His days were monotonous. Day in, day out; school, work, school, and work. His days were all the same sometimes he didn't know if the day had passed or if it was all some horrible dream that he hadn't woken up from yet. He was straddling that thin, fragile line that separated the dream from reality.
It was pitch black, an impregnable darkness that seemed to wrap around his soul, "Jean," such a faint whisper, who was calling him? "Jean." He reached out, grasping at nothing more than air. "Jean." He felt someone grasp his hand, a warm hand that radiated so much warmth and heat, a hand that melted the block of ice around his heart, he shut his eyes. What was this strange feeling wrapping itself around him, as if he were to wake up, this elaborate illusion casted by his brain would disappear as soon as he opened his eyes, he breathed slowly, taking three long breaths before he finally opened his eyes. It was the day of their high school's big football game, he was outside, lying on the cool courtyard grass, still slightly damp from yesterday's night time rain, Marco sat beside him. his lips trembled as he watched Marco smile that perfect smile of his, a smile he had seen every day, that smile that could light up a whole entire room, that smile that showed off Marco's perfect teeth, even though the freckled boy was self-conscious about them and thought they were a little crooked.
"Marco," he released with a strangled cry, his whole body shook as tears rolled down his cheeks.
Marco fixed him with a worried stare. "Jean? What's wrong? Are you okay?"
Jean shook his head, this wasn't real. None of this was real at all. He reached upwards, his fingers just brushing against Marco's ear. Flesh, warmth, life, this felt so, so, so real.
Marco laughed, pulling away slightly from Jean's touch, his laugh was as clear as church bells, ringing on a Sunday afternoon, "Jean don't do that! It tickles!" Marco laughed, his head titled backwards so that the afternoon sun framed his head like a golden halo…a halo, no! Jean squeezed his eyes shut he didn't want to think about that.
Marco tilted his head to the side and waited as if he were listening to something, he got up, brushing off fragments of grass and dirt that had managed to stick to the back of his jeans, "come on Jean," Marco extended a hand to help Jean up off of the grass, "we don't want to be late for class." Marco noticed the tear stains that coated jean's cheeks, a small smile on his lips, "dry your face, you wouldn't want Eren to call you a cry baby again," he teased.
Jean brought his sleeve up to his face and wiped away his tears as he grasped Marco's hand and allowed the boy to pull him up. That same beautiful smile plastered onto his face.
It was the day of the game, the opposing team was up by three points; the clock was down to the final minute. The crowd held their breath as the cool night air, swept across the football field and caressed the crowd in the stands.
The quarterback glanced at his left, then his right, he nodded as his grip on the ball became tighter, "Red 46! Red 46! Hike!" the quarterback stood up quickly from his crouch on the field, the clock counted down…50 seconds…he ran backwards, his arm pulled back like a piston…40…he threw the ball, the air was tight with tension as the ball sailed through the air, past the 50 yard line, past the 60. One of the players ran backwards, his eyes trained on the ball, an opposing linebacker ran towards him attempting to knock him out of the way. Jean held his breath, Marco slipped his hand in his, their finger's entwining together. The player jumped, his hand wrapped around the football…30…he spun, sidestepping the linebacker that attempted to tackle him. The player began to race towards the end zone! The crowd was on their feet, many spectators cupped their hands around their mouths. The crowd went wild as many began to pump their arms into the air, screaming their heads off, the school's team might actually have a chance to win this! The player ran with all his strength, his legs burning with all their might, as he came closer to the end zone…the seconds on the clock began to run out…20…19…18…a linebacker bolted down the field…17…16…15…the end zone was so close! 14….13….12…11…10…Jean could heel his palms sweating…9…Marco's grip tightened….8…7….6…Jean counted the seconds….5….4…3…the player crossed the end zone line, he spiked the ball, the crowd erupted into a chorus of cheers. Members of the crowd hugged one another, many with tears running down their faces. The crowd swayed in the stands as they bellowed out the school anthem.
Jean was simply caught up in the motions of it all, he didn't quite think about what he was doing but he just felt like all of it was right. He turned to Marco, slipping his hand from his grasp, he cupped Marco's face in his hands and kissed him on the lips, Marco's eyes widened in shock. Jean could hear an audible gasp behind him, "holy shit Kirschstein! I didn't think you had the balls to kiss him.'
"Fuck off Yeager," Jean mumbled against Marco's lips. Jean didn't care, he couldn't give a shit about what his friends were saying now, he could hardly care about the fact that his friends were around him or that his friends were around him or that his friends were around him or that anyone else in the stands were simply there, right now there was only him and Marco, standing in a space of their own as they shared a kiss.
Marco sighed contently as he pulled away from the kiss, both of the boy's lips were swollen from the kiss, Marco pressed his forehead against Jean's own, "what took you so long?" He whispered.
Jean woke up, his eyes flew open, his nightshirt stuck to his sweat drenched skin; his bed sheets bunched up and tangled around his legs. That line that separated him from the harshness of reality and his dreams now broken, it was like a door had been thrown wide open. A door that stubbornly refused to close. Jean pressed a shaking hand to his lips, they felt swollen and puffy; he closed his eyes. It had felt as if he had just kissed Marco yesterday, but that was far from the truth, right now Marco was somewhere else far away from him, far away from anyone else. His cellphone buzzed away on his nightstand, Eren's annoying face popped up on his screen, he grabbed his phone from off of the nightstand, he slid his thumb across the accept button and pressed the phone against his ear, "Jean, it's me. Marco he-"
Jean pressed a trembling hand against his eyes, tears rolled down his cheeks, why? Why was this happening to him? He didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.
So this is my first SnK fic for the site, and...I don't really have anything to say, just that this is probably the most saddest thing I've ever written in my life, and if you ended up crying against a pillow, I'm sorry. So, please review after reading!