura of his helmet.
As Jean was laying out the notebooks, prepared to analyze a book for a paper in lit. class, two figures loomed over him.
He looked up with a mild squint, blinking in confusion.
“Hey, you’re that guy from Jinae East! The one who beat the shit out of that snotty kid at the party last spring!”
A girl with auburn hair, loosely pulled into a ponytail with tons of clips clicked her tongue at Jean. She dressed rather androgynously, a small crop t-shirt with high rise grey cargo shorts that came down to her knees. She wore beat up chucks, and had striped fingerless gloves on.
Jean grimaced, furrowing his brows at her.
“And, what’s your damage?” He asked, annoyed.
He didn’t want to think about how punching Floch felt while he was trying to study.
“It’s cool man, we played football for Shingashina High, we know Eren!” The shorter boy with the silver buzzcut said proudly, as if that made anything better.
He dressed similarly stylish to the girl, with a white long sleeve and purple t-shirt combo. He wore distressed blue jeans and black docks, and had large circle framed glasses resting on his button nose. He pushed them up as he stared closer at Jean.
Jean had decided Eren was cool, before he left. But he didn’t understand why these two were pestering him anyways.
“Ok, but, why do you ask?” Jean insinuated with his hand, frowning up at them.
He paused his pen against his paper, not even seconds into his analyzation.
“We wondered if you go to MIT? I’m Sasha by the way. That’s Connie.” She pointed her thumb to the smirking guy next to her, and he gave Jean two thumbs up of his own.
Jean rolled his eyes.
“Jean. Yes, I go to MIT.” He answered, gesturing to his homework. “And if you didn’t notice, I’m trying to study.”
Sasha laughed, slapping her knee. “On the weekend? Are you, like, depressed or something? We should hang!” She said, elbowing Connie.
Connie rubbed his hands together, cooking up a devious plan. Jean was nervous, realizing they weren’t going to leave him alone. Why did they care about him so much?
“Jean, do you, per-chance, partake in the smoking of Mary Jane?” He asked, and Jean sighed.
It had been a while since he had smoked last, and since he actually took a day off of studying. He used to sneak hits from his bong out of the bedroom window in high school, but that was when he was…
He shook his head, smiling at them suddenly.
“I’m listening. But, why me?” He asked, pointing to himself.
Connie shrugged, looking at Sasha.
“Eren told us we might meet you here, he said you were good company.” Sasha answered.
Jean’s eyes widened. Eren had said he was good company?
Why?
“Well that was nice of that turd. He’s overestimating my abilities a little.” Jean admitted, packing up his notebooks. “Anyways, where are we lighting up huh?” Jean grinned, elbowing Connie’s arm. “You’re losing my attention.”
Sasha giggled, looping arms with Jean and Connie before skipping forward to a barely taped together Honda civic.
“I know a place!”
Jean found himself cozied up on Connie and Sasha’s apartment balcony.
He didn’t really think twice about trusting the two of them, after they told him about Eren’s sentiment. They seemed like good company themselves.
Sasha and Connie lived together in a downtown Boston two-bedroom. Their themes clashed horrifically; Connie was definitely a sci-fi nerd, he had a ton of Star Wars and robotic themed toys and memorabilia around the place. There were a few movie posters here and there, and Jean spotted a nerf gun or two on the floor in the hallway. The foam bullets were littered throughout the whole apartment.
Sasha’s décor style was more mystic grunge, and twilight vampire meets sexy bold rock-and-roll. there was a stereo somewhere playing Rob Zombie, and there were several vinyl sleeves and band posters in the hallway. Jean clicked his tongue as they passed right out onto the patio.
Jean dropped his bag by the door, and followed the two out onto a small porch facing the Charles River.
Jean whistled.
“I’m insanely jealous.” He said, gesturing to their view.
Sasha grinned, nodding her head.
“It costs a fucking fortune every month, but my dad is helping out since it’s a college expense. Connie demanded a smoking porch, and this is what we could get.” She chuckled, reaching behind her to grasp a metal cylinder off of the ground.
She opened the grinder, inspecting it.
Connie handed her a joint paper.
“My parents chose a loft for me, which is nice and all, but I don’t have a porch.” Jean explained, watching the two of them roll it up.
“Lofts are cool though. I would pile a bunch of pillows at the bottom floor, and would jump down from the top!” Sasha imagined, licking her finger and pinching the end close once she was done packing.
Jean chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s a hassle, most of the time. Anyways. You two know Eren?”
Connie looked back up to Jean, grinning at the mention of his buddy.
“Yeah, we all used to go to Shingashina High together. He left for Jinae East after his first year, though.” He frowned, scratching his head. Sasha bumped him with her leg, gesturing to the lighter on the table beside Connie.
Jean took a seat to Sasha’s right, close to the edge of the railing.
He looked out into the Boston streets, listening to honks and the sound of tires rolling.
Jean couldn’t believe it but; he missed the countryside badly.
“He’s a friend of my friends’.” Jean uttered, tucking one knee up to his chin as he waited for them to pass the joint.
“Friends like Marco? We met him at the party, you two seem close.” Sasha wiggled her eyebrows at him, handing him the paper for him to take the first hit.
Jean’s expression twitched, realizing they were referring to the video Floch posted. Was there anyone who hadn’t seen it yet?
“Yeah, um… Marco is my boyfriend.” He answered casually, sparking up the end and taking a quick drag. The flames ignited, lighting the end and smoldering down a bit.
He blew out the flames, and took a longer drag, exhaling the smoke over the edge.
“He’s cute, you really scored.” Sasha took the joint from him with a snarky grin, taking a couple puffs herself. She sighed dramatically, sinking deeper into her chair as she passed it to Connie.
Jean flushed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear.
“Yes, but don’t tell him I said that. His ego is already massive.” Jean chuckled, shaking his head. “So, do you two go to MIT too?”
Connie took a long drag, exhaling dramatically. He spluttered out a cough, but recovered himself.
“Yup, I’m gonna study Software Engineering.” Connie wheezed, wiping his eyes as he handed the joint back down to Jean.
“I’m going into Electrical Engineering.” Sasha explained, watching the joint pass her by with a pout.
Jean grasped the paper between his fingers again, allowing himself to take a couple of hits before he passed it back to the girl.
He could feel his head growing lighter as he inhaled each time, and suddenly he remembered why he enjoyed this feeling so much.
Everything in his brain was so quiet.
“Sick. I’m going to do Mechanical.” Jean stated, finally passing the joint back.
Sasha beamed, taking it from Jean eagerly. She hit it, and Jean watched the embers flicker slowly against the edge of the paper. They had already smoked nearly half.
“I gotta say, I never imagined myself as an Engineer.” Connie said, his eyes drooping after he had inhaled his share. He rubbed them under his glasses.
Sasha smiled, nodding her head.
“Neither did I! But engineers make a ton of fucking money, so I had to get in on that shit.”
Jean smiled, taking another hit. He felt like he might be peaking, his tolerance was so low again.
It felt great.
“My parents wanted me to get myself a high paying job, because I’m not from here. They will probably move back to France after I graduate, and they want my brother and I to stay here and work I suppose.” Jean thought.
He didn’t know exactly why they were so adamant on him studying in America, or getting a job there. He knew they wanted to move back, eventually. So, what was the point, unless they weren’t planning on taking their sons with them?
Jean wondered if it was a way for his parents to start cutting him off financially. It would be only a matter of time before Jean had to start returning the profit that they had invested in him.
“Ah, so that’s what the accent is.” Connie chuckled, shaking his head.
“Ay, shut up, there is no way you didn’t know that was a French accent!” Sasha accused, pointing her finger sharply at Connie. “We like the accent, he’s just being dumb I apologize.”
Jean held up his hand. “No harm.”
Connie took a drag, and the flames licked down to the end of the paper. He offered the last hit to Jean, who took it with a wince. The smoke burned, and he coughed the rest over the edge once more before extinguishing the butt in Sasha’s rose-shaped ashtray.
“But they’d really move back to France and make you stay here? Do you want to stay here?” Sasha asked curiously.
Jean felt a little overwhelmed by her question. His parents didn’t really care what happened to him or his brother, so long as they made themselves useful. He didn’t think they really cared about his opinion on staying or leaving the states.
It didn’t matter, anyway. Jean didn’t want to go with them, Marco was in Georgia. He wouldn’t let any more distance be put between him and his boyfriend.
“I’d rather stay in the states. They’re assholes anyway, I’ll be better off.” Jean stood, gesturing for the other two to follow him. “c’mon, show me your stuff.” Jean asked.
Sasha grinned, taking Connie’s hand and dragging him up to his feet. Connie leaned towards her, swaying and unbalanced. His cheeks were red as he looked at her.
Jean pursed his lips, resisting the urge to give them a knowing look.
When you know them a little better, you can tease them then he thought.
Sasha led them both inside, showing Jean her trinkets and band tees. She was heavily into metal and rock, but also a dash of rap.
Rap was Jean’s favorite genre, too. He would never tell Marco, but his guilty pleasure was listening to Suicide Boys while he flew down the interstate on his bike.
Historia had shown him the duo artists in their early high school days. She had wanted to share a vulnerable piece of herself with him while he struggled at home, and he had integrated the music into his taste before he could really even realize it.
As Connie was showing Jean some of his favorite comics, Jean noticed a guitar propped up against the wall by the kitchen. He stepped forwards to grasp it carefully, blinking down at the instrument.
He turned to the two of them, putting the strap over his shoulder and holding it to his chest.
They watched him, mouths hanging open in vague interest.
Jean placed his fingers on the strings, and held the tips down to the fret board.
He played them the four chords Marco had taught him last year, dancing around the room as he did. He nearly tripped over the dirty laundry on the floor as he moved, and Connie laughed and clapped while Jean twirled.
“What the fuck is that?” Sasha asked, shaking her head at Jean and gesturing to him. “Why are you defiling my baby?”
Jean grinned, wiggling his brows at her as he strummed the chords in a different order. He really wished he had asked Marco for another lesson, he’d have to ask him when fall break finally came for more than just four chords.
“I’m her daddy now.” Jean said, stinging his tongue out and flashing his piercing as he tried different combinations against the fret. Some sounded hilariously awful, but some actually felt good.
“You are so not, get your filthy hands off of her!” Sasha complained, pulled the guitar from Jean to strum the chords herself. She immediately matched the song that was playing in the other room, and Jean watched in awe.
Connie chuckled, slapping Jean on the shoulder.
“Isn’t she good?” He asked.
Jean nodded, watching Sasha perfectly match the Metallica riff playing on the speaker.
“Why are you in Engineering?” He found himself asking, and she grinned. Her eyes reopened, and she tossed the instrument on to the couch.
“Because I’d like to separate my career from my hobbies.” She said, guiding Jean down the hall to show him their bedrooms.
They looked essentially the same as the rest of the living space did, and Jean admired how much personality was in each of their displays. He would really have to take some notes from them, before Marco could see how depressing his unit looked at that exact moment.
They sang a couple songs for a while, and ate some snacks after the house tour, and Jean hadn’t realized how much fun he was having until a text message notification went off in his back pocket.
He removed the phone to check who sent the message, reading Marco’s name in his contacts.
Incoming Text: Freckled Jesus
Are you home? Want to call?
Jean checked the time. He had been hanging out with those guys for just shy of two hours. He frowned as he typed out a reply.
Outgoing Text: Freckled Jesus
I’ll b home soon. Yes, I’d like 2 call!
He looked back up at the two others in front of him. Connie was fixing Sasha’s hair, as she closed her eyes and sang another song. He braided the auburn strands quietly, listening to her sing as he worked.
“Hey, as much fun as this has been and all, I have to get home now.” He explained, and Sasha looked up at him with a confused expression.
“But it’s the weekend?” She asked, checking her watch.
Jean shrugged.
“I have homework to do still, plus I promised somebody I’d give them a call.” He explained.
Jean didn’t want Sasha to bring up the video again, so he didn’t tell them he was calling Marco. It wasn’t like Jean wanted to keep Marco a secret, but he wasn’t used to being out yet. It felt strange to tell someone he just met personal details about his relationship.
“Awwww, okay. We can exchange numbers, I have a feeling we’re going to need a lot of weed to get us through this next semester.” Connie stated, laughing at himself as he pointed his finger. Sasha hit his chest, but she laughed too.
She hopped up and beckoned Jean to follow her.
“I’ll be back Connie, I’m gonna make sure he gets to his place all safe n’ sound.” She explained, and Connie cozied up on the couch.
“Bye Horseface!” Connie sang from the cushions, and Jean scoffed angrily at him.
“What did you call me, dumbass?”
Connie met his eyes and smirked.
“You heard me, Horseface.” He repeated, glasses glinting as he sticking his tongue out at Jean.
Sasha rolled her eyes, grabbing he sleeves of Jean’s t-shirt and pulling him out of the apartment.
“We can discuss dumb nicknames later!”
Sasha walked him home. Jean lived only a few blocks from them, interestingly enough. He had walked to the park earlier, so there was no need to return to it for anything. He brought everything with him in his bag.
Sasha asked him questions about Jinae East the whole time they walked, and Jean took the time to explain his home to her in great detail.
Jean had grown to love it in Georgia. It was where he wanted to be, more than anything. He felt so out of place, in Boston. Jean might be a stereotypical city-boy, but he was absolutely docile at heart. The standoff-ish asshole persona was just a façade, one he had crafted for his parents but had been unsuccessful at separating it from the rest of his life. It just became more difficult to discern as he aged.
She dropped him off at his building, after exchanging numbers. Jean smiled, realizing he would be able to tell Marco he had actually made some friends.
He practically bounded up the stairs into his building, dropping his bag by the couch and opening his laptop. He dialed up Marco, leaning back against the cushions to breath. It had been a pretty hot walk back to his apartment, he was sweating through his t-shirt.
Marco picked up, wearing a similar shirt, sitting at his desk. He smiled when he saw Jean, but looked confused when he noticed how winded his partner was.
“Hey babe. You been running or something?” He asked.
Jean chuckled, shaking his head.
“No, but it is hot outside. Guess what?” He asked, leaning forward.
Marco tipped his head. “What?”
“I made some friends.” Jean said, a grin spreading across his face.
Marco matched his smile, his eyes crinkling. “I told you! I knew would.” He replied. “So, were you outside with them?”
“Sort of. Their names are Sasha and Connie, I met them at the park today.” Jean began, and Marco’s eyes lit up in recognition.
“Mikasa introduced them to me at Eren’s party! Wait, they go to MIT?” He asked, rubbing his chin.
“Yeah, they asked me if I wanted to hang out at their place. We smoked, talked about majors n’ shit. They showed me around their place a bit.” He explained, grinning.
Marco laughed, looking closer at Jean. “Damn, the stoners got to you first, huh? Eren tells me they’re always raiding his pantry.”
Jean waggled his brows at Marco.
“I hate to break it to you, babe, but I used to be a bit of a stoner myself.” He teased.
Marco smiled again at him, but this time it was more smug.
“You don’t think I knew that? You reeked Sophomore year, dude. But I didn’t mind.” Marco recalled fondly.
Jean flushed, shaking his head. “Not fair, you had a crush on me before I could realize I was wasting my time with Mikasa.” He simplified.
He had always liked Marco, though. Jean wouldn’t tell the freckled teen, but he sort of always thought of him in more of a romantic light, throughout all of high school. But Marco was off limits, per his parents’ expectations. So, Jean always forced his eyes forward, faithfully on the prize.
“I think it’s fair. But regardless, I’m so proud of you, Jean! I knew you would make some friends, it would be terrible if you were stuck all the way out there and had only Reiner to talk to.” Marco joked.
Jean snorted at the jab at Reiner. He was right though, Reiner was the kind of guy who made a lot of friends wherever he went. He was a social butterfly, which meant that Jean would have to forge his own friend group if he wanted to talk to anyone for anymore than maybe twice a week.
“Thank you, it was easy really. They actually recognized me, from the video.” Jean explained, looking a little less joyful.
He hated that there would be no way to erase the video forever. It would be floating out there, waiting for his family to find it one day. With Louis at NYU, he wondered just how long it would take for one of his classmates to show his brother the video.
He wished he could go back in time, and lock that stupid door. Then his first kiss with Marco would never have been made public.
“I see, well that might be the first good thing that video has ever done for you.” Marco decided, looking on the bright side.
How did he do that so easily?
“Yeah, I suppose it is. Anyways, anything new with you? Are you excited for fall break?” Jean hugged himself against the couch, leaning back again to watch Marco as the guy moved to his bed.
“You bet I’m excited. You promised me bike rides.” Marco reminded.
Jean grinned, imagining how much he was going to show off, and how fast he was going to drive. He wanted to sweep Marco off of his feet entirely.
“Also, I have a surprise of my own for you, but I’m going to tell you now so you have to hold me to it.” Marco spoke, interrupting Jean’s daydream. He leaned forward against his knuckles, listening.
“Yes?”
Marco looked a little less enthusiastic, but not upset. Just a bit frightened.
“I’ve decided I’m going to come to Boston, for Christmas. If you are willing to stay there for winter break, that is.”
Jean pursed his lips. Marco never drove far, let alone a thousand miles one way. And for Christmas too, he was risking driving in less desirable weather conditions, just for Jean. Not to mention how close the holiday was to his trauma anniversary.
“Marco, I understand if that is a lot. If it’s too much.” Jean reasoned, searching Marco’s face.
Secretly, he prayed Marco would push through his fear. He wanted Marco to spend time alone with him, at the loft. They’d have their very own Christmas to themselves, just as heartfelt as last year.
Marco shook his head. He smiled, blowing a kiss to Jean.
“I’m going to conquer this fear. Besides, I want to see if my boyfriend is in good hands, I want to see MIT and meet your new friends.”
Jean’s heart swelled. He absolutely loved the boy in front of him.
“Oh Marco, that’ll be amazing! I can’t wait, I’ve already planned so many places to take you. Not too many though, I want you all to myself at some point.” Jean explained, licking his lips.
Marco flushed, and giggled.
“I’m excited. It’ll be nice to take a break from the farm too, I love it here and all but my back is killing me!” Marco complained, his hand splayed against his lower spine.
Jean wished he could be there to massage his boyfriend, or do something to make him feel more comfortable. He needed to make a list of all the things he was going to do when he visited for fall break.
“Well, I know our call was a little short tonight, but my new friends’ sort of distracted me from a literature assignment this afternoon, so I have to do my homework now.” Jean said, his tone disappointed.
Marco looked upset, checking his clock.
“Are you sure?” He asked, in a half whine. Jean hated being too far away to kiss him.
“Yes, unfortunately. Engineering is a study heavy major.” Jean said flatly.
Marco grinned at him, pressing a kiss to his fingers and tapping his fingers to the camera.
“Ok, I love you babe. Have a good night, and i’ll see you soon.” Marco said.
Jean returned the kiss, leaning down to scroll the mouse over the end call button.
“I love you too, sleep well. Kiss Alice and Gina for me.”
The call ended.
Jean stood, walking into the kitchen to look at the calendar that hung on the wall.
Only three more weeks until fall break, and maybe then Jean could breathe a little again.
Notes:
I’ll be honest I really just wanted a Sasha & Jean & Connie blunt rotation, but it is still relevant for Jean’s story! I hope this chapter was fun to read regardless of how silly it was.
Chapter Text
Jean was flustered.
After classes were over the following Monday, Jean had decided he was going to hang out with Reiner for the remainder of the evening. It had been a while since he had seen his muscular friend for more than just class.
What Jean wanted to do was ask Reiner for advice on the documentary, but the blonde ended up having a different type of advice in mind for him.
“So, you and Marco freaked it yet?” Reiner asked, wiggling his eyebrows and holding a hand up to his mouth to hide his smirk.
Jean wanted to interrupt him, and change the topic back to his documentary, but he found himself thinking about the question too.
Him and Marco still hadn’t gone all the way yet.
They got very close to taking the next step, after Prom. But Jean hadn’t exactly been ready for intimacy at that point in time.
He wanted Marco, that was for fucking sure. But he didn’t know how to do it with a guy.
Jean didn’t know the first thing about taking his time in bed, either. Those facts by themselves made Jean nervous, but not to mention that he also didn’t want to fuck up Marco’s first time ever.
Marco hadn’t even had his first kiss before Jean kissed him at the party, and he hadn’t lost his virginity to anyone, man or woman or the people in between.
“No, fuck off.” Jean growled, looking down at the panel flooring in Reiner’s apartment.
The blonde lived downtown with some other dude who attended MIT, but the guy worked whenever he wasn’t studying, so he was hardly there. Reiner essentially had a place all to himself.
It was more spacious than Jean’s apartment by a lanslide, but Reiner’s view was cramped, the Boston skyline couldn’t be seen from any of the windows.
Jean envied his kitchen more than anything else. He had a ton space to work with, and plenty of cabinets for plates, cups and other utensils.
Reiner smirked at his deflective reaction, forcing Jean to look back up as he elbowed him.
“Not a chance Romeo! I am doing my due diligence, as your friend and brother.” He pat Jean’s chest, and Jean shoved him off. “What’s the holdup then?” Reiner finished.
Jean grit his teeth.
“Come on man, don’t be weird! I’m just… It would be Marco’s first time.” Jean said, turning redder than a tomato as the words tumbled out of his mouth. Why was that so lewd to think about?
Jean loved Marco. He didn’t want the guy to ever be uncomfortable, or unhappy with him. He didn’t know if that was even something he should have said to Reiner, if Marco would appreciate being talked about in this way without his knowledge.
“Oh, I see. You don’t want to take his virginity then? Don’t sickos like you get off to that shit?” Reiner teased, ruffling Jean’s hair before grabbing the remote on the coffee table. He flicked the tv on, and opened Spotify, putting on some casual playlist in the background while they caught up.
“I’m not perverted! That isn’t the only reason we haven’t… Listen, the time just hasn’t been right yet. That’s all.” Jean crossed his arms, leaning back against the saggy old sofa Reiner had nabbed from the street before he moved in last month.
Reiner looked him up and down, giving him a deadpanned expression.
“That is a load of bullshit. What else could it be…” He wondered aloud, rubbing his chin.
His eyes lit up, and he looked down at Jean.
“You’ve never slept with a guy before, have you!”
Jean groaned, covering his eyes and falling back against the couch.
“No! God dammit, just a girl back in high school. And she hardly counted, it was over mere minutes after we started!” He admitted, shaking his head as he sank further into the seat.
He remembered the whole thing. The girl had been cute, Jean stared at her while she passed in the halls and tried to flirt with her and her friends when they were taking the bus.
She assumed Jean had done something like that before, and pulled him into a pool shed one summer.
The whole thing lasted about five minutes tops. They made out, Jean tangled his fingers in her pretty brown hair, and he finished faster than he could think. It felt good, but there was no foreplay involved, no buildup.
She moved away that fall, and Jean told nobody about it.
He was just as inexperienced as Marco, and that fact was even more unbearable when Marco was probably expecting him to be the experienced one.
Reiner smacked his shoulder, a thunderous laugh erupting from his chest.
“I get it! I was the same with Bertolt, like literally the exact same. But we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves for long.” He recalled, and Jean faked a vomit noise, leaning over the edge of the sofa.
“I don’t wanna hear it!” He complained.
Reiner shook his head, crossing his legs. “Oh, don’t be a baby. Why don’t you try going for it, when you go back to Jinae East for break?”
Jean imagined how that would play out.
Trying to initiate something with Marco… But in the same damn house Gina and Alice slept? No way in hell.
Jean made a lot of noise when he was riled up, and he was sure Marco would probably be the same if it was his first time.
Jean’s lower body heated up quick when he imagined his partner making such pretty little noises as he fooled around with him.
Answer the question!
“I don’t know, Reiner. I want it to happen naturally, you know? Besides, Marco wouldn’t do anything like that while his family is sleeping in the rooms right next to him!” Jean argued, shoving the other guy back. “And i’m not sure sex is exactly what he cares about right now.”
“Bert… Have you and Reiner ever…?” Marco asked, his face turning pink as the words came out of his mouth.
Bertolt blushed himself after hearing the question. Him and Marco had finally gotten around to hanging out, their plans had actually left the chat room.
They sat in Bertolt’s car outside of the little theater he worked at, about fifteen minutes into his lunch break.
“Uhm… Yeah, actually. Reiner is lowkey a freak.” Bertolt chuckled, brushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes. The black strands had grown longer as the months passed, and he didn’t seem to want to cut it yet. Marco liked the length on his friend, it framed his face well.
“I could’ve guessed that. I just… I kind of want to see if Jean wants to go all the way when he visits for fall, and I need help.” Marco said, and he couldn’t help but grin as he picked at his nails.
Marco had been given a preview of what he could have with him earlier that year, in the springtime. Jean was beautiful, passionate, pretty, strong, eager, needy, and a bunch of other wonderful words Marco could waste time thinking about using to describe his boyfriend.
Marco wanted him more than anything.
“So, you’re asking me for advice?” Bertolt stuttered, pointing a finger towards himself in shock.
Marco shrugged, sighing and shaking his head.
“I don’t know what I’m doing dude! And you’re the only guy I know who has a boyfriend in all of Jinae East, curse this southern town, and its lack of gays!” Marco held his hands up in frustration, causing Bertolt to laugh.
“Bro, have you seen Eren? You could have asked him any question, and you came to me?” Bertolt asked again.
He was right. Eren was the one with the most sexual confidence, and most likely had a ton of experience to back it up. But Marco wasn’t close enough with Eren to ask him personal stuff like that, and besides, Marco didn’t want Eren to use that as blackmail against Jean somehow.
“Yeah, I trust you most. Besides…” Marco rubbed his shoulder, looking down at his lap. “I’ve never had sex before. I know literally jack about squat.”
Bertolt’s eyes widened.
“Not even once?” He asked.
Marco was nineteen, and he had never done the deed.
That isn’t a bad thing, he thought. There was only one person he had wanted in that way, and he had just been waiting for his chance to tell him how he felt.
Now that Jean and Marco knew what each other felt, there wasn’t any question: they loved each other deeply.
Marco knew he wanted Jean to be the one who took his virginity, too. He felt safest with Jean, and was insanely attracted to him. If it was going to be anyone, Marco was glad it was him.
But Marco also wanted it to be fun for Jean, so he had to ask a few embarrassing questions.
He had to do his research.
“Nope.” Marco answered, popping the P.
Bertolt cleared his throat, looking out into the crowded parking lot of the JE theater. His blue soda cup was in his hand, and he would occasionally sip it between questions.
“Well, I guess the biggest thing to remember is wear a condom.” Bertolt started, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke. “And remember to pause and ask questions here and there, but mostly listen to his body language.”
Marco tried to imagine how it would feel to be inside of Jean.
It was paralyzing, and humiliating, and it made Marco feel dirty.
But it also excited him.
He wanted to fit against Jean’s body, and to turn him on.
“He will show you what he wants, more than he’ll tell you. But listen to your own body too, don’t forget that.” Bertolt finished.
Marco bit his lip.
“And how do you decide who’s….” Marco tried, flushing again. God, this was so weird! He was wasting Bertolt’s break with his stupid questions.
“Who’s top and who’s bottom?” Bertolt ended his sentence with a chuckle.
Marco nodded vigorously, feeling ashamed for even asking.
“I think that will be something for you two to decide. But I’d say whoever is topping should be prepared to lead the way.” Bertolt explained.
Marco prayed Jean wanted him as much as he wanted Jean.
He was already nervous, his skin felt electric.
“Okay. Thanks, i’m sorry I know that was a strange question.” Marco said, stretching his legs out and turning his head to look out the window with his good eye.
“Don’t be sorry, you’re in love~!” Bertolt sung, shaking Marco’s shoulder gently and setting his soda down into the cupholder. “And as your best friend, I’m always here to listen. Especially since we’re the only two in Jinae East at the moment.”
Marco frowned, realizing that the taller teen was right. They were the only ones left in Georgia, the girls and both of their partners were away at school, for the foreseeable future.
Marco had decided to stay in Georgia and help his family maintain the farm. He couldn’t bear to part with the property, so he didn’t mind breaking his back all that much. But sometimes the constant workload felt like it could be too much for him to handle all by himself.
Bertolt hadn’t enrolled anywhere either. He just didn’t know what he wanted to do as a career yet, so there was no point in throwing money at a school if it wasn’t for a reason.
“Yeah, I’m really glad I’ve got you here.” Marco said, reaching over to hug Bertolt before his break ended.
He began walking back to his own car, after they swapped goodbyes.
Marco wondered what would have potentially happened to them, if they had decided to go to college. Would they be happier? Would Marco have been able to live with himself if he let his mom sell the farm?
He couldn’t think about that. He made his choice, and regardless he was happy.
But he did wish Jean had stayed, too.
It wasn’t Jean’s fault, and Marco felt a little guilty for wishing that Jean didn’t leave.
The Kirstein’s had the highest of standards laid out for Jean, but that didn’t stop Marco from wishing Jean pushed back against their expectations and broke free.
He wished his own family had the money to keep the farm, and send him to school somewhere like MIT too.
Marco would just have to make the most of his trip to Boston, come December.
“Anyways, what have you been up to lately? Any new gigs?” Jean asked, taking the focus off of the sexual questions.
Reiner grinned, giving him a thumbs up.
“There’s a gig this weekend, if you and any friends want to come. I have three passes I can give, its nothing huge!” Reiner explained.
His part time job was being a roadie for a bar in Downtown Boston. The blonde was there on weekends, working sets for smaller artists and comedians.
Jean was insanely jealous. He would have to start looking into part time jobs, after fall break. If he wanted any of his own spending money at school, he was going to have to earn it himself.
He had worked several minimum wage jobs back in Georgia, but they were all lowkey, and he didn’t work more than twelve hours a week. Enough for a little fun.
Reiner had mentioned that if Jean was interested, he could get him in to see a few shows a couple of weeks ago.
“What’s the band?” Jean asked, scratching his head. His hair was growing out a lot, and he thought about cutting it.
Finding a new barber in Boston sounded daunting, and his parents weren’t there to hound him on his appearance, so he figured that the length wasn’t hurting anyone.
It made him look a little older, too.
“It’s a rock band, I have no idea what the name is so don’t ask me. But a buddy of mine told me that they’re actually pretty good, so if you’re looking for somewhere to be next weekend, the tickets are yours.”
Jean thought for a minute.
He did need new surroundings to film for his documentary, if he wanted his life to look at all interesting. Besides, it might be a nice opportunity to hang out and get to know with his new friends.
“You said three passes, right?” Jean confirmed, bouncing his knee.
He also desperately needed a distraction, from how long he had to wait for fall break. The distance between him and Marco was killing him.
“Yep, all yours bud.” Reiner assured, reaching into the side table drawer to fish out the tickets for Jean.
He passed them over, and Jean studied the yellow paper, squinting at the name at the top.
Kinky Slinky.
What a funny name for a band. American band names were hilarious.
“Thanks.” He hummed, tucking them into his back pocket.
Jean glanced around at Reiner’s place, and at all the team flags and banners he had hanging up, from Jinae East and MIT. The guy was a real fanboy, it was corny in Jean’s opinion. But everyone had an itch to scratch, he figured, and that was Reiner’s.
The blonde nudged him out of his thoughts with his foot.
“So… Anything else on your mind lately?”
Jean glanced back at his friend, shrugging. He had been stressed that whole week, after Sasha and Connie had brought up Eren’s party upon meeting them at the park.
He wondered, if it was floating around again.
“Have you been seeing that video Floch posted lately?” Jean asked, rubbing his pant leg gently. “The one of Marco and I?”
Reiner shook his head, crossing his arms. “Not recently, why do you ask?”
Jean felt his chest aching. “Some of Eren’s friends recognized me, from the video. I’m just… I don’t know. I’m worried my folks are gonna see it somehow.” He grimaced.
Reiner frowned, patting Jean’s leg gently.
“They won’t, trust me. That video became old news when you and Marco were ‘out and proud’ at prom.” Reiner explained, smiling in reassurance.
Jean smiled back, once he calmed himself down a little more. He’d like to hope Reiner was right, but he didn’t want to be naive.
Jean sat up suddenly, breathing in deeply and changing the subject one more time.
He pointed to a tote bag of video game titles that sat near the tv stand.
“C’mon, got any new games to show me?
Reiner spent the next thirty minutes showing him a few of his new favorites. Jean enjoyed what time he could with his blonde friend, as the guy always had somewhere to be lately. As expected, It didn’t take long for him to get a text, and inform Jean he had to go. Jean didn’t find it offensive however, if anything it was nice to not have massive strings attached. Their friendship was thriving, and it required little to no maintenance, as both of their schedules were a bit hectic.
Jean was always studying, and back home he used to have a personal trainer he saw three times a week. The personal trainer was for fitness of course. His parents wanted him to look and feel his best, so he could perform at his best, to excel, to transcend.
they had a private tutor for him and his brother as well, for the other two days of the week that weren’t being filled by his personal trainer. It was a lot of work to balance, and an extremely difficult chore for him to ditch.
Jean was thankful his parents hadn’t made him attend any clubs or play any sports, neither in high school nor in college. He just couldn’t juggle everything himself.
Jean despised how much time that his personal trainer and tutor had robbed him of, in the past. He thought about all of the plans his friends had made, and how he wasn’t able to join them for any of it until senior fuckin’ year.
It’s part of the reason Jean picked up smoking ages ago. Everything was stretching him out, and wearing him thin.
But despite everything, he still had to look and act perfect. Get good grades. Be polite. Be conforming.
What a load of shit.
He smoked to de-stress, and to forget himself and all of his baggage amidst everything, just for an hour or two. And then he’d hit his pillow, have no dreams, and would have to wake up and do everything All. Over. Again.
Jean had a secret he hadn’t yet told Reiner, or Sasha and Connie, or even Marco. He was beginning to wonder when this good thing he had going for him would come to an end. How long would it be before his parents put a split between him and everything he loves, throwing him back into his nightmare?
Just how long would it take for them to find out who Jean really is?
Notes:
If anyone is interested, I will put song recommendations at the beginning of all my chapters! My writing is heavily influenced by music, and I would love to share. Let me know!
Chapter 5: Negative Notoriety
Summary:
Jean goes to see a band with his new friends!
Chapter Text
Jean was spending yet another weekend away from his loft, despite his mind telling him he should be inside, studying.
“I’m on the way.” Jean said casually into the microphone of his cell; his other hand was tucked in the pocket of his black skinny jeans.
he strolled down a busy Boston street, haunched forward ever so slightly. School had absolutely kicked his ass that week, so he was looking forward to a little break from his academics and enjoy the concert Reiner had so generously given him tickets to see.
Jean wasn’t going to lie, he had been looking forward to that concert the whole week leading up to it.
“I want to hear all about it after! And say hi to Sasha and Connie for me, if they remember me.” Marco giggled.
Jean’s boyfriend was over a thousand miles away, in his own living room back in Georgia. Jean wondered if the house still looked exactly like he had seen it last, or if things would have changed that quick.
“Okay, I will. And they remember you, don’t worry.” Jean responded, making a left. A car honked its horn in his other ear, and he winced.
“Great. Also, be safe, and text me when you get home please! Be somewhat responsible but still have fun.” Marco reminded.
“Who are you, my grandma?”
“No, but I am your partner. Knock em dead, dance your heart out!”
Jean smiled at that.
Marco was the best boyfriend in the whole world. Jean was so glad Marco was strong enough to keep high spirits in their calls, because for Jean sometimes the phone just wasn’t enough contact. He needed Marco to be there physically so bad some nights, the longing ached inside his chest and made it impossible to sleep.
“I love you.” Jean said seriously, as he approached the corner store. He noticed his new friends waiting for him outside the mini mart, and they both waved frantically when they noticed him in return.
“I love you more. Remember to text me later!”
Jean hung up as he slowed to a stop, in front of Connie and Sasha.
They both looked killer.
Sasha wore a tight band crop top, the short length showed off her belly button piercing. She sported a black and red plaid skirt with ripped fishnets, and wore red leg warmers over a pair of striking black platform boots, with a ton of silver accessories and chains to go along.
Sasha wore her fingerless gloves, and her hair was tied up and sprayed into an edgy messy bun. Her makeup highlighted all her best features, and her smoky eye and dark lip combo made her extra mysterious. She was straight out of an early 2000’s rock music video.
Connie wore a similar getup, his long-sleeved striped shirt complimented by a dark red t-shirt with a bleeding heart logo on the front. He wore dark denim baggy jeans, and some red sneakers to match his shirt.
Connie too wore silver, but on his fingers instead of his boots. His rings were chunky, and they made him look much older. He had the slightest bit of makeup on his eyes as well, just some dark eyeshadow under his lids.
The two of them had a crazy sense of style, and Jean loved it. It was nothing like he had ever seen before, and he took notes for his own wardrobe.
Jean had arrived in a basic black tee, skinny jeans and converse. Nothing out of the ordinary lately.
Shit, do people dress up for concerts? He hadn’t really ever been to any before.
Sasha grinned at him, nudging his shoulder.
“Sup horseface!” She asked, and Jean deadpanned.
“I thought we were past this.”
“Nah, honestly it suits you. But you can give us an equally mean nickname, when it finds you.” Sasha teased, flicking his chest next. Jean shook his head, nodding at Connie.
“You guys look great.” Jean said, clicking his tongue. “I didn’t realize there was a dress code.”
Connie gave his outfit a once over.
“No kidding man, that’s gotta be the most boring concert fit I’ve ever seen. But hey! There is time yet to improve your tasteless fashion.”
Sasha elbowed him hard, and Connie shook his head at her.
The wind blew, carrying the weird smell of pizza and street garbage. Jean scowled, wiping his nose gently with his thumb.
“Sure. Anyways, what are you grabbing?” Jean asked, gesturing to the store. Sasha glanced around at her surroundings, digging into her leather coin purse. She fished out a small, rectangular piece of hard plastic.
Jean flipped it over.
It was a fake ID, complete with a real picture of himself, but a fake name next to the photo. His age said he was 22, and from Montana.
He gave them a confused look, taking the ID and shoving it into his pocket. He would absolutely be using it later, regardless of what they would be getting up to that night.
“That’s handy. What for?”
Sasha grinned, handing Connie his own and keeping hers in the purse. She clasped it and tucked it under her arm, holding a finger to her lips.
“Cigarettes. And drinks at the venue, if you want to get drunk with me!” Sasha threw her other arm around Connie’s shoulder. “A good friend made these for me, he’s incredibly resourceful! I’ll have to introduce you two sometime.” She directed her attention towards Jean as she finished her sentiment.
Jean shrugged, nodding his head. “I’ll bet he is. Why not?”
Sasha literally howled, slapping Connie’s back and guiding the boys into the mini mart. They purchased some aspirin, and a pack of Marlboro menthol cigarettes. Not much, but those items would be necessary for later.
After Jean paid, the trio walked the rest of the way to the bar. It wasn’t far from the mini mart, maybe another two blocks at most.
It had one of those vintage light up signs on the outside, like movie theaters did. It announced the bands that were playing that week, and featured amongst the names was the band that they had come to see: Kinky Slinky.
Jean hadn’t heard much about them, nor had he heard any of their songs. But it was Rock music, so he was in for a good time.
They lined up outside the bar, where a few other older dad types roamed, or college boys with their girlfriends stood, sucking face.
Jean leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed. He watched the bouncer walk down the line and check people’s ID’s swiftly. The worker was X-ing some hands with a sharpie, presumably if they weren’t old enough to drink.
Jean hoped Sasha’s fake ID’s would work, otherwise they wouldn’t even be making it through the front doors.
“ID’s please.” The bouncer gestured to the three of them, once he made it to their spot. They handed him the fakes, and he inspected them for a moment.
He handed them back rather quickly, and kept moving to view the rest of the line.
Connie breathed a sigh of relief, and Sasha grinned wide.
“And, we did that.” She puffed out her chest.
“Okay, don’t get too cocky.” Jean rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too.
The doors to the bar opened shortly after that, and everyone began to file into the cramped building. It was dimly lit, with photographs from previous concerts or comedy shows hanging on every square inch of the walls. There were speakers around the pillars by the actual bar itself, and the shelves were lined with a colorful array of liquor.
The stage was through a set of double doors beside the bar, and Jean could already see the red and green lights on the wooden floorboards from the front doors.
Jean was getting excited, this wasn’t something he had the privilege of doing often. This hobby was too loud, too abrasive for his parents. It was an act of rebellion, or disgraceful to even think about attending a concert for any music other than classical.
Sasha guided Connie and Jean to the bar, linking elbows with the two. They sat at a stool, and a bartender approached them. He was cleaning a glass as he asked his question.
“May I see your hands please?”
They held up their hands, unmarked by the sharpie.
He smiled, nodding at them.
“And what can I do for you this evening?”
Connie tapped his chin as he thought, and Sasha glanced at the menu they had printed on the table.
“I’ll have a screwdriver please.” Jean was the first to ask. He smirked a little as his friends watched him order, their faces appalled at how quickly he had his mind made.
“Shall I start a tab for everyone?” The bartender asked, and Jean nodded.
It was cheeky, a screwdriver was the first drink he shared with Marco seconds before he also shared spit with him initially.
But he actually kind of liked the drink too; it was a good way to get drunk quickly, and the flavor was tropical.
“I’ll have what he’s having.” Connie said quickly, holding up his finger. What a nerd.
Sasha groaned, shaking her head.
“I’ll just start with a seltzer, something strawberry flavored if you have it.” She said, indecisive.
The bartender smiled, his eyes squinting as he did. He bowed briefly in acknowledgment, and disappeared.
While they waited, Sasha flipped open her makeup compact, and checked her eyes in the small mirror.
She then checked her teeth, and cleaned them with her tongue.
Connie scooched closer to Sasha, the two were touching their sides together closely on their respective barstools.
Connie grinned at Jean, pointing his finger down at him.
“Why did you just have that drink ready? Are you some kind of alcoholic?” Connie asked, leaning down at Jean suspiciously.
Jean laughed, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. It was just a drink Marco and I had at a party one time. It was pretty good.”
Or, maybe Jean was remembering the kissing part. That was really good.
“Aww, that’s cute! I bet you miss him so much.” Sasha mused, leaning her elbows down on the tabletop to hold her chin up in her palms.
Jean nodded, his smile softening.
“Yeah, I get to see him for fall break. It’s only a week away, so I won’t have to wait much longer.” He explained, realizing he was rambling about Marco without meaning to. He flushed, shaking his head.
“Anyways, seltzer sounds nasty. Why didn’t you ask for a tequila sunrise or something?” Jean abruptly changed the subject.
Sasha gave him an annoyed expression.
“Okay, well you order my next drink then, if you’re gonna be grumpy. I don’t want to get shitfaced this early!” She said, huffing.
Connie laughed, nudging her heartily.
“You need a lot more than a little tequila to get shitfaced! Remember last time you drank? It took half a bottle of Smirnoff to get you anywhere near tipsy!”
Sasha shivered, her face paling.
“I blacked out that night. And threw up nine times the next day.” She said, her tone chilly.
Jean grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I feel sick even thinking about drinking half a bottle of Smirnoff on its own.”
Connie laughed, holding up his hand.
“She didn’t! She chased it with cherry coke.”
Sasha groaned, her head smacking down against the table.
“The burps were actually hell.” She moaned.
The bartender returned with their drinks, and the teens thanked him before he departed again.
“Okay Jean, tell me about this screwdriver.” Connie asked, gesturing to the yellowish-orange liquid in his cup.
Jean clinked their glasses together, then took a generous sip from his own cup. The taste was tangy and refreshing, but it carried that cold and sharp burn the alcohol provided.
He could practically feel the sensation of being kissed, after his brain remembered the flavor.
Jean missed Marco so much.
“It’s just vodka and orange juice, pretty simple.”
Connie took a sip of his drink too, and nodded his head, before finally making a face. “Man. Liquor just doesn’t taste good, like ever.”
Sasha sipped her can, it was some strawberry kiwi spiked seltzer. She grinned, sitting straighter as she tipped her head back and chugged half the can in one go.
Connie complained, trying to get her to slow down. But it didn’t take her long to regret her actions, the carbonation filling her stomach and chest as she complained about the burn.
Jean watched them struggle with amusement, as more people began to crowd the bar and the stage room.
While the other two engaged in their own quick conversation, Jean felt an eerie pair of eyes on him. He didn’t know the source, but the mood was suddenly dense, so he set his drink down and scanned the faces sitting at the bar around them.
There were loads of other people, engaging in their own private conversations. Some laughed loudly, some sat alone, some caressed each other with their legs under their tables. They were surrounded by strangers, Jean didn’t know who he was looking for exactly.
Something just wasn’t right.
Then, he met eyes with someone sitting across the bar from them. He was younger, maybe college age. Jean hadn’t seen him before, but he probably went to MIT, as Harvard students probably wouldn’t be at that bar on their weekends. Maybe he might even be a Northeastern Uni student.
But the most off-putting thing about him, was how he was staring directly at Jean.
Jean froze when he met the guy's stare, and held it for a few seconds. The guy smirked a little, and went in for a sip of his drink. He didn’t break the contact.
Jean went for his own drink, observing him still.
Sasha kicked his leg gently under the table, and Jean turned to her.
“Ha?” He asked, the music was getting louder as was the crowd.
“Are you listening? I asked if I could have a sip!” Sasha gestured eagerly to his cup.
Jean turned to see if the guy was still there, but he was gone. His drink sat at the counter, still half full.
Jean tried his best to shrug him off, and returned to Sasha.
“Why my cup? Connie is having the same drink!” He complained loudly, taking a large swig from his screwdriver.
Sasha turned back to Connie, looking down at his cup expectantly.
“He’s right. Roommate tax.”
Connie huffed, but he allowed Sasha a taste. His annoyance was a cover however, Jean knew Connie didn’t mind for one second sharing with Sasha.
It was a cover Jean was very familiar with.
Jean finished off his drink, feeling his head swimming a little. He signaled for the bartender to come back, and ordered a beer.
The employee gave him a can of something cheap, and he popped the tab and drank some of the nasty yet smooth rye flavored liquid.
“I’m going to see if I can find Reiner, before the show starts.” Jean remedied, and the other two studied him.
“Good luck, we’ll meet you by the stage. Save you a spot!” Connie promised, toasting with Jean and Sasha one more time. The silver haired boy took a large swig as Jean dipped.
Jean searched the back area where roadies were unloading equipment, and he looked at each of them, hoping to find his blonde friend.
As he did, he felt the unease from earlier creeping up on him again. He hadn’t been to a social gathering this big since the party back in March. That particular event might have been terrible in retrospect, but this concert had the potential to be even worse. The party had been held in a house full of high teenage idiots, this was a bar full of drunk angry adults.
As he stressed, a hand clasped his shoulder. Jean jumped, whipping around to face a smiling Reiner.
“You made it!” He said, his black polo tee had the bar’s name stitched onto the pocket.
Reiner looked silly in a polo. He was too muscular, the fabric strained against his biceps in a way that made him look like he was hulking out. He was going to rip through the material at any second.
Jean laughed his anxiety away, nodding.
“Of course I came, there’s free music and cheap booze. Besides, I’m getting gossip from my new friends.” Jean joked, holding up his can of beer and taking a swig. He was swaying lightly on his feet, not yet drunk but definitely a little tipsy.
Reiner crossed his arms, tapping a foot as he observed the band equipment.
“Sounds like fun, we’re a little behind schedule so I can’t chat long. How’s Marco? You excited for next weekend?” Reiner asked, elbowing Jean knowingly.
Jean flushed, shaking his head.
“Yes I’m excited, but you’re nasty. I just want to see him again.” Jean sighed, imagining how things would be when he finally came home to Georgia for a week.
Then, Jean remembered Bertolt would be there. And the girls would be home too.
“What about you? Bertolt misses you, I’m sure you’re just as excited.” Jean winked, and Reiner chuckled evilly.
“We will be getting up to shenanigans.” The blonde simplified, tapping his fingers together.
One of Reiner’s coworkers threw him a desperate look, and Reiner glanced down at Jean pitifully. “Duty calls. They’ll have our jobs if this band gets delayed any longer.”
Jean smacked his ass, and Reiner yelped as he ran forward.
“Enjoy the show!” He called, and Jean nodded as he headed back towards the stage.
A crowd around the front of the riser had been forming since they entered the bar, but now everyone was seemingly away from the tables and were ready for the show to start.
Jean was shifting body to body, as he searched for his friends amongst the crowd. The temperature in the building was steadily increasing, and Jean could already feel himself sweating.
Finally, he spotted Sasha’s funky hair style, and squeezed his way to her, holding his can of beer close to his chest. Jean tapped her on the shoulder upon his arrival, and she spun around. Her teeth were astoundingly white as she smiled.
“Welcome back!” She shouted.
Everyone in the room was engaging in a conversation, it was hard to hear anything if you weren’t right up against someone’s ear. Jean's excitement was weening the night carried on; the volume was steadily becoming overwhelming.
“How long until the band starts?” Jean asked, leaning down against Connie’s ear. The other boy shrugged, checking his Spider-man wristwatch.
Once again, nerd!
“Probably thirty minutes or so, usually these things don’t start until an hour after doors open.” Connie explained, and Jean grit his teeth behind his lips.
He could feel his heart racing, the strangers nearby were slowly baring down on him. Everyone was so loud.
“We could share some things about ourselves while we wait!” Sasha dared, smirking at Jean and pulling his attention back on them.
“You are interesting, and I want to learn your secrets.” She said, pressing her palms together and staring into Jean’s soul.
Connie's eyebrow twitched, he was eyeing Jean carefully. The blonde resisted the urge to burst out laughing, realizing Connie was jealous Sasha had called him interesting.
If only Connie remembered Jean was hella gay for Marco.
Not to mention he also had an incredibly sad and boring life. Seriously, there wasn’t a single thing he could tell them about himself that wouldn’t make them shiver.
“Oh yeah, I’m equally interested in how you two met, and I want dirt on Eren.” Jean flicked Connie’s chest. “You guys go first, where'd you meet?”
Sasha roped Connie against her with her arm, squishing their faces together.
“We met freshman year of high school! Connie was drawing Sargant Frog in the back of economics, and I wanted to watch.” She laughed, and Connie let himself smile against her. He pushed her away moments later however, and crossed his arms.
“She was eating an entire steamed potato in class, by itself. Bland as hell.” Connie criticized.
Sasha crossed her arms, pouting up at him. “Is that supposed to offend me? You didn’t seem to care when I was eating it, Mr. I still read Captain Underpants.” She teased.
Connie flushed, but Jean chuckled at them.
“You saved him from utter social isolation! Nerds like him get picked apart in high school, you know.” Jean informed, and took another swig from his beer.
Jean missed the screwdriver, maybe he would have another before the concert started.
Sasha bumped her hip against Connie’s playfully, reeling herself back in.
“Yeah. We definitely still got picked on, but it was Eren, Armin and us against the world!” She sighed, and Connie nodded in confirmation.
Jean tipped his head. He hadn’t heard of Armin before this, but the name somehow sounded familiar. He couldn’t even recall where he had heard it before.
“Armin?” Jean asked.
Sasha grinned, leaning against Connie again. “He made our fakes. We were all really close back in high school, before Eren left. Do you remember the football game last year, before homecoming?” She asked, and Jean sifted through his memories.
He remembered Sasha and Connie both played for Shingashina, but they had a third teammate that really carried their team….
“Was he that blonde guy on your offense line?” Jean asked, remembering him suddenly.
Eren had to play against Shingashina, against his best friends? Thinking about the game with the context of now…
Eren played really hard to win for Jinae East, against his hometown. That wasn’t an easy thing to do, Jean felt a seed of respect blooming for Eren.
“Yeah! That game was awful.” She grumbled, shaking her head. “Eren is such a try hard!”
Connie chuckled, shaking his head. “Don't be fooled, Armin let him win. He has a soft spot for Eren.”
Jean remembered seeing Eren and Armin at homecoming, too. He remembered taking Mikasa to homecoming, something he wished his parents had never forced him to do. He wanted to go with Marco, with his friends.
Jean’s parents were still expecting him to marry, and have kids of his own. That thought threatened to make him sick.
“Does he go to MIT?” Jean leaned closer to Sasha, as more people filled the room. If they wanted last round drinks, it was now or never.
“No, he’s in California. But he’s visiting for Christmas! If you’re staying here for December, that is.” Sasha offered.
“I’m gonna go get another drink, y’all want anything?” Connie shouted over her, and Jean glanced up.
“Another screwdriver, throw this away too.” Jean answered, handing him his crumpled beer can. Sweat was forming on his brow, he could feel the warm shivers from being almost-drunk.
Connie nodded, and Sasha whispered something into his ear. He gave them both a thumbs up, and squeezed his way out of the front and towards the bar.
The crowd was surging around them, as more people pressed forward to get their spot by the stage. The band would be starting soon, and Jean didn’t realize how much notoriety they had for playing at a stage bar. There was at least six hundred people around them, maybe even more.
“I’m actually staying for winter break, because Marco is coming to visit too.” Jean answered Sasha finally, trying his best to take his attention off of how suffocated he felt.
Marco was going to conquer his traumatizing, lifelong fear just to see Jean for Christmas and New Year’s. That act by itself was so sickeningly sweet, nobody had ever done anything like that for Jean before.
Jean knew he would love Marco with every ounce of his being until the day that he died, and that thought absolutely rattled him.
The problem was, Jean didn't know if he'd get to be with Marco at all in the near future.
His days were tragically numbered.
“Perfect, we should all meet up! We can smoke or something, our place is always open.” Sasha mused, tucking her hair behind her ears and adjusting her skirt.
Jean nodded at her curtly, and shoved his hands into his pockets.
Sasha inspected him, not letting silence between them linger.
“So, what were you up to this week? I saw you had a video camera by your bag, do you like, vlog or something?” Sasha poked, asking her questions next. Jean had already asked his, after all.
Jean’s cheeks warmed, and he shrugged.
“It’s a… well, I guess it’s like a documentary? I'm filming one for Marco’s birthday, so he can see all the things I do while going to school here.” Jean fumbled, and Sasha’s grin widened again the longer he rambled.
“You are such a lover boy! Why don’t you film some of the concert for him?” She asked, gesturing to the stage.
Jean shook his head, holding up a hand.
“I didn’t bring the camera with me.” He explained, and she quirked a brow at him.
“Why not just use your phone then? You can splice it later.” She simplified.
Jean gave her a confused look, leaning forward.
Sasha read his expression, and squinted at him.
“You know how to edit, right?”
Jean shook his head.
“I was gonna download it onto my laptop and try my best to just collage the videos all together in order.”
Sasha gave him a horrified look.
Jean went red, feeling insecure again. He realized he didn’t know the first thing about making a film of this type, and Marco was going to be entirely unimpressed.
Jean pressed his fist against his forehead, frowning.
“It’s stupid, actually I think I better start thinking about other gift ideas.”
Sasha shook her head, gripping Jean’s shoulders.
“No! It isn’t stupid, it’s a good idea." She reassured. "But I’m begging you, let me help you edit it and shit. You can take the credit, but you can’t just give that boy a home video slideshow.”
Jean thought about enlisting her help for a moment. He definitely could use the assistance, and he still wanted Marco to experience Boston with him.
“I wouldn’t want you to do it for free, but I don’t have a part time yet, so I couldn’t pay you until after winter break.” Jean explained shyly.
Sasha held up a hand to stop him.
“I don’t want your money, horseface. If it isn’t too personal of me to ask, I’d love to do it just so we can have some time to hang out!” She reasoned, and Jean spotted Connie trying to push his way towards them, drinks balanced hazardously in his small hands.
“Connie is a great friend and all, but I miss hanging out with a bigger group too.” Sasha finished.
Jean smiled at her and nodded, making room for the buzzcut boy.
“Okay. Yeah, let’s do it.” He agreed.
Connie finally emerged from the people standing closest to them, and handed his friend’s their drinks.
Jean grasped his cup, taking a sip.
The familiar flavor greeted his tongue like an old friend, and he smiled lazily. It tasted like imagining all the ways he would kiss Marco on fall break.
“Did I miss anything?” Connie asked, interrupting Jean’s daydream.
Sasha shook her head, muttering something about winter break to him. As they were all settling in and preparing for the set, Jean felt the familiar chill creeping down his spine of someone watching him. He instinctively turned around and searched the people nearby, but couldn’t locate that guy from earlier.
Jean tried to wrack his brain, to think about if he had seen him before, but his memory was failing him. He didn’t think he’d ever met the guy before, but why had he been watching Jean? Was he still being watched at that very second?
Why did the guy seem to know who Jean was?
The lights suddenly went out, and the crowd around them began to scream and stomp and shout.
Jean squinted, holding his cup close to his chest and plugging his ear with the other hand. Sasha and Connie both howled; Sasha had her arm around Connie’s waist, the other hand held her new drink.
She had asked Connie to get her what appeared to be a spiked Shirly Temple, a step up from her previous beverage.
The band came out, and the guitarist and drummer did a little opening solo segment to hype the crowd up. Their outfits were a crossover between full coverage casual and Rocky Horror Picture Show, the drummer had a fluffy pink boa scarf to complete his look.
The lead singer fanned his hands at the crowd, causing an uproar of cheers. He wore thigh high red heeled boots over sweatpants, and it was somehow still cohesive and sexy.
Jean took another big swig of his drink, swishing the liquid at the bottom of the cup. There wasn’t a lot left, but he couldn’t drink anymore.
Jean was totally drunk.
His feet were unsteady, and the crowd around him was swaying and moving in slow motion. He followed along with everyone, and let himself join Connie and Sasha in their cheering.
“Boston, how are we feeling tonight?” The singer asked, and the crowd responded with applause and whooping. Jean could almost see stars, and he wished Marco was there to hold him up.
Kinky Slinky dove right into playing their first song. The bass vibrations made every organ in Jean’s body tremble, he could feel the drumline conducting his heart to beat to the same rhythm. The vocals were soft and mellow, a song about betrayal but addiction. The guitar and drumline in the back were at war, the whole room was electrified in an instant.
Even the high school parties that Jean had been to were never this loud.
The first couple of songs had a similar vibe, and Jean let himself loose and danced with his friends. The alcohol made him detached and hot, he was panting while he watched everyone party around him.
He could forget, for a moment, everything that was plaguing him.
He was so drunk he didn’t even remember what there was to be upset about.
The music began to blend together as they danced, and the lights were colorful as they flashed and shined down on the crowd. Everyone bounced to the beat, and Connie and Sasha held their drinks up to the sky as they danced.
Jean was tired of holding his cup, so on the climax of the next song, he tossed the paper and liquid into the crowd with a holler, which began a frenzy of others doing the same with their drink remains.
Sasha and Connie copied, tossing their paper cups into the crowd, and everyone laughed as alcohol rained down on them to end the song.
The band stopped to take a water break, and the lead singer leaned in close to the mic as he sat against the amp in front of the drum set.
He pulled off his shirt, which caused an eruption of noise from the needy audience.
The singer chuckled into the mic and wiped the sweat from his neck with the article of clothing, and tossed the shirt into the crowd somewhere.
Jean caught his breath, wishing he still had even a little bit of his drink left. He was parched.
“I want to be selfish and perform a cover, if I may.” The band member asked, and Sasha screamed in approval, leaning back again Connie for balance.
Connie braced her, swaying gently on his feet as he watched the band set up for the next song.
All of them were a little drunk, it seemed.
“Does anyone here sometimes feel like a freak?” The singer asked, and the crowd let him know they agreed.
Sasha gasped as they started playing the opening for Freak On a Leash by Korn.
“I fucking love this song!!!” She screamed.
Jean had only heard this song once, but from what he remembered, he liked it. He danced with his friends as the band worked their asses off, sweat was flying as the lights swiveled around the crowd.
When the bridge of the song arrived, Sasha straightened up against Connie and grabbed his hands.
She moved her body perfectly to the rhythm of the singer’s riff, and slid Connie’s hands along her body, smirking and closing her eyes as she danced. Connie swayed up against her, watching her every move as she let Connie’s desperate fingers graze her skin.
She turned around when the beat of the song dropped, still holding his hand and rolled her hips as she danced with him.
Jean loved watching them flirt. It was so silly, and so obvious. But he let them have their fun, and continued to dance.
After the band finished the cover, they played a few more upbeat songs, and Jean was starting to feel the weight of his exhaustion. He really wished he had saved his drink, as the effect of the alcohol was quickly wearing off.
His head was starting to pound, and he reminded himself to bring ear plugs with him to his next concert, if he ever went to one again. His head was buzzing.
“Sasha, can I have a cigarette and your lighter?” Jean called, as they danced to another song.
Sasha paused herself, grabbing the pack from her back pocket and handing a stick and her lighter to Jean.
“We’ll follow you in a minute!” She assured, and Jean nodded as he shouldered his way past the sweaty men and warm bodies. He pushed through the side exit, out into the smoker’s alleyway. There was nobody outside yet, most likely because the band still had a few songs to play, but Jean didn’t care.
Jean was cooking in there, and he was losing his hearing.
The walls towered up high, making it impossible to see the rest of downtown. Jean could hear a dog barking in the distance, and the breeze carried the smell of car exhaust and weed. It was a cozy little spot, but it was almost too claustrophobic for Jean.
He could still feel the vibrations of the music against the wall as he leaned against the brick, sticking the tobacco in his mouth and bringing the lighter to the tip.
He managed to spark it only once, before the side door swung open again.
Jean lowered the lighter, glancing up at the newcomer.
It was the same guy who had been staring at him across the bar earlier that evening.
He came to stand beside Jean, leaning against the brick wall to his left. Before Jean could say anything, the man stole Jean’s cigarette, taking Jean’s other hand in his own. He held the lighter up while it was still in Jean’s fingers, forcing him to finish lighting it.
Jean pulled his hand back after the tip had been lit, giving the guy a guarded and nervous portrait.
“Who the hell are you?” Jean asked, backing up. The guy followed him forward, taking a drag from the cigarette. He exhaled it into the air, looking down at Jean through the smog with lustful eyes.
“Doesn’t matter, who the hell are you?” He asked, his tone flirty.
Jean didn’t enjoy the close proximity they shared. He snatched the cigarette back from the guy, taking a drag and crossing his arms. He ashed it over the side of his arm, and glared back at the guy.
“I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but you’re being a bit gross right now.”
The guy smirked, humming as he shook his head. “Aw, did I come on too strong? It seemed as if you liked strong first impressions, by the way you kissed that guy in your video.”
The words sent sharp thorns down Jean’s back. He felt the goosebumps breaking out all over his arms.
“What video?” Jean demanded, pushing back against the guy and waving the cigarette at him angrily. He took another drag, which wasn’t exactly a good idea because he hadn’t smoked a cigarette in a long time. The nicotine rush was travelling straight to his head, and he felt terribly unbalanced.
The other guy seemed to catch note of that, and pushed him back against the wall, hovering over him.
“I think you know what video.” The guy whispered against his ear, and Jean went rigid.
He shutting down, he couldn’t think. What was he supposed to do? How did he get out of this?
“What do you want?” Jean whimpered, pressing his palms shakily against the guy’s shoulders. He attempted to push him backwards, but the guy didn’t budge.
“Isn’t that a little obvious? I want to taste you myself.” The man answered, stealing Jean’s cigarette again to take another puff and blow it back in his face.
Jean coughed, shaking his head and struggling against the other guy.
Jean was really scared now.
“Hey man, I got a boyfriend.” He tried, voice quivering.
The guy glanced left and right, and shrugged.
“I don’t see one.” He smiled.
Jean felt all the blood drain from his body, and his legs almost gave out.
“I’ll scream, they’ll get you kicked out of here.” Jean threatened, glaring up at the other guy.
Jean was overwhelmed by his alcohol intake, it was hard to note any of the guy’s features for a criminal profile. Much less to think of anything other than how panicked he was.
It wasn’t like he would even be able to report the guy anyways; his parents would find out about the video if he tried to press any charges.
“Go ahead~.” The guy purred, pressing his pelvis against Jean’s.
Jean yelped and shoved the guy backwards, harder that time. His assaulter stumbled, trying to regain his footing. In the process, the cigarette dropped and rolled onto the street.
Without a second thought, Jean threw himself forward, his fist coming in contact with the guy’s nose.
Groaning in pain, the attacker tried to move forward towards Jean, but was met again with a knee to the groin. He kneeled over and whined, holding his stomach in pain.
Jean dipped and swayed with each move, feeling his world teetering weightlessly around him.
He leaned over to grab the cigarette, holding it between his fingers and extinguishing it roughly on the guy’s face.
The assaulter screamed in pain and held up his hands in defeat, scampering away.
“Fucking psycho!!” He yelled, as he disappeared behind the wall into the dark city of downtown Boston.
Jean watched him go with a heaving chest, wiping his nose harshly with his arm.
He felt like he might explode. What just happened?
Jean laughed in disbelief, dropping the dead cigarette and crumpling to the asphalt. He held his face in his hands, his tears falling through the gaps of his fingers as he tried to restrain himself.
It was no use, he was so drunk, and the unbearable weight of his anxiety had finally come crashing down full force.
What would he tell Marco? What would Sasha and Connie think of him in that state of mind? Would his parents even care that some guy just tried to rape him?
Jean had never dealt with something that violating before. He had been through a lot, but that was…
He was shutting down mentally.
There wasn’t anything he could do about it now. The attacker was gone, Jean didn’t even remember what he looked like for crying out loud. But worst of all, his suspicions were confirmed; the video was spreading somewhere again.
He had been assaulted merely because of how compromising that footage had made him look.
Jean wished he could have thrown a punch at Floch sooner than he did that night back in March. Hell, he was angry enough to kill the guy. Then he might not be in this mess.
The last of his tears fell from his eyes as he stared down at the street, feeling unable to move. The only thing he could hear was the sharp ringing from how loud the bar had been, and that frequency made it even harder for Jean to ground himself.
The side door creaked open loudly once more, and Jean sprung up, shying away from it. Sasha and Connie stumbled out into the alleyway, and laughed as they tripped over each other.
Connie was the first to stop laughing, when he noticed how afraid Jean looked.
“Hey, everything okay man?” He asked, Sasha adapting a serious expression herself.
Jean cleared his throat, straightening out his shirt and stepping forward to grab Sasha’s lighter that he had dropped.
“Yeah. Peachy.” He responded flatly, passing the lighter to Sasha and dipping his head towards them.
“I forgot I have an assignment due, gotta go. I’ll see you guys later.” Jean lied, moving forward before either of them could really argue with him.
“Wait, Jean!” Sasha called, but Jean was already on the main street.
He didn’t look back to see if they followed him, and he shuffled forward aimlessly. Jean didn’t know where he was going, the streets were dim and narrowed. Cars were passing by as he took big steps, and he tucked his hands deep into his pockets, balling his fingers into fists.
He carried on until he made it to the edge of the city, near the Charles River. He knew sort of how to get home from there.
Jean was going to explode before he made it home, it was unavoidable at that point. He had been fighting the urge to scream and fling himself in front of oncoming traffic, so he turned left down another alleyway.
Behind the wall, Jean noticed a dumpster and a bunch of street junk stranded next to an old office building. Perfect.
Winding up with a yell, Jean kicked the junk repeatedly and cried as he threw an old chunky computer at the wall. The glass shattered loudly as it came in contact with the hardened clay.
Jean wiped the spit and snot out of his nose, and cried again while pushing his hair back after making a mess of the electronics.
A long piece of wood sat next to the dumpster, and Jean grabbed that next.
He grunted as he swung the wooden plank down on a broken printer, until plastic and other machine parts splintered into fragments scattered on the ground.
Still not satisfied, Jean fell to his knees and balled his hands on the concrete, smacking the side of his fist against it until he could feel his bones crunching under his skin.
In his furious fit, Jean’s cellphone chimed in his back pocket, the ringtone splitting through the tension.
Jean reached for the device and pulled it out, reading the caller ID.
Mom's Cell
Sound the alarm!
Had his parents already found the video?
Jean cleared his throat and did his best to calm himself down, before he accepted the call and held the phone up to his ear.
“Yes ma’am?” He answered, in his polite tone.
He was still a bit tipsy, but his fear was quickly sobering him up.
“Hello dear, I know it's late but I just wanted to say…” She trailed off, and Jean could hear distant conversation in the background.
Jean never quite had his mother’s full, undivided attention. She was always elsewhere mentally, or just wasn’t exactly listening.
“Your father was contracted in Washington for the next three weeks, so we have to stay out west for a while. We’re not going to be home for fall break.” She finished, laughing at something someone else was saying.
Jean allowed himself to relax a little. Her call wasn’t about the video.
“That’s fine. Will Louis be home…?” He asked, wincing as he inspected his bruised hand.
Jean prayed the answer would be no. He was used to his family not being home for holidays, or much of the time at all really. He liked having the whole house to himself.
“Louis won’t be home either, no. I’m sorry dear.” She said, bored. Apologies always sounded so unnatural coming from her mouth, because she wasn’t sorry. If she was, she would have been their mother, and not just a woman who was married to their father.
But she didn’t really care about either of her children. She only cared about the money her husband provided, and the benefits she reaped from simply being his wife. And that was just one upsetting truth about Jean’s family out of many.
“It’s alright. Anything else, ma’am?” Jean asked, impatiently.
His mother was still laughing at someone else, the phone was being held away from her ear. Jean could always tell when she was blocking the mic with her hand.
“No, but remember, we can see your grades Jean. Focus more on your studies, it looks like you're slacking behind. Have you found a job yet? You have to start saving, your father isn’t going to keep supporting your finances forever. You need to start acting like you’re grateful.” She said.
Jean felt his eyebrow twitch in anger.
He debated telling her that he was nearly assaulted, less than an hour ago. Just dropping it on her like a bomb. But he knew she wouldn’t even react, she wasn’t paying attention.
“I’m applying, yes ma’am. I’ll call when I’ve been accepted somewhere.” Jean answered, his voice low.
He hadn’t applied to any jobs yet. But he wanted to have Marco help him apply, so he was waiting for the break.
“Alright. I’ll have your father submit your tuition payment too, because that's due. We’re paying a fortune for MIT, so make sure you’re studying and not wasting your time.”
Jean closed his eyes. “Yes ma’am.” He replied through his teeth.
The line clicked off, and Jean pulled his phone back to reveal his mom had hung up on him.
His parents weren’t the type to say they love each other, because they didn’t.
Sometimes they lied, and pretended they did. His parents had their own cover, to hide their true selves from the world.
If Jean kept being who they wanted him to be, he was fucking doomed.
Notes:
The band was inspired by Chevelle and Deftones, in terms of how their music sounds. I've been listening to Needles and Pins, Comfortable Liar, and Send the Pain Below for a few days now, so I'm feeling these scenes out!
Also, I won't be doing a publication schedule for this work, simply because I plan to take my time on it and make something I'm proud of! So I'll be releasing chapters semi inconsistently, but please trust the process. It's gonna be good >:3
Chapter 6: It's a Date
Summary:
Jean makes the thousand mile journey back to Georgia, to spend fall break with a certain freckled boy.
Chapter Text
At long last, fall break had finally arrived.
Jean haphazardly tossed clothes onto his bed, fingers clawing through his dressers frantically as he packed a couple extra articles.
He would finally get to see Marco, in approximately twelve hours.
The thought of seeing his boyfriend again made Jean’s heartbeat race, and caused goosebumps to appear all over his skin. He hadn’t seen his freckled lover in a little over three months.
It wasn’t honestly that large of a gap, but it had been the longest time Jean had ever been away from Georgia, since he had moved to the states about a decade ago. He had spent the first years of his life being brought up in France, his parents and brother Louis had a flat in Paris growing up.
It was a life that Jean had a lot of trouble remembering. He had been so young, he only had vague nostalgic emotions that were triggered by random smells here and there. Occasionally, he remembered the pretty stained-glass windows in the flat, and the fancy kitchen too.
It wasn’t like he yearned to go back or anything; the Kirstein family had never been a ‘family’ in Europe; they were just as dysfunctional then as they were in present day.
But Paris was far better than Boston.
Georgia was the only place Jean had in terms of formative memories, and all of the important people in his life resided there. He was more than ready to return to Jinae East, since MIT had started off on a mostly negative note.
The only good things about Boston, Jean decided, were Reiner, Connie and Sasha.
Thinking about how he had essentially abandoned his new friends at the bar made Jean wince as he shoved more garments into his duffle bag. The tan haired boy climbed his way down to the bathroom, and he was overtaken by the memory from the Kinky Slinky concert.
The last time he had spoken to either Connie or Sasha was about week ago, after he had left them clueless outside of the concert venue. He refused to let the two in on what had happened to him just minutes before he fled, and in order to accomplish total silence, he had to distance himself from them a little.
Jean wouldn’t share his burdens or concerns with anyone, even if the consequences of that action would outright kill him.
He and only himself could solve his own problems. His family had trained him specifically to deal with every little inconvenience, and not to give too much thought or attention to the negative moments in life. You need to have thick skin, his mom used to say, no matter how bad it seems, you always get back on your feet. You just have to deal with it.
In foresight, it probably isn’t a great idea to keep from Marco what happened at the bar. But how was he supposed to explain?
Hey Marco! Hope you’re excited for fall break. Also, I was nearly defiled by a complete stranger without my consent at that bar last week! And, the video that Floch posted is going around again. Surprise!
Jean massaged the tube of toothpaste in his palms anxiously, warming the sludge and fidgeting with the plastic as he thought about what he could possibly have left to pack.
His phone chimed from the coffee table in the living room, and Jean dropped the paste into a zip lock bag as he jogged back to the main entrance.
When he picked up the device and peeked at the screen, a text from Marco illuminated his golden eyes.
Incoming Text: Freckled Jesus
I’m so so so excited to see you tonight, my love <3
Jean smiled, his cheeks warming at the message. Marco always knew exactly what to say; the tan haired boy had been overthinking, packing for the trip at the speed of a tornado. The consequences of his silence over that week had made it near impossible to pull himself together to get anything done. His spiraling mood was soon quelled by the simple message, reminding him that no matter what, Marco would be thrilled to see him.
That fact never failed to send Jean’s heart off to the races. He unlocked his phone, and began to type out a reply.
Outgoing Text: Freckled Jesus
as am I my dear, ETA is 10pm. you better be on that curb waiting for me! :P
As Jean scrolled out of his and Marco’s chatroom, his eyes landed on the missed text notifications he had been ignoring from Sasha and Connie.
His heart twinged in guilt, clicking on the messages to read the brief history, starting back a week ago.
Incoming Text: Potato Girl
Hey Jean, last night ended weird. We want to make sure you’re good, so call us when you get the chance!
Incoming Text: Potato Girl
Text me back when you see this!
Incoming Text: Potato Girl
You don’t have to go through this alone, whatever is bothering you! Connie and I are here if you need anything.
Incoming Text: Captain Underpants
Jean, dude, we r worried about u. let us know if ur ok!
Incoming Text: Captain Underpants
Jean
Incoming Text: Captain Underpants
J eeeeaaaaaaannn
Incoming Text: Captain Underpants
BOI IF YOU DON’T AT LEAST GIVE US A SIGN OF LIFE >,:c
Incoming Text: Potato Girl
Just let us know when you’re back from break. I have a feeling you just need some space, but we miss you bud.
Jean honestly felt terrible for not responding to any of their messages, but his body had forced him into panic mode following the phone call from his mother.
He had actually been spending most of his time that week searching every social media platform he owned for the video of him and Marco, from last spring. He would be scrolling for the footage if he wasn’t in class, or in the library studying. Or sometimes, he would even let his search for the tape consume his entire nervous system, and the idea of his parents finding the footage would cut into his academics and force him into the bathroom to have a mild panic attack.
The grabby guy from the bar had made Jean overthink many things that week, but the urgent task at hand was finding where the source of the spread was; and to figure out who was responsible for the current reposting of his first kiss with Marco.
If Jean wanted to hold onto what he had for a little while longer, he had to find that stupid video and squash it.
Jean powered his phone off, slipping it into his back pocket. He would text his engineering friends after the break, they would just have to wait a little while longer for a reply. He hoped that the two wouldn’t be mad at him; after all, it was stressful for him to balance everything going wrong at the moment, and also think about explaining the backstory of his complicated life to a couple of people he met less than a month ago.
Jean quickly finished packing up. He locked the door to his unit behind him once he had gathered all of his things, and breathed a sigh of relief with his bags resting in the hallway.
Jean would only be gone for a week, but he knew that the days would fly measly by, in the blink of an eye. He had to really cherish the time he spent in Jinae East, and not be selfish or allow himself to shut down. No matter what happens, Jean would be there for Marco, and he would do whatever he could to help his boyfriend out.
Jean made his way down the four flights of stairs, sliding against the railing of the last row on his way out. He fished his car keys out of the pockets of his brown corduroys, brushing his thumb over the fading BWM logo.
The drive was going to be the grueling, and Jean wasn’t excited to preform it alone. But he was willing to do anything for Marco, so he tried not to let his inner monologue complain too much.
It was killing the vibe he was trying to manifest.
Besides, it would be fun to finally listen to his own music, racing on the interstate and mindlessly passing exits as he cruised down the east coast.
Jean popped the trunk, carelessly tossing his bags into the black interior of the cab and slamming the door hard with the center of his palm. He ran a hand through his hair as he ducked into the driver’s seat, staring the engine with a loud hum.
The car purred and spluttered, and the sound system lit up. Jean grinned, slapping the dash and plugging in the aux cord for directions. He selected his road trip music next, settling for a speeding mix. He had curated a couple of playlists for the trip, and he even handpicked two special playlists, just for Marco.
Jean never labeled himself as the type of romantic to organize extravagant shit, such as mixtapes or documentaries. But Marco had a way of bringing out Jean’s deep rooted passions.
Jean intended to take his freckled boyfriend out on a real, special date, sometime later that week. He would take Marco to dinner in the BMW, with fancy dress attire and all, and they’d dine and even dance a little.
The both of them needed something for just the two of them, before Jean had to return to MIT. It would be another two long months before they saw each other again.
The thought threatened to make Jean sob. He would essentially have to repeat the same wait he had just been through between summer and fall break.
Fall break hadn’t even begun, and Jean was already crying thinking about how it’ll end!
It was silly of him, to take fall break so seriously. But he was ecstatic to see Marco, and to treat him to a night on the town. He wanted to show his boyfriend just how much space he took up in Jean’s head.
Maybe they would actually try to sleep together too, and not in the restful way. But who knew.
Jean was up for anything, however the thought of getting laid had his stomach rolling with nerves. Jean didn’t know if he’d be enough to satisfy Marco, or if the guy would even want to go that route in general.
He was afraid to fuck up his relationship with Marco, regardless of if his parents found their video or not.
Jean tried the accelerator, resting his right hand on the throttle and leaning far back in his seat. The bass boomed right off the bat, and the vibrations from the music encouraged Jean to rip out of the parking deck and start his long drive to Jinae East.
About four hours into the trip, Jean had to piss. Badly.
In hindsight, he should have used the bathroom before he left his apartment, but it had slipped his mind. He pulled off to find a gas station, and settled for one of the fancier stations that make and sell food to order. Plus, they had some of the best prices on gas in the area.
Jean wasn’t hungry, but at least the bathrooms would be cleaner. That was the real reason Jean had picked that particular refill station.
As he walked into the mart, he pulled out his phone to check for texts from Marco, but found none. Instead, he noticed one from Reiner.
Incoming Text: Tits
Good morning Romeo, Bertolt wants to know if you and Marco want to accompany us and the girls to the park tomorrow for a triple date? ;)
Jean pondered his itinerary for fall break. Marco had only made two solid plans with Jean, as the barn chores would make it difficult to go out for any longer than an hour or two.
Jean had promised Marco a bike ride and a solo date. He could fit something into the early half of the week, they could manage a little park reunion before they go off and have their own fun surely.
Besides, he wanted to see the girls at least once, at some point during the break. He was dying to tell Historia about the music Sasha had been showing him lately, and to see them in general.
Outgoing Text: Tits
you bet
Jean relieved himself quickly, departing the station and making his way back to the BWM. He refueled, deciding that topping her off would be more convenient than potentially having to stop again later. As he held the nozzle to the gas tank, he allowed his tired, sunglass-concealed eyes to scan the parking lot.
He had stopped somewhere in Pennsylvania, where everything looked the same as it had two states ago. There were a multitude of commuters out and about, which was to be expected. It was a weekend, and fall break for a lot more universities like MIT. Traffic was bound to happen.
He noticed a couple of families also refueling their trucks and their minivans, the trunks packed to the brim with travel carry-ons and pillows. There was a woman with a convertible at the end of the pumps, hitting her pink bedazzled vape as she waited for the fuel to finish poring. A man leaned against the trunk of his beat-up red ford, smoking a cigarette by the ice machine.
Jean let his eyes stay on the man for a little too long, because the guy met his stare, and gave him an ugly sneer. There was a heat swell against Jean’s neck, and he forced his eyes down to the pavement, acting nonchalant.
Jean’s confidence had begun to shrink the older he grew.
When he was younger, he acted as though he were on top of the world, and nothing could tear him down from that pedestal. Part of that ideation was at the fault of his parents, for making him believe that he would bring them great success and enormous wealth with his natural charisma and intelligent mind.
Then, Louis became a preteen. He started treating Jean like his pet, once their parents focus had shifted to the youngest son’s potential. That behavior was also as a result of their parents’ negligence, as they did nothing to stop Louis or discourage him from acting the way that he did. They allowed Louis to prove his worth to them in many ways, and unfortunately a lot of them were at Jean’s expense.
The casual mistreatment from his older brother had completely eroded Jean’s narcissism. It was a harsh way to extinguish a trait, sure, but it wasn’t helpful trait anyways.
The score should have been settled right then and there, Jean didn’t need any more hits on his ego, and he couldn’t take any more abuse from Louis. His brother did eventually decide he was too boring to play with, but by that point Floch had decided to transform Jean and all of his friends into a personal punching bag, for all four years of high school.
Jean would always pretend like the vulgar comments that Floch and the other asshole kids at school used to whisper about him didn’t affect his psyche. But the truth was, those harsh words did their job a little too well.
The teen used go home every night and pick himself apart in the mirror, fighting inside of his own head, until he couldn’t think rationally anymore. Headphones, a razor blade and a backwood were all that helped him medicate.
Not Jean’s proudest moment, but hey, you do what it takes to survive.
Marco still didn’t know anything about the real Jean Kirstein. He was afraid to tell his boyfriend any of that garbage from his past, which only forced his confidence down to an even smaller size.
Another secret Jean was keeping, as of recent weeks, was that he was itching to relapse in his harmful routines.
He used to be the type of guy to challenge someone when he was given a look like the one that man had given him in the parking lot. But Jean wasn’t that type anymore.
The tan haired boy grabbed the receipt for the gas and jumped back into the privacy of the car, rolling up the tinted windows to hide from other onlookers in the interior of the vehicle. He caught his breath, starting up the engine again and shaking out his hands as he checked the directions.
He had a little under eight hours to go before he arrived in Jinae East.
“Fuck.” Jean muttered, and gripped the steering wheel.
He was going to make it there soon, it was only eight hours.
Why was Jean feeling so sick the closer he got to home? Maybe it was just the nerves and excitement mixing together, or maybe it was the pressure of making a move to the next step in his relationship. That, and he was afraid that his parents would rip everything he loved away from him again.
Whatever the reason for his nausea, Jean knew one thing: He had to be perfect, otherwise everyone would see the cracks starting to form in his foundation.
With two hours left in the trip, Jean’s phone rang.
He risked a glance at the screen as he maneuvered around another car, and read the name of the caller.
His eyes shined. Freckled Jesus is requesting to call you.
Jean didn’t let it ring for long before picking up, clearing his throat as the car speakers connected to the device.
“Hey babe.”
“Hi hun! Where are you?” Marco asked, and Jean cracked a knowing smile.
“You might need to go back to math class, I haven’t been driving for twelve hours yet. I’m still two hours out, love.”
“Aww, but I’m sitting on the porch waiting for you. So, you mean to tell me I really have to wait two more hours?”
Jean looked out at the horizon, his heart pounding thunderously against his ribs. Marco was so close, he could practically taste Jinae East.
“Hmm, well I could shave it down to an hour and a half…”
“Now, I’m not encouraging any unsafe illegal activities, but I wouldn’t complain if you were somehow miraculously early.”
Jean’s foot slowly weighed down on the gas, and his speed began to hike up. He gripped the wheel firmly with his left hand, the phone clasped in his right.
“Hmm, I guess you’ll just have to keep waiting to see when I get there. Anyways, how are you? What’re we doing tonight?”
Marco inhaled gently on the other line, and Jean tapped his other foot against the weather mat as they talked.
“I was thinking we could relax, unpack your things. Then, we watch a movie on my laptop and cuddle?”
Jean imagined the scenario, and smiled. He was exhausted from the drive, so he was most definitely going to fall asleep during the movie, especially if there was cuddling involved.
Marco was so damn warm, it was hard not to feel sleepy when he held you. You just feel incredibly safe and comfortable in his arms, and you’ll find yourself drifting off without meaning to.
“I think that sounds like a pretty damn good idea, freckles.” Jean agreed.
“Good, it’s a date then. I’m still waiting to get picked up!”
“Are Gina and your mom going to be there tonight?”
“Hmmm, they want to try and stay up, but mom is sleepy. Gina will most likely want a hug from you before bed.”
Jean felt his chest surge. The Bodt family was so damn lovable, they were almost too much for him to bear sometimes. He was growing to enjoy the affection more as he dated Marco, and he tried to reciprocate the feelings where he thought it best.
But sometimes, Jean remembered that he couldn’t get too close to them, for fear that it would hurt more when his parents finally cut him off from the Bodts.
His grip on the wheel faltered a little, and he swerved slightly around a piece of road junk. He couldn’t think about all of that doomsday shit, fall break was supposed to be his time to spend with Marco.
“Okay, well I’ll text you when I’m getting close to the house, so pucker up.” Jean hummed, regaining focus on the road.
“Drive safe, and be careful. I will still be here waiting for you, even if it does take you a full two hours.” Marco wished, and Jean hovered his finger over the end call button.
“I love you.” He said, sounding off every syllable with purpose.
“I love you too, Jean.”
Jean hung up, and cranked the volume on his music once more as he slammed his foot down on the gas.
When Jean had made it to the exit ramp for Jinae East, he swallowed down the lump in his throat.
He had never felt this emotional about seeing Marco before. But for some reason, while driving down the road to the Bodt residence, Jean found himself fighting back tears.
It had been three painful months since he had seen his boyfriend, not to mention that this visit would only be brief. Jean was utterly dissatisfied, being without Marco in Boston. All he wanted to do was kidnap the guy and take him back to MIT, where they could spend every day together.
Where they could be alone, and independent.
Where Jean could be in love without consequence.
As he sped down the winding backroads, he felt his heart threatening to burst through his chest from how hard it was beating.
Jean didn’t know how to think about anything other than his boyfriend, he had been on his mind for the entire drive.
Jean hadn’t seen Marco’s new figure either. It had been a short time between summer and fall break, but Marco already looked jacked. All that farm work had taken its toll, but the freckled boy had just come out of the experience even sexier.
Jean was so excited to see him, to breathe him, to kiss him.
He had been imagining all the intimate things they would do together for weeks leading up to the trip, shamelessly daydreaming in class.
Whatever happened, he was just grateful to be home.
Jean saw the elegant farmhouse appear in the corner of his windshield, and his arms broke out in goosebumps immediately.
Marco was on the porch, waving with a massive grin as Jean pulled up.
Jean yanked the wheel sharply to the left as his car bumped down the uneven dirt road, and he read the banner hanging over the front door.
Welcome Home Jean!
Jean felt his eyes stinging. Who the fuck did these guys think they were? Trying to make him all emotional.
Marco didn’t even wait for Jean to come to a full stop as he practically jumped in front of the hood of the BWM, slapping the metal excitedly it as Jean braked and parked it.
He opened the door for Jean, and when the tan haired boy stepped out, Marco pulled him into his strong arms and hugged him for a very long time.
In the length of the hug, Jean let himself cry a little into Marco’s shirt. He would deny it if his boyfriend ever asked, but Jean had missed him so much. His emotions were just too overwhelming.
“I’m so happy you’re here.” Marco croaked, his voice sounding almost tear stained as well. Jean smirked, tickling his boyfriend’s sides and causing Marco to erupt into a loud fit of laughter.
“I’m happy that I’m here too, I have a date to catch.” Jean grinned up at him, leaning in for a kiss.
Marco cradled Jean’s cheek with one hand, and the other held against the boy’s lower back firmly. Jean’s hands explored Marco’s carved chest in astonishment.
“Holy shit Bodt, you’re so buff.” Jean muttered against his lover’s lips, but reconnected before Marco could bother to explain. His hands traveled up Marco’s collarbones, and extended over his shoulders to tangle themselves in the other boy’s dark hair.
Jean inhaled through his nose, catching a faint trace of pine and lemongrass on his lover’s skin. He wanted to spray that scent on everything he owned, all over his sheets and his clothes. He wanted to be drowning in Marco.
Their chests were flush against each other’s, as they kissed with Jean’s car rumbling in the background.
Marco was the first to break away, and he smiled lazily down at Jean.
“Shall we move this inside?” He asked, quirking a brow at Jean.
Jean backed up to lean down into his car, taking the keys out of the ignition and slamming the door shut. He turned back to Marco, clipping the keys into the beltloops of his corduroys.
“Please.” He begged, his tired eyes blinking in slowmo.
Marco stepped forward, pinching a lock of Jean’s hair between his fingers. He had a pleased look on his speckled face.
“Your hair is growing!”
Jean grit his teeth, snatching his hair away from Marco’s grasp and shaking his head.
“Trust me, I would cut it if I knew a decent barber in Boston.” He explained, moving on to the trunk of the BWM to collect his bags.
Marco followed him, desperately shaking his head and clasping his hands.
“Oh no Jean, I love it! You look so handsome, it’s grown out so much for just a couple of months.”
Jean flushed, tucking the messy strands behind his ears. “Tch. You’re lucky I’m too lazy to think about my hair right now.”
Marco grinned as Jean popped the trunk open and grasped the handle on his duffle bag.
“Whatever you say, babe. Personally, I love a man with a mullet.” His boyfriend kissed his cheek as he grabbed the other bag Jean had brought, with his toiletries and other necessities in it.
Marco wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Jean shoved his shoulder, slamming the trunk closed and locking the car. He bolted for the front porch, causing Marco to race hot on his heels, his laughter filling Jean’s ears sweetly. As they approached the door, Jean could hear frantic barking coming from behind it.
“Mink! You’re gonna wake mom, it’s just Jean!” Marco complained, opening the door for Jean and hushing the dog.
Mink, the Bodt family Cattle dog, came up to Jean with hesitation. She began to nervously sniff his shoes, her eyes unsure of if she should trust him or not. But once she remembered his scent, her tail wiggled at speeds that should be impossible for a dog to create, and she bounded after the two boys as they removed their shoes and quietly made their way up the carpeted stairwell.
The main foyer was dark, but from what Jean could tell, it looked exactly as he had last seen it. His heartbeat was starting to calm down, and a wave of relief was washing over him. Finally, something familiar, something reliable.
Jean would always feel more at home at the Bodt residence then he ever would in his own home. It was just a fact, nobody beat the freckled family when it came to hospitality. They were so sweet and welcoming, and they always had a seat at their table for you, if you needed it.
The two boys filed silently into Marco’s bedroom, and Jean felt his pulse spike again. He wasn’t anxious about seeing Marco anymore, but more so now that he was going to be sharing a bed with his boyfriend for the entire break.
Jean was too horny for his own good.
Mrs. Bodt was one of the most chill moms Jean ever had the pleasure of meeting. She had been immediately kind to Jean when he was invited over for Thanksgiving and Christmas last year, and she had always been rather polite while Jean played with Marco when they were younger. But, ever since Marco’s mother learned of her son and Jean’s romantic relationship, she treated Jean as if he were her own too.
Mrs. Bodt texted him occasionally while he was at school, and asked him simple but sweet questions about his life in Boston. She allowed Jean to stay in the home for as long as he liked, for academic breaks or just in general. She included him in everything she did with Marco, and Jean would be lying if he said he wasn’t going to miss her most of all (with the exception of Marco) when his parents finally pulled the rug out from under him.
Jean also wondered if Mrs. Bodt be as hospitable to him if she knew what went through his mind whenever he saw Marco’s body on FaceTime.
They dropped Jean’s bags off by the door, and Marco turned around to glance at Jean in the dark room. Marco’s coffee colored eyes were droopy, his shoulders slumped forward in exhaustion. Jean figured he must’ve had a long day, taking care of the farm and all. Maybe they would skip the movie and just go to bed.
“Is Gina still up?” Jean whispered, and Marco shook his head.
“Nope, she’s snoring.”
The freckled boy was right, after a couple seconds of standing in silence, Jean could hear the rhythmic snoring sourced from both of the other bedrooms.
The two concealed their laughter behind their hands in the dark of Marco’s room, and as they were getting comfortable, Marco peeled off his shirt to reveal that all of his cute stomach pudge had formed itself into a harsh six pack.
Jean’s eyes bulged, and he salivated. Marco’s own eyes glanced over Jean, laughing at his expression.
“You should see your face right now.” He spoke quietly, thumb brushing over Jean’s cheek.
Jean leaned into the hand, closing his eyes and turning bright red.
“Yeah, well, don’t look so hot then.”
Jean yanked his corduroys off, settling for wearing his black tee and the boxers he had been wearing underneath to bed. It was whatever, they would both shower and change tomorrow.
“God, I missed you.” Marco leaned down against Jean’s ear, nibbling against the skin as he used his boyfriend’s shoulders for balance. He removed his own jeans in the scuffle, kicking them off to the side.
They both stood in their boxers in Marco’s bedroom.
Jean leaned against Marco’s cheek as his boyfriend used him for support, inhaling his scent again and allowing himself to relax.
“I missed you more.”
Marco grunted.
“That isn’t fair.” He complained.
“You sound like a baby.”
“I’m not a baby.”
Marco pouted, and Jean eyes glanced from his lover’s lips down to his thighs. Was there any part of Marco’s body that had remained unchanged? Even his legs were chiseled by the gods.
Jean was absolutely dying to get his lips on them, at some point in the near future.
“You’re really convincing me here.”
“Okay, well it’s past my bed time, so if you’d be so kind as to tuck me in.”
Marco flushed, eyeing the sheets expectantly. Jean glanced behind them, and scratched at his neck. He didn’t have it in him that night him to try anything sexual with Marco, but he doubted that was what his boyfriend was implying in the first place. Marco’s family was sleeping in the other rooms, and Jean had just finished a twelve-hour drive after all.
“Absolutely. What say you, we skip the movie and just cuddle and sleep?” Jean asked, clasping Marco’s hand and tracing the boy’s knuckles with his fingernail.
“Reiner wants to go to the park tomorrow, for lunch with Bert and the girls. They want to know if we want to go with and make it a triple date.”
Jean slowly beckoned Marco backwards by his elbows. He kneeled against the mattress, pulling his boyfriend with him into the sheets and under the covers.
“I say wherever you go, I go.” Marco yawned, following Jean’s lead and resting his head against the pillow.
“Ok sleepy.”
Jean set an alarm on his phone, and reached over Marco to place the device on the nightstand.
Marco snuck a kiss against Jean’s chest as the boy leaned over him.
“Want anything specific tonight?”
“Just hold me, please.” Jean begged, turning away from Marco and shimming under the blanket. He tucked himself into his lover’s arms, and he pressed back against Marco’s warm chest.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Marco purred, leaning forward into Jean and wrapping his forearms delicately around Jean’s ribs.
He rested his freckled cheek against the back of Jean’s neck, pressing a gentle kiss against the skin of his nape.
“Goodnight, babe.” His partner breathed, eyes fluttering shut.
Jean leaned into the heat of the embrace, kissing Marco’s arm as they tangled their legs together under the sheets.
“Goodnight.” Jean mumbled happily.
He never wanted Marco to let him go.
the following morning, Jean woke up bright and early, at six thirty am. He hadn’t intended on being up that early, but his body was still on school time he supposed. When he rolled over and splayed a hand against the empty bed beside him, the tan haired boy sat up straight.
Marco was nowhere to be found.
Jean rubbed his eyes in the darkness of Marco’s room, throwing his unresponsive legs over the side of the mattress and rolling out of it. He slumped his way to the bedroom door, opening it to peer down the hall with tired eyes.
He could smell bacon and eggs, as well as coffee, originating from the kitchen. The aroma was delicious.
Jean pulled a pair of Marco’s shorts on over top of his boxers, and he checked his breath in his hand. It wasn’t awful, Marco could deal with a kiss if Jean felt so inclined. His hands dragged along the banister of the stairwell as he made his way down, his fingertips danced along the old wood.
Marco’s home had so much personality, so much life. There was a picture frame everywhere you looked containing old family photos, shelves adorned with plants and other souvenirs, and of course all of the wonderful interior design Alice Bodt had done. Jean breathed in its warmth, and reminded himself that he could relax here.
This was a safe place.
He padded forward past the front door, weaving through the dining room to enter the kitchen. Marco was in his work clothes (jeans, t-shirt, work boots, thick belt, and gloves tied to his beltloop), hips swaying as he tossed a pan professionally on the stovetop.
There was an omelet cooking inside of the kitchenware, and Jean pieced together that Marco had been up for a while already. Two mugs of coffee sat beside the microwave on the counter, steaming hot and ready to drink.
Jean smirked at his partner, leaning against the doorframe between the dining room and the kitchen. He admired the way Marco’s hips moved in his jeans, how cute he was when he let himself be himself. The guy was everything Jean wanted and more, he thanked his lucky stars that Marco somehow liked him back.
“You know, if you keep moving like that, Shakira might sue you for defamation.”
Marco whipped around with wide eyes. He cleared his throat and grinned, then set the pan down on the stove to gesture for Jean to come over and embrace him.
“Jesus, You scared me half to death. Since when do you wake up so early?”
Jean laughed, wrapping an arm around Marco’s side and resting against his partner’s chest.
“Since I started college, they don’t let MIT students relax much. Especially the engineer majors.” He deadpanned, gesturing to the deep bags under his sleep deprived eyes.
Marco hummed, swaying in a much more casual format now that Jean was leaning against him. He kissed the tan haired boy atop his head, lingering against his temple and inhaling his familiar scent.
“You won’t get much sleep here either, I’m afraid. I have to be up around this time every morning to take care of the farm chores.” Marco sighed.
Jean rest his other hand against Marco’s chest, taking his time tracing the muscles there. He missed this part of his relationship: the physical. He was desperate to get his hands on Marco, in any way he could.
“Every morning?”
“Every. Single. Morning.”
“Wow.” Jean whistled.
Marco chuckled, his arm around Jean’s midsection tightened as he hugged him closer.
“I was going to let you sleep a little longer though. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed.”
Jean’s mouth fell open, looking up at Marco with reddened ears.
“That is so horrifically domestic of you. But also, so sweet, and I can’t believe I fucking ruined it.”
Why was Marco a literal angel?
Marco laughed, bumping his nose against Jean’s.
“You didn’t ruin anything silly. We can still share breakfast, and if you want, you can help me with the chores before we head out for lunch.”
Jean ducked his chin so he could mouth at Marco’s neck, kissing his freckles.
“I’d love that.” He whispered against Marco’s skin, and the guy leaned in deeper into the affection.
“I’m totally going to burn your omelet if you keep that up.”
Marco didn’t do a thing to stop Jean from devouring his neck, and Jean wasn’t listening anyways. He lazily made his marks, teeth sinking into the flesh in certain places, causing Marco to squeak. Jean pulled back and licked his lips, eyeing his lover teasingly.
“You’d just make me another one.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Okay, but I’m definitely still going to pay you back for the three months of kissing we missed out on.”
Jean pinched Marco’s chin, shaking the guy’s head gently as he departed from his side. The tan haired boy moved over to stand in front of the cups of coffee Marco had made for them, notating the variation in color.
Marco had brewed both of them a medium roast, and one cup contained only black coffee, the other with cream and sugar.
“You like nothing in yours, right? I remember you mentioning something like that to me.” Marco asked, tilting his head as he plated the omelet.
Jean grinned at Marco, tucking his hand into the pocket of the shorts he borrowed as he sipped from the mug. Ah, now he could finally wake up.
“Who gave you the right to be perfect?”
Marco’s eyes glimmered happily at the compliment.
“I just listen well.”
Jean strode back up to Marco’s side, pinching his cheek.
“You do a little more than just listen, but ok.”
Marco finished making breakfast, and the two of them prepared to sit down, when Marco suddenly squeezed Jean’s ass.
“Are those my shorts?”
Jean yelped and whipped around, his eyebrow twitching he folded his arms.
“Yes, do I need permission or something?”
“No,” Marco’s eyes took Jean in, and he nodded his head in approval, biting his lip. “They look better on you anyways.”
Jean flushed again, kicking Marco’s shin gently.
“Shut up and eat your damn omelet.”
Once the two finished flirting over breakfast, Marco offered Jean a pair of muck boots to wear before they went out onto the muddy property to begin the farm chores.
Alice and Gina remained peacefully asleep inside the estate, and Jean wondered when they would finally wake up and greet him. He still needed to see the rest of his family, or rather, Marco’s family. They were so hospitable, it was still hard for Jean to distinguish that they weren’t his real family. He loved the other two Bodts nearly as much as he loved Marco, but nobody could ever beat that freckled slice of heaven for top spot in Jean’s heart.
Out in the barn, Marco showed Jean how to feed all of the animals, and how to give them their medication. He showed the tan haired boy how to shovel out the horse stalls and refill them, how to change the water and the feed. They whittled away the hours of the morning together, covered in dirt and other grime from the labor-intensive tasks within the barn.
Jean admired this side of Marco. He could tell this job was really hard on his partner. Hell, the work they had done in just a few hours alone had Jean feeling exhausted.
There was no way Marco did all of this every day without any help, and if he somehow did, then he really was some kind of god. He was passionate about the farm, mostly because there was something in it for him other than the satisfaction of taking over his father’s legacy. If Marco didn’t work, then everything would simply cease to exist.
The Bodt residence depended on maintaining the farm, and only Marco was around to do that anymore. It made Jean want to push himself even harder, to really help Marco support the weight of this blessing turned burden.
“I had Furlan over a couple weeks ago, he showed me how to trim the dairy cow’s hooves…”
Marco rambled, he used his hands a lot when he talked. Jean loved studying Marco’s mannerisms, memorizing his patterns of speech and his body language. Every god damn thing that boy did was attractive, it was absolutely mind blowing.
“…her next week, but other than that everything is good with the heifers. Anyways, we only have one more chore to do before lunch, whad’ya say we get to it?”
Jean wanted to kiss him badly.
He blinked himself out of his fantasy, nodding his head at Marco. He couldn’t help himself, it had been a few months since he was last allowed to really look at Marco. But Jean was noticing more and more on fall break that his lover had a body transformation worthy of a trophy.
“I say where you go, I go.”
Jean repeated Marco’s sentiment from last night with a sly look on his face. Marco shook his head, but his lips curled upwards in amusement. He cupped Jean’s cheek and rubbed his thumb tenderly over his peach fuzz.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you more.”
“But I love you most.”
Marco had Jean beat, so instead of accepting defeat, Jean leaned in for a kiss.
Marco obliged, his hand resting against Jean’s ribs. They kissed while the cows mooed in the background, while Mink barked at cars that passed by. The kiss was nothing crazy, but Jean was desperate for more, so he pressed further against his partner’s chest. The two stumbled backwards at the motion, teetering side to side for balance. Their filth meddled, but Jean didn’t care one bit. He had been waiting patiently for this kind of attention.
Marco slid his hand under Jean’s shirt, his palm decidedly resting over Jean’s hip. His freckled finger swirled over Jean’s hip bone, and the tan haired boy felt something hot flare up in the pit of his stomach.
That reaction was quickly traveling lower, and Jean’s breath hitched against Marco’s lips.
He wanted to do Marco on the straw below their feet, right then and there. Maybe he would later, but it wouldn’t happen the way he wanted it to at that moment. The thought alone, however, made Jean want to risk it anyways.
“Oh my god, ew!”
Jean broke away from Marco in the direction of the noise, his face flush with embarrassment. Gina, Marco’s younger sister, had just caught them making out.
“Sorry Gina!” Marco laughed, shoving Jean away gently and shaking his head.
Jean hid his face as he approached the teenager, who had her hands on her hips.
“You have been here for hardly a day, and you’re already doing that shit?” She scolded, pointing a finger at Jean.
“Gina, language!”
“I’m not a little girl anymore Marco, I can say shit if I like!”
“What’s all this shit y’all are yelling about?” Mrs. Bodt asked in her thick southern accent, pinching Gina’s ear. The girl yelped, glaring angrily up at her mother.
“Gina is being a little shit.” Marco snorted, earning a complaint from his younger sister. Mrs. Bodt scoffed, gesturing to Jean.
“Can you two behave for two seconds? We haven’t even said hello to Jean yet, Gina mind your manners.”
Jean rubbed the back of his neck as he approached the shorter woman. Her hair had a few grey strands amidst the dark tones, and her button-like nose twitched as she eyed him in return. Marco clearly took after his father more in the face, but there were still traces of her in her children. Her age was betrayed only by the wrinkles and smile lines on her tanned skin.
Mrs. Bodt was gorgeous, just like the rest of Marco’s family.
“Hi.” Jean said shyly, and before he could react, he was pulled into a strong hug. Mrs. Bodt rubbed Jean’s back gently in a circle, her shirt smelled of vanilla and brown sugar.
“Hi baby.” She grinned, pulling Jean back to admire his hair. “Look at you, you’re growing it out!”
Jean groaned, pressing both his hands back against his scalp and raking the hair away from his face.
“Yeah, unfortunately.”
“Well I think it looks great.”
She nudged Gina, who gave Jean a hug of her own before she ran off towards Mink.
“Gina!” Mrs. Bodt huffed, following after her daughter. The woman had on a pair of plaid-striped pajama pants, muck boots and a bathrobe.
Country shenanigans were awesome.
“Gina missed you, she’s just awkward.” Marco explained, coming behind Jean and folding his hands over his boyfriend’s stomach. Jean rest his own hands over Marco’s, leaning back into his partner contently.
“I know. They always are at that age, I can remember doing shit like that.” Jean joked, and Marco shook his head.
“You’re hysterical, really. It looks like we’re covered in shit right now; want to shower before the park? I’ll make Gina finish the chores.”
Jean thought about showering. With Marco. Both of them completely naked.
He gulped.
“Yeah, s-sure.”
Marco kissed Jean’s cheek, slipping away from his partner to follow after his mother and sister.
“Get the water running, I’ll meet you there!”
Jean carried himself up the creaky wooden steps of the back porch with his stomach performing summersaults. Was he really ready to take the next step? It was the perfect opportunity, and it would be nice to relieve the urge that Marco had inflicted upon him when they had kissed just moments ago.
Jean’s hands shook as he climbed the main stairs, stopping into Marco’s room to find himself a change of clothes. He ripped through a pile of graphic tees, finding something that would be good for the park later. The weight of the mud on his clothes made it difficult to breathe, but that could also be due to the fact that he was about to see Marco in the nude.
Jean made a feeble attempt to calm down as he worked his way over to the second-floor restroom, and he turned the dial on the hot water up so that the shower could rise to a comfortable temperature. He laid the change of clothes out on the towel rack by the wall, before turning towards his own reflection in the double-wide vanity.
Jean gulped, ripping his shirt off and palming at his chest. His heart felt like it might rip out of his body at any second, and his mouth had dried up long ago. He couldn’t think straight, and he stressed himself out about the shower more than he had intended to.
By the time Marco had entered the bathroom, Jean was gripping the edge of the vanity. Marco eyed him, guiding his cheek upwards so they could be eye to eye.
“Everything ok?” He asked, eyes searching Jean’s.
Jean’s shaking fingers caught Marco’s forearms, and he nodded as he leaned forward to catch Marco’s lips again briefly. Marco squeezed Jean’s wrists gently as they embraced, but he pulled back so he could remove his own shirt and drop his jeans.
Jean stared in shock as Marco closed and locked the bathroom door, studying the definition in Marco’s calves. He salivated at the curves and dips that Marco’s body took, and Jean’s skin broke out in goosebumps as he imagined how all of that would look moving up against him.
He couldn’t even begin to compare.
Jean hesitantly dropped the shorts he had borrowed from Marco to the ground, and the second the fabric hit the tiles, he felt exposed. They hadn’t even made it to the last step, but Jean was already having a hard time catching his breath. Marco turned back to Jean, stepping forward to hold Jean by his forearms again. He kissed the tan haired boy’s jaw tenderly.
“Do you want me to turn around?” Marco whispered, and Jean shivered.
What factory did Marco come out of? He was actually too perfect to be real.
“Y-yes please.” Jean asked shyly.
Marco turned around, covering his eyes.
“After you take your shorts off, hop in and let me know when I can follow.”
Jean followed his instructions, feeling his skin tingling from the act. Somehow, the idea of Marco guiding him on what to do turned Jean on. He kicked his boxers away before opening the curtain to the shower, stepping gracefully under the warm water. He breathed a deep sigh, relaxing a little more now that he was no longer exposed in front of the mirror.
Jean didn’t dare look down at his own body, he would most likely shrivel up from embarrassment. The best thing he had going for him were his collarbone piercings, but everything else below was a sight he wasn’t exactly thrilled with.
“Do you want me to look away too?” He asked.
Marco chuckled from the other side, and Jean heard the sound of clothes dropping to the floor. He braced himself for whatever came next.
“Nah, you can look if that’s something you fancy.”
Jean turned towards the wall of the shower, the water raining down against his face. His ears were bright red.
“Okay, you can come in now.”
The shower curtain drew back, and Marco stepped into the tub behind Jean as he closed it again. He could feel the warmth of his partner from where he stood, and hesitantly he glanced over his shoulder, where Marco was smiling at him.
“Close your eyes.” Jean instructed, and Marco obeyed.
Jean slowly turned all the way around, and took his lover in.
Marco was… there was literally no word in the English language that could be used to describe his body.
Il est envoûtant.
Jean ravaged the other boy’s body with his unworthy eyes, taking in every beautiful piece of Marco. All his wonderful scars from the accident, his bruises and marks from intense farm work.
His boyfriend was a work of modern art.
Slowly, Jean moved forward to press a kiss against the tan, freckled skin of Marco’s chest. He allowed his fingers to graze along Marco’s forearms, sliding upwards towards his shoulders as Jean’s lips approached the boy’s neck.
He had finally seen what Marco was packing down there, and his mind was blown.
Comment suis-je censé survivre à cette merde?
He suckled the skin against Marco’s neck, causing the boy’s knees to buckle shamelessly.
“Fuck…” He breathed, and Jean tilt Marco’s chin down.
“Open your eyes.” Jean commanded, and once again, Marco submit himself completely.
When Marco’s deep brown eyes met Jean’s, a hungry flame could be noticed behind his lids. He pulled Jean forward by his hips until they met in the middle, and Marco let the water beat down against his face as he pressed several small kisses to Jean’s ear.
“You are the most beautiful thing that I’ve ever seen.”
Jean felt as though he might pass out. Combining the heat of the water with Marco’s rich voice had been a mistake.
“I can’t believe you have the audacity to say that to my face when you’re standing right in front of me. I think I must have dreamt you.” Jean pushed back, catching Marco’s lips and wrapping his arms tightly around Marco’s neck.
Marco groaned quietly, pressing the two of them against the wall of the shower as they made out once more.
Jean couldn’t hear anything anymore; all noise was replaced with a high pitch ringing. He rolled against Marco with desperation, their wet naked bodies clashing together under the running water, both needy and warm.
Jean couldn’t take much more; he thought he might explode. There had been a secret inside of him, festering since he had returned from the bar. He was honestly terrified of bordering anything this sexual, the stranger who had groped him had left a distasteful impact on his idea of intimacy.
Jean wanted Marco more than anything, but he felt disgusted with himself more than ever, and because of that he couldn’t allow himself to fully enjoy what was happening at that moment.
Instead, he was actually starting to freak out a little. Jean’s heart hammered as he breathed heavier against Marco’s lips, and his entire body was vibrating. He just couldn’t stand still, he felt like a rubber band.
“Is this ok?” Marco checked, and Jean twitched gently.
His hesitation lasted almost five full seconds.
“Marco, I know you and Jean are in there! Don’t hog all the hot water, and you better not be doing anything weird! I have to shower next.”
Gina shouted impatiently from the hallway, paralyzing both of them. Marco flushed, holding back his laugh against Jean.
“Alright, we won’t! Take up all the hot water that is, but you’re weird for insinuating something else!”
Jean shuttered against Marco’s chest, wrapping trembling arms around his boyfriend. Marco looked down at him curiously before he reciprocated the hug, rubbing his back in the same small circle pattern that Mrs Bodt had made earlier. His palm slid effortlessly against the skin of Jean’s shoulder blades, under the hot water of the shower.
All of the Bodt’s were so similar without even realizing.
“You heard her.” Was all that Jean could manage.
He was frazzled, and he still had to last through the park date with Reiner and Bertolt.
With the girls.
“She’s such a cock block.” Marco groaned, kissing Jean’s hair as he lathered them with soap.
Jean leaned into his touch, allowing the taller boy to give him the princess treatment as they showered.
“We’re going to be late anyways, she’s just saving us some extra time.”
Marco rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling.
“I’d be fine with being late, if my excuse was you.”
Jean shoved his chest back gently, crossing his arms.
“Oh my god you sap!”
“You love it when I say shit like that.”
“Oh here we go again.”
“Let me put shampoo in your hair, stop moving!”
After their shower, Jean studied his reflection one more time in the bathroom mirror, having changed into his park clothes. He opted for a graphic tee with one of his favorite bands on it, as well as his grey paper bag pants and black converse. He had been trying to experiment with his style after having met Sasha, but he was failing miserably.
Jean tied his top hair up in a loose bun, all the extra strands resting against his neck. His cheeks were still red from the thought of Marco’s attitude in the shower.
His boyfriend really did want him that way, and Jean hadn’t been ready for it. What was he going to tell Marco? How could he even begin to explain what happened at the bar, or how his outlook on sex had become tainted?
How was he supposed to tell Marco that he hated himself?
“Are you ready babe?”
Marco was down the hall, gesturing for Jean to join him. He wore his own park date outfit: a cute faded yellow t-shirt combo with light-wash jean shorts, and he sported a pair of converse himself. His were white though, or more off white from how much Marco appeared to abuse them.
Jean firmed himself one more time, and shook off the negative feelings.
He was going to make sure this week was perfect, for Marco.
“Let’s go.”
Notes:
I'm super excited to get into the fall break collection of chapters! We will have a guys and gals reunion, and a bunch of flirty Jeanmarco moments.
I really missed writing Senior Year, this is reminding me so much of that!
Chapter 7: Joyride
Summary:
Jean takes Marco to the park for a triple date with Bertolt, Reiner, Ymir and Historia!
It's Reunion time!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“We’re taking your bike?”
Marco’s mouth gaped open in disbelief, as Jean ripped the grey weather cover off of his motorcycle with a grunt. The black beauty hidden underneath, Elvira, was still shining like new. There was not a scratch on her.
Marco took good care of her, as he did with everything.
“Yeah, I promised you a ride, didn’t I? What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t commit.”
Jean smirked at Marco as he ran his fingers along the smooth surface of the leather seat, and continued upwards until his nails tapped against the silver handlebar. It had also been three months since he had last used his bike, as it had been three months since he did anything in Georgia. But driving Elvira was just like breathing to Jean. Everything would come rushing back, as soon as the keys were in the ignition.
Marco grinned, crossing his arms as he stood beside Jean. “You bet your ass you promised. I’ll go get the helmets, they’re in the garage.”
The freckled boy plugged in the garage code, and the door folded open loudly, revealing the two helmets Jean had given him for safe keeping.
Jean was utterly thrilled by the idea of showing up to the park with Marco, his boyfriend, on the back of his bike.
Everyone already knew that fact, they had been dating all summer at that point. But he grew prouder of the title the longer he held it, and he wanted all of his friends to know.
I’m Marco’s boyfriend!!!
“Do you think the girls will have changed at all?” Marco asked, unhooking the helmets. He then stepped forward to hand Jean the black polycarbonate shell, stretching his own arms out in preparation for the ride.
“I guess we’ll see. I doubt any of them have changed as much as you have.”
Jean’s eyes wandered Marco’s body once again while he stretched. He was never going to get used to how beautiful the guy was, Marco was a walking dreamscape.
The attention Jean was paying him made Marco red, and he shook his head in disagreement.
“Goodness Jean, it’s a good thing I’m sitting behind you. You’ve been having a really hard time focusing today.” He teased.
Jean rolled his eyes.
“Whatever. Let’s get moving, before they think we ditched the date.”
He swung a leg confidently over the side of the bike, lifting the heavy kickstand and rolling the vehicle to face the exit of the driveway.
Jean then turned back around to face his boyfriend, and pat the leather at his backside, gesturing for Marco to come sit.
He pulled his helmet down over his head at the same time Marco did, and the freckled boy mimicked Jean’s movement to mount the bike.
“Don’t let me fall, I’m still sorta scared that’ll happen.” Marco begged.
Jean leaned back into his boyfriend, reaching behind him to find Marco’s freckled arms. He wound the rigid limbs tightly around his stomach, and Marco did the rest of the work himself by squeezing Jean. Then, Marco craned his neck over the tan haired boy’s shoulder to hear him better.
“I would never let you fall.” Jean pat his hand over Marco’s forearm. “I’ve got you babe.”
He kick-started the engine.
The bike came to life loudly, the exhaust popping and purring as Jean tested the throttle. He pushed his foot off of the ground as the vehicle moved forward, and the motor vibrating beneath them caused a tickling sensation in their thighs.
Jean could smell the gas, and taste the dirt that kicked up into the air as he eased the bike towards the road.
God, how he missed this.
Marco’s giggles mixed into all the noise as they turned towards the inner city. Jean felt the urge within him to impress Marco, to spoil him rotten, to give him everything deserved. That meant he had to be fast.
He took off flying down the backroads, causing Marco to squeal and hold on to Jean even tighter. The engine roared as the wind whipped past them, making it impossible for Jean to hear much of anything.
The grasp Marco had on his midsection made it hard for Jean to breathe, but it wasn’t like he could even breathe in the first place. Not with Marco looking as fine as he did on the back of his bike.
Jean was buzzing with adrenaline, seeking the thrill of gliding effortlessly past trees and road signs. He leaned forward as the speedometer began to hike up, and Marco followed his lead, his palms expanding against Jean’s ribcage to flex with each breath he took.
Jean’s head was on fire. He honed his focus in sharply as he swerved with the winding road, and he maintained speed up until he reached the main intersection of the city where he was forced to slow down again and mix with heavier traffic.
Marco’s hands felt so massive against his body. He felt secure, but not trapped. He was happy to be held, and in a way protected. it made him feel as if nothing could touch him.
Jean realized then, his confidence hadn’t faded away entirely, but it really only showed itself when Marco was encouraging him to shine.
“That was fun!” Marco shouted over the rumbling engine, and Jean laughed heartily. He pulled up behind a car at a red light, leaning over to the right as they came to a stop.
“One of these days I have to take you to the backroads where I used to race against Jaeger. If you thought that back there was fast…” Jean clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Marco’s eyes widened, furrowing his brows at Jean.
This was new information to him.
“You never told me you raced against Eren?”
Jean grinned, shrugging lightly.
“That’s because he always fuckin’ beat me. I’m a bit of a sore loser, plus I didn’t think it would give me any street credit if I bragged about bike racing with the new kid.” He explained, the light turning green at the end of his sentence.
Marco squeezed Jean’s ribs, shaking his head in the helmet again.
“I can’t believe you sometimes. No wonder you hated him though, he must be fast as hell if he managed to outrace you.”
That isn’t the only reason I hated him, Jean thought to himself.
Everyone back in tenth grade knew that Marco Bodt had a massive crush on pretty-boy Jaeger. The freckled teen always had this look on his face when Eren entered a classroom, and everything he did had Marco’s full, undivided attention. Every joke Eren told at lunch, everyone laughed but Marco beamed. Every extra credit club Eren was in, Marco wanted to be in it too. He was almost obsessed, but Marco was still sweet enough to respect Eren’s space.
Marco may not like Eren that way anymore, but back then, his lovesick routine drove Jean bonkers.
Jaeger had just joined their school a little over a year ago by tenth grade. He had Marco wrapped around his finger in no time at all, but luckily the punk never reciprocated Marco’s feelings.
Jean had wanted Eren gone from the moment Marco had switched his attention to the ocean-eyed freak. It wasn’t like Eren wasn’t into guys as much as he was into girls, he just had his eye on Mikasa at the time. But that fact did nothing to check Jean’s rampant jealousy.
Jean had been an asshole back then. And all of the racing bullshit with Eren in eleventh grade just made him look even worse. He didn’t think Marco could ever like an asshole like him, and that was the main reason he never told Marco about the racing.
What surprised Jean was: Eren hadn’t told Marco about their history yet either. He figured Marco would have even put two and two together by that point. Jean and Eren beefed a lot before and even during senior year, it wasn’t like it was private information. They would argue on or off school property, it didn’t matter.
Maybe Eren forgot about their differences and neglected to tell Marco about the racing, after all him and Jean had been civil all summer.
Jean was already moving the bike again, not bothering to confirm or deny Marco’s statement. He didn’t need Marco knowing just how desperately he wanted the freckled boy’s attention back in high school. How he was willing to do anything to get it, good or bad.
They were inching closer to the park, traveling just beyond the city limits in the opposite direction of the Bodt residence.
Jean eyed the turn that lead to his own home, in the upper economy area of Jinae East. The dread of returning to that desolate place was looming in the back his chest, and the fear of his parents and brother’s pending enlightenment threatened to wring his heart out if he thought about it for too long.
With a deep breath, Jean reminded himself to kept his focus on the car in front of him as they continued forward.
Hitting the next light, Jean stopped once more, propping them up by his right leg. Marco relaxed, groaning as he stretched out his back and rolled his neck.
“Doing okay?” Jean asked, turning backwards.
Marco nodded, giving him a thumbs up.
“I’m in the best hands right now.” He grinned.
Before Jean could respond, he felt the palms of Marco’s hands on his hips, and he swallowed hard.
Marco was giving him the same look he had given him in the shower earlier, the hungry one. Somehow his eyes were even more attractive when they were narrowed through the slit in the bike helmet.
The freckled boy wasn’t satisfied with leaving his hands there, so he allowed his fingers to slide down Jean’s sides, grazing over his thighs and dragging forward slowly towards his knees.
The touch tickled Jean’s skin under his pants, and made him shudder and shiver in traffic. There was the same warmth from earlier sparking deep in his stomach, returning for another round.
The sensation left by the Marco’s nails made his focus all… hazy.
As Marco played with his boyfriend’s legs, the knee Jean was using to support their weight almost buckled.
“Careful there,” Marco commented, teasing Jean as he assisted in keeping the bike upright.
He tucked his arms around Jean’s waist again, the cheek of his helmet resting against the back of Jean’s shirt.
“You told me not to let you fall, the least you could do is help me achieve that goal.” Jean responded in a breathy manner, huffing and urging his heart to calm down as the next light turned green.
Marco was going to cause an accident if he wasn’t careful, Jean was an easy man to distract.
“I believe in you.” Marco whispered.
“At least that’s one of us, I’m ticklish you fool.”
“I’m aware.”
“So, you want us to crash then!”
Marco scoffed loudly, his voice beating the sound of the engine as they turned down the road of the park.
“Of course not! I just thought you might need some help brushing the dirt off your pants.”
“Mhm.” Jean responded, speeding up as they flew past the trees.
He spotted the old train tracks that disappear into the woods. The rest of the trail lead to where him and Marco had laid a few months ago, just before Jean left for college. He could catch the tiniest glimpse of the creek, and just a mile ahead was the gravel road leading to the entrance to Trost Park.
Jean veered to the left, dipping Marco ever so gently as they rolled into the parking lot. He held his boyfriend’s foot against the bike with the side of his heel, and Marco squeezed him one more time as they pulled up behind Bertolt’s blue Subaru.
Jean killed the switch, propping the stand up and removing the keys. He pocketed the keys before turning to pull Marco’s helmet off.
Marco did the same for him.
They smiled warmly at each other, the opposite helmet in their laps.
“That was so awesome.” Marco grinned. His teeth were shiny, and perfect. They made him look so tan.
“Eh, I can do better next time.” Jean shrugged, looping their helmets on the handle of the bike and stepping off with Marco.
“Take me racing with you sometime.” Marco begged.
Damn, he wouldn’t be able to take back that fact anymore. Oh well, maybe Marco would find it sexier if he wasn’t racing out of rage.
As they walked towards the park entrance, Marco grasped Jean’s hand, lacing their fingers together.
Jean looked down at their entwined hands, and suddenly his heart was the one racing. No matter how many times Marco touched him, kissed him, or sometimes even just looked at him in a certain way, it always set Jean on fire. He had never felt that way about anyone.
He loved Marco with all his heart.
“Does Reiner look different at all?” Marco asked, leading him past the wooden fence gate.
Their hands bounced with the weight of each step, and Jean squeezed Marco’s tighter for balance as they navigated over the dirt mounds and uneven hills.
“No. He still has that boring straight edge haircut, but I guess he is kind of growing a mustache.” Jean made a face. “It’s strange.”
“I bet Bertolt will be happy about the mustache.”
“Bertolt wants him to have facial hair?”
Marco giggled, jogging towards the sheltered picnic tables near the forest edge. It was essentially right next to where they had sat last year, when Jean first started to shoot his shot at Marco.
Ah, how cute. A triple date in a sentimental place.
“I think Bertolt thinks Reiner is a hunk, facial hair or not.” Marco explained, shaking his head humorously.
Jean hummed, shrugging his shoulders in vague agreement.
He could spot shapes in the distance, and upon jogging closer, two people he recognized came into view.
Bertolt and Reiner were already waiting for them.
“Speak of the devils.”
As Jean acknowledged them, Marco ran after them at a faster pace, dragging his boyfriend panting behind him. Marco held up his free hand to wave at them.
“Hello!!” He called out.
“Marco!! Jean! You two made it before the girls did, how miraculous!” Reiner teased, punching Marco’s shoulder lightly in greeting. Bertolt squeezed Jean tenderly for moment, as all four of them exchanged hellos.
Afterwards, the two came to a seat at the picnic table, across from the blonde and his boyfriend.
“I feel like if you managed to be on time at any point last semester, the world would have ended or something.” Reiner furthered, poking fun at Jean.
“Well, no more late arrivals for me,” Jean hummed, smiling at Marco. “You could say I’m a changed man.”
Marco smiled back, rubbing his thumb over Jean’s knuckle from under the table. The pad of Marco’s finger traced his dry, cracked skin, and circled around his other digits rhythmically.
“Mmm sure, just wait till Marco uses that face when you’re trying to leave for work. Reiner would make me late for literally everything.” Bertolt gestured to Jean. “How was the trip to get here yesterday? Everything went smoothly I hope?”
Jean broke eye contact with Marco reluctantly to engage with his friends.
“Uhm… It was okay. The whole drive was uneventful, but there were many state troopers.”
“Ugh same! Do those bastards have anything better to do? The whole way here I spotted about nine or ten of them!” Reiner complained, shaking his head.
Marco snorted. “They’re out there so you two don’t try anything dangerous, or stupid.” He teased, casting a shady glance at Jean.
Jean scoffed, holding a hand over his heart.
“Is that complaining I hear? I thought you said you wouldn’t complain if I ‘somehow arrived earlier’ hmm?”
“Yeah, and I’m not complaining that you made it earlier, I’m just pointing out that I said I do not endorse any illegal activities.”
“Sounds like complaining to me. Say freckles, weren’t you just thrilled about us speeding on the bike ride over?”
Reiner let out a massive laugh, one that had been bubbling up for a while.
“You two sound married already! Marco, Jean drove you here on his fucking bike!?”
Marco flushed. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear in embarrassment.
“It was so cool, I couldn’t say no. Besides, Jean is a great driver. I trust him not to get us into too much trouble.”
Jean beamed with pride. Marco said he trusted him, and simultaneously called him cool in the same sentence. Fuck yeah.
“It’s just that he won’t let any of us touch the damn thing, you’re so lucky.” Reiner pointed a finger at Marco, and they laughed and clasped their hands together for a handshake.
Jean gave Reiner a pitiful expression.
“She’s my baby. I can’t let just anyone near her, and Marco has proven himself to be worthy of caring for her.” he explained, smirking at his boyfriend.
Marco bumped his shoulder against Jean’s to thank him, his gleeful smile contagious.
“I’d say favoritism actually has more to do with it than anything.” Bertolt interjected.
While they discussed state troopers and the bike, Jean noticed movement in his peripherals. He glanced to his right, where more recognizable faces were approaching from the parking lot.
“The girls are here!” Bertolt shouted suddenly, and everyone stood up, rushing to the girls who were bouncing their way.
Ymir sported a black ribbed tank top, accompanied by some American Eagle cutoff shorts and black flipflops. Her hair had grown out a bit as well; the famous low rise ponytail she once rocked sat higher up on her head now, the ends of the brunette strands resting gently against her nape.
Her blonde girlfriend, Historia, stood closely at her side. Ymir’s tan, toned, freckled arms had definitively more muscle mass, and were wrapped protectively around her girlfriend’s shoulder. Jean remembered Marco telling him about her semester of playing for the women’s softball team at Hunter College.
Ymir grinned when she saw the boys.
“It’s our favorite stinkies!!” She yelled, abandoning Historia to run and jump into Marco’s arms. Jean’s boyfriend wheezed when she smacked the air out of his lungs, but he ignored the pain of the impact to swing her around in joyful little circles.
“We missed you too!” Marco mused, squeezing her in a tight hug.
Jean glanced back at Historia, studying her outfit.
She stayed where she was, her white sundress blowing gently in the faint breeze. The dress had spaghetti straps tied in pretty bows on her dainty shoulders, and the floral print made her look like she was dressed for spring not fall. It was still too hot in Georgia for sweater weather, so he gave her a pass.
She wore a cute pair of black and tan sandals, her toes completed by a clean pedicure and golden anklets.
Her light strands were tied up in a neat bun by a black scrunchie, and she had accessorized with a couple bobby pins and butterfly clips.
Historia was beautiful.
Jean had missed her too, of course. She was only a call a way, but both of them had been busy with their academics for the last three months.
She was the first to smile at Jean, but he didn’t leave her hanging for long. They embraced each other for a little while.
“Hey bro.” She laughed breathily, and Jean did too.
“Hey, you look so great!”
Historia punched his chest playfully, breaking away from him to study his bun.
“So do you, I always knew you’d look good with long hair. It’s so fitting!”
Jean groaned again, pushing her away and rolling his eyes.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” He complained.
She cuffed his ear, running off to join the group that formed by the picnic.
“Maybe because it’s true!”
Jean returned to Marco’s side as the girls hugged Reiner and Bertolt, exchanging their share of hellos and compliments.
It was so surreal, to still be hanging out with them all, when last year everyone was fretting about being apart. It may only be the first break of many in their four-year college experience, but it was soothing to see how much everyone was trying to stay in touch.
“So, how’s softball Ymir?” Reiner was the first to ask a question, he was eyeing her new physique with arms crossed.
The tan girl plopped down into her seat, immediately wrapping her protective arm over Historia’s shoulder, where it belonged.
“It aint nothing like football I’ll tell ya, and the drills are tiresome, but it’s loads fun.” She hummed, nudging Historia. “You should ask her how I play, she comes to all of my practices.”
Historia blushed, leaning into Ymir’s chest and nodding at the group.
“She’s really good. They’re going to broadcast some of the games in the spring season, so you guys can watch!”
Bertolt leaned in with interest, his elbows inching forward on the splintered wood of the picnic table. “I’d love to! I don’t know a lot about softball, but what’s your favorite position?”
The second the question left his mouth, Reiner snorted, holding a hand to his mouth to try and stop the noise.
Bertolt cast a harsh glance over his shoulder, elbowing him square in the side. The dispute made Marco giggle.
“Oh, grow up!” Ymir pointed, but she was laughing too. “I really like to pitch, but I doubt they’re gonna let me play this spring. I’m a first year, and I hardly played softball in high school.”
Historia lifted her girlfriend’s chin gently. “You’ve got the drive, so we’ll see about that.” She reminded softly.
The group nodded, and before anyone else could lead the conversation, Historia eyed Jean smugly.
“Hey, look at that, we’re all here as couples this time. Last year you two were helpless!” She teased, gesturing to the most recently revelated boyfriends.
Marco nudged Jean in encouragement, waving his other hand at Historia.
“I don’t want to hear you talk about helpless, need we forget who helped you and Ymir get together in the first place?” Marco replied, in an unusually sly tone.
Jean allowed Marco to do all the talking, he clearly had it covered. The girls both frowned and shook their heads.
“Touché.” Ymir muttered. “But still, I remember when I had to practically push Marco to follow you when you went off to ‘explore’ last September.”
Jean remembered it like it was yesterday.
‘Can I… come with?’
Historia looked between the two boys expectantly.
“Actually, I’m a little curious as to where y’all went. You were gone for a long time that day.”
She wiggled her eyebrows at the boys, and Marco covered his eyes in embarrassment.
“You know we didn’t do shit out there, we just bonded!” Jean piped up. “But do you guys really wanna see where we went?” He asked, rising to his feet with excitement.
Trost park had slowly grown on him as one of his favorite places to be in Jinae East. So many of the moments he had spent in those woods had been positive instances with Marco, it was hard not to like.
“I’m curious as well, who knows Bertolt maybe we’ll find a lover’s rock out there too.” Reiner incentivized, and Bertolt smirked, holding two fingers to his chin in thought.
“Hey, get your own!” Marco accused, but he was only teasing. He stood up, eyeing Jean with a sincere smile. “Why don’t we show them the way.”
Jean swallowed, resisting the urge to kiss Marco in front of everybody.
They linked arms, and lead their lively group towards the edge of the forest.
“I hope you know where you’re going!” Ymir shouted.
Jean pushed a branch out of the way for Marco, and they giggled as they skipped together through the foliage.
Of course he knew the way, he remembered every little thing he did with Marco.
Jean could say it over and over again forever: he loved Marco.
Jean loved being in love with Marco. He was guilty of thinking about Marco allll the time, sure, but he didn’t spend a lot of time being grateful for being able to experiencing this kind of love with someone. Every emotion just came so easily, there was nothing Marco could say or do that would make Jean love him any less.
And the more time they spent together like this, the more Jean realized that losing Marco would probably kill him.
The worst part about that reality was that his parents were going to be the ones that landed the final blow, and they didn’t even care. If they choose to cut Marco out of Jean’s life, Jean was going to find a way cut himself out of his own.
A shimmer of light distracted Jean from his dark thoughts, and Marco grinned when the creek finally came into view.
“There it is!” He whooped, patting Jean’s chest excitedly as he bounded forward. Jean watched as Marco unlaced his shoes, and he tore his socks off eagerly right after the kicks. He gestured for everyone to follow after him, and without question, all the other teens copied. They removed their own footwear and valuables, setting everything down by the shore.
Jean was the fastest, he caught up to Marco only a few seconds later, leaning against the taller boy’s shoulder affectionately.
Marco looked down at him, kissing his cheek.
“Do you remember that rock you gave me the last time we waded in this creek?” He asked, lips hovering against the skin of Jean’s jawline.
Jean recalled giving Marco the smallest, but shiniest of rocks. He had plucked the measly thing from the creek they now stood in, and he remembered how beautifully the light had reflected off of its crystalline surface. That was the main reason he had chosen it to give to Marco, the thing shined nearly as bright as he did.
“Yeah, I do.” He chuckled.
The water was cool, and the fine gravel tickled his toes.
Ymir guided Historia into the chilly water over to their right; in the exchange, Historia squealed as politely as she could, surprised by the change in temperature.
Marco swayed where he stood, and Jean followed his movements as they wandered a little deeper into the stream than the others.
“I still have it.” He hummed against Jean’s ear.
Jean grinned, kissing Marco’s neck when he was sure nobody else was watching.
Reiner and Bertolt were too busy splashing each other with their feet, and Historia was trying to push Ymir into the deeper part of the creek.
“I had hoped you would keep it. I still keep the polaroid you gave me under my pillow.”
Jean whispered back, smiling when Marco wrapped his arms around Jean’s waist. His fingers entangled themselves against the base of Jean’s spine, fitting against him like a glove.
“See, I’m not the only sap in this relationship.” Marco teased.
Jean smirked, shaking his head. “If you say so.”
“Hey, lovebirds!” Reiner called, splashing some water their way. They broke apart, cursing and glaring at Reiner.
“What?” Jean demanded.
Reiner came running after Jean.
“How come you two kept this place to all to yourselves, huh? I thought we were friends!”
Jean yelped, jumping back to hide behind Marco. The two of them played peek-a-boo around Marco’s torso, before Marco whipped around and placed his hands under Jean’s shoulders, lifting him up by his armpits.
“Wait!!!” Jean yelled, laughing. He really was ticklish, his body jerked and thrashed violently as Marco raised him higher.
“Long live the king!” Marco yelled, mouthing I’m sorry as he launched Jean backwards into the deepest part of the water.
Jean made a large splash as his backside collided with the water, soaking his clothes entirely.
He looked up at Marco, eyes steeping in betrayal.
“Are. You. SERIOUS!!!”
Laughter filled the air as the others stopped to watch Jean struggle.
Marco’s eyes widened in surprise, but he was still smiling as if his life wasn’t in danger. “OH SHIT!” he yelled, as Jean began to crawl forward. He reached his hand out frantically for Marco’s ankles, swiping his fingers near Marco’s sole.
Marco normally would have been fast enough to get away, but the girls decided to help Jean have his share of fun.
“Revenge!” Historia howled, and pummeled into Marco’s back, preventing him from getting away from his ankle-biter boyfriend.
“Noooo!” Marco cried out, once Jean finally grabbed ahold of his legs. The tan haired boy yanked Marco’s limbs backwards, and at the same time Ymir dug her fingers into the pit of Marco’s kneecaps, causing all four of them to plummet down into the shallow stream.
“Fuck yes!” Reiner screamed, “Down with the man!”
Bertolt laughed, before he effortlessly pushed Reiner into the water too.
That move made Bertolt the only one out of the six of them to remain dry, but his victory didn’t last very long. Reiner jumped back out of the creek in a flash, just to latch onto his boyfriend’s legs and force him down into the chilly stream with the rest of them.
“C’mon man, we don’t have any towels!” Jean complained, shaking his head.
“We can just airdry, don’t be a baby!” Ymir splashed Jean, getting the creek water in his mouth. He spluttered and coughed on it for a few minutes, before rushing forward to chase the freckled girl.
“Get over here!”
After about an hour of swimming, Marco and Bertolt abandoned the creek to investigate the farthest edge of the woods, having swam all the way across the small body of water just to get there. Historia and Ymir lay on a rock on the opposite shore, cuddled together for warmth with their eyes closed as they let the sun’s beautiful rays dry them out.
The creek was a nice, private spot, and seemingly nobody else in Jinae East had tried to claim it yet. They had their own little slice of heaven. Maybe it wasn’t legal for them to be doing what they were doing, but he doubted anyone would really care enough to stop them.
Jean watched from the other side as his boyfriend picked through the sand, and every once and a while, he observed Marco hand Bertolt a shell, or a rock.
“So, Romeo, how’d things go with you and Marco last night?”
Reiner leaned into Jean’s space with a suggestive wink, distracting him once again. His head had been anywhere but in the moment all day, but he could hardly help it.
Jean grunted, shoving Reiner back a bit.
“Calm down man, I’ve been home for hardly twenty-four hours.”
“It just seems like you and him are… different from last year. You’re getting really comfortable with each other.” Reiner pointed out, leaning back against the massive rock they were drying out on. His palms created pretty water lines in the dehydrated stone.
“We just are comfortable with each other, it’s got nothing to do with sex.”
Jean picked at a leaf as they sat, peeling off the layers piece by piece. He continued to watch his boyfriend pick up shells, smiling at his wonder.
It was true. Something had changed between them, something good. But Reiner was dirty minded, and only equated that to one possible reason.
“Well sure, but I know you, Jean. And Bertolt knows him. I guess I just wonder if you’re stressing yourself out about sleeping with him.” He tried gently.
Jean coughed, shooting a glare back at Reiner.
“No, I’m just… I’m not rushing into anything. Can we talk about something else?”
His voice cracked.
That never happened anymore. Jean would have to unpack his plethora of issues another day, he couldn’t open a can of worms that big on fall break.
Reiner frowned, but he nodded. He followed Jean’s eye to where their boyfriends were starting to swim back across the stream, towards their rock.
“…How’s the documentary coming?” Reiner switched.
The change in topic made the air easier for Jean to breathe again, though he was still stressing about how that gift idea was going to play out.
“It’s barely anything right now, let alone a documentary. I’m going to have to do a lot of filming when I get back to Boston if I want to have anything salvageable.”
Jean huffed as he laid back against the rock, looking up at the leaves and the light above them.
“I’m still worried the film won’t be good enough for Marco.”
Reiner clicked his tongue, shaking Jean’s shoulder lightly.
“Don’t be so critical, man. Have you seen him? He loves everything you do, even if you think it’s little.”
Jean closed his eyes.
“You can say that all you want to, but I just… I don’t know. I’ve let my parents down my whole life, I’m just scared to let him down this time instead.”
Reiner looked like he was going to continue, but didn’t get the chance before Marco and Bertolt slapped heavily against the rock beside them, their wet clothes dripping moisture down to the gravel below them.
“Okay, so it wasn’t cold earlier, but it totally is now.” Marco shivered.
Without hesitation, Jean pulled his boyfriend closer to him, wrapping an arm over his shoulder. In the process, he re-hydrated his own clothes, but he didn’t care.
Marco was already starting to look warmer.
“I think we’re done with water for the day.” Jean chuckled, kissing Marco’s temple.
“I agree.” Bertolt muttered, rolling to the side to check his watch. He gasped, looking back at Reiner. “We have to meet my parents for dinner in thirty minutes!!”
Reiner shot up, collecting their things and mumbling to himself. In their hurry, the girls stirred and opened their eyes a few feet over, grumbling and tucking their messy hair behind their ears.
“Are we leaving already?” Ymir mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
“Bertolt and I are, yes.” Reiner offered the other four a solemn smile. “We’re gonna be late for dinner, but you all can stay without us!”
Historia frowned, rising to her feet to give the other two boys a hug.
“What a short day it’s been today. Well, I want to see you two again, at least once before Ymir and I have to go back to New York!”
Reiner saluted, placing a hand over his heart. “I promise.”
She smiled, smacking his ass as he sprinted forward.
Jean and Marco waved the other two off from their rock.
“I’ll see you later Marco, Jean can’t hog you the whole week.” Reiner laughed loudly, before he disappeared into the trees with Bertolt.
Marco glanced at Jean, pecking his lips gently.
“Little does he know, you so totally can hog me for the whole week.” He whispered.
Jean flushed.
“No, he most certainly cannot. Ymir and I want some time with the both of you! After this week is over, we won’t see either of you again until spring break.” Historia bent down over top of the boys, blocking the sun from hitting their faces.
She looked grumpy, and still a little groggy. The expression was silly on her.
“We still haven’t heard how good Jean is at engineering yet either, I wanna hear allll about MIT!” Ymir called out from behind Historia.
“Okay then,” Marco tipped his chin, “Why don’t you two come ‘round the barn at nine tomorrow? I’ll put you to work, Jean is already having to shoulder half the chores. I’m sure he’d appreciate the help.”
Marco quirked a brow at Historia, tapping her nose gently with his lazy pointer finger. The freckled boy appeared to be just as sleepy as she was, and Jean figured the swimming and the chores from earlier must’ve been a lot more activity than Marco bargained for.
Ymir leaned down beside Historia, a grin on her face. They were exactly parallel to the boys; their clothes were finally beginning to dry.
“I think we can manage a couple chores. I owe you and Alice, for all the times you came over to help my mom with the lawn.” Ymir answered.
Jean glanced to his left, where Marco lay smiling back up at the girls.
“It’s a deal!” He agreed.
Historia held out her hands for the boys to take. Once they each grasped a palm, she hoisted them up with a grunt.
“Now, take us home loverboys!”
Notes:
Hrrrg I love writing this group! Also writing flirty Jeanmarco is so fun, I imagine these two are constantly teasing and uplifting each other. Marco is just so sweet.
I'm also going to be releasing my newest work later this week, the title will be "The Hellboy and The Saint"
:3(Also, silly side note: Hunter College does have a women's softball team, and they're called the Hawks. I thought that was funny, since Ymir has the jaw titan and we all know what happens with Falco at the end of AOT... It wasn't intended, but it's pretty funny.)
If you want to see updates and sneak peaks, I have an instagram! @gildedlilybug
Chapter 8: Happy Pills
Summary:
Jean starts to experience the side effects of living life true to himself, after he spirals while searching for a part time job.
Notes:
TW: Mentions of sexual assault, suicide and drugs
CW: Vomit
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jean, for the second time in a row, woke to an empty bed with wrinkly sheets.
Jolting upright, the tan haired boy surveyed his surroundings and scratched at his hair. It was probably about seven or eight in the morning if he had to guess, the sunlight coming through the blinds still relatively dim compared to what it usually was. There was complete silence in the house, no snoring so it was safe to assume that at least half of the Bodt family was awake.
Marco's probably making breakfast again, don't freak.
He checked his watch. 8:53AM
That's right, the girls were coming over at nine that day. Farm chores with four hands means they'd be finishing up quick. That was a good thing, wasn’t it?
The faster that chores were completed, the sooner Jean would have to start looking for a part time.
He shivered. The task to find a job itself was already daunting, but add on the fact that he was struggling under the pressure of his engineering homework, and you get a schedule that doesn't allow for any time to relax. How could he hold a job, be a grade A student, a perfect son and an attentive boyfriend all at the same time?
Jean wanted to rip his hair out, but he relaxed into the sheets instead. Maybe Marco was actually planning to make him breakfast in bed, so it was best not to ruin the surprise.
Or maybe he was judging Jean for still being asleep five minutes before the girls arrived.
Jean grumbled, sliding out of the sheets with disdain. The latter was most likely true, he needed to get ready to pull his weight while he stayed at the house. Marco was doing all of the work by himself, and that wasn't fair when Jean was perfectly capable of assisting.
He yanked on whatever clothes he could find (something he didn't mind being filthy by the end of the day) and stumbled into his socks. While hopping on one foot, he heard the door open, and Marco poked his head in.
Jean managed to pull the sock up to his ankle, but he stopped to smile at Marco and rub his eye.
"Good morning, I'm sorry I overslept."
Marco grinned, opening the door up all the way so he could step in and hug his boyfriend. The guy was already dressed of course, Jean didn't understand how Marco had been the first one up yet he had made no sound as he did. How was that humanly possible? The pair had tangled themselves up in knots all night, how did he just unlatch himself without making any disturbance?
"It's no problem."
Marco leaned back so he could brush a lock of Jean's hair away from his eye. That grin just belonged on his face.
"You looked so peaceful. I was gonna let you sleep in, but I figured you'd be upset if you missed the girls."
Jean grunted.
"Damn right."
Marco ruffled his hair, and leaned over to fix the sheets as Jean checked his reflection in the wall mirror.
"I can't let you do all the chores here by yourself. You've got me for a week, you need to use me where you can." Jean finished, glancing over at Marco with a subtle smirk.
Marco chuckled, flirtatiously eyeing Jean from across the room.
"I intend to."
They stared at each other for a little while, and if they hadn't already made plans that morning, Jean would have pushed Marco back into the bed that very second. He wanted nothing more than to return to a deep state of relaxation with his boyfriend, and forget about all of his other responsibilities.
"The girls are waiting for us downstairs." Marco spoke finally. "I told them I was checking on you, they don't know you were asleep so they shouldn't tease you too much."
Jean leaned forward, standing on his tip toes to plant a peck on Marco's soft lips.
"That was sweet of you, but they'll tease me anyways. Thank you for trying." He chuckled.
Marco scrunched up his nose, and his lips curled at the corners to imitate a playful smile.
"You bet."
The freckled teen moved back to the bedroom door, but he stopped before crossing over the threshold.
"And Jean?"
"Yeah?"
"Brush your teeth." Marco winked, and disappeared.
"Marco, how in the ever loving fuck do you still have a sense of smell?"
Ymir plugged her nose as Marco rolled the heavy barn doors to the side. He shrugged at her in response, and approached a dairy cow to pat her hindquarters.
"You get used to it, kind of." He smiled.
Jean and Historia followed the other two into the barn, their muck boots sloshing in the brown puddles of straw that littered the floor. Historia did her best not to react, but Jean could see her eye twitching in disgust every so often.
"I can't imagine how." complained Ymir.
Marco unlocked the gate for them, leading the other three further back into the barn. He gestured to a subsection of supplies in the back corner, where buckets, soap and a hose were set up and ready for use.
"Okay, it's showtime ladies and gents. The mares need baths today, so we'll fill a few of these buckets with soap and water and wheel the hose out to the yard." Marco explained, piling up the soap dispensers into the rusty metal buckets. "Ymir if you'll help me grab the other bucket, and Jean can you take the hose with us?"
Marco's coffee colored eyes washed over Jean, and he smiled as he tasked Jean with the chore.
Jean nodded eagerly, and a tether yanked somewhere inside of his chest.
They were put to work, as they followed Marco back out into the yard. The Bodt family had ownership of four beautiful mares: Twilight, Midnight, Sunrise and Lune. Marco's father had chosen the names, and as such, each of the brilliant creatures held a piece of his memory within them.
Jean's favorite of the four was Lune. She was a creamy-blonde horse with silver eyes, and a patient temperament. In specific lighting, namely the light of the moon, her coat had a gorgeous silver shine to it. Marco would send Jean dozens videos of the horses while he away at MIT. The snaps made Jean feel like he was really there on the farm, and not a thousand miserable miles away.
Lune stared him down, face to face now. She was much prettier in person, though her pictures weren't half bad. Just like Jean remembered, she was a completely unbothered thing. She nosed her chin forward, greedily sniffing the palms of Jean's hands in search of treats.
"Hold your hand out flat, she isn't a biter per say but she has been known to confuse a finger for a snack." Marco reminded, scratching Lune's chin and under her neck. He watched Jean interact with the mare, and placed a treat in his palms for her to munch on.
Jean watched in amazement as the animal took the sugar cube from him, and crunched it up in her jaw.
"She likes you." Marco stated, kissing Jean's cheek.
Jean flushed, placing a hand flat against Lune's snout and stroking her soft hair.
There was a spray nozzle attachment in Marco's hands, and he left their side to affix it to the hose. Ymir turned the valve to the left, and the water pressure built up enough for Marco to use the shower setting.
"How's that?" She asked, and Marco pointed the hose at her in response. He squeezed out a quick spray of mist, just for her. "Agh, hey!"
"I'd say it's pretty good!" Marco replied smugly.
Historia laughed, pulling her hair out of her face. She then bent down to pick up a sponge, soaking it in the basin full of suds.
"Careful Marco, Bertolt and Reiner asked us out to lunch today, so keep my girlfriend dry will you?"
"How about you keep your girlfriend dry."
Jean teased, smirking when Historia shot him a look.
"Nasty!"
Ymir sighed, flicking off the droplets of moisture.
"He's right though, it really is you I have to worry about. You're a goddess amongst women, my love." She extended a poetic hand out to Historia, who turned a bright shade of red as she splashed a bit of soap in Ymir's direction.
"Hey!!!"
Jean stretched out his spine as he gazed upon la maison Bodt. He studied the warm tone of the shingles atop the roof, the cream colored paneling and the red brick foundation. He studied the back porch with its weathered wood and splintered boards, and he wished he could call this place home too.
His home was nothing like theirs. His was prim and proper, expensive. A mansion, with not a scratch on any of the walls or hair in the drains. A luxury home with an excessive amount of amenities, and eerily quiet hallways. To Jean, his own residence was more of a stage play than a home.
His parents acted as generals, and they ran their house like the navy. They demonstrated this behavior to the public, sure, but the treatment of their sons behind closed doors was especially ruthless. Whatever happened within those walls, nobody out there ever knew about it.
Jean's only saving grace when he used to live there were his 'gardening' habits, and Historia's mixtapes.
Which reminded Jean: his bong was still somewhere at home, tucked away in the depths of his closet. Maybe he even had a few papers, or other paraphernalia that could be of use.
Jean wanted to apologize properly to Sasha and Connie for his silence after the concert, so he decided that a trip back to his house would be necessary before the week was out to retrieve the items.
"Earth to Jean!" Ymir commanded, shoving a sponge into his hands.
Jean blinked at her, shaking his head.
"You okay?" Historia asked, her brows were furrowed.
"Yeah," Jean responded quick, squishing the sponge between his fingers. He watched as the soap ran down his arm, and grounded himself.
He had been lost in his thoughts again.
"I'm good, what'd you say?"
Ymir lathered Midnight in the soapy solution, and began to scrub her down.
"I said, I heard that Marco was going to visit you for Christmas, in Boston. Is this true?"
Jean smiled in the direction of his partner, who was off washing Twilight by the barn.
Twilight was slightly more reactive than the other three mares when it came to wash time, so Marco was the only one qualified for the job. He used the mist setting first, attempting to ease his favorite pet into the act of bathing. It seemed to be going well so far, though Midnight whinnied with a high pitch, indicating that she wasn't pleased.
"Yeah, he is. At least, he said he wants to." Jean confirmed.
Marco waved at them, then rest his hand against Twilight's ribs to steady her.
Ymir elbowed Jean, a teasing smirk on her lips.
"You and him, all alone up there huh?"
Jean's eyebrow twitched.
"Yeah, and you're implying?"
"I'm saying it's awesome for you two. To be alone... Alone in Boston, together."
Ymir winked.
So, was everyone suddenly a sex coach?
"Oh my god, I- you guys, Marco and I are going to spend Christmas together! That's a huge trauma anniversary for him, not to mention that our sex life none of your business!" Jean huffed, crossing his arms in defiance.
Why did everyone suddenly care if him and Marco were fucking?
Wow... Jean realized slowly. I haven't fucked Marco yet.
Was he a bad boyfriend? Did Marco actually want him to take his virginity? Was everyone only asking about it because Marco wasn't... happy?
"Jeez, we just wondered if you had any updates, but its okay if you need to take it slow."
Ymir placed a firm hand on Jean's shoulder, giving him a serious nod. "Marco loves you, Jean. He glows when he's around you, and you obviously feel the same way. We're happy to see you two happy."
Jean felt weird by the sudden change in emotional tone. Ymir wasn't usually that... sparing. She took any chance she could to tease Jean, or call him out.
"Y-yeah, thank you." Jean shrugged her hand off, and approached Lune to lather soap into her coarse fur.
Ymir stayed exactly where she was for a moment, Jean could feel her watching him from behind as he worked. The sun was beating down on them, and despite it being October, there was still an uncomfortable warmth lingering in the air. Or maybe that was just the shame creeping up Jean's back.
Historia had noticed his outburst. She gave Jean a look from across the way, where she was scrubbing Sunrise.
Jean grit his teeth, forcing his sight down to the ground. He was going to get through the chores without thinking about the concert, or Ymir acting weird, or the video, or sex.
Ugh.
Once noon arrived, the girls piled into Historia's sedan, having made plans to meet Bertolt and Reiner at a sandwich shop for lunch. Marco and Jean waved them off from the front porch as they rolled out of the driveway, and they honked the horn repetitively as they sped down the main road, disappearing into the trees.
Marco wrapped an arm around Jean's waist, leaning against him for support.
"That was nice of them to help." He hummed.
Jean nodded, tucking his own arm under Marco's and curling his fingers over the freckled boy's hip. They watched the dirt settle from the porch, and a momentary silence befell them as they enjoyed the warmth the embrace.
Jean hadn't forgotten what they had yet to do later that day, but he was being selfish, and he allowed himself to linger while being held for just a bit longer.
Everything felt just right.
Until Jean's stomach growled, interrupting the peace.
"I need to make some lunch, and then I need your help searching for a job." He groaned reluctantly.
Marco nodded, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's temple.
"Of course I'll help."
They moved inside. Jean made him and Marco each a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and they ate their slices together over the sink. Marco giggled the whole time, as crumbs fell into the drain and onto the counter.
"You’re making a mess!" He teased, and Jean shook his head, pointing a finger at the freckled boy.
"Liar, I think you're the mess maker."
They finished lunch shortly after, and of course they cleaned up their crumbs.
Mrs. Bodt and Gina had gone out for lunch, leaving the house empty and dark. There was an overwhelming opportunity before them, but Jean didn't know if he had what it took to reach out and take it.
Even though they would only be job searching, Jean felt this tension around Marco hanging the air. His head was starting to spiral, and well... Marco was sweet, and he was always insistent on Jean's comfort, but he was obviously wanting a little more lately. The problem was, Jean didn't know if he could actually... give it.
"So, what kind of jobs are you thinking about applying for?" Marco asked, powering up his laptop.
He pat the couch beside him, inviting Jean to sit next to him. Jean obediently slid onto the cushion beside him, their thighs touching.
"I don't really know what I'm going for, to be honest with you. Whatever place will take a part time student for like... ten hours a week, and evenings." He shrugged.
Marco pulled up the search engine on his desktop, and typed out indeed.
"We'll see what we can find, yeah?"
Jean exhaled slow.
"Yeah."
They spent about an hour or two submitting application after application, making a few phone calls, and cataloging parts of Boston where Jean could work. The coffee table rapidly became the space where all sticky notes and other papers accumulated, and soon enough, Marco had helped Jean apply for any position that would suit his requirements in Boston. They might've missed a straggler here or there, but Jean was beginning to develop a headache.
Who actually had the patience to sit for multiple hours, and just submit applications? Not to mention he wasn't even guaranteed to land one of the jobs he had applied for. The work he had put into finding a part time wasn't even close to the amount of dedication the job itself would demand, Jean didn't know if he had that in him. Assuming they give him the position in the first place.
There was a knot between Marco's eyebrows for the majority of the afternoon, and he said his peace when Jean would freak out. It'll be okay, he reassured, there will always be a jobs out there in the city. You'll find one soon.
It wasn't like Jean was annoyed that Marco was offering his consolation. In fact, it was quite the opposite, Marco was the only thing keeping him from diving off the deep end of his presumptions. But his head was splitting open at the thought that none of that effort would amount to anything, and he hated looking so pissy in front of his boyfriend.
"Ugh, why the fuck do I even bother? My parents aren't going to like any of these jobs anyways." He cursed, slamming down a paper application. "They'll say 'that one isn't a good look for you Jean', or 'That job is for degenerates'."
Jean pushed himself off of the couch with a frustrated sigh, pacing the carpet of the living room with his body cradled between his own arms. His head shook with potentials like a balloon filling air, threatening to pop at any time.
Marco watched him from the couch, a pitiful expression on his face.
"You're doing the best that you can Jean, your parents have to see that..." He tried.
"Bullshit, if this is the best I can do, than I'm fucked! It's not good enough."
Jean fisted his hair, yanking on the strands angrily to apply pressure to his brain.
"It is good enough Jean. You've done more work in two hours searching for a job than I’ve ever done in my entire life."
"My parents aren't going to care how long I spent searching for a job Marco, they want me to start paying them back for how much they spent on my MIT admissions, and last I checked that is a big bill!"
"Jean, breathe, it's gonna be okay." Marco rose to his feet, rushing to place a gentle hand under Jean's elbow. They took a slow, deep breath together. "We've only just sent in applications, you'll hear back from one of them soon."
Jean wanted to listen to Marco, to believe that he was right. But he knew his parents better than anyone did, for their true side. Their ugliest side.
"Marco, I don't know what I'm going to do." He mumbled.
And he meant it in multiple ways.
"We'll figure it out. I will help you." Marco offered a smile, and pressed a kiss to Jean's forehead.
But Jean pulled out of the embrace. He walked to the edge of the living room, facing away from his boyfriend. Jean gripped a hand over his soiled shirt, where his heart was threatening to rip out of his chest.
"I just... I think I need to be alone for a little bit."
Marco was silent.
Jean wished he would say something, say anything. He felt as though he had just slapped his boyfriend's beautiful freckled face with the request. Jean didn't know what else to do, he was going to explode soon and he didn't want Marco to see it happen.
Eventually, Marco tipped his head, and opted to hug himself just like Jean had.
"Okay... Do you want to use my room?"
"No... I need to grab something from home."
"...Home?"
Jean turned to look at him, his eyes betraying his displeasure.
"Yeah. My home."
Marco's eyes flashed with uncertainty. His eyebrows knit together again.
"Why?"
Jean brushed past Marco, into the hallway to grab his shoes. He began lacing up his chucks, eyes trained on the floor so he wouldn't have to look into Marco's. Jean’s heart was squeezing painfully in his chest.
"I stashed a few things at home before I left for school. Don't worry, my parents and brother aren't in Georgia right now."
Marco leaned against the wooden doorframe that lead into the lounge room. Everything about his body language had become defensive, and guarded. Like he knew there was something Jean wasn't telling him.
"Okay. But you are... coming back, right?"
Jean paused knotting his shoes, and allowed himself to look at Marco's face.
His boyfriend was afraid. Sad. Confused. Upset. Disappointed.
Rightfully so, Jean hadn't exactly handled that well. But he didn't know what to do, there was too much shit bouncing around in his head. His social battery had just died at an inconvenient time.
It wasn't because of Marco. Nothing Marco could say or do would make Jean want to leave him, especially in that way. But he just needed some time to collect himself, and the best way to do that was to go where no one could see him unravel.
"Of course I'm coming back." Jean soothed from the bottom step.
He moved down, and leaned forward slowly into his partner's space, waiting for permission. Marco flinched, but he didn't refuse Jean.
Jean closed his eyes as his lips grazed against Marco's, begging for temporary forgiveness without the use of vocabulary. He lingered against his lover's lips, and his eyelashes flitted back open sadly to see Marco was tearing up a little. As they drew back, Jean could taste the jelly on Marco's breath.
"I love you. I'm sorry."
Marco looked down at Jean's lips, then up again at his eyes. He nodded once, after he had spent a great deal of time not saying anything. "Just... be safe. You can talk to me about anything, you know?."
Jean rubbed a hand against Marco's chest, right over his heart. It was beating just as hard as his own.
"I'll be back this evening." He promised.
And with that, he grabbed his jacket and keys, and left the safety of la maison Bodt.
Everything about turning on to Bluette Drive felt like a mistake.
Jean gripped the wheel as he entered the gated community, and a chill crept up the base of his spine as he turned onto the driveway. He used the gate clicker to open the fence, and he rolled past the main wall with hesitation. The whole gate thing was an extra measure of security Jean found to be a bit inconvenient, but it was his parent’s money, not his.
Jean parked the BWM in the stark white driveway of the home. Slamming the door angrily behind him, he stared up at the property, and felt the color drain away from his face.
This was the house he had spent a majority of his life living in. The building itself was in pristine condition, and the walls loomed over Jean like a prison warden. The marble white steps leading up to the grandiose black door gave it the illusion of purity, and the blinding white bricks with black barred windows only added to the feeling of being trapped once inside. He noticed the stupidly complicated shrub art that his mom insisted that they keep maintained, and the perfectly cut and colored lawn. And, of course, The lack of cars around or any sign of life inside.
Jean gave himself a pep talk as he bounded up the steps, keying the lock on the massive door. He swung it wide, and he eyed the security camera with unease as he let himself in. He doubted his parents were actively watching the cameras, but the thought that they could be still had him on edge.
The boringly minimalist interior reminded Jean to remove his shoes at the front door, so he wouldn't make a mess for his parents housekeepers to clean. He padded his way up the stairs, and crept into his room, locking the door behind himself.
With a deep breath, he dropped off his bag, and forced himself to turn around.
Jean's bed rested in the corner, topped with a fresh set of perfectly wrinkle-free sheets. His nightstand harbored a lamp and his eyewear case, but other than that there wasn't a speck of dirt, or a mug shaped stain to be seen. The red carpet stood out against the light wood paneling of the floor, and the only other furniture Jean owned stood out in the emptiness: a dresser and a writer’s desk.
The massive window on the opposite end of the room had a magnificent view of the backyard, where the giant pool the patio could be seen. He leaned against the wall to peer out of the glass, and his focus angled down to where his mother's swing swayed faintly in the breeze.
It was all coming back a little too fast. He felt the acid in stomach bubbling, and grew ill.
"Shit."
Jean thought he might puke. And he did exactly that, he almost didn’t have enough time to grab the trashcan by his desk before his lunch came back up.
He retched for maybe a minute, sweating through his shirt in the exchange. His face became a brilliant shade of red from the lack of oxygen, and the exhaustion from the act made him want to curl up on the floor and pass out. But he couldn't allow himself to throw up any more, so he wiped his mouth and quickly bagged the waste.
Housekeeping didn't deserve a horrific surprise later.
The strength it had taken to vomit rendered him incredibly lightheaded, so he dipped and swayed as he cleaned the sick. But once another minute or two had passed, he had regained his balance enough to walk straight.
Jean massaged his temples, staring into the mirror of his mother's master bathroom. He glanced around at all her possessions, her beauty supplies that sat neatly in a basket on the marble sink top. He noticed her makeup kits in the crystal organizer, the cotton balls and other grooming supplies in a caddy next to the shower. His mother was organizer savvy, and everything she owned had to not only make her look pretty, but it also had to be pretty.
He had to hand it to her, she had everything catalogued to a level he couldn't possibly compete with, in any aspect of his life.
Jean's fingers curled around the vanity mirror, and he popped open the door to search for a bottle of pain killers. He was ready to pass out, and the pain from his headache was beginning to feel like daggers against his brain matter. He still had to go back to Marco's at the end of the day, but without a sedative, he didn't know if he was even going to make it back at all.
Searching the shelves, his eyes landed on one of the many medication bottles inside. The container was translucent orange, and had his mother's full name prescribed on the bottle: Joanne F. Kirstein.
His mother’s Xanax dosage.
Judging by the date on the bottle, she hadn't been taking them in a while. The prescription was almost a year old, and the bottle was still mostly full of white brick pills.
Jean leaned back, and breathed deeply for a second. He debated the pros and cons of what he was about to do.
Pros:
Panic attacks won't be so frequent
I won't be an angry piece of shit all the time
I can keep myself together
Cons:
Mom might notice
I've never taken prescription pills before
Marco would hate me if he ever found out
Jean swallowed thickly. He braced himself against the sink, shivering now that his sweat had cooled him down. The same annoying headache was still raging on, making it terribly hard to think of what side he would commit to. He had stolen loads of shit from his parents in the past, but nothing that risky.
His hesitation only lasted a moment, before he made his choice.
Jean snatched the bottle, twisting the cap frantically and popping a pill into his palm.
He stared at the pill for a while, and read the letters carved into the tablet. He turned it over in his hand with his thumb, and he licked his lips.
Jean didn't have to tell anyone about what he was doing, he could just take the bottle with him to Boston, to get through his first semester of MIT. It wasn't like he could restock it or anything, and he doubted his mother would actually notice this bottle missing amongst the other bottles that lined the shelves of the vanity.
But it was the morality of the situation that made him hesitate, again.
What would Marco think? This is bordering that old feeling again.
He hoped that maybe Marco would forgive him later. If not, he'd understand that too.
The pill hit the back of his throat, painfully scraping the sides of his esophagus on it's way down. Jean leaned forward, turning on the faucet to gulp water straight from the sink. He held his hair back and closed his eyes, trying to let the sound of the dripping water drown out all the other sounds.
This is only going to solve your problems for a month or two. You have got to find that video, or things aren't going to end well for you.
Jean's eyes flew open, and he turned off the sink to rush back into his room. The Xanax bottle weighed heavily in his pocket, the guilt of the situation dragged him down. Add that to the long list of other things he had to worry about, which just seemed to grow day by day. Surely drugs were the least of his worries.
Seating himself on the carpeted floor of his bedroom, Jean scrolled through social media again, trying desperately to find evidence of the video of him and Marco. He hoped maybe Reiner had an update for him, or an explanation as to why this was happening to him of all people.
But there was still no update, and no source.
Who knew, maybe Floch was still somewhere in Georgia. Maybe he was attending a local college, and was pedaling the footage around to his new lackeys like he had something to prove. It wouldn't surprise Jean. That was exactly how he had acted in high school, and people like Floch never really grow up. But what he didn't understand was how the video was having such a massive effect that it was reaching other states.
How had someone seen it, all the way in Boston?
Jean felt goosebumps break out over his arms, and he choked back a sob. He felt the hot menthol-scented breath of the stranger, breathing down against the skin of his neck, pinning him against the wall and rubbing up against him as if Jean was just a toy to satisfy himself with.
Jean curled up in a ball on the floor of his bedroom, and he let go of his phone to grip his knees.
He still had to talk to Marco. His boyfriend was clearly expecting more, and Jean was having a hard time reciprocating without the reality of the assault ripping into him.
Jean was frightened, and sickened.
Tears traveled over the bridge of his nose, sliding down his narrow cheeks as they fell to the carpet below. He took shallow, rugged breaths.
This was no outburst like he had back in Boston. There was no screaming, no slamming shit, no punching the floor. There was just silence, and numbness. There was the absence of feeling at all. There was only the wish to end his suffering, but he possessed neither the will nor the way without causing a few additional casualties.
Things were so much easier when the only person he really knew was Historia.
Jean glanced down at his phone again, taking a shaky breath. He reached out for the device with trembling fingers, and pressed the power button to check the time.
3:36PM.
Hopefully the girls were finished with their lunch date, because Jean could only think of one person who might be able to help him.
He clicked on Historia's contact in his phone, and called the number frantically. He put the conversation on speaker, and allowed his head to rest back against the floorboards with a whimper.
Jean’s breathing had become irregular, and there was something off about his vision. It wasn't exactly blurred, but sharpened in a way.
He felt weird.
"Hey Jean, you miss us already don't you?"
It was Ymir who had picked up.
"Y-ymir, where's Historia?" Jean begged, voice wavering pathetically.
"She's right here, are you ok?"
He didn't answer her question. He tried to swallow, but his throat was blocked by a thick wall. If he spoke, he was going to break.
There was a whisper on the other line.
"Hey Jean, what's going on hun?" It was Historia, her voice quiet.
"Can you talk?" He whined.
"Oh hun, of course, talk to me."
Jean began to spill. His hands found his face, wiping back the tears as they poured generously from his eyes. His body rocked with shockwaves, and his chest exploded as he thought about where to begin.
"I think my parents are going to find out about Marco soon."
"Why do you assume that baby?"
He was hyperventilating.
“Because that video going around again. The one from Spring, at Eren's after party."
Historia whispered something again, and Jean heard a door shut.
"How do you know that? Did you see it online somewhere?"
This was it. He had to tell somebody about the concert, lest everyone think that Jean was just some emotionless asshole. He clenched his fist, the rubber band effect on his body returning.
"Historia... Last week, I-" Jean started, but the words were hard to form. He didn't want to say it, the acts were horrible just to think about.
"Jean, what's going on? You're scaring me."
He swallowed down the wall.
"Last week, I got assaulted."
…
"...please tell me that you're okay right now."
"No, not really."
And it was true. Jean hadn’t felt okay that whole week, he just pretended he did. But what can you do when there’s nothing you can do?
"What do you need me to do for you? Did you already report this to the police? Because if you didn't, I'm going to."
"No, Historia. No. I can't do that."
"But-... this is serious Jean, why not?"
Jean tapped a knuckle to his teeth, sucking in a deep breath.
"Because he recognized me. He knew it was me in the video, and he... he just tried to take advantage of me in an alley behind the bar. He didn't go too far, before I stopped him."
Jean trembled. He wished he had brought a knife with him that night, so he could have ensured that nobody else would be at the stranger’s mercy sometime in the future.
He couldn't stand bullies.
"Whoever did this to you can't be allowed to get away with it. Jean... I'm so sorry. can I please help you file a report?"
"I can't report him, you don't understand!” Jean moaned. “I put a cigarette out on his goddamn face! He'd just report me right back."
Jean thought he was going to die in his room, thinking about everything all over again.
"If I report him, or he sues me, my parents would see the video."
Jean couldn't breathe. his lungs were squeezing harshly in his ribcage, strangling him.
"Holy shit... Do you need me to come over? Give me twenty minutes, Ymir and I were taking a shower but I can get there-"
"No, I just needed to talk to someone about this. I... I haven't told Marco yet."
There was no telling how Marco would react. It never seemed like the right time to tell him, and Jean felt even worse that Marco was having his sexual advances denied without a clear reason why.
"Oh..."
"I think I fucked up, too. He was just trying to calm me down, and I snapped off at him. I said I needed to be alone, that I had to go home for a bit."
Shit. Marco must be upset... It was going to be an awkward night.
"Hey, Marco would never be mad at you for that, if he knew why. This is a lot for a person to go through, and he has an experience of his own that took him ages to recover from too, did he not?"
Marco had never been assaulted in the same way Jean had, but Floch definitely put Marco through hell for years. He was damaged, both physically and emotionally.
Jean had known Marco for years, and he didn't even get the whole story about his accident until just last year.
"I guess...."
"He will understand. I'm just sorry for how we acted today, Jean. I'm always here for you, and no matter what, I'm on your side."
It meant a lot to hear her say that.
"Thank you. It's not your fault. I just... I don't know how to tell him. I'm afraid he'll be upset that I kept this from him anyway.”
Jean balled his fists. He was a terrible fucking boyfriend, they'd hardly been dating for half a year and he was already lying to Marco.
"He wont see this as you keeping anything from him, Jean. It's hard to talk about the things that make us uncomfortable."
"Yeah..." Jean trailed off. "Anyways, I'm sorry that I interrupted your shower. I'll be okay, I just needed to, you know... tell someone."
"Please don't be sorry. You did the right thing, okay? You can always call me, when you need someone to talk to. When you need to feel. Until you know how to tell Marco, I'll listen." She said.
Jean could tell she wasn't finished.
"But... do find a way to tell him, in your own time Jean. You're strong.. This experience doesn't change who you are, don't let it take any more away from you. Marco deserves to know how he might be making you feel, and he'll want to respect and nurture you."
Jean took a deep breath, lying still against the carpet.
It was a lot easier said than done.
"Okay." He answered.
"I'll be seeing you tomorrow, right?"
Jean felt the fear rising in his chest again.
"Please don't tell Marco about this yet. Or Ymir."
"I won't Jean, it's for you to tell them. As much as I want you to get justice, your safety is more important right now." She reassured.
Jean sighed in relief.
"Thank you... yes, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Listen, I still think you should report this guy. Screw your parents, no offense. I know why you don't want to tell them about Marco, but... don't rule it out."
Jean's eye twitched.
"I've got to go. Marco's worried about me."
"Alright. Remember, I'm right here when you need me. I love you bro."
"Love you too."
Jean pressed end call.
He smoothed his hair back while taking shaky breaths, sitting upright in attempt to compose himself. He had made no mess in his room, it was as if he had never been home at all.
Perfect, he didn't want to bother explaining to his parents why he had been home without them. They didn't even know he was in Georgia for break, let alone staying with his secret boyfriend after their sudden change of plans.
Jean wiped his tears back with the heel of his palm, and sniffed away any remaining sorrow from his pity party. There was still the main reason for his visit at hand.
The closet door swung open with ease, and Jean bent forward to shovel through piles and piles of his things that he had kept hidden from his parents over the years. There were gifts from Bertolt and Reiner, photographs of his friends on their various bucket list adventures, and anything else he didn't want his father finding. He felt a twinge in his heart, seeing all of it hidden away in the closet.
Jean found what he was looking for once he hit the back wall. He grasped the stash bag by the corner and yanked it out from the back, followed the glassware that lay beside it. Surprisingly enough, the bong was still in one piece, despite being stored haphazardly amongst a bunch of other shit.
"Gotcha," He whispered, shoving the items into his bag. He didn't want to be in that house any more, it was time to leave.
Giving his room a once over, Jean concluded that it was situated exactly as he had found it, and he leapt down the stairs.
Jean was not looking forward to telling Marco about Kinky Slinky, in fact he wished he never had to talk about the ordeal ever again. But Historia was right, if he didn't want to tip over and lose his ability to feel, he would eventually have to tell Marco about his experience at the bar.
Locking the door behind him, Jean considered his options. There were a few conflicts he could resolve first that came to mind, especially there in Georgia.
That's when the idea hit him. Marco deserves to know about the other sides of my life first.
There was only one person in Jinae East who knew Jean's alter ego personally.
Popping down into the BMW, Jean pulled out his phone, and dialed up another number as the engine rumbled to life. The phone rang seven times, before the bastard finally answered his phone.
"Kirstein, the fuck you calling me for?"
Jean grinned.
"Hey Jaeger, how do you feel about a trip to Cherry street tomorrow? We're due for a rematch."
Notes:
This chapter was hard for me to write, but it is extremely necessary for Jean to acknowledge the bad in his life to find the good. Also, more background about his parents! Hold out till the end y'all, my boy wont suffer the whole time!
I hope you're excited for the next chapter as well, we get a little racing action ;)
Chapter 9: Ready, Set, GO!
Summary:
Jean challenges Eren to a long awaited rematch.
Notes:
Hey everyone! I'm so sorry for how long this took to write, once again. I experienced a really bad depressive episode this week, it was totally hard to find motivation to take care of myself or get up to do anything other than work. Not to mention, when I first attempted to write this chapter, I lost over an hour and a half of work due to a glitch!
It was really challenging to move past that issue and continue the chapter after I had lost so much, but somehow she prevailed! I'm doing better this week too, and I'm really excited to continue my other work too.
Without further adieu, Please enjoy chapter 9.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
There was still a lot about Jean that Marco didn't know.
Throughout most of middle and high school, Marco had only known the bear basics about the angry kid with two-toned hair. There was just enough information for him to develop an intense crush, but he was always too afraid to pry for more, even well after they had become friends.
Not to mention, most of what he had learned about Jean was through Ymir and Historia's word of mouth, who weren’t the most credible of sources at the time. Marco had hardly ever seen Jean outside of school back then, due to his impossibly busy schedule and strict parents. So, could he even say that he knew Jean at all?
At the present moment, there was no excuse for being uneducated on Jean’s background. They were boyfriends, and Marco still knew next to nothing real about Jean.
He knew nothing about Jean's private tutor or his personal trainer, he knew nothing about the Kirstein family aside from their constant mistreatment of their sons, and the kill-sport behavior his brother. Worst of all, Marco knew next to nothing about France, where Jean was freakin' born.
What kind of boyfriend was he?
With disappointment, Marco came to the realization that he might actually have to pry into Jean’s past, just to glimpse at his lover's brilliant self.
He felt incredibly guilty for not trying to offer his ear to Jean, before last year. He wanted to listen to Jean tell his stories, to know what he was actually interested in, to understand what makes him feel excited and wills him to live.
He was tired of hearing what Mr. Kirstein, the Kirstein head of house, had planned for Jean’s future.
But Marco had desperately hoped that Jean would be the first one to volunteer his secrets. The last thing he wanted to do was interrogate Jean on his past, or to make him uncomfortable in any way.
Questions regarding that time of Jean’s life often had that effect.
Jean built this façade, this tailored image of himself to keep people from getting too close. He thought that he held it up well, that nobody could see through his struggle.
But Marco knew the truth, he knew how beautiful Jean looked under the covers. He saw Jean refracted in all the colors of the rainbow; He was a prism of surprises, and Cherry street was just another beam of light, shining on the most interesting parts of his personality.
Marco felt his heart begin to swell, realizing another thing: He wanted Jean to know the ugliest parts of himself. They both deserved each other at their best, and at their worst.
Speaking of racing, Jean then revved the engine, and the wind whistled through the arch of Marco's helmet as they neared the meetup location.
Unfortunately, back in his reality, something had been off with Jean for the past few days. Marco hadn't fully picked up on it until just yesterday, when Jean left after their... interaction at lunch, for lack of a better word.
As the freckled boy eyed the infamous Cherry street, the gears turned meticulously in his head.
Why did Jean seem like he was hiding something?
Earlier that week, Jean had acted differently while they showered, seeming almost... afraid of Marco for a moment. And after what happened yesterday after chores, Jean had disappeared for nearly four whole hours. He had come back right before his mother served dinner, looking utterly miserable and sick.
He had apologized for his behavior, said he felt awful for the way he left. But he still didn't offer to tell Marco what all of the commotion was about.
Instead, Jean had promised to explain himself soon, saying he needed just one more day.
We will talk about it, but first I want to show you what Jaeger and I used to do.
If you'll trust me, I promise it's relevant.
Marco did trust him.
Jean had to this his own way, at his own pace.
Okay.
I trust you.
"...We're here."
Jean killed the switch, undoing the strap on his helmet. The stop provoked Marco to take in the environment.
He had never been to Cherry street before, despite living in Jinae East for his whole life. It was just another nearly-abandoned road on the west side of town, similar to the one his own family lived off of, but this strip of pavement stretched on as far as the eye could see. There were no bends or twists to obscure the track, and no occupied houses to be seen.
It was awfully quiet for 5pm on a Thursday, but then again, Jinae East was always quiet.
Out on the open road, there were several cracks and holes in the pavement, the paint fading in the blistering sunlight. There were tire skid-marks streaked into the asphalt, probably as a result of Jean and Eren's previous races.
Goosebumps broke out all over Marco's skin, as he imagined the trouble he was getting himself into.
"So... what's it like, to race? Like, how fast can you go?" He asked, leaning back against the stilled seat of the bike.
Jean hopped off, extending a hand to help Marco do the same. He smirked as the freckled boy's warm skin brushed against his own, locking their fingers together once Marco found his footing.
"The fastest I've ever gone is about… one twenty-three. But there is no way Jaeger and I will be attempting that here, we max out at one hundred on this road."
Marco's jaw dropped.
He had never gone above eighty in his whole life, and even that speed was pushing the limits of his comfort zone.
Jean must've noticed his shock, because he simply laughed and kissed the skin of his boyfriend's knuckle.
"You won't be on the bike while I'm going that fast. It's quite dangerous mon amor, I wouldn't risk your safety like that." Jean whispered the words warmly against his freckled skin.
Marco flushed, watching Jean give his hand the special attention. It felt amazing to be pampered of course, but there was still lingering fear about what Jean could be hiding behind the gesture.
Marco allowed himself to enjoy it anyway. Jean was trying his best, after all.
"Okay. Great." He concurred, grinning.
As Jean explained the length of the track to Marco, the others slowly began to show up.
First came Bertolt and Reiner, looking cute and sporty in their respective styles.
Bert wore his square frame glasses and had an orange and red autumnal-themed sweater on, while Reiner on the other hand, sported a plain black tee and gym shorts. The guy was also trying desperately to pull off a pair bright blue flip-flops, but they stood out like a sore thumb.
Marco snorted, pointing to the footwear.
“Nice kicks.”
Reiner rolled his eyes, smacking Marco’s shoulder. “You’re jealous, it’s fine! Say it with your chest ma boy!”
Shortly after the boys joined their side, the girls did too.
The sapphics wore outfits similar to the ones from yesterday, though instead of the sundress, Historia donned a skirt with built in shorts for the race. She looked cute, even perhaps a little sporty herself.
Marco was about to greet her with his usually cheerful grin, until he noticed a strange difference in the atmosphere.
Jean made eye contact with Historia, and something... knowing reflected behind their irises.
Something serious.
Marco wasn't stupid. He assumed whatever the look meant, it was most likely in regards to the four hours that had been lost to Marco yesterday.
It made the freckled boy feel a little bit sick.
What had happened to make Jean look so paranoid? Did it have something to do with his family?
Please please please don't let it be about moving back to France. Marco couldn't handle Jean moving back, after all of things they had done together. What they still had yet to discover about each other.
He had been pretty confident that the Kirstein’s would never be moving back to their home country, but now he wasn't so sure.
Marco didn't have the money to follow Jean all the way to France, and there was no way that the Kirstein’s were going to pay for a plane fair, just so their son could go visit his secret boyfriend.
But why would Jean's parents force him to move back home, in the middle of his first year at MIT? Why would they waste their money like that?
The option didn't make any sense, but regardless, Marco didn't take it for granted.
"So, when were you going to tell us you raced, bitch?" Ymir snapped her fingers at Jean, who flinched away from her hand but ultimately smirked at her.
"You have eyes, anyone with a bike has probably raced at least once in their life. That’s like… part of the appeal."
Jean lightly brushed his fingers along the handlebar of the bike, inspecting the black paint on the chassis for scratches.
Meanwhile, Marco's freckled soul-sister had her arms crossed, her hip popped with a sassy sneer.
"Oh shut up, we get it! You're so cool Jean, sooooo cool." She rolled her eyes, provoking a snicker from Reiner.
Jean coughed gently.
"I don't think you get to be the flag girl anymore. Not with that attitude, anyway." He crossed his own arms, mirroring her attitude in his leather biking jacket.
God, he looked so sexy in black. He was right to pick the shade last year, when Marco asked him what singular color he would choose to wear for the rest of his life.
Ymir then gasped in surprise, clutching her chest.
"You mean I get to start the fuckin’ race??"
Jean shrugged, pursing his lips.
"Well I don't know anymore. I think you should have to take back what you said first."
"I take it all back!! Lemme hold that flag-"
Ymir climbed on top of Jean, and they stumbled their way over to the ditch, where they toppled into the grass as they wrestled.
Historia was on Marco's right, watching the tousle from the sidelines. Her arms were crossed too, but in a tenser way. Her eyes were focused intently on Jean, her state of concern worsening with his every move.
Marco was starting to wonder how serious the issue was.
"Hey... is everything okay, with him? With Jean, I mean."
Marco turned to face the blonde, scratching his own arm anxiously as he nodded to where their partners wrestled.
Maybe Jean was upset over something he said earlier that week, but he didn’t know how to tell. Jean had never acted this way around him before.
Historia looked up at Marco, her expression failing to yield an answer.
"...Jean is just going through a lot right now, but you know him. He always acts tough with his emotions, like he doesn't want to burden us." She started carefully, her arms winding tighter around her own torso.
Bertolt and Reiner had now joined in on the wrestling pile, and they had changed to tickling each other to intensify the stakes.
Historia cut through their giggles. "Just, be patient with him, okay? He'll tell you how he feels soon, I have a feeling that this race is part of him trying to talk you the only way he knows how. Rest assured, the issue is not about you."
She finished with a small smile, leaving Marco’s side to pull Ymir up and out of the grass. Historia cleaned her girlfriend off, ensuring that the brunette wasn’t completely covered in mud.
Somehow, Historia’s words didn't exactly make Marco feel better. There was still something wrong overall with Jean, there was an issue. And Jean didn't want to talk about it yet.
Did I... make him feel like he couldn't talk to me about his problems? Did I make him feel uncomfortable somehow?
Marco didn't have much time to contemplate the questions, because soon enough, the sound of another loud engine spluttering had come from behind.
Eren and Mikasa arrived in style, on the back of Eren’s flashy electric-blue racing bike. The shape of it was very similar to Jean’s, but his was customized to the nines, with too many bells and whistles for Marco to count.
His license plate said JGR-8MB.
Eren popped his helmet off, shaking out his shaggy and disheveled hair. The tanned guy smirked at Jean as Mikasa went next, removing her own helmet to reveal she had changed up her look completely. The new length of her jet-black hair rested just above her chin, shorter than Marco had ever seen it before.
The style suited her well, making it easier to see her choice of earrings: two copper daggers.
“Are you ready to rumble, Kirstein?” Eren teased, crossing his arms over his handlebar smugly.
Jean scoffed, looking to Marco in disbelief.
Did you just hear this dude?
“Come on man, that’s a wrestling line. But yeah, I’m ready to embarrass you in front of our live audience.” Jean answered, splaying his arm out to reveal his group of friends.
He stuck a teasing tongue out at Eren, flashing the silver ball of his piercing in process.
Marco loved that piercing the most. It was really fun to play with when they made out, and just added to his boyfriend’s level of attractiveness overall. The mere sight of it had Marco’s stomach performing little summersaults.
Mikasa hopped off of Eren’s bike, tucking her helmet under the sleeve of her hoodie as she approached Marco’s side. She pulled the muscular guy into a tight hug, to which he obliged and returned the favor with genuine delight. He didn’t know Mikasa all that well, but their bond had strengthened a bit over senior year.
“Hi.” She whispered into his shoulder.
Marco chuckled. “Hi.”
They pulled back, and Mikasa brushed something invisible off of Marco’s shirt.
“Have you ever seen this place before?” She asked, glancing around suspiciously.
Marco crossed his arms. He watched his boyfriend work, adjusting his bike with his ass popped out. He was still bickering with Eren over something stupid.
“Nope.” Marco licked his lips.
“Me neither. I learn something new about Eren every day, I swear.”
Marco followed Mikasa’s eyes, to tear himself away from his objectifying thoughts. She was watching her own boyfriend just as intently as he was, her lip curled upwards.
They both shrugged at each other when neither of their boys noticed their ogling, and decided to join the others where they huddled around the bikes.
While everyone mingled, Ymir broke away to bounce in front of Jean.
“Can I have that flag now?” She asked, her hands tucked politely behind her back.
Jean gave her an annoyed expression, pausing his prep work to look her up and down.
“Can you be patient? We’re still setting up, you don’t actually need it right now.”
She furrowed her brows, giving him an angry look.
“Yes I do Jean! Are you, a man, telling a woman what she needs?”
They challenged each other to a staring contest briefly, before Jean huffed and drew the hand-size flagpole from his leg pocket dejectedly.
“Here.” He sighed in defeat.
Ymir yelled out, raising the checkered flag high into the air. She proceeded to run circles around the boys with it, whooping and cheering the whole way ‘round.
“It’s just like the fuckin movies!! Look babe!” She exclaimed, showing off her new toy.
Historia laughed at her girlfriend’s excitement, swinging around Marco’s torso to give Mikasa a hug of her own.
In the midst of it all, Eren laced his hands into a pair of grip gloves, glancing up at the large group.
“Okay Jean and co, move up the street a ways and sit off to the side. Everyone except for Ymir that is. Let’s get this show started!”
He shouted out the instructions for everyone to hear, pulling the helmet back down over his wild brown hair and concealing the mess altogether.
And so they went.
Marco, Mikasa, Historia, Bertolt and Reiner hauled their folding chairs to a tree about thirty yards out, setting up camp a couple feet away from the road. They wanted to be close enough to feel the wind pass through their leg hairs, but not close enough to get themselves caught up in the bike tread.
“Who do you think is going to win?” Reiner speculated, his grin was awfully cheeky as he set a blanket down for him and Bertolt.
The blonde curled himself up as best he could between Bertolt’s lanky arms, leaning back against his boyfriend’s chest. Bertolt shrugged at the question, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek, causing Reiner’s smile broaden.
“I have no clue. Hey, Mikasa, have you seen the two of them race before?” Bertolt asked.
Mikasa decided once again to stand beside Marco, where he had placed himself as close to the road as he dared.
Marco wanted to watch his boyfriend go flying past. He wanted to scream out for Jean to win, to show him that he was always on his side no matter what.
She shook her head. “Eren only admitted this racing habit to me just the other day, while we were playing chess. I knew he had a bike, I’ve been on the back of it before obviously but not like this.”
She shrugged, offering the taller boy a meek smile.
Marco chuckled at the thought, nodding his head.
“Well, I guess this will be a surprise for everyone.”
“My money’s on Eren!” Reiner laughed, clutching his stomach as he did.
Marco scoffed, turning around to shake his head at the blonde.
“In your dreams! No offense Mikasa, but I can personally attest to Jean’s speed. I think he’s going to win.” He grinned, balling a competitive fist.
Mikasa held up her hands, but she was smiling too.
“Mmhmm, sure he is.”
Historia chuckled, pointing at Marco.
“I think your biased!” She explained. “But I agree with you. Jean is fast, Mikasa you have no idea.”
Everyone began to place their bets on who they thought would win, with the general group being split right down the middle on their votes.
Before they could discuss the outcome of the race any further, Ymir was suddenly yelling off in the distance, getting everyone’s attention in a snap.
"Okay boys, on your marks!"
She clasped the little checkered flag between her narrow fingers and strut out onto Cherry street, smirking at both Eren and Jean with excitement as she did.
Eren revved his engine once or twice in response, the exhaust popping every single time his wrist thrust the gear forward.
Jean casually adjusted his helmet and gloves, and he winked at Marco before he flipped the black visor down over his eyes.
Marco’s cheeks flushed. He watched his boyfriend tense up, and he crossed his fingers behind his thigh.
Ymir’s grip around the flagpole tightened. "Get ready...."
Everyone fully leaned forward with their breaths held, and all other noises but the engines were suddenly irrelevant.
Ymir raised the flag high into the cloudy sky, the patterned fabric waving angrily in the wind.
“………”
“GO!”
Marco’s heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his whole body shook as he watched white smoke billowing behind Jean and Eren’s tires. The wheels squealed and rotated quickly, propelling the boys forward with instantaneous speed.
Bertolt whooped and hollered, while Reiner used his pinkies to form a whistle loud enough to break the sound barrier.
“That’s what I’m talking about!!”
Soon enough, the bikes were hastily approaching the passing line, where the rest of them were observing the race.
“GO JEAN!!! FUCK HIM UP!” Marco yelled suddenly, balling both of his hands into fists and throwing them into the air as Jean whipped past.
He felt four pairs of eyes on the back of his head, a product of his loud outburst, but he didn’t care. Jean was counting on him to be a cheerleader, and so a cheerleader he would be.
The bike made a vvvvVVVRRRRRMMmmm sound as it crossed right in front of the freckled teen, and the overwhelming smell of gasoline filled his nostrils as Marco watched Jean completely overtake Eren.
Yes!!!
Marco tangled his hands into his hair in amazement, laughing out loud at the exhilaration of it all.
In retrospect, Mikasa had her arms crossed, watching her own boyfriend pass with an anxious cower. She still halfway cheered for him, but Marco could tell Mikasa hated the idea that Eren could be injured at any point in this race.
But faster than either of them could think, Jean and Eren became tiny specs off in the distance, the first race being over with the winner unclear.
“Holy shit!” Historia yelled.
She gestured towards Ymir, who was sprinting at them with the flag still in hand.
“That was fucking sick!” She shouted, hastily snatching up her girlfriend and spinning her around.
Everyone laughed, watching them rub their noses together in a sweet display.
“I wonder who won?” Reiner pondered. “Prepare to owe me some money, Marco!”
He hopped up from the blanket, clasping his hand over Marco’s shoulder and squeezing hard.
Marco winced in his grip, swatting him away.
“I think you’re delusional.”
They watched the two boys on the bikes draw back, driving at a more reasonable pace to the starting line.
Bertolt pulled himself up to stand behind the other boys, throwing his arms around them both and sticking his head between theirs to break them up.
“Reiner, are you starting fights again?”
Reiner scoffed. “I never start fights. Who said anything about a fight?”
Marco chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. Reiner and Bertolt balanced each other out perfectly, it didn’t seem real sometimes.
“Who won?!” The taller teen called out to Eren, once he was within ear shot.
Jean and Eren took off their helmets to reveal misdirected eyes. They both glanced at each other, then back up at the group.
“…..Soooo, Jean, do you want a rematch?” Eren asked, smirking right at Marco.
Marco’s heart fell, realizing that he might have to eat his words.
Jean rolled his eyes, hitting Eren’s chest playfully.
“Don’t mind him,” Jean grinned. “He’s just sour because I beat him.”
Jean won!
Marco cheered, jumping up and down victoriously as he did. He ran up to Jean and pulled into a tight hug, while the guy was still mounted on the bike.
“I fucking KNEW you’d win!!”
Marco pulled at Jean’s cheeks, the widest grin displayed on his freckled face.
Jean looked so proud of himself, leaning into his boyfriend’s fingers and closing his eyes for a moment.
“I had to win. Someone special was watching.” He explained, like it was common knowledge.
Marco shook his head in disbelief, feeling his heart swell dramatically. Maybe all the racing shit was stupid, or completely reckless. But Jean was happy.
And that’s all that mattered.
“I love you.” Marco whispered.
Jean didn’t have much time to react, before Marco leaned in to kiss him slowly.
“Eugh, get a room you guys!” Reiner called out, covering his eyes with both hands.
Before he could say any more, Bertolt smacked the blonde’s chest in annoyance.
Eren suddenly laughed, forcing everyone’s attention back to him.
“It’s Jean’s prize for winning! Let him have this.” He responded, pulling Mikasa in for a brief peck himself.
Once everyone had themselves a little kiss, Eren released Mikasa and he circled around the other boy’s bike. He aimed the back tire at Jean’s face, holding up a finger to silence the girls from warning Jean about what he was about to do.
Then, the bastard proceeded to initiate a heavy burnout, over their act of affection.
The two of them coughed and spluttered as the smoke flared up in their faces, Jean positioned Marco behind himself to protect his boyfriend from Eren’s rude gesture.
“Oh my god, dude!” He yelled, gritting his teeth. “You, rematch. Now!”
There were four individual races held that day. Four races, and Jean had almost won them all.
The score was an astonishing one to three, which was unheard of for Jean. Out of the countless times he had challenged Eren Jaeger to a trip to Cherry street, it almost always ended in his bitter defeat. If he somehow did manage to win against Jaeger, it was only by an inch.
“Damn Kirstein, you brought your a-game today. I wasn’t expecting it.” Eren complimented, as they came to a halt a few yards past the finish line.
Jean removed his helmet, scratching the back of his head as he reorganized the messy strands of his hair.
The mullet was growing out fast, and he debated keeping it long or not once again. If he did decide to chop it, everyone in the Bodt family would most certainly be heartbroken.
Jean laughed quietly, his eyes finally meeting Eren’s. “Yeah, I couldn’t lose in front of my guys. They’d ridicule me for weeks.”
“You’ve got a great group of friends though, man. I’m jealous.” Eren exhaled through his nose, smiling genuinely.
Even if Jean didn’t trust Eren for a lot of reasons, he could at least ensure that the guy was authentic. Plus, he had helped Marco confess his feelings for Jean last year too, so they both kind of owed Eren some of the credit for their relationship.
“Yeah.” Jean hummed in acknowledgement. “They’re some pretty great guys.”
There was a temporary silence that befell the two as they cleaned themselves up. But it didn’t last too long, just until Jean worked up the courage to show his gratitude.
“By the way, thanks for recommending me to Sasha and Connie. You didn’t have to do that, but they found me a couple weeks into classes and took me in because of whatever you said.” Jean admitted, ducking his head shyly.
He never ever thanked Eren Jaeger for anything, he couldn’t even hold a true conversation with a guy where they didn’t hurl insults at each other.
Was he… growing?
Eren’s eyes shined with pride, and his smile widened.
“I’m glad to hear that they found you! I miss those bastards… they aren’t too much for you I hope?”
Jean shook his head. “Not at all. They let me smoke their weed, and listen to their music. What’s not to like?”
He thought about how his school friends might be doing right now. He had only known them for just shy of a month, but he still cared about their thoughts and opinions.
Jean just hoped they wouldn’t completely hate him by the time he finally explained himself.
Marco came first, they had to understand that.
“Yeah, I used to live with them out in Cali. We have another friend from high school; his name is Armin. Have you met him yet?”
“No, not yet.” Jean explained. “But I believe I will be meeting him in December, are you coming up to Boston when he visits?”
“Yeah!” Eren leaned back against his seat, stretching out his back. “I’ll be staying with Sasha and Connie at MIT for a couple of days. I wanted Mikasa to meet my old school friends, so she’s coming with too. Does this mean you’re staying in Boston for Christmas break?”
Jean nodded. “Yep. Marco is driving to me actually, so we can spend Christmas together.” He dusted off his helmet, smiling at the idea of Christmas break with Marco.
Speaking of which, Jean looked out to where the other six were walking towards them, and noticed Ymir waving the flag high over her head as her screams drew nearer.
What a nut case!
“No way! Marco is driving over a thousand miles just to kiss your scrawny ass under the mistletoe?” Eren whistled, smirking at the tan-haired boy.
“Sheesh Jean, never lose him. He’s gotta love you immensely if he’s gonna brave that fear.”
Jean’s heart skipped a beat.
“I know. I don’t plan on letting him go, if I can help it.”
Was Jean even worthy of Marco? The guy deserved someone better, but he knew Marco wouldn’t believe him if he said that aloud.
The truth was, Jean wished he could be that better person for Marco. He hated thinking about how pathetic and weak he was, and he was afraid of what Marco would think if the guy knew about his chronic bad habits.
“JEANNNNNN YOU FUCKING KILLED THAT SHIT!!” Reiner was the first one to swoop Jean up, picking the guy off of his bike as if he weighed no more than a paper clip.
He cracked all the bones in Jean’s upper body with a crushing hug.
“gggGOODD DAMN!” Jean wheezed.
Reiner set him down safely on the road, with nothing but a firm pat on his shoulders.
“We knew you could do it buddy!” Historia smiled, but her eyes had been drained of their happiness all day.
Jean hated feeling responsible for her lack of joy.
He should have waited to tell her, he could have held it in for a few more days. Fall break was almost over anyway.
Shit… fall break was almost over.
Jean would have to say goodbye to Marco again, for three unbearable months. He had hardly survived the first round, how was he going to get back in the ring?
Just as his thoughts began to spiral, Marco squeezed through the crowd, making a spot for himself near of his boyfriend. All of Jean’s anxious thoughts melted away when his hand met Marco’s.
“You did so fucking great.”
Marco’s smile was like drinking cold water at three am.
Jean never wanted him to do anything other than smile ever again.
“It wasn’t that great, I think you’ve just never been this close to a bike race before.” He discredited, rubbing the back of his sweaty neck with the other hand.
Marco chuckled, cupping Jean’s cheek and swiping a thumb over his jaw.
“Nah, I think I’m just enjoying the fact that my boyfriend is a badass.”
He kissed Jean effortlessly, yanking him forward as if he had been waiting to do that all day.
The group acknowledged their public display of affection by hooting and whistling, with Ymir even shouting ‘get em’ tiger!’ as Jean reveled in the kiss.
Ah, so that’s who Marco learned the expression from. Or maybe it was the other way around, who knew?
They finally pulled apart as the others squished them into a hug, and Jean noticed Mikasa and Eren preparing to leave from over Bertolt’s shoulder.
“Going so soon, Jaeger?” Jean quirked a brow.
He was still in disbelief that he had beat Eren at all, let alone three times that day.
Eren shrugged, his hand tucked behind him over Mikasa’s thigh.
“Dad’s in town, he’s making dinner. I’ll catch you at Christmas!” He thrusted the throttle aggressively, the engine whirring and squealing as he took off down the street.
“YOU OWE ME A FIVER EREN!” Reiner yelled, holding up his middle finger proudly to the sky in their wake.
Marco shook his head, turning his attention back to Jean.
“So, what’s the plan now?” He asked, bumping his hip against the others.
Jean glanced around at all of his friends, humming in thought.
“Why don’t we go get shake shack or something? I’m starving.”
The girls rubbed their bellies at the thought, practically drooling.
“Yes please, I could kill a man for a strawberry shake!”
Bertolt held up his hands, backing away from her.
“Okay, well don’t let it be me please.”
While the others walked and talked about what they were going to order, Jean and Marco hung back. The sun was setting, and crickets were starting to chirp, signaling the end of the day. Everything felt sort of… peaceful.
The freckled teen pulled his boyfriend into a tight hug, and suddenly, Jean felt at home. He had almost forgotten how calming Marco’s heartbeat was when they held each other.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Marco whispered.
Jean leaned a cheek against Marco’s shoulder, closing his eyes.
“I know.”
They rocked for a moment, neither one of them had the heart to pull back.
Jean was scared that somehow Marco already knew what was wrong.
“…Do you want to go on a date? Tomorrow night, just us?” Jean stuttered. “I booked a fancy place, I wanted to have a moment to ourselves before… before I have to go back.”
His heart sunk, knowing he had only one more day with Marco.
“Yes,” Marco breathed. “I would love to, mon amor.”
He purred the pet name against the shell of Jean’s ear.
The tan haired boy shivered delightfully. He kissed the skin of Marco’s jaw, his arms tightening around his boyfriend’s ribs.
“I’ll pick you up, at 6pm sharp.” Jean whispered, taking Marco’s chin between his fingers. He looked up into the other boy’s eyes, flashing his cheeky smirk.
Everything was going to be alright.
“Wear your best suit.”
Notes:
I can't believe I'm not even half way through with this work! it's been on my mind since I wrote Senior Year, and its so exciting to watch the plot unfold from my notes.
I can't wait to write chapter 10, we've got a big date and a huge step in Jean's growth coming up! I'm very excited to publish chapter 3 of THBATS as well, theres just too much to be excited about!
(As of 9/28/2024, I am on a little hiatus! I expect to be back before Christmas, but until that I will just be paused on writing and will be doing minimal edits of my previous works. Expect a new chapter in a couple months! Thank you for understanding.)
Chapter 10: We Need To Talk
Summary:
Jean treats Marco to one more date before fall break ends, but this one is a bit more... intimate.
Notes:
I haven't forgotten about this work, I swear! I just came back from my hiatus, but I plan to try to find time every month to at least sit down and edit segments of my chapters. Anyways, here it is! I hope you enjoy.
TW: Mentions of sexual assault
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jean was the shittiest example of a friend.
He wasn't that much of a good boyfriend either, but he was slightly worse when it came to his platonic relationships.
In all of the chaos of fall break, Jean had forgotten to text Sasha and Connie back.
At first, his lack of reply had been in utter avoidance. He didn't want to talk about his after-concert experience with them, or even attempt to explain his anxiety surrounding his parents and his upbringing.
But for the past few days, he had no excuse for his silence.
Stressed, Jean stared down at the illuminated phone screen, tapping frantic thumbs against the glass as he crafted his apology - and his excuse.
What could he say to the two of them that wouldn't sound completely disingenuous? Would they forgive him for his selfishness?
Why was everything so much harder than it needed to be right now?
Jean had to rush his thumbs, his date with Marco would be in just under an hour and he didn't plan on being tardy for his special night.
Outgoing Text: Potato Girl
hey sash.
I'm so sorry for disappearing without a word. there's a lot of personal shit happening in my life right now, and I just needed a break from everything and everybody.
I want to apologize for leaving you and Connie to wonder if I'm okay, that wasn’t really cool. Can I make a case for myself when I make it home? I'm in GA for two more days, but I can see you guys on Sunday if you're okay with that.
let me know, and again. I'm sorry.
Jean hit send, tucking the device into the pocket of his slacks.
The message was definitely lackluster. He wasn’t the best when it came to words from the heart, but he didn’t have time to pour his heart out into a chat room right now.
His engineering pals would just have to wait a bit longer. It wasn't like two more days could end a friendship... right?
Whatever the case, Jean had to have his full and undivided attention on Marco tonight. That was a non-negotiable fact.
Jean's behavior for the past two nights had raised several red flags, and he knew Marco wouldn't move past the issue until they properly talked it out.
There were a few truths that he would need to bend (i.e. the usage of his mother's pills, or the subject of his genophobia), but he owed Marco some semblance of an apology.
Historia and Ymir were owed one too, the list could go on about how terrible he was at being a friend.
For all things considered, his boyfriend was handling Jean’s attitude well. He could tell Marco was just trying to keep the peace, so that Jean could speak in his own time.
But that was Marco’s whole shtick, pleasant optimism and sweetness, to no limit.
Jean just didn't deserve a guy like him. It wasn't even remotely funny anymore.
Lately, Jean had felt the burning shame of not being enough for even Marco. He was a filthy liar, and an addict of any and all sinful behaviors. What was it that Marco even saw in him?
As Jean eyed his own reflection in his mother's full-length mirror, he still had a hard time coming up with a palpable reason. He squinted at his ever-growing mullet, and his sleep deprived eyebags. He poked at his chin and neck, inspecting its angle meticulously.
He checked the weight of his silver gauges, hand-picked specifically for the thin façade of class and wealth. That, and they matched the rest of his jewelry.
When he wasn't satisfied with his features, he inspected his suit instead.
Jean was dressed to impress. He had dragged out a thick, oversized suitcoat with a noir button up, vest and tie from the back of his closet. The sleek two-piece suit had been collecting dust for almost two years now, as the last time he had worn it was for his cousin's funeral.
But instead of letting the suit wither and rot, he had brushed away the lint and managed a few adjustments that made it more appropriate for his date.
Jean was having a hard time filling the size out though, now that he wasn't constantly at the mercy of his personal trainer.
The bulging of the fabric around his shoulders and arms had knocked his confidence down about two pegs.
At least he still looked decent without the over layer, but his lack of muscles made his heart squeeze angrily.
Jean decided to ditch the coat entirely, and instead rock the vest and button up combo naked as it was.
"That's better..." He sighed, still not one-hundred percent happy with the overall look.
As Jean checked his watch, a flash of heat traveled down his spine.
He wondered what kind of suit Marco would be wearing tonight, about how handsome he'd look with all his rippling muscles. Jean predicted that the guy could barely be contained within a button-down, with his newfound form.
How long would it take, Jean wondered, for the restaurant to kick him out for drooling?
The reservation was booked for an expensive place downtown, one this his parents still maintained a membership at. The place had an uptight dress code, strict dining etiquette rules and world class chefs at their disposal.
This was why their attire was more... restricted than usual.
But Jean wanted Marco to believe that they were dressing up just for fun too. It wasn’t every day they could go on a date as fancy as this one.
Jean loved to spoil Marco rotten where he could. The farmer boy detested having Jean pay for anything, even if it was something as small as a chocolate bar. Tonight might be the only chance Jean has to pay for their meal without any form of protest involved.
It was getting late, and the longer he stared at his reflection the more he debated just staying home. Instead, Jean reluctantly peeled his eyes away, and double checked that he had everything for that night.
Suited up? Check.
Keys to the BMW? Check.
Having a sense of self? eehhh...
He could always just fib that last one.
As Jean flew down the stairs and snatched his keys off of the kitchen island, he snuck out through the back door and locked it dutifully behind him.
It was already dark outside, so he wasn't too worried that his parents would be watching the cameras, if they even cared to monitor the home at all while they were away. But the front door still felt like a risk Jean didn't want to take. He'd rather not explain to his parents what he was doing over a thousand miles away from school, in formal date/funeral attire.
He snuck out the back gate, and rounded the other end of the neighborhood in search of his BMW.
And there she was, in all her silver glory, parked beside two trash cans and a ripped-up armchair.
Jean jumped into the familiar black interior of the diver’s side cabin, twisting the key until the car roared to life.
That's my girl.
Jean smirked as he shifted gears, and he slapped the booming sound system as he zipped to the end of the street.
Jean couldn't shake the excitement of having some alone time with his boyfriend. It wasn't like he hated having Marco's family around, in fact it was much the opposite for him. It wasn't like he detested hanging out with his friends, again he wouldn’t trade them for anybody.
But he hadn't been able to share many private moments with Marco, at least not since the end of the summer of senior year.
The thought made his saliva pool in the back of his mouth, and his pulse bounced in his ears, drowning out the thumping speakers.
Jean zigzagged down the backroads to where Marco lived, his palms sweating all over the leather steering wheel.
He had been envisioning this date for the past week, visualizing what he would say to Marco and what they would do together when they finally left the farm house.
There was no way Jean could mess this up. He could even charm the pants off of Marco, if he really wanted to.
As he pulled into the familiar dirt driveway, Jean parked and practically leapt out of his seat to beeline for the front door.
Jean was anticipatory, still trying to imagine what his boyfriend would be wearing as he straightened out his vest. He knocked three times against the old oak door, then stood back and waited for his angel to emerge.
And then, there he was. In a halo of beauty.
Marco swung the door wide, and the smile on his face was infectious.
But Jean's smile melted to shock, when he noticed what Marco was wearing.
His boyfriend's slacks mirrored the black shade of Jean's, but his white button-down had been cleanly rolled up to his elbows, exposing his decorated forearms. They were each accessorized with black braided bracelets, and strapped to his right arm was a shiny gold watch, with a clean face and fluid-moving clock hands.
The low-diving angle of Marco’s shirt was a bit ambitious, as the unbuttoned fabric teased his freckled chest. But he wore a gold necklace to distract from that fact that he was exposed, and vest-less. All of the jewelry he wore appeared to be something from his mother's Sunday closet, pretty and gold like his other accessories.
This distraction tactic had failed for Jean, however. He was eyeing Marco’s chest with obvious lust, having been speechless for almost a full minute.
The fabric was quite restricting of Marco’s movements, his biceps were struggling to stay within the seams, just as Jean had dreamed they would be. The guy was stunning, almost too perfect to be real.
The fact that Jean could see Marco’s skin through the cotton didn't help with his ever growing... hmm.
But when he finally glanced up to meet his partner's eyes, he noticed Marco had been staring just as hard.
The thought of Marco having the same fantasies sent more heat flooding down his spine.
“God damn.” Was all Jean could manage, his cheeks were burning.
Marco swallowed thickly, closing the door quietly behind him.
“I was gonna say the same thing.” He breathed.
They stared at each other for more stolen seconds, savoring each other’s appearance in the dim porch light. Jean imagined all the ways he’d strip Marco down later.
It was an intoxicating thought.
“Y-you look… just wow. Did you have your mom help you out?” Jean asked, his fingers traveling up his firm forearms and tapping against the bracelets.
Marco smirked, showing off his jewelry and decoration.
“Yeah, she picked out one of dad’s suits. Most of it didn’t fit though, so… this is what I’m working with. I hope it’s appropriate?” He asked, scratching the back of his neck bashfully.
Jean chuckled, leaning in near Marco’s jaw.
“I mean… it’s appropriate, but it’s making me feel inappropriate.” He whispered.
Marco licked his lips.
“I hoped it would.”
Jean was going to die before they even made it to the car.
Marco was wearing his father’s clothes. His deceased father’s suit.
And, he was wearing the special garment on a date with Jean, of all unworthy people.
“Well, Freckles, shall we?” He finally managed, his brain was short-circuiting.
Marco laughed at his expression, leaning down to kiss Jean’s cheek. He took one of his lover’s hands, entwining their fingers as if the task was as easy as breathing.
“Take me away from here.” He pleaded dramatically.
And Jean obliged.
In the driver’s seat of the BMW, Jean could hardly even keep his eyes on the road. I mean, Marco was hot, what could he possibly say?
He had been daydreaming about a date like this ever since he had asked to be Marco’s boyfriend. He had manifested the bravery and the funds to achieve it.
Jean had fantasized shamelessly about Marco decking himself out, doing up his pretty black hair and accenting his deep brown eyes with his sister’s makeup. He imagined what Marco’s freckled body would look like later, when Jean ultimately peeled back all the layers.
But not a damn idea in the world could possibly compare to the real thing.
Marco had been asking Jean questions as they weaved through the traffic and red lights, but all of it had been a blur in Jean’s mind as his foot weighed heavy on the gas. He had been anxious the whole drive, pulling off his casual persona to the best of his abilities as they pulled up to the curb of the restaurant.
All he could even think about was, Marco dolled himself up just for me, and now I have to perform for him.
“Jean, how much money are you planning to blow through tonight? This place looks… wayyy out of my price range.”
Marco grimaced, sucking his teeth anxiously at the fancy front doors. He averted his eyes away from the velvet rope queue, and turned to his boyfriend with a faint flush.
Jean smirked, leaning over to lip Marco’s jaw.
He inhaled his boyfriend’s wonderful scent, and his cheek twitched when the aroma differed from his signature lemongrass and pine aura. His mother must’ve lent him something musky, something heavy and seductive and masculine.
Jean’s eyes practically rolled back into his head as he drew the warmth from Marco’s skin.
“It’s my treat, don’t worry yourself about the price.”
Jean moved down to place a chaste kiss against Marco’s throat. “Order whatever you want and let me take care of the rest, mon amour.”
Marco shivered, his grip on the center console tightening at the sudden contact.
“Okay,” His voice squeaked, as he gave himself up for the sudden attention.
Jean used this angle to his advantage at first, taking in everything about all of Marco’s features and special accents. He drew back once he was satisfied, opening the driver’s side to round himself over to Marco’s door. He popped it open, holding out a hand to aid his partner.
Marco grinned as he pulled on Jean, exiting the low cabin and fixing his black hair tediously in the BMW reflection.
“Thank you.” The freckled boy whispered, leaning down to plant a kiss of his own against Jean’s temple.
That provoked a smirk from Jean.
He tossed his keys to the valet as they stepped up onto the curb, eyeing him intently. This guy had been watching their display with hidden interest.
He’s all mine, and I’m not sorry Jean thought possessively.
Although he doubted the valet was watching them with jealousy, it was easier for him to imagine it that way.
Jean clicked his tongue as he passed the guy a crisp bill, and his other arm wound firmly around his boyfriend’s as they continued on.
“Take care of her, please. She might not look like much but she’s what I’ve got.” He joked, eyeing the car.
The guy nodded vaguely, his eyebrows threading together tight as he started up the BMW’s disruptive engine.
Jean didn’t turn back as he guided Marco up the sidewalk, ready to stare down anybody else who might question their intent.
All of the patrons who stood waiting outside of the venue were dressed to the nines, the outfits here all must’ve cost more than a month of Jean’s rent.
Americans and their consumerism, he thought.
The sultry tone of jazz was vibrating from the inner walls of the establishment, and just from the patio glass alone, Jean could observe the perfectly organized shelves of the most expensive bottles of alcohol he had ever seen.
This restaurant wasn’t exactly the most expensive one Jean had ever dined in, not by a long shot. But he could tell it definitely was for Marco.
The freckled guy’s eyes were darting around, studying the wealth and status of the people closest to them.
His mouth ran dry at the conversations he picked up, most of which were superficial snippets of gossip that were so far from in touch with the ninety-five percentile.
It was sort of… embarrassing. Jean hadn’t thought about how isolating this experience might be for his country boyfriend, but he just wanted to give Marco something he would not soon forget.
“So… back when you were living with your folks, did you guys dine at places like this?” Marco broke the silence first, as they stepped up in line.
“Hmm,” Jean contemplated the question, scratching his jaw.
“That’s a bit complicated. We never really sat down for dinner as a family, at home or otherwise. I wouldn’t say we went out often either, but if we needed to dine for a professional occasion, then yeah.”
The French boy shrugged, entwining his fingers with Marco’s to balance his spiraling partner.
Marco bit his lip, glancing up at the upper-class style restaurant sign.
“I don’t think I’ve even seen a place that has a valet option.”
Jean chuckled, shaking his head.
“Good, valet is annoying. Look, these places aren’t meant to be visited frequently, not if you’re smart with your money. It’s a special occasion kind of thing, you know?”
Marco smiled a little at that.
“So, do I qualify as a special occasion then?”
Jean eyed him up and down, licking his lips.
“You are the most special occasion.”
Marco’s eyes shined. He blushed and pursed his lips, forcing his stare forward after hearing the answer.
Once they finally reached the front of the line, a waitress greeted them and checked Jean’s reservation.
“Mr. Kirstein?” She asked.
Once he confirmed it, she led them to a table in the back corner. A quiet set up had been arranged, the table consisted of a tea candle and a fancy pitcher of ice water.
“A server will be with you momentarily.” The waitress simplified, leaving them to seat themselves.
Jean pulled out a chair for Marco, gesturing for him to sit with a bow and an arm. And his boyfriend did so gracefully, the heat of his surprise still obvious on his face.
The music was absolutely sensual, and just loud enough to obscure conversations from other tables around them. The mood lighting was incredibly dim, creating a personal atmosphere in flickering flames at each table.
It was perfect.
“Wow, I was not prepared for formal Jean. It almost seems like you’re a different person.” Marco coughed, blinking up at Jean in a slight daze.
Jean then found his own seat, propping himself up until he was comfortable. He eyed Marco hesitantly, tucking a piece of brown hair behind his industrial piercing.
“Is that a bad thing?” He wondered aloud.
Marco’s eyes widened.
“Oh, no! Not at all, I guess I’m just not used to all this… old money stuff. But you were on to something with the suits; they were a great choice.”
Marco grinned, ogling his partner. His eyebrows wiggled, playfully egging his boyfriend on.
“You’re telling me!” Jean laughed gently, reaching out to take Marco’s hand across the table.
He brushed his thumb against the ring he had given to Marco earlier that year, reminiscing on the promise they had made as he admired his boyfriend.
I’ll always be here for you, even when we’re apart.
“I’ve been waiting for a night like this, ever since I found a name for my feelings.” Jean finished, smiling.
The comment lit up Marco’s cheeks, just in time for the server to then approach the two.
“Ahem,” He cleared his throat expectantly.
“My name is Teddy, and I’ll be serving you two tonight. Can I start anyone off with a refreshment?”
The server observed their hands enjoined, but said nothing as to how he felt about it, if he did feel some type of way.
Jean answered, before Marco could order.
“I’ll have a bottle of whatever Marsannay Rouge you have in stock, for the table.” He asked, blinking expectantly up at the gentleman.
His voice was suddenly low and proper, like his mother had always taught him.
They’ll treat you like the boss, but only if you act like the boss.
Marco glanced up in sudden alarm at the request, but the server simply nodded and dismissed himself from their table.
“As you wish.”
Marco waited until the gentleman was out of earshot before he unloaded his shock.
“Wine?” He whispered hoarsely, his frantic eyes once again checking for any onlookers. “How did you order wine so… casually?”
Jean chuckled gently at Marco’s question, bringing a knuckle up to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to his boyfriend’s hand.
“Don’t ask, and I won’t tell.” He whispered against the roughness of his skin.
“Besides, in European households, wine is a common drink to have with dinner.”
Marco was almost impressed. He sat back, exhaling gently as he retracted his hand.
“Okay. Yeah, we’re having wine tonight.” Marco nodded.
His shirt had stretched as he let out an exhasperated breath, and Jean tried not to be obvious in the way he observed the motion of the fabric.
“You might want to decide what you’re having to eat too; the server won’t be long.” He distracted himself.
Marco propped his menu up, glancing through a few of the menu options. But it didn’t take long for him to complain about the prices again.
“Jean!” He hushed, glaring at him from over the top of the menu. “Some of these options are up near seventy dollars, for just one course!”
Jean shrugged at the complaint, glancing down at his own menu.
“Yes, and? I told you not to concern yourself with the prices, I’ve got it covered.”
“I mean, I knew it would be expensive, but not like this. Are you really sure you want to pay for this...? We can just get the wine, I don’t mind if we go bar hopping so long as I’m with you.”
He must’ve been worried since Jean still had yet to land a job. The guy had some savings set aside, sure, but this date would land a hefty blow to his emergency fund.
“No, Marco, this is my decision. I want to treat you. Things have been… really shitty lately.” Jean frowned suddenly, fidgeting with the menu awkwardly.
“I’ve been shitty lately. So let me do something for once, to make it up to you.”
…
It was rather honest of Jean, the statement practically came out of nowhere. But he had been struggling with this baggage for a while.
Marco’s expression faltered, shifting to concern.
“Jean, what do you mean?”
Jean offered no answer, instead he crossed his arms in defense.
Marco sighed.
“You haven’t been shitty at all, I’m just… I’ve been worried about you. You know that you can talk to me, about anything right?” He asked.
The freckled boy tipped his head to the side offering a quick reassuring smile despite his anxiety.
And there Marco goes again, always being too perfect and understanding. This date was supposed to be about him and his happiness, not about Jean’s problems.
There were tears pricking Jean’s eyes. He had to switch the topic.
“Yes, I know. And I will. But like I said, I need this tonight. Can you trust me to talk… when I’m ready?”
The words felt poisonous coming out of his mouth again. The last time they had this conversation, it had taken a sudden and unfortunate turn resulting in a souring detour back to his old home.
But there was something different about this time. No backstabbing effect in Marco’s eyes, no harsh recoil.
The guy simply smiled courageously.
“Of course. I want you to feel comfortable enough to tell me, so I’ll give you all the time you need. I love you.”
Jean exhaled in relief, loosening his shoulders.
Why was this so hard to talk about? Nothing about Marco gave any indication that he wouldn’t be there to help him, to be there for whatever he needed.
“Thank you. I love you too.” He responded quietly.
Jean guessed it was just hard for him to force Marco to lend an ear to his pathetic whining, when the guy had a whole barn and family to take care of.
The server had returned with the wine by then, provoking Jean to wipe his eyes free of any excess moisture.
“We have a bottle of twenty-nineteen Louis Latour Marsannay for you this evening, I hope it is to your liking.” The server proposed.
He prepared their glasses and de-corked the bottle, and Marco watched with interest as the server’s gloved hand poured the deep scarlet liquid.
After they thanked him for the wine, Teddy retrieved his server notepad.
“What’ll it be tonight, sirs?”
Marco glanced up at Jean, his posture still hesitant.
Are you sure?
But Jean urged him on anyway, his lip twitching upwards confidently.
You can do it.
That was all the encouragement Marco needed.
“Uhm… I’ll have the yellowfin tuna with the mango and fermented chili, please.” His tone mocked Jean’s, although a bit more professional and lighthearted.
Jean grinned at him, before turning to the server himself.
“And I’ll have the homemade fettuccini.”
The server scribbled down their orders, before confiscating the menus and bowing his head.
“I’ll be back with your courses shortly.”
Marco wiped sweat from his brow after the server departed, swallowing thickly.
“There is nothing on this menu that I’ve even heard of before, at least not to this scale.”
Jean chuckled, extending his glass to Marco’s in a toast.
“Here’s to trying new things?”
Marco watched Jean raise his arm, and he did the same. They knocked their glasses together with a faint tnk.
Jean sipped the wet and heavy taste of an almost boldened sangria flavor, and exhaled in satisfaction when he recognized the taste from a collection in his parent’s cellar.
Marco’s smile was absolutely contagious as well, this must be a first-time taste for him.
“This is actually real, and I’m not dreaming.” He whispered, palming his cheeks as if to try and wake himself up.
Jean watched his expressions affectionately, his eyes glazed in adoration.
If there weren’t mingling conversations from the tables around them, Jean would’ve assumed they were the last ones left in the universe.
“This is real. And I can’t believe it either, never in my life did I think I’d ever have a chance with you.” He omitted, swirling the rim of his glass with a gentle finger.
Marco leaned forward, propping his chin up by his elbows as he stared longingly at his boyfriend.
“You never told me that. What else are you hiding from me, biker boy?” He teased, his upper-lip curled.
Jean shook his head, taking another sip from his glass.
“I mean, with how my life is and how much I’m under constant surveillance, I never thought my parents would let me have someone like you. Let alone that you would even like me back.” Jean leaned back into his chair as he continued to ramble.
“I used to be so in my head. There was a time back in senior year, where I would wake up an hour and a half before school, just so I could be on time and look presentable for you. Not that thought you expected me to, but because it made you act… a different way around me. You were excited that I was more engaged, and you always complimented my outfits no matter how sloppy or lazy I had arranged them the night before. I just assumed that you were being nice, I didn’t think you actually reciprocated.”
The explanation had been longer than Jean had intended, but he could tell Marco didn’t mind one bit.
The boy was glowing, as if he had been waiting to talk about this the whole night. Marco took another sip from his glass thoughtfully, shaking his head once Jean had reached his conclusion.
“I’ve had my sights set on you since middle school, I think I have you beat in that department.”
Jean flushed, brushing his hair back again to avoid eye contact.
“That’s quite a thought. I can’t imagine how fast my parents would’ve signed me up for a correctional program if I had been even remotely aware of my sexuality in middle school.”
Jean laughed it off, but it was true. He wasn’t entirely sure that they still wouldn’t try, if he came out at his grown age of eighteen.
“I am just glad this is the outcome now. I’m not going to tell my parents, and I hope that doesn’t make you feel like… a secret. I just can’t predict them.”
Marco shook his head, leaning back in his own seat finally. He gestured at the tables around them.
“How could I feel like a secret, when you are publicly treating me to a fancy dinner, in the middle of our hick town? Your parents are… their own special case, I understand that.”
“I just wish my mom would stick up for me the way Alice sticks up for you and Gina. My dad… I don’t have any hope that he’ll accept this part of me. And… I’m sorry about that. You deserve more from my family, but you will probably never get it.”
Jean sighed pinching the bridge of his nose in disappointment.
His brother was a coward and an asshole, and his mother was an alcoholic and a narcissist, but his dad… he was a whole other level of fucked up.
They hopefully wouldn’t ever have to open that can of worms.
Marco shook his head. “My mom is enough for the both of us, I have everyone in my life that I need. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel upset by your family’s mistreatment of you, and I’m so sorry that you have to go through that. And, If it means anything…”
The guy entwined their fingers again, and the pad of his thumb brushed over the bumpy and textured skin of Jean’s knuckles.
“You don’t have to go through any of it alone.”
Jean nodded, smiling up at Marco. He didn’t have the heart to respond, he was using up all of his energy just to fake a smile.
But what else could he say without exploding into tears? He was not going to make a scene there in the restaurant.
Marco broke away, just in time for their food to be delivered.
“The yellowfin tuna for you sir,” Teddy remedied, placing the fancy rimmed bowl before Marco with an upturned nose.
He then passed Jean’s meal, head bowing before them as the steam from the creamy pasta rose into the air and dissipated.
“And the Homemade Fettuccini for you. Please enjoy.”
The gentleman left almost as quickly as he had arrived. Jean chuckled, eyeing Marco’s dish, then up at him again.
There was something different about Marco tonight too. Something suave, and expensive. He was more confident now that they had been seated a while, and he happily began to section out his meal.
“Wow, this looks incredible! Thank you again babe, I still can’t believe you’re going to spend this much on me though. I’ll have to find some way to return this...” Marco chuckled, shaking his head as he forked his first bite.
Jean poured Marco a second glass of wine, as he finished off his first.
“No, absolutely not. You are already paying me back by visiting in December, remember?” He reminded, replacing the bottle in his hand for a fork as he began to work on his own meal.
They ate the first few bites, reviewed the taste for each other, and talked a bit more about payback and what things would be like in December.
Jean could tell that the wine had begun to take an effect on Marco, as his hue had shifted to pink in the candle light. He was joyful in everything he said, and so intensely focused on what Jean was saying back.
That was the wonderful effects of Louis Latour Marsannay at work, unraveling Marco slowly like a thick ball of yarn.
As they continued their conversation though, the wine had also begun to take an effect on his own mind.
An idea, one that had not been a part of his practice dialogue, had already taken hold. It rooting itself on the tip of his tongue, and he found himself voicing it without reason.
“Marco… what if we were to move in together?” The question had sprung itself.
Once Jean realized he had suggested the idea out loud, his eyes widened, and he attempted to reel it back in.
“N-not immediately of course, I’m still in school and you’ve got the barn… but I want to, one day. I can’t go back to my parents.”
It was true. He didn’t think he would survive another year locked up in that hellhole with his parents. Especially if they had somehow found out about his dating activities.
Jean would never see Marco again.
Marco’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree at the sudden request, almost falling out of his chair.
“You mean it…?” He asked softly.
Jean scoffed, setting the fork down against his empty plate.
“I do.” He decided, rolling with it.
Marco’s infamous smile resurfaced as he finished his own meal. He clasped the edge of the table, trying to contain his excitement.
“Jean, of course! Gina would be so happy to have you so close, and mom… oh gosh, she’d freak!” Marco rambled, sipping down some more of the rouge.
Jean chuckled, shaking his head in awe.
“You’d have to show me how the whole farm thing works, though. You might get tired of my constant complaints.”
“I could never get tired of you. Jean… my family is always here for you too, when you need that certain kind of love. I know if can be hard to reach out, but my mom is only a phone call away.” Marco reminded, tapping a toe against Jean’s from under the table.
The gesture brought Jean to full reality, and he covered his mouth with his hand in subtle thought.
Historia had said something similar a few days ago, as did Sasha...
Jean had finally realized just how many people were looking out for him.
“…Thank you.” Jean reminded, his tone suddenly serious.
He extended his hand to Marco’s, this time bringing his boyfriend to his feet.
“Hey, what do you say we ditch this joint and go for a drive? I’m starting to feel too big for my britches.” He smirked, checking his watch. They had been out for just under an hour at that point.
Marco rose to the occasion, palming his necklace thoughtfully.
“Wherever you go, I go. Though the wine made me feel a bit… sweaty. Are you good to drive?” He asked, cupping Jean’s cheek to inspect his golden eyes.
They stared at each other for a couple seconds, in silent admiration as Marco sober-checked him.
“I’m fine,” Jean replied, leaning into Marco’s hand. “But you look flustered. C’mon, I’ll pay and get us out of here.”
And he did. Jean closed out the tab with the receptionist, and waved the valet to bring the BMW around so he could high-tail it out of there. He tucked Marco into his side of the cab, and jumped into the driver’s seat with a sudden burst of energy.
He had been rejuvenated, and was ready to give Marco an encore.
“Where to, Freckles?” Jean sung, switching around his music for something that properly bumps.
Marco shrugged, falling back into his seat and haunching his shoulders forward for the first time since arriving.
“Dealer’s choice, since this is your treat.” He hummed.
Jean didn’t actually have a plan.
Where could they go? What could they do? It was a late Friday night, and everywhere but the clubs would be closed. Besides, he couldn’t get them both into club with only one fake, especially not in the dresswear they were in.
But maybe instead, they could just… Drive.
“Ok, buckle up.” Jean decided, smacking a gentle hand against Marco’s thigh.
The freckled boy obeyed with a blush, clicking in. He lazily leaned into Jean’s touch, eyebrow upturned.
“Our destination?” He asked.
Jean retracted his hand to grasp the stick, switching gears as they pulled away from the restaurant. The engine popped and roared as they flew down the strip.
“There isn’t one!” Jean laughed, cranking the volume on the stereo until their bodies vibrated.
Marco gripped the handle above his door, gasping and grinning when he realized what Jean was about to do.
“Please reassure me that you know what you’re doing!” He begged, half thrilled, half panicked.
It was an adorable reaction.
Jean slammed the gear shift into third, his foot bearing down on the gas pedal as he eased up on the clutch.
“I’ve got you!!”
They twisted and turned down a few streets, still trying to obey the limits while within city limits. It was a Friday night after all, and the likelihood of the pigs lurking were much higher than usual. But Jean had already masterminded a plan, so he was calculated and careful.
The heavy bassline of a Suicide Boys song made the backseat speakers blowout, and Marco laughed joyfully as Jean ripped out onto the quiet alternate highway. The tires squealed against the asphalt with the propulsion of the vehicle, and the engine hummed at a decibel that could be heard alongside the chaotic music.
This was Jean’s paradise. Driving fast, music filling every inch of his cranium, his boyfriend loose, laughing and free.
The speeding habit was a guilty pleasure, and a sin he often indulged in. He had a couple tickets to his name by now, and his parents have saved him from total license revocation on multiple occasions, but there was nothing on earth that could stop him from chasing that high.
“Holy shit!” Marco whooped, gripping the center console as both of Jean’s hand were on the wheel. He navigated over small foothills and curves in the road, eyes on the road no matter how much they wanted to be on the prize.
Jean grunted as they whipped into an exit ramp lane, the bass switching to something more rhythmic and sexy as they continued towards an abandoned subdivision. The lot was just barely out of town, it was a development plan from ten years ago that never followed through. Occupying the space now was a few unfinished houses, and loads of empty road.
“Do I have your permission to perform something a bit more… intense?” Jean asked, smirking at Marco.
Je suis prêt à vous épater!
Marco swallowed hard, but he nodded, sweat beading against his temples. His body was rigid from the adrenaline.
“I know you’ve got me.”
Damn straight.
“Hold on.” Jean instructed, switching gears again as he gained some speed and momentum.
He flew into the lot at full speed, throwing the wheel to the left and clutching the e-break as the BMW drifted around the bend. It squeaked and burned the back tires in the extreme motion, sliding over corners effortlessly.
Jean drove like he was born for it. Like he was destined for something more.
Marco squealed and grasped his handholds harder, and Jean removed one of his hands to place it against Marco’s thigh. His palm felt magnetized to the area, as if it belonged there at all times. He reassured his boyfriend with a squeeze as they drifted around the next corner.
“Jean!” Marco yelled, but he wasn’t afraid.
He wasn’t even upset.
Marco was alive.
Je pourrais écouter ta voix pour toujours, mon amour.
“Hahaha!”
Jean was lost in the music, showing off a couple more tricks and taking a few extra laps. He couldn’t help it, he hadn’t seen Marco this energized in months.
It was intoxicating all on its own.
“When did you learn to do this?!?” Marco called, mist from strain leaking from the corners of his eyes.
Jean whipped them once more into a back corner of the subdivision, behind an unfinished house. West of the BMW was a lake, and then the alternate highway.
He dialed down the volume of the music, turning to his boyfriend with a snarky grin after throwing the car in park.
“Would you be surprised if I told you my brother taught me?” Jean asked, panting and leaning back into his seat.
He wiped the sweat and hair away from his eyes in one fluid motion, taking a deep and unified breath.
Marco’s eyes widened as he watched Jean’s movements, mouth open in desperation.
“I would be. Louis showed you how to use a stick, and taught you how to drift? What made him do something so… generous?”
“He kind of taught me. When mom made him pick me up back in middle school, he used to be a bit… careless with the car. He never gave me any real lessons, but I picked up a thing or two.”
“Huh. That wasn’t very safe of him… wait, you mean you learned just from watching?!?” Marco gasped.
Jean smirked, gesturing to himself.
“Yep.”
(Half-lie. He still did a ton of YouTube research, but he was self-taught nevertheless.)
“And who did Louis learn from?”
“Hmm… I’m not sure actually. He never talks to me outside of family meetings, I don’t even know what his hobbies are.”
Jean grimaced.
It was true, him and his brother could not be any more estranged. But he didn’t need someone as hateful as Louis in his inner circle anyway, he wasn’t missing out on much.
“I’m sorry…” Marco frowned.
His freckled hand had finally unlatched from the center console, gliding over top of Jean’s finger tendons where they rest over his thigh.
The mood had dipped dramatically, and this pressure was one Jean had been trying to avoid for the better part of the night.
He doesn’t need to hear about the woes of your brother.
At least there was still the music, steady in the background trying to keep the beat uplifted.
Jean increased the volume when he recognized 94 by Soldout was playing. He grinned up at Marco, with one more last-minute date idea on the mind.
“May I have this dance?” Jean asked, removing his hand from Marco’s leg reluctantly to offer it up to him again.
They might not be able to club hop, but Jean could certainly meet the right conditions for a dance.
Marco glanced at the hand, then at their surroundings.
“Dance? We’re in a car, babe.” He snorted, tucking a strand of hair behind his ears as he leaned in closer.
His breath smelled of cherries and mango.
Jean popped open the door, rounding over to Marco’s side just as he had earlier.
“And now we’re outside.” Jean remedied, opening Marco’s side and helping the buff guy out of his seat.
Marco stretched out and glanced around apprehensively, his eyes searching for signs of life. There wasn’t another person in sight, just the birds and the crickets and the Georgia fog.
“…I suppose could be convinced.” Marco decided, turning back to Jean with a brilliant white smile.
Jean exhaled in amusement, leaning back into the BMW to crank up the music.
The synth-wave and the bass created a mix that provoked Jean to tap his feet against the concrete. He glanced up at Marco as he tore off his suit vest, purposefully slowing himself down so that Marco might catch a hint.
Jean rocked the black button up all on its own, and tossed the vest onto the hood of the car.
There was an electricity to the air.
Marco didn’t wait for an invitation, pressing both of his hands against Jean’s hips as they began to sway together.
The singer had just started her first bar as Jean leaned against Marco, pressing his own hands against the stiff shoulder muscles of his freckled partner. They moved against each other to the beat, and Marco pressed his lips against Jean’s hair as they danced.
There was something in the way that Marco grasped his slacks with his thumbs, grazed his hands over his backside, and tucked them greedily into the rear pockets that made Jean’s groin ache.
“I love this side of you.” Marco whispered, cheek to cheek with Jean. “Not to say that I hate any sides of you, it’s just that this one is reserved for me.”
The message ghosted against Jean’s ear guage.
The statement sent him into a flaming frenzy, his temperature had increased despite the cool fall breeze.
He was finding it harder to control himself, rolling his body forward against Marco’s lazily.
“I’ve never even met this side of me until you brought it out.” Jean responded.
It was growing harder to deny his nasty urges that were starting to surface.
Jean dragged his hands over Marco’s neck and up through his hair, invoking a shiver from the taller boy. They found their place against Marco’s speckled cheeks.
Marco leaned into the touch, but they were still dancing so he didn’t linger for long. He dipped Jean by supporting his lower back, and he licked the boy’s upper lip teasingly before he pulled them back up.
“You’re so beautiful.” Marco purred.
Jean was ignited, ablaze. He was going to explode if they continued down this path.
“Did you enjoy our date?” Jean moaned, his voice almost cutting out as Marco’s hips were flush against his own.
His mind was going haywire, just like it had back in the shower.
“I more than enjoyed it. In fact, I think I might’ve figured out my payback.” Marco’s tone was seductive.
His indication was dark, velvet and rough. His voice was deeper than it ever had been. Marco was a hungry wolf, saliva pooling in the pits of his teeth as decided where to bite Jean first.
The song had changed to another one off of Jean’s drift playlist, but he didn’t care about the music anymore. Any song had been blocked out by a frantic and constant ringing in Jean’s ear.
Marco surged forward to eliminate the distance between them, just in time for Jean’s back to slam into the side of the BMW.
Marco mouthed Jean’s neck, tasting his skin, lapping him up. He nipped him there once or twice, leaving hickeys in his wake.
Marco rocked his hips gently against his boyfriend’s, causing their breath to melt into a sloppy and rushed tempo.
“H-how?” Jean squeaked, adrenaline stabbing throughout his entire nervous system like a hot bolt of lightning.
He tried not to remember that he’d been here before.
Marco grunted, breaking away from Jean’s skin to stare down at him. He pressed a hand against the roof of the car, panting lustfully.
“I think you’re getting the idea… If you are ok with it, that is.” He asked, bringing his other hand up to trace Jean’s chest.
This was it. The big moment, the decision that he’d been terrified to make for the past few weeks. He wanted Marco, fuck, he needed Marco.
But he also needed therapy.
Fuck it, there was wine in his system. His energy was peaking. There wasn’t a soul around to video tape them here, and he wanted this to be a night that Marco remembered.
“I want you to fuck me.” Jean begged suddenly, blinking up at Marco through the tops of his eyelids.
He was as ready as he’d ever be.
Marco didn’t waste time responding. He popped open the back door, pushing Jean into the cabin like he had been planning it all along.
Marco pulled his father’s cotton shirt up and over his head, peeling it away from his forearms as he himself crawled into the backseat after his lover.
Jean’s eyes traveled up Marco’s scarred chest in awe, napping out the parts of skin that were rough/graphed from the accident.
Marco had been through hell with his confidence, back when his father passed a couple of years ago. Jean recalled how timid and meek his boyfriend was in high school, how traumatized the crash had left him.
But there wasn’t even a trace of that Marco left. Tonight, his halo was shining brighter than the blinding street lamps above them.
Jean knew he was about to meet God in the backseat of his BMW.
The music made the seats vibrate around Jean, the sensation was the only thing helping him stay grounded.
Could he really do this? Would he be enough to satisfy Marco?
Would he even enjoy it himself?
He didn’t have much time to think before Marco was climbing on top of him, kissing him down into the leather seats.
“Mmng,” Jean whimpered, shakily grasping Marco’s arms as they gripped the back of the driver’s seat.
Jean’s body was back to rubber-banding all over again, and he tried to keep his head above the clouds as Marco kissed him senseless.
His boyfriend’s freckled body was insane. His abs had developed in such a short time, from the intense twelve-hour farm shifts he worked day and night. his shoulders were carved straight from a marble slate, his torso alone was enough to cast a shadow over Jean’s entire frame.
There was a fire flickering in the pit of Jean’s stomach, as Marco rolled Jean’s hips rhythmically against his massive thighs. It was almost as if the guy had done this before, slowly undoing Jean’s buttons, heavily panting against his skin.
Marco lipped at Jean’s piercings, the most sensitive part of his body.
”Ah,” Jean gasped, fisting Marco’s hair for balance.
But all of this attention was becoming too much for Jean.
Marco’s heart pounded incessantly in his ribcage, Jean could feel the erratic beat through his skin as the freckled boy dragged a finger down Jean’s chest.
The sensation caused Jean’s back to arch obediently, and a sharp whine escaped him once Marco’s hand’s brushed over uncharted territory.
“W-wait!” Jean begged, grasping Marco’s hand. He pulled it away, his breath panicking.
Nope. Not happening.
The turbulent wave of reality had come crashing down on Jean, threatening to make him spray his guts viscerally against the backseats.
“Are you ok? What’s wrong?” Marco worried suddenly, pulling his arm free to cup Jean’s cheek.
His eyes searched Jean’s for an answer, but frowned when Jean refused to meet them.
Why couldn’t he just man up? It was just Marco, it wasn’t like this wasn’t something he wanted to do.
But how could he just… let Marco in?
“I can’t.” was all Jean could manage.
His voice was hoarse, and heavy with emotion. He covered his face in shame, desperate to hide the tears that were already spilling.
“Jean, did I hurt you???” Marco pleaded, pulling Jean up into his lap to check him out.
After ensuring there was nothing physically wrong with him, Marco leaned forward to turn off the music.
Jean had given very little thought of what he was going to say to Marco about the Kinky Slinky show. He didn’t think Marco would be desperate to have sex on fall break, so truth be told he thought he would have more time to develop an answer.
But here he was. Face to face with his direct conflict.
Jean sobbed gently, but it wasn’t long before his whole body trembled and twitched with his strained cries.
“Oh honey,” Marco whimpered, pulling Jean tightly against his chest fearfully.
He rubbed the space between Jean’s shoulder blades, rocking him back and forth, hushing and soothing him as his strangled cries freed themselves.
Jean definitely didn’t plan for this outcome when he had left the house that evening. There goes the perfect date, completely ruined by his uncontrollable emotions.
“I’m so sorry,” Jean begged, his tears soaking right up against Marco’s toasty skin. “I h-have to tell you about something. Something serious.”
Marco was suddenly very quiet. He seated himself upright and sobered up, shaking out his head to clear the haze. He had managed to keep Jean tucked safely in the crook of his chest, but he was tense.
“What’s going on?” Marco asked, his safe, strong arms wrapping around Jean to secure him.
Jean relaxed against Marco, but only for balance. He was afraid he would pass out.
He found his breath before he attempted to recall that night.
Where should he even start?
“Do you remember… when I went to that concert with Connie and Sasha? About two weeks ago?”
Marco’s eyebrows furrowed as he recalled.
“I believe so. Reiner was working?”
“Yeah.”
Jean sniffled, rubbing his eye roughly with the heel of his palm.
“There was some guy there that I didn’t recognize, he was hovering close to us for the entire night. He didn’t actually approach me until I went out for a smoke...”
This was where shit got murky.
Jean had been doing his best to repress everything that had happened to him in that alley. He had tried to erase the guy’s ugly sneer from his frontal lobe, to burn out the picture with the butt of his cigarette.
But no matter what, the smoke stains still coated the walls of his mind, still clung to his skin like a rash.
“Take your time, it’s okay.” Marco whispered sadly.
Maybe he had an inkling of where the conversation was headed.
Jean grit his teeth angrily.
“The guy said he had seen our video, the one from Eren’s party. He tried to use it to come on to me, and when I told him I wasn’t interest… He didn’t seem to care.”
Jean couldn’t see anymore; the tears were flowing out of his eyes like a steady river of regret.
This shit isn’t fair.
“I said to him, ‘I have a boyfriend. I’ll scream’… But he just urged me on, saying, ‘Go ahead’.”
Jean ducked his head in shame.
“He touched me… once. Nothing under my clothes. But the damage had already been done by then.”
Fucking psychopath.
“I stopped it, I punched him to get him off of me. He ditched, and I…”
Jean was constantly teetering on numbness, anger and grief as he relived one of the worst nights of his life.
Marco had fallen silent; his body was beginning to chill out. The warmth that had once comforted Jean had faded, as the truth continued.
“I just can’t.” Jean finished, pathetically. “I allowed this to happen to me, and now I can’t.”
Marco’s chest was heaving faster than it should be. He unwrapped his arms to tilt Jean’s chin up, and Jean was displeased to find that Marco had been crying.
“Jean, I’m so sorry.”
His lips quivered as he searched for the right words to say. What could Marco even say? The weight of this information was intense, and fragile.
“None of this is your fault, you hear me???”
How can I believe that, when the whole reason he came on to me was the video? Because I wasn’t careful enough?
Marco grit his own teeth, his fists balling around Jean.
”I wish I would have known… I could’ve stopped myself from making things so much worse. I knew something was up, but I never thought…”
Marco knocked his forehead against Jean’s in comfort.
“…you shouldn’t have to hide your suffering like that. Ever. I’m always going to be here for you, even if it’s just to listen to what you have to say.”
Then, they were both crying.
It was freeing, to finally unpack this experience with someone who cared.
Someone who knew Jean better than anyone else, dead or alive.
“I was worried that the situation would make you see me different, or that you would call the cops on him… I don’t know. I just found it harder to bring up the longer it festered.”
Jean coughed, wiping his nose and shaking himself out. The boy groaned against Marco’s skin, leaning back down into the comfortable roost of his collarbones.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t… get intimate. All I see is that asshole, and then I get all buzzed and I freak out.”
Marco resumed the hand he had against Jean’s back, sniffling as he rested his chin in Jean’s messy mullet.
“Jean, I would never want to do something that makes you uncomfortable. We don’t have to go… all the way, if that’s what you need.” He reassured, almost immediately.
There was something both heroic, and terribly depressing in that statement. Marco would go celibate just for Jean’s peace of mind.
But he shouldn’t have to repress those desires, just to stay comfortable with Jean.
“Well, maybe for just a little while.” Jean mumbled, tracing stars against Marco’s arm.
He could memorize the scars here all night if Marco would let him.
“But later, I do want you. I’ve wanted you all this time, I’m just… I don’t know. Cursed.”
Marco squeezed Jean tight, kissing the raw, tender skin where his tears had been collecting.
He played with Jean’s hair for a little bit, allowing them to reflect on the proposal in silence.
It was nice, to have a breather. Crying was so dehydrating.
“How about when you are ready to go there, you tell me… okay? And let me be clear, there is no deadline on that. You are in control here.” Marco offered, planting more kisses all over Jean’s hair.
Jean wasn’t shaking anymore. He was thrilled that Marco was giving him time to relax, time to heal.
But Marco wasn’t finished.
“I know you probably don’t want anything more to do with the whole… situation, but I can talk to my mom about it if you want. What you went through was… unwarranted and heinous. And you deserve justice.”
Marco tilted Jean’s chin up one more time, emphasizing his level of seriousness.
Jean pinched his lips together, his eyebrows tugging sadly.
“No.” he replied. “I can’t. My parents can’t get involved, at least not until I’ve found a way to tell them about you first. They don’t even know about what Floch did in March, and I’m trying to keep it that way.”
Jean closed his eyes, trying to push his family far out of his mind for now. He didn’t have room for them in this conversation.
Marco frowned. But, he was a man of his word, so he nodded in compliance.
“Okay.”
For at least another half hour, they remained cuddled up in the backseat of the BMW as it hummed in the abandoned subdivision.
Their conversation was another hurdle that Jean cleared, but he still had many to overcome. His parents still loomed over him like skyscrapers, and soon they’d come collapsing down on everything he had built in his life.
But at least for now, he had Marco.
“Let’s go home.”
In the early hour of three in the morning, Jean heard his phone chime from Marco’s beside table.
Groggy, he reached a hand over his sleeping boyfriend to read the bright message, trying his best not to wake the tanned lump.
Jean’s eyes were heavy, squinting through the soreness of his tears from earlier as he checked his inbox.
He had one new text message.
Incoming Text: Potato Girl
Of course. We’re here for you when you get back <3
Jean smiled lazily.
Maybe everything will be alright.
Notes:
If you couldn’t tell, I’ve been on THBATS too much. There are some angelic comparisons in this chapter despite my best efforts XD
I still think it fits into the general theme, but idk y'all tell me what you think.This chapter ended up being so much longer than I intended, but that's ok! I hope it came across exactly how I wanted it to anyways. Thanks for tuning in again, Merry Christmas!
Chapter 11: Radio Killed the Video Star
Summary:
Jean returns to MIT after fall break ends, and does his best to reacclimatize to Boston.
Notes:
Hello hello!
I'm here to deliver another update! I don't have much else to say, so please, dive right in!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jean’s pitiful tears hadn’t quit overflowing since he had left Georgia, roughly four hours ago.
He had never cried this much in his entire life, aside from maybe the time his family left France. But he was only a child then, and these circumstances were completely different.
Saying goodbye to Marco until Christmas break was torture.
“God,” Jean whispered angrily, as he rubbed his raw cheeks and cleared his vision.
At least you didn’t leave him to wonder about why you were acting strange.
It was true. Jean had finally mustered the courage to talk to Marco about what happened at the Kinky Slinky concert, to confess why he was so timid around Marco’s sexual advances.
But if he wanted to continue to heal from the experience, he had to keep the positive momentum moving.
It was only going to be harder, now that he had to leave the Bodt family behind and return to his studies.
Two long months would be no cake-walk without Marco there to sooth his splitting headache, or to rub the spot between his shoulder blades when Jean felt like the only option was to give up.
Jean was also growing worried that his parents would find out about his secret relationship soon, and that all of it would be over in the blink of an eye.
There wasn’t anything he could do about that situation, and nothing could ease the tightness in his chest. His parents were going to crash his party, it was only a matter of when.
Trying to stay hopeful, Jean vowed to get himself in order, to gain back control in the other areas of his life where he had it.
He had to find a job soon, and fast. Georgia had nearly drained his entire savings account, and he still planned to spoil Marco rotten, come Christmas.
After spending a great deal of time trying to calm down, Jean finally wiped the rest of his tears away, and prepared to finish his drive.
About a day after arriving back in Boston, Jean found himself knocking on Connie and Sasha’s apartment door.
His eyes were focused dutifully on their room number: 314
Jean still didn’t know how he would explain his odd behavior to the two, or what he could say to make things right. Other than the bong and other items he had retrieved from home, he didn’t have any other peace offerings.
He hoped that what he brought with him would be sufficient enough.
“Coming!”
A voice called from behind the door soon after Jean knocked. The sound of slippers shuffling into the hallway could be heard right before Connie opened the door.
His eyes widened dramatically once he recognized the other disheveled engineering major before him.
“Dude, you’re actually alive!” Connie cheered, pulling Jean into the apartment by the worn collar of his white pgLang shirt.
Then, he was grasped into a tight hug.
“Wha-“ Jean began, but he gave up and returned the hug when he realized Connie needed it more than him.
“Yeah, in the flesh.”
“Is that THE Jean Horseface Kirstein I hear?”
The other voice belonged to Sasha, who followed Connie down the hall to pile onto their hug.
She smiled at the two boys, ruffling Jean’s mullet for good measure.
“Welcome back stink! We missed you.”
Jean sighed at the nickname, but ignored it to hold up the goodies he had brought them.
“I missed you guys too. What do you say we hit the porch? For old time sake.”
Sasha wheezed as Connie snatched the bong and the bud away from Jean. Together, they watched the bald-headed freak as he sprinted towards the back door, nearly tripping on his baggy jeans as he crossed over the threshold.
Those pants were definitely tailored to fit someone taller than him, but he made it work regardless.
“Is it okay if we smoke? We can talk sober too, if that’s what you’d prefer.” Sasha added carefully.
Jean shook his head. “No. It’ll be easier for me to talk when I have grass in the tank."
Sasha made a face.
“The fuck did you just say?”
“I- Hmm. Never mind. Didn’t sound as good as it did in my head.”
The two smiled at each other in vague amusement, but were interrupted when the back door slid open once again.
“Are y’all coming or what? I’m about to smoke this bowl all by myself.”
Connie held up the bulbous blue glassware for them to see.
The light that flooded into the apartment from the back door was shining against the tool, creating a moody hue against all of their furniture.
“We’re coming! Sheesh, what an addict.” Sasha complained, waving him off.
It was a late October afternoon; the sun was setting on the distant horizon as the three teens piled onto the patio furniture of Sasha and Connie’s balcony.
The atmosphere was a little too chilly to be outside without a jacket, but Jean didn’t mind it. The breeze kept him awake, it was his own personal reminder that he was still alive.
“So, tell us how your spring break was?” Sasha asked, stealing the bong away from Connie’s hands to take the first hit.
Connie frowned at her act of selfishness, but said nothing as he watched her draw up the billowing smoke.
“Huh, where to begin.” Jean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to call upon the events of his week.
The boy described Georgia to them, and detailed the dramatic routine to keep Bodt’s family farm running. He gushed about Marco and their many adventures, about the lake and the bike race and the date.
“Wait, so you saw Eren in Georgia too? I didn’t think he would leave UVA for the fall, he’s down there with Mikasa right now. They’re both in nursing I believe.” Connie explained.
Nursing? Oh, I’ll definitely be teasing Eren about that later.
“Yeah, I think he was there to visit his dad. Either way, we had ourselves a little race.”
Jean chuckled, relieving Sasha of the bong as she passed it around. He drew up his own hit, and coughed roughly as the smoke billowed against the back of his throat.
He hadn’t done the best job of cleaning the glass before he returned to Boston, but it would just have to be good enough.
“And, who won?” Connie asked, his smile was lazy but polite.
“I did.” Jean smirked proudly.
Sasha whooped and hollered, raising her fist towards the cotton-candy sky.
“Of course you did! Eren definitely let you win.” She stuck out her tongue.
Jean shook his head in denial.
“Nah-ah. I won because I’m a skilled driver, and that’s just a fact.”
“You never told us you had a bike! I always thought the BMW was a little too rich, even for you.” Connie criticized.
Sasha hit him square in the chest with the back of her hand, and the buzzcut boy shot her an angry glance in response as she whined.
“Hey, be nice! That sounds like you’re insulting the man.”
Connie opened his mouth to defend himself, but Jean held up a silencing hand.
“It’s okay, he’s right. I prefer my Elvira over any car, over all other engines in existence.”
“...You named your bike Elvira? As in Mistress of the Dark Elvira?” Sasha went slack jaw.
Jean laughed, but the sound melted to a wheeze. He passed the bong back over to Connie, who stole an eager hit; he had been waiting patiently for his turn to come around.
“Yeah. I just wish I had a picture of her to show you. You’ll have to use your imagination.”
Jean mellowed out, with his back against the couch cushion.
He loved this feeling. It was the only time when his thoughts weren’t cohesive enough to tell him how much of a piece of shit he was.
“That’s an iconic name for a bike, Jean. It sounds like you had a lot of fun in Georgia! Connie and I just stayed here and binged all of the Twilight movies again.” She sighed, swirling her finger against the fraying fabric of her chair.
Jean squinted between the two students, pursing his lips.
“The one about the vampires?” He asked.
“Yes, Jean, the one about the vampires.”
“Isn’t that a movie made for preteen girls?”
Connie gasped, holding a hand over his heart in dismay after passing the bong back to Sasha.
“How dare you! Twilight is enjoyable to all audiences, okay? You just have to have a campy sense of humor to understand it. Make Marco show them to you next time you see him, I bet you ten bucks he has a sister who owns all of the copies.”
Jean nodded eventually, but he still wasn’t entirely convinced.
“He does have a sister… I’ll have to ask him when I see him again.”
Sasha snuck another drag from the bowl, hacking up a lung in the process. Once she had finished, she handed the glass off to Jean again.
“I don’t mean to dampen the mood or anything… but, are we going to talk about what happened the week before break? About why you disappeared on us?” She tread carefully.
Jean’s smile melted into a frown.
He knew this question would be asked eventually, but that didn’t mean he was at all prepared to answer it.
Jean's fingers trembled as he lit the the bud, inhaling another toke of the pungent herb. He blew the smoke over the balcony, and watched as the Charles River roared in the channel below.
“It’s… complicated.” He expressed, rubbing the tightning fabric over his heart.
“I know, I'm sure it is. But whatever happened, we’re still gonna be your friends, Jean.”
It was Connie who spoke that time. He pat Jean’s lap with the palm of his hand, offering solace where he could.
Jean grimaced, rubbing his stubble anxiously.
“Yeah, okay…”
He sighed deeply.
“There was this guy that I couldn’t shake at the concert. He recognized me from Eren’s party, you know, that one at the end of senior year? I guess he was…”
Did Jean want to be this open and honest with people he knew only surface level shit about?
Not really.
“He was trying to bum me for a smoke, but when he realized I was the one in the video, he called me a fag. We got into it, and he threw a couple of fists, but then he fled. I was just frightened, and surprised.”
The story was complete horseshit. And his delivery sounded off too, but his friends had no choice but to trust him.
“It doesn’t justify the way I treated you two, and I hope you can forgive me for that. I just get a bit… flighty, and self-destructive sometimes.”
Once Jean had finished his explanation, Sasha rose to her feet and shoved the boy over so she could sit beside him.
“Bud, I am terribly sorry that we couldn't be there to help. That must’ve been a lot. But Connie and I would never judge you, so next time you feel like disappearing… maybe just reach out?”
She asked carefully, rubbing his shoulder blades.
The gesture reminded Jean of Marco, and his heart twinged a little. He would have to check in on the freckled boy later.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll try.” Jean mumbled.
He would make no promises, but she was right. He didn’t have to wait and blow up before asking for help.
It was just so embarrassing, to be troubled. To be traumatized. It was almost like there was no use in even trying to ask, if his family was going to ruin his life anyway.
Before they could continue the conversation, Jean’s phone rang loudly in his back pocket.
He reached for the device, holding up the caller ID to read it.
The number was unknown.
“Do you guys mind if I get this?” Jean asked, rising to his feet.
“Not at all.” Connie gestured to the back door again. “You can use my room, if you need privacy.”
Jean nodded in gratitude, slipping back into the apartment to pace in the kitchen as he answered the call.
“Hello?” He cleared his throat.
“Hi. Is this Jean Kirstein I am speaking with?”
“Correct.”
“Wonderful! My name is Onyankopon, I’m the manager of Marley’s Records in downtown Boston. I see you put in an application a couple of days ago, for a part-time position?”
Jean was speechless.
An actual callback? From one of his applications?
“Y-yes! I did, I’m studying at MIT. Do you have any openings?” His voice shot up an octave.
“Well, you’re in luck. Our last stock boy just put in his final notice. I was wondering if you might be interested in meeting me at the shop for an interview, say this Monday at six? Can you swing it?”
Jean could hardly contain his smile.
Marco was right, all he had to do was be patient. At least one out of the hundreds of applications he submitted was bound to return his interest eventually.
“Absolutely! Do I need to bring anything with me?” Jean asked eagerly.
His fist was balled against his teeth to control his excitement.
“Just you, your ID, and if you have a resume that would be great too. Other than that, I’ll see you come Monday.”
“Of course, thank you Mr… what did you say your name was again? I’m so sorry.” Jean apologized.
The man chuckled heartily on the other side.
“It’s Onyankopon, but you can just call me Onya.”
“Thank you, Onya! I will be there.”
Once the call had ended, Jean jumped up in down, shaking all of the appliances that rest on the kitchen counter.
“NO WAY!”
An interview, at a record shop? That had to be one of the coolest part-times available in Boston.
“What is it?” Sasha poked her head in at the sudden disturbance.
Jean held his phone high over his head for her to see.
“I’ve got an interview on Monday!”
Connie shoved Sasha forward into the apartment, and they fell on top of each other when there was nothing for Sasha to brace against.
“Connie, move your fat ass!!" She grumbled.
The two wrestled and tickled each other as they attempted to untangle themselves.
"I'm trying!!"
"Jean, that’s so wonderful!” Sasha grinned, finally shoving the shorter boy off of her chest so she could join in the celebration.
“Wait, I wanna know what happened!” Connie complained, picking himself up shortly after her.
They both circled Jean, grasping hands as they ran around the kitchen.
“Marley’s Records, they saw my application dude! I might finally get a fuckin part-time!”
Connie’s eyes bulged.
“Dude, congrats! That’s huge!”
The three celebrated together in their giddy state, but their clumsy etiquette was mostly due to the bud they had just smoked.
It was just an interview, but at least it was something.
The news had made Jean forget all about his troubles, even if only momentarily.
Classes started back up the following Monday.
Jean parked the BMW in his usual spot at the commuter’s garage, and bounded up the grand marble steps to his FE class. His head was buzzing with anticipation.
Later, he would be interviewed by Onya at a shop he still had yet to even lay eyes on.
The teen couldn’t lie, he was a teensy bit nervous that the supervisor wouldn’t like his presentation enough to give him the job.
Jean had no prior work experience, no resume to his name. He wasn't allowed to work before college, his parents had kept him too busy in high school to hold one down.
But he was going to try for the position anyway. His parents would hang him out to dry if he didn’t have a job by winter break, so it was either this or bust.
As he found his seat at the front of the bumbling classroom, he searched for his spiky-blonde friend, frowning once he realized that Reiner hadn’t turned up yet.
Jean hadn’t seen Reiner since the bike race on fall break, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t eager to share the news with the guy.
Instead, Jean decided to text Marco to pass the time, sipping steaming coffee straight from the top of his thermos.
Outgoing: Freckled Jesus
can I call at dinnertime? I need a pep talk, badly
He sent the message, and placed his phone against the bench as he warmed his hands together.
Hardly a minute had passed before he had a response.
Incoming: Freckled Jesus
Yeah, I’d love to! I’ll be your cheerleader
Jean smiled.
He could always count on Marco to put him in a better mood.
Before he could send another text, a pair of hands shoved his shoulders back and forth frantically.
“SURPRISE!” Reiner yelled.
Reiner had startled him, but luckily the thermos was no longer in his hands, or Jean might not have had an outfit for his interview anymore.
“You bitch,” Jean complained, cuffing the guy and pulling him down into his seat. “Would you stop doing that?”
“Why would I stop, when it works every time?” Reiner smirked, supporting his chin in his hands as he leaned into Jean’s space.
“What’s up Romeo! How was it, saying goodbye to Monsieur Marco last weekend?”
Jean rolled his eyes.
“How was it to say goodbye to Bertolt?”
Reiner frowned.
“Touché. Don’t you look fancy,” Reiner noted, pinching the collar of Jean’s maroon-colored button up between his meaty fingers. “Are you going somewhere tonight?”
“Actually, I have an interview at six.” Jean smirked.
Reiner’s eyes blew open wide.
“You’re finally getting that part-time?”
“I’m trying to,” Jean huffed. “But someone is determined to fuck up my outfit. Seriously, hands off the merchandise.”
Reiner nodded in vague agreement, scooting his bench forward until his stomach touched his desk.
“Uh-huh, sure. What’s the name of the place?”
“Marley’s Records.”
Reiner made a fist, bringing his elbow down to his knee in victory.
“That’s awesome! Actually, Onya and I hosted a radio show there for a little bit, before I became a Roadie. If he’s still managing the place, then you’re in for a good time.”
Jean was listening.
“You know Onya?”
“Yeah! It’s been a couple of months since I last saw the guy, but I’ll shoot him a text real quick, I’ll vouch for you.”
Jean grinned as he watched the blonde pull out his phone to immediately craft a message.
“You would do that for me?”
Reiner held up his phone to show off the text he had sent.
Impressive. But also, too online.
“I just did! You’re gonna love it there. Maybe he’ll let you host the station sometime, if he likes you.”
Reiner chuckled, bumping his shoulder against the shorter boy’s. Jean swat him away, but he wasn’t upset anymore.
Maybe he did have a shot at this.
“Thank you. Seriously, you don’t get it.” Jean’s voice was drenched in gratitude.
Reiner waved him off, shrugging.
“Anything for you, Romeo. Actually, I have a request of my own if you’ll indulge me?”
Jean nodded. “Hit me.”
“Jimmy is having a Halloween party this Saturday, and I was wondering if you and your friends would like to go with me? He promised me an ounce, if I can bring a bunch of MIT students along.”
Jean screwed up his face.
“Jimmy, as in couch-surfer Jimmy, from Athens?”
Reiner sighed. “I know how it sounds, but really he’s just organizing this party for the girl he’s staying with, up in Boston’s rich neighborhood. I don’t know much about her, but I do know that they want this thing to be a rager, like a proper hallow-weekend party. Plus, my plug was just arrested last week, and I desperately need a refill.”
Jean weighed the pros and cons of this party reluctantly.
He couldn’t turn it down, not after what Reiner had just done for him. But was he really ready to dive into another rowdy event after what happened at the Kinky Slinky concert?
“I don’t know, Reiner. I haven’t been to that many parties, not since…” He trailed off.
Reiner filled in the blanks for him.
“Since the incident with Floch?”
“Yeah.” Jean winced.
“Listen,” Reiner began. He placed a firm hand against Jean’s shoulder.
“I know that was… an uncomfortable experience, to say the least. None of us have forgotten how terrible that whole ordeal was for you. But this will be different!”
Reiner shook Jean again gently, egging him on.
“I mean, it’s a college party, dude. Nobody there knows anybody, and you get to enjoy free booze! Besides, it’s a costume party. If you’re really worried about being recognized, then that’ll solve the issue.”
Jean hated how right he was.
He really should put himself back in the game, allow himself to have some fun again. He knew Sasha and Connie wouldn’t be opposed to it either, they had just been talking about how much they wanted to go to a Halloween party.
But Jean was afraid to have another accidental encounter with someone who had bad intensions. He was afraid of a lot, lately.
“I just… I don’t know. Can I give you my answer when I’m done with my interview?” he asked.
Reiner pursed his lips, but he bobbed his head approvingly.
“Sure thing. But know this: If you do decide to go, I’ll throw in an eighth for you and your friends.”
Man, Reiner was really good at bribery.
Sometimes I wonder what he does when I’m not around.
“Thanks.”
Before they could continue their conversation, the professor had begun the class.
Jean stared up at the vintage glowing sign just outside of the record shop, in the middle of Boston’s Main Street.
He had been so stressed about the interview all damn weekend; the skin around his fingernails had been picked apart until there was practically nothing left for him to pull.
Sure, Reiner’s text had helped tremendously with his odds. But the interview still fell on Jean to pass.
With a deep gulp, he gathered the courage to enter the shop.
Inside, he was greeted by the musky scent of aged vinyl casings, and a speaker inside was playing some kind of jazz station.
The floor tiles in the main show room were a mix-matched pattern of black and white, and where the shelves touched the ground, there were shaggy red carpets to cushion the legs of the furniture.
The walls were lined with vintage t-shirts, musician’s supplies and a wide variety of neon signs that left no room for any other merchandise to be displayed.
Jean was in awe. He had never seen a place with such personality, it was practically begging to be photographed. He would have to film part of his documentary for Marco in there. It would be a crime not to.
Mixed in with all of the shelves sat a few couches and chairs, they appeared as if they came from a local consignment store. There was even a vintage pinball machine that sat blinking in the back of the shop.
But, the main attraction was the rows and rows of records, all organized in alphabetical by the artist.
“Wow…” Jean whispered, allowing himself to take it all in.
This could be his job, as long as he took it seriously.
“Is that you, Jean?” A man behind the checkout counter had asked.
Jean failed to notice him upon his arrival, but after hearing his own name, he nodded curtly.
“I am. Are you Onya?”
“The one and only.” Onya responded smugly, rising to his feet.
The dark-skinned man before him was exceptionally tall, almost taller than Bertolt dare Jean say. But that was a feat in and of itself, almost nobody Jean knew of could compete with that boy’s height.
Onya had a square shaped head, with a sharp jawline and shallow eyes. His warm lips curled upwards once they finally met face to face.
“So, shall we take this little party to the back?”
Jean glanced around one more time. They were the only ones in the store, but that might not last for long.
“Aren’t you worried a customer will come in while we’re away?”
Onya laughed again, just as heartily as he had over the phone.
“Look at you, already looking out for this old place. I’m not worried. If a customer does decide to drop by, then I’ll hear the bell above the door.”
I shifted my focus to the aforementioned bell, and nodded in approval.
“Alright... Then yes, I’m ready.”
Onya led Jean down the back hallway and into an employee break room, where he seated himself casually in the couch across from Jean. He made himself as comfortable as possible, and pressed an intrigued finger to his chin.
“So, tell me. What is it about Marley’s Records that originally caught your interest?”
Jean weighed his options.
He could just fib these answers, add embellishments to make him seem more qualified than he actually is.
But if Onya and Reiner were actually friends, chances were that he would prefer Jean’s answers be raw, and unfiltered.
“I’ll be honest, I applied to a lot of part-times when I submitted one to this place. I am looking for something I can manage while I’m studying at MIT, something to help me buy groceries and maybe go to a concert or two with friends...”
That seemed a little pretentious.
“But,” he quickly added. “The store is quite charming, and I’m really excited about this place potentially being an option for me.”
“I see, thank you for your candor. Are you aware of the position you are applying for?”
Jean nodded, crossing his own legs to seem more casual. His black slacks strained against his thighs in this position.
“I’m assuming I’d be cashier, or a shelf-stocker?”
“You assume correct. It’s a bit of a two-in-one, you would be expected to man the register and put away the weekly order. But business usually peaks earlier in the day, and I hear you only do evenings?”
Jean rubbed his arm anxiously.
“Yes, I have classes in the mornings during the week. Would that be a problem?”
“No, not at all. That’s the time slot I’m looking to hire for anyways.”
Onya offered a tender smile, removing his hand from his face until his palm rested against the arm of his seat.
“I just have a couple more questions, I don’t intend to let this interview run for too long. I have to return to the shop, and I’m sure you’d like to wind down after what I’m sure was a long day of classes.”
Jean nodded, trying not to let the casualness of this conversation contribute to his fear of not being qualified.
“Okay.”
The man hummed again.
“So, Jean, do you have any prior work history? I didn’t see any on your application.”
His voice was deep, deeper than Jean’s father’s. It was nice to listen to though; his inflection had a sultry jazz of its own.
“No sir, this would be my first job. But I learn very fast, so it wouldn’t be problem if you’re willing to show me the ropes.”
This is so agonizing. How do I know if I’m doing a good job?
“Not a problem at all, I’d say this is an easy job to pick up. But you would have to be independent after training, because I leave after five pm every day.”
Jean grinned, his ankle bouncing against the ground.
“I can do that.”
“Awesome. Well then, I just have one more question for you: What is your favorite song? And if you don’t have one, how about a band?”
The question had thrown Jean off balance. His favorite song? What was the relevance there?
It was a record shop, so someone might ask for a recommendation. Jean wanted to seem knowledgeable, but not overdo it.
Hmm…
“Um… well, this might sound silly, but it’s one my mom used to sing. I think it’s called… Jet te laisserai des mots. She would sing it around the apartment, when my brother and I were young. It was from her favorite movie: Mères et Filles.”
Onya was surprised by the rawness of his answer.
“That’s rather heartfelt. I don’t believe I’ve heard it before. Are you French, Jean?”
Jean grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.
“I am. I moved to Georgia from Orlèans, a long time ago. I can’t seem to forget the song though.”
Jean’s mother hadn’t sung again since those days. She wasn’t happy anymore, and music was reserved for the people who feel human emotion.
“Well, I’ll have to give it a listen sometime.” Onya chuckled, stretching out his arms and groaning in satisfaction.
“Jean, I must say. I am very pleased to bring you onboard this team. Reiner gave me your recommendation this morning, and any friend of his is a friend of mine. So, can I count on you to help us out?”
Jean couldn’t believe his ears.
“You mean, I-I’m in?”
“If you want to be, yes.”
Duh.
“When do I start?” Jean begged.
“Next week, Monday at five. I’ll give you your full schedule then, but for now we’ll have you set up for a four-hour training shift with Porco. He’s the other night shift here at Marley’s.”
Jean had to restrain himself in his seat. He felt so much relief in that moment, it threatened to make him cry.
I did it, Marco!
“I’ll be there. Is there a dress code I should be worried about?”
Onya snorted again, shaking his head.
“Just don’t show up in booty shorts, and you’ll be set. Preferably, wear anything artist or music related. It helps sell the records.”
The man led Jean back to the main show room, and before they could part ways, Jean gave him his ID to register in their system.
“I’ll be sending you a background check in your email, pass that and we can get you clocked in next week.”
Jean sighed in relief.
“Yes sir.”
They wrapped up the exchange, and Jean decided to inspect the records before he left the store.
Marley’s Records had a ton of vinyl options to choose from, the artist selections ranged in popularity and genres.
He didn’t know why he was even looking in the first place, it wasn’t like he had a record player at home. But it was fun just to browse, to peep at the beautiful cover art of all the different albums.
“If you see something you like, you can take it with you. My treat.” Onya spoke up from behind the register, much to Jean’s surprise.
“You’d let me have one of these?” He repeated, for clarity.
Onya furrowed his brows in confusion. “That’s what I said, innit?”
Jean smirked.
“Yeah, you did. I think….” His fingernails danced along the plastic slips, sifting for one that caught his eyes.
Then, he landed on a record by Beach House, titled Depression Cherry. The cover art was a marvelous shade of cherry-red, and the band was one Historia had recommended to Jean ages ago.
“I’ll take this one.” He decided.
Onya smirked at his selection.
“Good choice. She's all yours.”
Once again, Jean had nothing he could play the record on. But maybe he’d ask Mrs. Bodt for a player for Christmas, or he’d save up for one all on his own.
Then, him and Marco could listen to the record together.
Speaking of, he had forgotten to text the group chat about the outcome of his interview. Jean yanked his cell out of his back pocket, and drafted a message.
Outgoing: Jinae Hoes
guess who got the job!!
It wasn’t long before the responses came flooding in.
Incoming: Jinae Hoes
(Freckled Jesus) I FUCKIN KNEW YOU COULD DO IT BABE!!
(Louise) Thank god, I’ve been casting a spell over your voodoo doll for hours now. We’re so proud of you Jean!
(Thelma) Historia isn’t kidding btw. Congrats buddy, we believed in you all along
(Berti) fug yes
(Tits) It's time to party! Let’s go drinking, to celebrate this colossal win!
Jean rolled his eyes at some of the responses, but he was filled with pride regardless.
It had been a piece of cake, he didn’t know why he was even stressed about the interview in the first place.
Onya was a chill guy, from what Jean deduced in their brief interaction. But he supposed only time would tell how easy the job would actually be, and he wondered how he would manage his school, work and social life all at once.
Before he could leave the shop, his phone chimed one more time.
Incoming: Tits
Sooo… whats the verdict? Can I count on you to be there Saturday?
Jean grimaced. He still hadn’t made up his mind about the Halloween party yet… but Reiner did help him get the job. It was only fair to return the favor.
He typed up his reply.
Outgoing: Tits
I’ll be there. Send the RSVP
Jean waved goodbye to Onya before he stepped outside again. In the midst of the busy downtown street, Jean tilted his chin up to the sky and inhaled as deeply as he could.
He dialed up the goons before he could change his mind.
On the third ring, Connie picked up.
“What’s good Horseface?”
Jean ignored the nickname, getting straight to business.
“How do you and Sasha feel about accompanying me to a Halloween party this weekend?”
In the middle of the week, Jean found himself sitting on his couch, diligently doing homework while the tv hummed quietly in the background.
It had been maybe a day or two since he had aced the interview at the record shop, but instead of celebrating like Reiner had suggested, he was buried neck deep in his Literature assignments.
Before he could complete his thoughts on the next prep question, his phone lit up with a call request.
Mom’s cell.
Jean swallowed thickly, hovering his thumb over the screen.
Please be about anything other than the video. And the pills.
He debated ending the call at first, before his thoughts got the better of him. His mom would find it weird if he didn’t answer, and might take drastic measures just to get in touch with him.
Jean decided to accept the call, faking a brave voice.
“Yes ma’am?”
“Jeanbo, my darling boy. Comment se passent tes cours?”
Her voice was surprisingly attentive.
That wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
“They’re… adequate, ma’am. How is dad?”
Jean didn’t really want her to answer that question, but he needed to see if she really was as tuned-in as she sounded.
“Oh, you know. Busy. Working. Listen, it’s been a little while since I last heard from you, and I wanted to see if you had made any progress on finding that part-time?”
Jean’s breath hitched.
He hadn’t come up with a way to garnish his new position, not to her liking anyway.
“I did, ma’am. There’s this record shop downtown, it’s fifteen hours a week at fifteen an hour. They’ll start me out as an evening shelf hand, but… my boss said I could work my way up in the company in no time. I could be one of their radio hosts in a few months.”
That last part was a lie. There was no pyramid scheme promised to Jean, but he thought it might make the position sound better than it was.
Well… better to his parents. Who only operated on the basis of perfection and class.
“That is wonderful to hear. And at a record shop? Comme c’est chic! J’ai hâte te d’en entendre parler.”
She was taking this news surprisingly well.
“Comment te sens-tu, maman?” He asked, concerned.
She scoffed on the other end.
“Since when do you care? I’ll let your father know that he can stop pestering me about finding you a job. In the meantime, save your money. N'allez pas dépenser vos chèques de paie d'un seul coup.”
Jean was still tense. She could drop a bomb at any moment, it seemed to be her favorite thing to do these days.
“Yes ma’am, I will.”
“And Jean?”
“Yes?”
Mrs. Kirstein paused for a moment, considering her next words.
“…Keep studying.” She sighed.
The line clicked dead.
Jean groaned angrily. He threw his phone across the room, once he realized she was gone.
First class parents, his were.
Jean would do everything in his power to keep his head above the water, if only for a little while longer.
Notes:
I am currently muddling through a sinus infection, so I'm sorry if any grammar or spelling was off! I'm not at the top of my game right now, but I really wanted to update this work, so I made it happen.
Also, according to my chapter guide, we are about halfway through Growing Pains by now! I didn't expect for it to be this long, but what can I say. I don't really know how to write small stories anymore ;-;
Thank you again for your continued support!
Chapter 12: Sink or Swim
Summary:
Jean loses control at a Halloween party.
Notes:
IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME FOUR FRIGGIN MONTHS TO POST THIS CHAPTER. But heyyyy she's a longer chapter at least!
Anyway, no more excuses. I hope you enjoy!TW: Drugs
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Connie! Help me attach this belt, will you!”
Sasha and Connie were moving around their apartment like destructive twin twisters.
It was late on Saturday afternoon, and there was only an hour before Reiner’s aforementioned Halloween party would commence, all the way on the rich end of Boston. The three MIT students were making final touches to their Halloween costumes, but Jean was more worried about having to attend yet another party than stressing over his costume.
“Coming!” Connie called.
The boy set his black and yellow biker helmet down on the kitchen counter, before sprinting towards Sasha’s room. His pleather pants made a silly squelching sound when his legs brushed against each other.
Jean sighed deeply once he was alone at the island.
It seemed as though the universe was totally against Jean when it came to his luck at social gatherings. The last real rager he had been to (In French, Jean would call it a Teuf) was Eren’s graduation party. That night continued to haunt him, even over half a year later. The bar incident last month had been a total bust as well, and was even more traumatizing.
The assailant’s face was still fresh in his memory, causing goosebumps to break out over his arms and chilling him to his core.
Was Jean actually ready to get back out there, and risk his sanity for a few drinks and laughs? Or was he just afraid of missing out on the fun.
He was pretty weak at defending himself already, and was easily peer pressured. Anything could happen tonight.
If he had his mother’s Xanax with him, he might’ve been able to ride out the evening on a subtle high. But he knew his friends had already expressed their excitement to share some drinks, and mixing the two substances could cause a fatal reaction.
Jean wasn’t satisfied with his life enough to care about the risks per say. But he didn’t really want Marco to find him dead on the bathroom floor at a stranger’s house, especially on Halloween.
His boyfriend deserved better than that.
So, reluctantly, Jean had left the prescription bottle behind, way up on the top shelf of his vanity.
He glanced up at his reflection in the silver surface of the microwave now, and clicked his tongue.
Jean never realized how seriously American college students took Halloween. The weekend of was this whole ordeal, maybe a ritual was a better word. Huge frat parties, similar to the one they were preparing for, often brought students out from neighboring schools just to celebrate in the busier cities.
Jean was always underprepared in the fashion department, and costumes were no different. He only dressed semi-well in high school because Historia chose all of his outfits for him, so his appearance tonight was on the lazier side of his options. His hair was greasy and disheveled from tangling his fingers through it all day, and his black and white face paint was already smudging and greying in different spots where nervous sweat was beginning to disintegrate his makeup.
His ribcage-patterned hoodie wasn’t helping with the heat that was radiating off his body in waves.
Jean had decided to be a half assed skeleton for Halloween this year. He didn’t have the money nor the confidence to pull off something extravagant, but he thought it would be a funny way to start a conversation with someone about the catacombs in Paris.
Marco loved Jean’s French lore. He would have to call his boyfriend at some point during the evening, to catch a glimpse at what the freckled boy was dressed up as, and also just to say hello.
Jean missed Marco like the waves miss the moon.
“Jean, are you ready? Come check us out, and bring Connie’s helmet with you!”
Sasha called him into her room next. And like Connie, Jean jogged over from the kitchen, once he had finished picking apart his appearance.
After crossing the threshold, Jean’s eyes widened at the two roommates’ costumes.
Sasha and Connie were both Light Cycle riders from Tron Legacy, Connie was a yellow rider, whereas Sasha was a blue one.
Jean remembered watching that movie with Marco a couple of years ago. Sasha and Connie were eerily close to the to the real deal, with their sleek black boots and padded biking armor to boot.
He just wished he had Elvira with him at MIT. They could’ve use her for their photos.
“Damn.” Jean gaped, circling the two of them after handing off Connie’s helmet. “You guys put my costume to shame. Is that even comfortable?”
He laughed, poking Sasha in the ribs.
Sasha swat him off, and stretched her arms out proudly once he had backed off.
“They’re tailored for a specific fit, so yes. They’re cozy.” The redhead smirked, and bowed her head.
“But yours ain’t half bad either. Connie and I are just mega nerds who use Halloween as an excuse to cosplay.”
Jean shook his head, but he understood exactly what she meant.
They might be nerds, but that wasn’t a bad thing to be. It was cool that they took things to the extremes. They didn’t invite anyone else’s opinions, and that was something Jean envied.
“Oh!” Sasha exclaimed, while clapping her hands together. “That reminds me. Eren and Mikasa sent me a photo of their costumes! Lookie here.”
The girl-turned-cyclist held up her phone for Jean to see.
Eren was posed stiffly with his back against the right side of a dorm doorframe. He had a fake gun in his hand, and he wore a traditional formal tuxedo with the front buttons popped. One of his feet was propped up against the frame behind him. Mikasa was leaning back against the other side, in a silky black sleeveless dress with a long leg slit and kitty heels. She was decorated simply by her Smokey-eye makeup, and a fake pistol tucked in the garter against her thigh was the finishing touch on the photo as a whole.
Jean studied the screen, but shrugged up at Sasha.
“Don’t hate me, but... who are they?”
Connie gasped, and clutched at his heart.
“Jean! Who hurt you!!!” He demanded.
Connie had meant it as a joke, but Jean winced slightly at the question. He banished his traumatic thoughts almost as quickly as they came, and shrugged again.
“Unfortunately, I am dead serious. Who are they?”
Sasha chuckled, smacking the back of Connie’s head gently to correct his reaction.
“They’re the main characters from Mr. and Mrs. Smith, a spy movie. Don’t listen to Connie, he's just dramatic.” She huffed.
Jean hummed curiously. He had never heard of the film before, but the couple still looked badass regardless.
“I’ll have to look it up later.” He glanced between Sasha and Connie and raised a brow. “Shall we head to ma vioture?”
Sasha held up a finger to demand patience, and safely extracted Jean’s video camera from the pile of dirty clothes on the floor.
She pointed the lens at the two boys, and pressed the big red record button.
“We have to show Marco our costumes while they’re still fresh! Jean, what do you wish to say to your boyfriend on this chilly hallows eve?” Sasha begged, zooming in on Jean.
Jean flushed, but luckily the red wouldn’t show up on the camera under all of his face paint. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, and smiled like the camera was Marco himself.
“Hey Hun. We’re about to head out with Reiner to some party in Boston’s richest neighborhood. Maybe I’ll steal a vase or something for your Christmas present.” He smirked.
Connie shook Jean’s shoulder, laughing with the pitch of an overstimulated chimpanzee.
“Good idea! I need to get something for my mom too.” The shorter boy faced the camera, and Sasha turned the lens to focus solely on him.
“Sup Marco, how’s Georgia? Boston’s pretty loud today, but that’s no problem for us because we’re louder!!” Connie whooped.
Jean rolled his eyes, but he was just happy his friends remembered to include Marco in their outing.
Jean had been rather shitty at gathering footage in the past month. He captured some of the highlights of his classes earlier that week, and he took Marco shopping with him vlog-style the other day, but all of that footage was boring. Uninspired. He had to up his game if he wanted to salvage any of this documentary.
“Hi Marco! It’s Sasha.” Sasha turned the lens towards herself that time, and showed off her costume. “I’m your camera man tonight, I hope you don’t mind. Jean is covered in makeup and we don’t want him to ruin your future gift by damaging the lens!” She giggled.
Jean watched Sasha as she filmed, and his heart swelled pridefully.
Maybe he could actually pull this off, thanks to them.
“Anyway, we need to dash before all of the parking spots are taken. But you’ll see more of the night in just a few seconds! Bye for now.” Sasha blew a kiss to the camera before closing the flap and ending the recording. She then turned towards the boys and pursed her lips curiously.
“How was that? I love this documentary idea Jean, and I hope you don’t mind that Connie and I are stealing a bit of the spotlight! I feel like a youtuber.” She giggled.
Jean grinned as she tucked the device into her backpack.
“That was better than anything I’ve filmed since moving here.” He remedied.
Sasha rolled her eyes, and shoved his shoulder back playfully once she had finished packing up.
“It is not. Anyway, cut yourself some slack. You hardly know how to work the camera itself, so it’s impressive that you’ve made it this far!” She grinned.
Jean tickled her instead of replying to her tease.
“Oh SHIT, STOP!” She screamed and squirmed, wiggling away from Jean’s fingers.
Connie pulled Jean away by his shoulders, grouching and groaning.
“She’s right you know! About the parking, not your camera-working abilities. We need to get a fuckin’ move on!”
Jean pulled away from Sasha while panting, but pointed a finger from his eyes to hers to mark that he wasn’t finished with her.
She snorted and jumped to her feet, skipping towards the living room with a singsong voice.
“Last one to the car is a rotten egg~!”
The three MIT students gathered the rest of their belongings and sprinted down the apartment stairwell, swinging against the railing at the bottom rung to build momentum as they raced towards the parking garage.
Jean was the first to tap the bumper of his BMW, followed by Sasha, then by Connie. Connie keeled over the spoiler on the back, and huffed in annoyance.
“Fuck you.” He said, before Sasha could even begin to tease him.
She smirked. “You wish!”
The redhead opened the passenger side door, and swung herself low into the seat next to Jean.
Connie turned red in the face as he crawled into the backseat. He crossed his arms and refused to confirm or deny to her accusation.
Jean glanced back at Connie for just a moment to check his seatbelt, but as he did, his eyes lingered on the seat cushions.
Marco and him had almost…
No. Don’t think about that right now. You don’t wanna pop a boner at a frat party.
Jean shivered, and turned to face the road again.
“Who do you think will be the first of us to get shitfaced?” He cleared his throat.
Sasha lowered the window as Jean began navigating out of the parking garage. His sound system was at a lower volume than usual, but the bass still thumped sonorously underneath their asses.
“I think it’s gonna be… oh let’s be real, it’s gonna be me.” She chuckled, tracing her finger against her chunky helmet. “My tolerance is so low it’s practically dancing in hell.”
Connie leaned over Sasha’s seat, propping his arms against the headrest in the process.
“Yeah, but I won’t be far behind. You’re a terrible influence, sober or not.”
The two of them giggled as Connie fixed Sasha’s hair, but Jean was still focused on Marco. He was stressed over how the party would go, and worried about the potential trouble he could be getting himself into without his boyfriend there to guide him.
He was sweating worse now in the car than he had been when he was just standing in Sasha’s kitchen, so he turned the AC knob a few more clicks to the right and tried to breathe.
Sasha must’ve noticed his demeanor change, because she glanced over at Jean and studied his expression before speaking up.
“Hey, are you going to lay a music track or something in the background of your documentary?”
She had raised an excellent question.
Jean was powered by music. Music was there for him in all of the rough periods of his life, and his parents had forced him to learn piano when he was much younger, so he had a basic understanding of chords and reading sheet music.
Marco also played the guitar. Him and his late father had their own special thing with music, so Jean knew how much it could mean for Marco to have music added to the documentary.
But… would that fit the dynamic of his project? Jean did work at a record shop now, so he had infinite access to download any song he wanted. He might as well take advantage of that.
“Hmm... I hadn’t thought of that before. But now that you mention it, I think I should.” He nodded, and made a mental note for later.
Find music for the film.
“Weellll,” Sasha interrupted, and leaned a bit further over the center console. “What if I taught you how to play something on my guitar? You said you knew a little bit about playing already, and that could be endearing to Marco… I don’t know, it’s just a suggestion. But my heart would melt if someone made something like that for me.”
Connie and Jean both paused to stare at Sasha after she had finished her request. One of them clearly favored her idea, while the other was still in awe.
“Jean, you totally should!” Connie clapped Jean on the shoulder, as he made a right turn towards the outer city.
Jean grimaced. “I don’t know… I think that would be really cool in theory, but I am already bad at playing the simple chords Marco taught me. Not to mention, I can’t sing for shit.”
Sasha waived a hand in dismissal.
“No matter. We can find a song that’s easy for you to play, but is still something from the heart. Maybe we can choose a song in a softer register, so it’s easier for you to sing. Don’t rule it out just because you think you can’t do it! We can plan a practice or something next week.”
Jean went slack jaw as they sat under a red light.
“I already owe you for helping me edit the videos! I can’t possibly pay you for guitar lessons too…” He groaned.
Connie interrupted this time, after shifting over to his side of the BMW.
“Dude, don’t worry about paying her for anything. She’s plenty fine financially, and she already tries to force me to practice guitar with her, for like, fun. She needs this more than you do, trust me.” He pat Jean on the shoulders, and grabbed hold of the handlebar over his head for balance.
Sasha stuck her tongue out at Connie.
“At least someone knows my worth. You don’t understand how much of a gift my skills are, I have to share them with somebody.”
Connie rolled his eyes, but he was giddy.
“Yeah, we’ll see about that. You’re actually a victim in this situation, Jean. I hope you understand that before you agree to anything. There is no going back once you give her an inch!”
Jean sucked his teeth, rolling his shoulders back in his chair in attempt to relax.
They were helping keep his anxious thoughts at bay.
“I suppose if it’s free… yeah, why not. I’ll need your help with picking a song anyway.”
Sasha whooped and cheered at the top of her lungs, once Jean had made his choice.
“FINALLY! I have recruited my first Padawan! SUCK IT Connie!!!”
Jean didn’t understand that reference either, but to avoid another long info-dump about a movie he had never seen before, he stayed silent for the rest of the drive and let them discuss whatever shows they were currently watching.
It was only a fifteen-minute ride from Sasha’s apartment to the party, but with the Boston commuter traffic, the backup added another seven minutes to their arrival time. Jean still found a place to park the BMW a few blocks from the address, but the luxurious mansion was already buzzing with students dressed up in all sorts of costumes.
“Sheesh. Who did you say invited you to this thing?” Sasha asked, sealing up the window with her helmet cradled to her chest tight.
Jean snuck a sip of water from the plastic bottle in his door, and checked his reflection one more time in the rear-view mirror.
“A friend from home. He’ll be here, I’m sure you met him at Eren’s party last semester. His name’s Reiner.” He simplified.
Connie scratched at his neck.
“He owns this place…?”
Jean shook his head.
“No, I believe he said it was… Ji- uh… James’s girlfriend’s place? She’s a DJ, this is some promo for a set she’s playing next month. It’s a whole ordeal.”
Sasha snorted.
“Sounds boujee. Can’t wait!” She exclaimed, before climbing out of the BMW.
Connie raced after her, as did Jean. He triple-locked the car and shoved the keys deep into his jean pockets, following the two roommates up onto the sidewalk.
Sasha and Connie both shoved their helmets over their heads as the crowd began to thicken. Most of the girls on the front lawn were dressed in rather… promiscuous costumes. But hey, what did they say in Mean Girls?
Halloween is the one night a year a girl gets to dress up like a total slut, and no other girls can say anything about it.
Jean chuckled as a few of them eyed him bounding up the stairs, and he shook his head in amusement.
He kind of understood the appeal. If he saw Marco out there in a playboy bunny outfit, he would give that boy anything he asked for.
“What’s your friend gonna be dressed as?” Sasha shouted, as the club music began jumping in volume.
They were bounding up the marvelous granite steps, towards the lavish open foyer.
People were walking in and out without being monitored, so Jean pushed his friends forward.
“I’m not sure. I’ll know it when I see him though, so you two should go find something to drink first.” He instructed.
Sasha and Connie left Jean’s side in search of the bar cart after a shove in the right direction, but Jean focused on finding his blonde friend first, before indulging himself.
This party was nothing like Eren’s party. No shade towards Jaeger’s party throwing abilities, as they were an impressive feat for Georgia. But this was a whole new ballpark.
The first few rooms Jean had passed were sensory overload. Students were crouched down in the hallway, sharing chats and make outs on dares underfoot. A classic beer pong table was situated in the main living room, alongside a well-lit pool table and a stunning 1970’s conversation pit filled to the brim with already tipsy partygoers.
A bit further past the conversation pit, a DJ stand and a giant dancefloor was teeming and bouncing with dozens of students in flashy costumes. They were laughing, jumping, drinking and shouting the words to a song that Jean didn’t know.
It was already so loud inside. Jean’s heart was hammering as he searched heads for Reiner.
The kitchen was just beyond the dance floor, but Jean wandered no further when he finally noticed his friend bobbing his head at the edge of the DJ booth.
Jean pushed past a field feathers and sequins until he was standing in front Reiner, who was aptly dressed as Frankenstein’s monster.
“Tits?” Jean called, smacking the taller guy on the shoulder.
Reiner’s gold eyes lit up in recognition, even under all of Jean’s makeup.
“Romeo! Look at you!” He laughed heartily, picking at Jean’s hoodie and gesturing for him to spin.
Jean obliged, giving his friend the full three-sixty as he messed with his hair again.
“I did my best to be on theme. I also brought my friends, but they’re grabbing drinks right now.” He explained.
Reiner clapped his hands gleefully.
“You, my friend, have earned the eighth and more!” He shouted over the speakers to his left. “Hey, while we’re here, do you wanna meet Anya? That’s Jimmy’s girlfriend, she’s the DJ.”
Couch-surfer Jimmy’s girlfriend. That’s right.
Jean grinned, which made him look extra silly in his skull makeup.
“I’d love to!”
Reiner bobbed his head and lead Jean up the stairs of the booth.
Anya, who had her chunky black headphones over her ears, noticed the boys and slid the device off for a moment.
She was dressed as Hatsune Miku, but instead of having her signature long blue pigtails, she wore her afro in two big space buns with cyan colored star clips to accessorize.
Ymir and Historia both loved Vocaloid. The girls used to force Jean to watch dozens of music videos back in middle school, about a year after they had all first met. But Anya had a creative spin on the character, one that Jean thought was very neat for a DJ.
She had this clear lip-gloss with star-shaped confetti that made her lips shimmer, and her rich brown skin was highlighted by a silver sheen on both her cheeks and nose.
She was wearing star shaped shades, and her costume was holographic, glowing rainbow in certain lights.
“Hi there! Who’s this, Reiner?” Anya asked.
Her voice was soft in volume, but deep in tone, so Jean could barely hear her over the slap of the bass.
She twisted a few of the knobs on the turntable and boosted two levers before stepping to the side, but continued to dance in front of the boys at the gate.
Reiner gestured to Jean, flashing his teeth and dancing with her.
“This is Jean! He’s my friend from Georgia. Jimmy asked him to bring a few of his friends, we all study together at MIT.”
Anya held out a hand as she moved, and Jean gasped at her canary colored star nails. He took her soft hand and shook it twice.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jean. I hope you enjoy my party!” She smiled.
Jean returned the expression. “Thank you, I’ll do my best!”
Reiner clapped both his hands against Jean’s shoulder’s and led him back down the stairs.
“Let’s go find your friends, and get ourselves a drink! I’m thirsty just from watching these people dance.”
Jean allowed Reiner to lead him straight through the dancefloor, and into the massive white marbled kitchen. This mansion kind of reminded him of his parent’s home, the one in Georgia. This place was more spacious and had more personality than his own, but the luxuries here were still the same.
And that only added to his already spiraling mental state.
Jean’s heart was slamming against his ribcage. He didn’t know what he was waiting for to happen, but there was something in the air.
Luckily, Sasha and Connie were communing over by the punch bowl, so Jean pointed them out for Reiner.
“There they are!” He shouted.
Reiner continued to press on, until all four of them were huddled over the sink together.
“Hi everybody! Welcome to the party!” Reiner cheered as he grabbed a solo cup for him and Jean. “Sick costumes by the way.”
Sasha and Connie moved aside so Reiner could reach the punch bowl.
“Thank you! You must be Reiner, Jean’s told us a little bit about you.” Sasha greeted.
Connie took a sip from his own cup, eyeing the liquid curiously. “What’s in the punch?” He asked.
Reiner glanced down at the cups he had just filled, and shrugged.
“What isn’t in the punch?” He laughed.
Connie’s eyes widened at the flavor, and coughed immediately.
“Damn” He wheezed, and covered his mouth as spit pooled in the corners of his lips.
Sasha squealed for joy, and tipped back some jungle juice for herself. She swallowed it with a wince, but swiveled her hips once her liquor was down.
“It’s nice to finally be properly introduced!” She proclaimed, bowing her head to Reiner respectfully. But it didn’t take long for the redhead to turn towards her shorter counterpart, and move on to the next activity.
“I wanna dance! Will you come with me?” She asked, tugging Connie with her by his arm.
Connie flushed. “Of course!” He agreed, leaning into her touch.
The two of them disappeared towards the dance floor with red cups in hand.
Reiner chuckled, handing Jean his own cup in the process.
“They seem like fun!” He mused.
Jean nodded, and took a swig from his drink.
The flavor was bold, and strong like rubbing alcohol. But there was a wild berry aftertaste that helped make the whole thing bearable.
“They’re hard to keep up with sometimes, but they’re really great friends.” He sighed.
Reiner nudged Jean’s arm, and pointed towards the stairs to the cellar.
“Jimmy has something for us to try tonight. Wanna come with me?” He asked.
Jean peered anxiously at the cellar door, furrowing his brows. It was dark in the main hallway, but there was a faint glow originating from the basement level.
He swallowed thickly.
“Sure. Lead the way.”
Reiner obeyed, and together they descended the stairs into a man cave of sorts.
There were video game posters and Pokémon cards lining the walls of the cellar, and towards the back were rows and rows of manga and figurines, littering two five-shelf stands.
There was a large black sectional in the middle of the room, and Jimmy was seated there with his own cup of juice and an Altoids tin resting on a tv tray in front of his legs.
Jimmy was as tall as Bertolt was, but he was a hundred and fifty pounds heavier than him. He was a light skinned man with medium length hair twists, and he accessorized with shimmering gold jewelry that was probably worth more than Jean’s BMW.
He had soft, shy brown eyes that watched Jean as he made it to the bottom of the stairs.
“Hey Reiner.” He greeted.
Jimmy wasn’t wearing a costume, but he was wearing a navy headband that had a silver symbol on it.
“Jimmy, buddy. This is my friend Jean, he’s chill.” Reiner introduced them briefly, before sitting down on the couch and patting his left side for Jean to join them.
Jean followed Reiner’s lead, but stole another sip from his cup before he even attempted to socialize.
“Sweet. Is it still cool if we have… our coffee tonight?” Jimmy whispered.
Reiner snorted, and eyed Jean.
“He’s talking about acid, by the way. Wanna take a tab with us?”
Jean investigated the Altoids tin on the tv tray once more, this time with interest.
Acid? He had never taken acid before.
But it couldn’t be much worse than weed, or Xanax.
Hell, why not.
“Sure, is that okay? I don’t want to steal your supply.” Jean stuttered, laughing anxiously.
Jimmy shook his head, and held open the tin.
“I have plenty to go around. Here.”
He passed Reiner a tab, then slid Jean his own.
The tablet was small enough to fit on the tip of Jean’s pinky, and it had a little coffee bean image printed on the paper-like material.
Reiner pressed his against his tongue and sat back.
“Wanna play a few rounds of Mario kart while we wait? It’ll be at least an hour before you start feeling anything.” Jimmy asked, taking his own tab.
Jean copied their habit, sticking the tab on the tip of his tongue. There wasn’t much of a flavor to it, but his heart was hammering like he had just made a mistake.
“Yeah, I’m down. What about you Romeo?” Reiner offered, glancing at Jean with puppy dog eyes.
Jean swallowed the ball in his throat, and nodded.
“Sign me up.” He breathed.
The three boys wasted time for an hour or so, but the whole time they raced, Jean couldn’t but worry that he had just fucked himself over for the rest of the night. He found himself dragging his feet in last place for most of the game, but he couldn’t even be disappointed in himself because he wasn’t even paying attention in the first place.
Jean dragged himself up and off of the couch after he had lost his seventh race in a row.
“Where is the bathroom?” He asked, with a slurry speech.
The juice he had ingested while gaming hadn’t helped clear his mind either.
“It’s up the stairs, to the left.” Jimmy pointed up. “If anyone is hanging out in there, just kick em’ out.”
Jean gave them a thumbs up, and slowy began climbing the stairs that escaped the cellar.
He was woozy, but still breathing.
The engineering major found the bathroom exactly where Jimmy said it was, and locked the door behind him to relieve himself. But as he tried to re-clasp his fly, his fingers waggled and danced in his vision.
“Woah…” Jean sighed, as he held his digits up to see them better.
Then, he noticed everything in his vision was sort of dancing.
“Cool.” He whispered, with a tiny smile.
After washing and drying off his hands, he blended back into the lively atmosphere in the hallway.
There were almost double the attendees now as opposed to when they had first arrived, making moving through the halls almost impossible. Jean drifted from room to room, trying to locate his other friends amongst all the chaos and drugs that were being ingested in multiple different places.
It should alarm Jean how carefree and busy this house was. It should be scaring him shitless how many people were high or drunk around him, how many people were out of control. But… he was actually kind of enjoying himself.
He felt light, airy. Loose. Like nobody was watching him, because nobody really cared who he was here.
He wasn’t Jean Kirstein, son of the rich Architect Henri Kirstein. He wasn’t that kid who was outed at Eren’s party last year.
He wasn’t a fuck up.
Jean was just a nameless skeleton from the catacombs tonight.
Finally, after checking what seemed to be every room in the mansion, he found Connie and Sasha in a room with about thirty other partygoers in it. They were in the corner of a beige colored bedroom, across from two other guys in costumes. One wore a red flannel and blue jeans, while the other a grey button down and black jeans.
Jean approached the four cautiously, and waved his hand to interrupt them.
“Hey, I’m sorry I disappeared!” Jean apologized, prompting Sasha to turn sluggishly to her left.
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“Jean, where have you been my guy!” She begged, with a lazy slur in her voice.
Connie was supporting her by the shoulder, but his eyes were squinted, like he was trying to fight off sleep.
“I know I know, Reiner took me to meet the host’s boyfriend. We lost track of time!” Jean giggled, taking the final swig of his drink and resting the empty cup on a nearby nightstand.
Sasha shook Jean’s shoulders aggressively, but she smiled anyway.
“It’s alright! I just thought we should update the vlog.” Sasha began to sift through her backpack in search of the camera, but paused when she realized the other two guys were staring at Jean.
“Oh! Where are my manners. Jean, this is Sid and Arthur, they’re dressed as Sam and Dean from Supernatural. That’s a good show, you and Marco should watch it on Christmas break or something.” She suggested.
The boys waved, and Jean copied with a smile.
Sid and Arthur. They seem cool.
Connie raised his glass to them, then offered it to Jean.
“Wanna finish mine?” He asked.
Jean stole the cup, and sucked down another ounce of liquor. After wiping his mouth clean of the red liquid, Sasha flipped open the viewfinder and pressed the record button, panning the camera around the room.
“Hi Marco! We’re here, at the party!!!” She sang, dancing and hyping Connie up in the process.
Jean doubted that Marco would be able to see anything with her waving the camera around, so he stole it from her to point the lens towards himself.
“Hey babe.” He smiled, and waggled his brows at the camera. “I’m having a lot of fun right now, but not as much as I would if you were here. Parties aren’t the same without you, mon amor.”
Jean turned the camera around to survey the room, and then he zoomed in on his cup he had set on the nightstand earlier.
“It’s very loud so I hope you can hear this. But I just wanted to say… I really, really love you.”
Jean’s heart plummeted after the words left his mouth.
He was suddenly very aware of his partner’s absence.
Life wasn’t as colorful without Marco in it. Nothing felt real. He didn’t feel real.
Jean moved away from the others for a moment, to point the camera back at his own face. He found his eyes watering without permission.
“And I just want you to know that I never plan to leave you. I hope that I never have to live any more of my life without you, because I don’t think I could survive this world without Marco Bodt.”
Jean smiled, and kissed the lens, which smudged some of his makeup onto the camera.
But he just wiped it off with his hoodie, and powered off the recording.
Before he could return the device to Sasha, someone in the room whistled with their pinkies to get everyone’s attention.
“Who wants to play spin the bottle!” They called, holding up a coke bottle triumphantly.
A couple of guys nearby cheered loudly, and everyone formed a circle in the center of the room.
Jean stepped back immediately, and hung out near the edge of the room where the other couples who didn’t want to play stood. He watched on as Sasha and Connie found a seat somewhere in the circle, and decided he’d stay for the antics.
There was no way his premonitions would come true here, tonight. That was just too good to be true.
But who knew. His curiosity kept him tethered there.
The person who called the game placed the bottle in the center, and spun it dramatically. Everyone in the room began humming with their mouths open, gaining volume as it slowed to a stop. The tip landed on a guy dressed as Mario across the way, who walked over towards the original bottle-spinner on his hands and knees until they connected at the mouth.
Everyone in the room erupted into fits of laughter, and after they were finished, Mario wiped his lips and spun the bottle again.
The first few rounds went by in a flash. Lips connected, people cheered and whooped. Nobody pulled away, even if the bottle landed on someone of the same sex.
Jean had never seen a room have so much fun without drama. High school was hell, but college… was everyone somehow healthier after graduation?
He didn’t have long to wonder, before the bottle suddenly landed on Connie.
A girl dressed up as poison ivy had spun it that turn, leaving the crowd to ooo and aaa as it slowed to a stop, pointing up towards the silver-haired boy.
Connie flushed, and glanced nervously towards Sasha as the other girl made her way towards him.
Sasha appeared frazzled. She said nothing as their lips connected, but it was obvious she was suddenly uncomfortable.
Hmmm, as I suspected. Please, Universe, do your thing Jean thought.
Connie rested his helmet against the floor as he grasped the bottle, and he inhaled sharply before spinning it again.
Jean pulled out the camera sneakily as it spun and spun and spun.
The motion made him dizzy, but he managed to press record as the glass slowed to a stop.
The mouthpiece landed on none other than Sasha Blouse.
Connie’s face was an entirely different color as he realized who it was stopping on, and the crowd of partygoers erupted into cheers.
“Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!” They chanted, as Connie began scooching forward.
Sasha’s expression was unreadable. Was she joyful? Was she afraid? Was she angry? He couldn’t exactly tell.
Even so, she made no attempt to move towards her roommate.
Connie was sat in front of her now.
Was this really it? Could Jean have predicted that they would confront their feelings at this party?
He held up the camera, and waited with bated breath for them to connect.
Sasha finally moved. She kissed Connie for five beautiful seconds, then she pulled back and ran out of the room.
Everyone who had witnessed the kiss was suddenly confused, and glancing around at each other while Sasha made her escape.
Connie sat still in the middle of the circle, with his lips still parted and his eyes blown open in shock.
Jean’s heart twinged.
What just happened? He though Sasha liked Connie, he thought that they liked each other.
But if that was the case, then why did she run away?
As Jean debated how to react, he noticed the camera was still recording. Had Jean just… captured all of that?
Oh.
Jean shamefully powered off the recording, and knelt down beside Connie to assess the situation.
“Hey, a-are you okay?!” He asked.
Connie shook his head in disbelief.
“I mean… what do I do now?” He begged.
Jean frowned, and glanced around for help. For an answer.
“I can try to talk to her? To figure out what’s wrong?” He suggested.
Connie closed his mouth, and swallowed.
“Yeah. Okay, good idea.” He nodded.
Jean began to move forward, but paused when he noticed Connie was grimacing.
“Are you gonna be okay?” He asked again, furrowing his brows in the process.
Connie seemed like he might be sick.
He waived Jean off quickly. “Yes. Go get her.” He urged.
Jean grunted affirmatively, and wandered off in the direction Sasha had disappeared.
The halls were moving now too. The tab he ate earlier was beginning to take effect, with perfect timing.
He continued to fight off the dizziness for as long as he could.
The bathroom door he had emerged from earlier was now locked again, and behind the door he could hear someone gently sobbing in the tub.
Bingo.
“Sasha? It’s me, it’s Jean.” Jean called, trying the door handle.
The knob didn’t budge, but it didn’t take long for Sasha open the door for him anyhow.
She had smudged her makeup all over her cheeks, evidence that she had been hastily wiping her tears away. She huffed, then stared up at Jean pathetically.
“I’m sorry. I’m cool.” She answered.
Jean slipped into the bathroom before she could escape again, and locked the door behind them. He then helped her find a seat on the toilet, and leaned against the wall opposite her for balance.
“Hey, what’s wrong Sash? What’s going on?” He prompted, kicking her foot gently with his.
She sniffled, and blew her nose into the toilet paper roll next to her.
“I don’t know…” She began, propping her arms up against her knees to steady herself. “I’m just drunk, and I think I like Connie but I don’t wanna ruin our friendship. I mean, he seems like he likes me sometimes, but then other times I don’t know!” She whined.
Jean pursed his lips, glancing around the bathroom at the potpourri bowls and the fancy gold towels.
“Do you want my opinion?” He asked her.
Sasha blew her nose once more, and glanced up at Jean with judgmental eyes.
“What do you mean by that?’ She questioned.
Jean shrugged down at her.
“I mean, do you want my opinion? On the situation.”
Sasha blinked.
“Sure. Go for it, I guess.”
“I think you both like each other, but you’re both too scared to ruin the peace. You’ve got a good thing going for you, and throwing your feelings out into the air could disrupt everything. But at the same time, you want him to like you sooo bad.” Jean accused, gesturing towards her with his pointer finger.
His observation had come from personal experience.
“It’s textbook pining.” He finished.
Sasha’s eyes wandered wearily as she considered his opinion. She seemed as if she was going to reply a couple of times, but kept reconsidering her words before committing.
“I do want him to like me, but it’s more than that Jean. I don’t want to be stuck with him if he doesn’t see me that way. And after today… I just don’t know if I could stay in the apartment with him if we don’t come away from this on the same page.” She argued.
Her fingers ran anxiously through her hair, but Jean stopped her by gently grasping her wrists. He brought them down to her sides, and soothed her by stroking her skin.
“Sasha, that boy likes you. Trust me. I might only know how to crunch numbers, but men are sort of easy to read too.”
Sasha chuckled at his jab.
“Yeah, I guess so.” She mused.
But before they could continue their conversation, Jean’s phone chimed with a facetime request from Marco.
Sasha read the caller ID, and hopped up from the toilet seat.
“Go on, answer it. I’ll work things out with Connie, and we’ll all regroup soon.” She urged, and slipped out the bathroom door.
Jean watched her leave without stopping her, and glanced back down at Marco’s profile picture for a moment before he actually answered the call.
As soon as he hit accept, Marco’s face came into frame, in all its freckled glory.
“Howdy Partner!” Marco yipped, and danced around the camera in full cowboy getup.
It was just about the sexiest thing Jean had ever seen his boyfriend in.
Marco’s muscles were defined in high resolution, thanks to the yellow wrinkles of his tight button-down. His ass was practically popping out of his light wash blue jeans, and he had a holster resting on his hips, with his father’s silver pistol concealed in the leather casing.
Marco wore a fringed leather jacket over his shirt, and a wide brimmed cowboy hat on his head that extenuated his ultra-sharp jawline.
Jean was drooling. The saliva threatened to choke him out.
“Holy Hillbilly,” Jean gaped, blinking at his phone screen in disbelief. He stole a few screenshots as Marco laughed, and posed for Jean.
“You look amazing!” Jean grinned, holding the camera at an angle that only captured his eyes.
Marco ran to scoop up his phone, pouting in the process.
“Well, show me yours. I’m waiting!” He begged.
Jean couldn’t say no to a face like that.
The student set his phone up against the bathroom mirror, and did a spin for Marco just as he had for Reiner earlier.
“What do you think? I’m a skeleton, from the catacombs in Paris.” Jean explained.
Marco gasped, then stole a few screenshots himself. He catcalled and whistled at all of Jean’s poses.
“That is so fantastic! You have to tell me more about that when I visit for Christmas. I’ve always been fascinated by the catacombs.” Marco tipped his hat back curiously, and smirked at Jean through the camera. “How’s the party, beautiful? You look sweaty. Have you had anything to drink?”
Jean swayed a bit, blinking the haze of the acid out of his eyes. His heart fluttered when he registered the question.
“Yeah, yes. I have been drinking. But it’s okay, Reiner and the guys are here too.” He mumbled, plopping down on the toilet seat.
Jean was really dizzy now.
“Jean? Can you drink some water from the sink for me? You sound really drunk, baby.”
And he was. But it wasn’t the alcohol that was kicking his ass right now.
“Yeah. Okay I will.” Jean answered, and turned on the sink.
He scooped handfuls of water into his mouth, and breathed a sigh of relief when the cool liquid soothed his throat.
“That’s so good, holy shit.” He chuckled.
Marco hummed on the other end. “I’m glad. Hey, is everything okay? Are you safe?”
Jean’s head was full of static at the moment. He didn’t know the best way to answer that question.
“Yeah… Sasha just got into it with Connie, but they’re working it out. I’ll tell you all about… about it tomorrow.” Jean hiccupped.
Marco gave Jean a moment before answering again.
“Okay. But… are you okay? I’m just worried about you.”
Jean’s heart twinged guiltily.
“Yeah, I’m good. Perfectly fine.”
“…Okay. Happy Halloween, babe. I miss you so much.”
Jean felt like he was going to vomit.
“Happy halloween. I miss you-”
Before Jean could finish his sentence, another party guest erupted into the bathroom to upchuck in the sink.
Jean ended the call before Marco could witness the horrors playing out before him, and he sprung out of the way to avoid getting any of the spray on his hoodie.
“Jesus!” He groaned, as he slipped out into the hallway.
If he thought he was high before, that was nothing compared to how detached he felt walking through the crowd now.
He didn’t feel secure at all anymore.
Marco sounded… disappointed in him. And he should be, what was Jean thinking? He knew he shouldn’t have taken the tab. He knew he shouldn’t have stolen his mother’s Xanax. He knew he shouldn’t have recorded Sasha and Connie’s first kiss; how insensitive could he be?
Suddenly, everyone’s eyes were on him. Judging him. It didn’t matter if he was in costume, it was like everyone knew he was a bad guy.
The walls were shifting, and waving in Jean’s vision. The floorboards creaked and groaned, and people around him screamed and laughed at him.
Jean needed to find his friends. He was losing his way.
“Reiner? Connie?” Jean whimpered, hugging his shoulders anxiously as he pushed through the crowd.
Just then, another random partygoer bumped into Jean head-on. The guy cursed as he stared the MIT student up and down, and scoffed when he recognized him from the other room.
“Hey, you’re friends with those Tron racers from the spin the bottle game! So, do they like each other, or not?” The stranger laughed as he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
Jean blinked and squinted, trying to glimpse his face, but he almost fell to the ground when he noticed Floch was staring back at him.
“W-what?” Jean swallowed, backing away from the other teen.
Floch grinned with his teeth bared, and he walked Jean back down the crowded hall with an unnerving desire in his eyes.
“I said, no one will hear you scream, you fucking fairy!”
Jean scrambled away, running through the density of the living room in a desperate attempt to flee his assailant. This couldn’t be real, there was no way Floch was in Boston. And even if he was, there was no way he would recognize Jean under all his Halloween makeup.
So… if that was the case, why was he still being chased?
Are you safe?
Jean never felt safe in Boston.
Jean burst through the back door of the mansion, and faced a fenced in a back lot where the stoners and smokers gathered. The smell out there was overwhelming, and threatened to make Jean puke on the concrete where he stood.
But he just kept running.
“Help!” Jean screamed, bolting for the fence as Floch gained on him.
Guests turned in the direction of his plea, but they just laughed as Jean sprinted through the yard.
Why were they all… laughing at him?
He needed to hop over and escape before any more damage could be done.
But before Jean could plan his next route, someone extended their foot while he passed, tripping him.
He soared.
“Marco-!” He choked, before crashing face first into the pool.
The water was cold. Prickly. His skin throbbed painfully as the frigid sensation washed over him. His clothes were heavy and tiresome, weighing his body down to the bottom of the pool. His face paint was melting off around him.
Jean was sinking.
His lungs were burning, and his nose filled with water faster than he could think.
His chest convulsed under all the pressure.
At least Floch wasn’t chasing him anymore.
But why did he still feel like he was dying?
Once his head hit the concrete at the bottom, Jean heard Marco’s words echoing around in his head.
Are you safe?
Are you safe?
Are you safe?
Are you safe?
Notes:
It has been a ROUGH couple months for me. I've had friends and family in and out of the mental hospital, and seasonal depression has hit me in full swing. But it was still a nice break to write this chapter, and I look forward to continuing this work and my other works in the future, so trust me when I say I'm not giving up!
Thank you all for your continued support. I love y'all and I'll (hopefully) be updating again soon.
(Sorry, I know this sucks. But I’m going to take a mental health break from this work until I’m feeling better! I’ll be back in a few months. This is in effect 8/31/2025)
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chelseasmile1999 on Chapter 10 Sun 15 Dec 2024 11:18AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 15 Dec 2024 11:19AM UTC
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