Author's Note: Howdy! Merry Christmas Shrimp. This fanfic is entirely dedicated to you. I know that you love the Jean x Marco ship and I think it is adorable, so down below I have written a cute little fluffy thing of the two of them being all adorable. So I hope you have an amazing Christmas, you totally deserve it ^^
Kingdom of Hearts.
He awoke with a loud gasp, hands clenched tightly at his sides. His heart raced – boom, boom, boom – madly in his chest, crashing again and again and again against his ribs. Placing a shaky hand against it he breathed. Each slither of air between his lips short, sharp and forceful. Madly he swiped one thin hand through his dirty blonde hair, sweat clung to his forehead. It was then that he begun to feel the cold bite of the morning air. Tired brown eyes surveyed the small room, the early morning light of a dull morning had begun seeping through the thin curtains that hung at the window. He was oh so very tired. For two weeks this same nightmare had assaulted his head, it had grasped him in claws and forced him to watch over and over as the boy that he loved was killed. Jean Kirschtein was not one to normally allow such nightmares to affect him, but when it was Marco Bodt being torn in half and killed it was enough to make sure he didn't get a single moment of peaceful sleep. With a groan he threw his legs over the edge of the bed, before forcing his still shaking body to stand.
At first his hand had to grasp the table, his legs almost ignoring the command he had given them. For a moment he swayed, his body exhausted, too tired to do anything, really. Jean was just waiting for the day that he would collapse, within the last two weeks he had slept little to none at all, his thoughts and dreams filled with only Marco's death. But Marco was not torn in half, he was not one of those thousands of bodies that had been burned. He was alive, they had both survived far enough to join the scouting legion. It was something he had been vehemently against. Marco had always wanted to serve the King, to be by his side and protect him. It had never been for the selfish, self-preservation reasons that Jean had adopted, it was just passion and willingness to devote his life to protecting their leader. He had given up that entire dream to stay by Jean's side. Jean had argued with him, their first real fight, a fight that had mainly been yelling and screaming on his side of the table, but calm and complacent with Marco.
He'd foolishly believed he had convinced Marco to change his mind, but when the question had been asked they had both remained standing side by side, Commander Erwin Smith asking them to pledge their hearts to him.
Pulling his pants on he moved slowly, each action more of a habit than anything. The harness got tangled five times before he finally managed to place it on correctly. By the time he was done he already knew he was too late for breakfast and the growling of his stomach was easily ignored by the pounding in his head. Dark pools sat beneath his eyes, he stumbled more than walked to his first class. They were to be instructed by none other than Levi Heichou on the matter of Titans. Jean felt compelled to not even make an appearance in today's class, but it was of the utmost importance. In less than a month they would all be on their first expedition and without this training his chances of survival would dramatically decrease. With a heavy sigh he walked into the classroom, his hands clung tightly to the book and pencil he had, making his way to his desk he fell into the chair, his eyes stared numbly at the wooden material before him. He sat there, unseeing for god knows how long, slowly people began trickling into the room in ones and twos and within ten minutes everyone was seated. Just before Levi entered the room Marco jogged in, he paused to quickly look around, spotting Jean he smiled, before giving the boy a small wave.
Jean didn't mean to ignore him on purpose, he just felt so tired, and the idea of lifting up his arm to return such a gesture made him feel sick. He had no energy at all. Marco's smile faltered, and quickly his eyes widened with growing concern as he took his seat.
"Hey, Jean, you weren't at breakfast. Hell you look half dead." His tone was riddled with worry, normally such a thing would make him bristle with annoyance as his pride would not allow people to think of him in such a way, but today he couldn't muster up the energy to care. "I'm fine, Marco. I just wasn't hungry." He replied, avoiding Marco's eyes.
He wasn't good at looking at them and not talking, Marco had a way of making Jean open up, those freckled cheeks and open honest eyes always made him feel so calm and relaxed. It knocked his guard down and sometimes he wouldn't even think before talking – not like he did think before he talked ever, it was why he had ended up on the sharp end of a knife all the time in his life. He didn't know how to think before speaking. And with Marco his heart fluttered and he fumbled over everything he said. Marco reached forward, one freckled brown hand gently touched his own, but he hesitated as his fingers lingered on Jean's skin. He knew Jean wasn't one for public displays of affection and even if he could clearly see the state that his boyfriend was in was horrid he didn't want to have Jean biting into him later for being so stupid. Jean preferred stolen kisses in the hallways, and small squeezes of the hand when no one was looking. It was adorable in Marco's opinion, and even though Marco was completely comfortable with smothering Jean in kisses and hugs he held back. So instead he simply gave the other boy a small smile before drawing his arm back and putting it by his side.
Levi Heichou walked into the room, dark eyes flickering once over the class. He moved to his desk and Jean found himself unable to pay attention as the short man with a horrible attitude began talking. Slowly his head begun to sink towards the table, his arms spreading out so that he could rest his heavy eyelids. They were getting harder and harder to keep open, the dark pools beneath his eyes just a small edge to the actual extent of his exhausted state. When his head hit the table he drew back sharply, his breathing quickened and he rubbed his eyes, pushing them painfully into his skull. The saddest thing was that the only reason he had not allowed himself to fall asleep was because of the dreams. Not even fear of the punishment he could receive from their tiny instructor scared him, the dreams that plagued him were worse. But after a few minutes of self-control it broke and he slumped backwards, eyes closing, before he was dragged into sleep.
He screamed. Hands fumbled over the mangled, broken figure before him, blood, bone and gore covered his entire body. Jean pushed a thumb across the one remaining cheek of Marco Bodt, wiping the blood away to reveal freckled skin. "Marco? Marco wake up." He begged, he pushed forwards, grabbing the deformed figure of the boy he loved. He isn't dead, he isn't dead. He can't be dead. And not even the fact that half of Marco's body was missing would be enough to make Jean see what was there in front of him. Instead he grabbed Marco's hand with his other, and squeezed it, holding it tightly, searching for the warmth that should be there. How many times had he held Marco? He couldn't count. How many times had Marco's fingers grabbed his own, the warmth of that touch spreading through his entire body? Too many to remember. But this time as he held him, one hand holding his, the other cupping his cheek, he felt nothing. It was cold and broken.
Goodbye, Jean. The words were an echo in his mind. A whisper from Marco, fading every second.
"Marco! Marco! Answer me! You promised you son of a bitch." Now it was anger, and he yelled, each word a desperate cry against the truth that was forcing its way into his heart. "Marc-" And it was over, his last cry was cut off by an agonised sob, tears welled up into his eyes, over-spilling within moments. His hands fumbled over Marco's body, half of him desperate to believe that he wasn't dead. "Marco." He cried, tears streaming down his face, ragged gasps of poisoned air filling his lungs. Dead. Dead. He is de-
SMACK.
Jean jerked upwards, a sharp pain slicing through the side of his head. Panicked he pressed a hand to his pounding heart. Dead. Marco was dead. Again. Breathing heavily he swallowed, once more he found his hands shaking uncontrollably, and he pushed them into his lap. Closing his eyes for a moment he breathed, begging his heart to steady. He looked up sharply, tired eyes widening as he saw Levi Heichou raise the stick once more. But the man hesitated, eyes cold. "Don't you fall asleep in my class again. Next time I won't be as kind. See me after class." The man spoke with a dangerous edge, the numb boy simply nodded his head once. As Levi turned Jean pushed his chair backwards, before spinning to face the wide-eyes boy beside him. The last of his panicked desperation fled as he saw those freckled cheeks. Those brown eyes filled with life. But he couldn't help himself from reaching forwards and touching Marco's hand. His skin was warm. Jean sighed in relief, and quickly grabbed his hand, wrapping his own tightly around it. Warm and real.
"Jean-"
"Don't." Jean looked away from those shocked eyes, and reluctantly let Marco's hand go.
"No, Jean. What is wrong with you?" The words, coming from anyone else, would have been harsh, but when Marco spoke they were soft and worried, concern hidden within each of them. They were almost pleading for an answer, but Jean couldn't say anything. It wasn't that he didn't want to, he just couldn't.
"Nothing is wrong." He responded, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. Marco sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair before turning away from Jean. How could he tell Marco that he saw him dead every night? If anyone said that to Jean he'd be highly offended that someone thought so little of his skills. And besides he was proud, he was stubborn and he would deal with this himself.
As class drew to an end the sleep figure rose, it had been a struggle to stay awake, but then it was a struggle all the time these days. Yet he found himself forcing his body to resist the urge to sleep, the nightmares were just coming and coming, sometimes he'd see Marco die, others he'd already be dead. It was rare that the way he was killed changed, it was almost always the same way; half his body missing. Stepping over and towards the desk Corporal Levi sat at he halted. Heichou stared for a moment, eyes hard and unblinking. It took Jean a memorable amount of time to remind himself that he had to salute. Slapping his arm to his side and the other messily across his chest he gave the older man the respect his rank deserved, before mumbling out an incoherent "sir". Levi scowled, Jean flinched.
"Why were you sleeping in my class?" Levi asked.
Jean shrugged mind too slow to think of some reply. "I was bored." He responded. Levi glared at him and Jean instantly regretted what he had said.
"Bored were you, brat? Well if you find advice that could save your life so boring you must know it all. And if that is so, then before your next class you will meet me in front of the horse stables and you will run for the rest of the day." The man snapped, anger lacing every word he spoke. Jean listened without really taking it in, but he could sense that he was in a fair bit of trouble. "Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir." Jean nodded once, tongue thick in his mouth.
Making his way out of the classroom he turned down the hall, almost smashing into Marco. Marco stepped backwards before the two could collide, grabbing Jean's arm he drew the taller boy to a stop. Jean allowed himself to be stopped, and he looked once more into those two concerned eyes. "Jean, seriously, what is wrong, the last few weeks you've been like this." Marco let him go, one hand stretching up to brush the deep,dark circles under Jean's eyes. "Look at you. You look like the walking dead, these aren't good. Haven't you been sleeping?" Jean pulled his head away from the touch, his own fingers gently touching the skin he knew would be a deep dark purple-blue colour. His first thought was to just tell Marco, but he couldn't. He really couldn't.
"There is nothing wrong. I've told you already. Just lay off, would you?" He growled, he stepped backwards, eyes flickering with annoyance. Marco stood with his mouth hanging open, eyes hurt. The wounded expression quickly dissolved and he tensed up before returning Jean's glare with one of his own. Jean blinked, astounded that Marco even had that in him. "You are being pathetic, Jean. Grow up." He snapped.
"I am not. Just because there is nothing wrong and I have nothing to tell you I am being pathetic? Well if you ask me that is very petty of you. And you are telling me to grow up? I'm not the one chasing after something that doesn't exist, I'm not the one sticking my nose into issues that don't concern me. There is nothing wrong with me, but you? Maybe. Just leave me alone, Marco. I don't need you to baby me." Marco stared at Jean, eyes wide.
"Baby you? All I've done is try to help you. I've done nothing wrong, Jean. Stop acting like I'm the one that made a fool of myself in their last class and that I am the one who is clearly struggling to sleep at night and is also not eating. I am not babying you. I am looking at what is in front of me and telling you that there us something wrong. Don't you dare talk to me as though I'm the problem here. You are." Marco scowled, eyes dark and cold, they burned with hurt and pain, as though he wanted to just step forwards and hug Jean, but also wanted to hit him. And in there, within it all there was pity. Jean did not want pity, he did not want sympathy or anything. He wanted Marco to leave him alone, he wanted to stop having nightmares were Marco was dead, where he would never see him or touch him again. He wanted Marco to hug him and hold him and tell him he wasn't ever going to die. But he said none of that.
"Oh shove off, Marco. The only problem here is you. You are the one with something wrong. So piss off, I don't need your pity go give it to someone who gives a fuck." He spat. He'd gone too far. He could see it all over Marco's face as the anger faded, as the hurt sparked within the depths of those brown eyes. It hurt Jean so much to see it, to look at him and see how much he had hurt him. But Jean Kirschtein did not apologise for anything. Instead he bit his tongue and watched.
"Goodbye, Jean." Marco said, before turning around and walking away.
Jean watched him ago, those two words echoing in his mind, over and over and over. Goodbye, Jean. Goodbye, Jean. Goodbye. It took all of his self-restraint to not run after the disappearing figure of the man he loved. Instead he remained rooted to the spot he was on, mouth hanging agape, shocked at the things he had said, and all together too stunned to do anything else. Had Marco just walked away? Out of their relationship? No, of course not. Marco wasn't someone who just ran away when he said something rude, Jean said a lot of horrible things and Marco had never walked out. But he had never walked away either. Jean found himself swallowing hard, desperate to stop the rapid beating of his heart. No, Marco was just upset. That was all. He breathed in deeply, saying those words over and over until his heart slowed. Racing a hand through his hair he sighed he didn't have the courage to go and apologies and make up. And he wouldn't, not unless he really had to. No matter what happened. Even though he had said things that he hadn't meant he wouldn't say so. He didn't do that.
So instead he spun around and walked the other way, each step distancing him from Marco. Making his way outside he headed towards the stables where he was about to begin his punishment. He felt more alert after the argument with Marco, but it only lasted a few minutes before he found himself dragging his feet along the ground as he headed to the stable. Each person he paced he ignored, their waves and greetings lost on deaf ears. He flopped onto the grass beside the stable, he didn't dare close his eyes for fear of falling asleep and being assaulted by those dreams, so instead he pulled at the grass, waiting for the short hero of humanity to turn up. He did not have to wait long as it took less than five minutes for the man to come strolling up to the stable. Jean scrambled to his feet unwilling to repeat the punishment for being slack. Saluting the Corproal as he approached he moved to stand to the side. Levi did not return the salute, instead he nodded his head before walking into the stable.
Perplexed Jean followed. "Aren't we running, Sir?"
"Yes, you are running." He responded, grabbing a saddle and placing it on a horse. Jean watched, horrified. But he found himself unable to come up with a retort, so instead he stepped backwards and out of the stable. As Levi walked out of the stable he turned towards Jean. "We will not be stopping until I say so. Keep up."
Then with grace Jean had not expected from such a man he jumped onto the horses back, setting off at a brisk trot that already had Jean at a loss. Jean moved, his first steps a stumble, his legs protesting as soon as he stepped off. They wanted to drag on the ground, they wanted to stop and rest, but with a grunt he forced them to move. Each step was more effort then it should have been and after just a few short minutes he was breathing heavily, his entire body arguing against such brutal treatment. "Hurry up, Kirschtein, you are moving too slowly." Levi snapped, his patience running thin. If he had not off been so tired he would have rolled his eyes in exasperation.
Jean grunted in response, before taking one longer stride after the next. But that pace faltered after a few moments, his exhausted body struggling with his demands. He could feel it in each step, his body slowly shutting down, ready to force him to stop.
"Captain…" He called, each letter as heavy in his mouth as a stone. Levi did not even turn around, and Jean kept going, sweating dripping down his face, heart racing incredibly fast, his entire body shaking. His limbs felt like jelly and he wondered how he was still going. His left foot moved, but not high enough and it hit a tree root. Without even a grunt he fell to the ground. His body refused to move, the gentle patter of horses hooves came closer.
"Get up."Jean tried, but as he gathered one arm under his chest and gave a violent heave it collapsed. He tried again as the Corporal growled.
"Get up, this is pathetic, we haven't even gone three kilometers. Move it you brat." He tried again, this time he got his knee under himself and he pushed his body up with all the strength he had left. As he straightened his entire body swayed. Looking at the Corporal he blinked, black dots dancing around the edge of his vision.
"Move it, cadet." The small man said.
Jean blinked once more, his mind spinning, he reached a hand forwards, trying to wipe the black dots away, but instead they swallowed him and he fell, sinking into the darkness before he hit the ground.
"Goodbye, Jean." Marco screamed, he screamed it out as he was picked up by a titan. Jean cried, Jean yelled out Marco's name as loud as he possibly could. He forced himself to move, he begged his legs to go forwards, but when he tried to move his body he remained where it was, he was paralyzed. There was not a thing he could do as Marco was grasped tightly in a titans hand. There was not a thing he could do as the titan opened its mouth. He watched, heart crying out, tears streaming down his face as Marco struggled, arms pinned to his sides. The titan tipped its head back and Marco fell into its mouth, disappearing and the last thing Jean saw was his scared, wide eyes as he mouthed the words "all your fault".
His body seemed to finally respond to his commands, but he didn't move, instead he stood there. He stood there, eyes wide, body trembling uncontrollably. All your fault. The words stayed there, and in his mind he saw Marco fall once more, he saw Marco die. And Marco blamed it on him. Yet the words bit further into him then that, because Marco didn't blame people for things, he didn't, not even when it was your fault. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks, they fell to the ground, stained with dirt and blood. Then all at once it hit him, but this time he ran forwards, he ran towards the titan, he found two swords in his hands and he sent his hooks into the titan, he went up and up, his eyes dry, but his cheeks stained with tears. And then as he went above the titans head he let the hooks detach themselves. He was flying, and then he was falling, falling and falling, he twisted, pushing his body into a straight line as he slipped into the titans mouth and down into the black abyss of its body. His lips holding onto Marco's name.
The world slowly came into view as he opened his eyes, the first thing he registered was the lack of dirt and forest around him. Instead he found himself on a hard bed, under clean white sheets. Blinking rapidly his eyes adjusted to the bright lighting of what he assumed to be the infirmary. With a groan he turned his head, everything ached, from his head to his feet. His eyes felt as heavy as lid and his head throbbed painfully with every movement he made. He closed his eyes, he was completely alone in the room. His chest ached, and he bit his lip, forcing back tears. Marco wasn't here. Marco wasn't sitting by his side and that hurt him more than anything else could have. He needed Marco, and Marco wasn't there. The realisation that it must be over hit him all at once, a sharp pang sprung up in his chest and this time he didn't stop the tears that fell from his eyes. He pressed his hands to his face, covering his eyes, begging himself to stop crying. But he couldn't. Within moments he was fighting to hold back a sob of anguish.
He stayed in that bed all night. No one stopped by, he thought he heard the door open at one point,but when no one spoke or came to see him he dismissed the idea. He did not sleep, his mind and body against the idea, for once it did not fight him, instead it fought with him. He didn't know if he could or would be able ti survive another night of torment, it was physically and mentally eating him alive. His hands craved Marco, his body wanted Marco's touch. Every thought of him was painful, it left him yearning, and aching all over. Jean tossed and turned, throwing himself left and right. His body protested every movement he did, it cried out for him to stop and rest when he got up to go to the bathroom. And by the time morning came he was sitting at the edge of the bed, lifeless brown eyes staring numbly at the cold tiles. His feet were numb, and his stomach complained loudly. He had not eaten for almost two days.
Getting dressed was a task. It was tougher then it had been yesterday and by the time he was done the sun had settled above the horizon. Breakfast had long since passed, but the pain in his stomach was enough to make him ask for food this time. As he made his way to the exit he was stopped. The door opened to reveal Hanji. Jean only hesitated for a moment before saluting her, she smiled warmly at him, and Jean looked away, it reminded him too much of Marco's warm smile, the one he reserved for Jean only. "Good morning, Jean! I'm glad to see you up! I was rather worried at the state you were in when Leve dragged you by." Jean gasps in shock, and horror at the thought of being dragged into the room by Levi Heichou.
"Oh no, don't give me that face! He didn't drag you in, well he did kind of, he looked rather annoyed, more annoyed than I normally see him." She rambled on, her eyes straying to the side as if remembering what had happened. Then all at once she was clapping her hands together, "now, how are you feeling?" She asked.
"Fine."
Hanji narrowed her eyes, as though she didn't believe him at all. But after a few seconds she shrugged. "You look awful, take the day easy. Make sure you have a good nights sleep, okay? And don't hesitate to come and get me if you are going to collapse again. Okay?"
Jean nodded his head, already dismissing the very notion of coming back as well as having a good nights sleep. He wouldn't sleep, not until he had to, well then, when he collapsed again, he guessed. Assuming that Hanji was done he moved past her and out the door.
"Jean!" She called, he turned, raising a questioning eyebrow at the ecstatic woman. "Someone did drop by yesterday to see if you were alright, his name was Marco." At the mention of his name Jean's heart race picked up tenfold, with wide eyes he turned around, his only response a numb nod of the head. The walk to the dining room was slow, his legs upset with the very notion that he was walking. A few times he almost tripped and fell over, but he kept his head high and his shoulders back, unwilling to allow such a thing to embarrass him. His chest still ached painfully with every thought of Marco, but he bit it down as best he could. Marco had come to see him. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. And he almost felt foolish for crying, but instead he twisted his lips into a small smile of joy.
The dining room, as he expected, was empty. Moving to the end he stepped into the kitchen, no one was there, Jean did not mind, the peace was comforting. Going through a dozen or so cupboards he eventually found enough food to satisfy the pangs in his stomach. Moving to a table at the very back of the room he sat down. He was going to be late for his first class, but that was with Heichou, and he expected that the Corporal wouldn't be pleased, but would say nothing about it. The food tasted foul on his tired tongue, but he choked it all down, his stomach eventually stopped complaining and he sighed, for a moment content as he drained the cup of water. He didn't look up as the door to the dinning hall opened. He did look up, however, when the steps drew closer and closer to the spot he sat it. What his eyes found had him getting straight to his feet. Marco Bodt halted, eyes flickering with uncertainty.
"Marco…" The words were a whisper, and before Marco could say anything Jean moved around and threw his arms around Marco's neck. "I'm so sorry I said that to you, I'm so sorry." He was a mess today, within minutes he was crying again. Marco grabbed him, wrapping his own, strong, warm, arms around Jean, holding him tightly.
"It's okay, Jean. I forgive you." He said gently, and it only made Jean cry harder, the normally stoic, cold boy was too exhausted to even comprehend this state. Marco was also shocked, for he had never seen Jean cry before, he was sure Jean had never cried before, Jean wasn't someone who cried, he was stubborn, hot-headed, proud and impatient. He wasn't a crier. Yet Marco just held him for as long as Jean needed it, his heart still ached from the things that had been said. They had been harsh and uncalled for, but he could see that Jean hadn't meant them, that they had just been thoughtless words spoken out of desperation. And Marco could forgive that, besides, Jean's apology was enough to wash it all away. Hell, hearing about what had happened to him had been enough to make Marco run to Jean, ready to forget within a second. Seeing his body lie there on that bed, all pale and thin had hurt so much. But Marco would not let Jean get away with the problem. There was something wrong here, and Marco was determined to make it better.
"Jean." Marco grabbed his arms, slowly, but gently pulling Jean off of him. His voice was hard, but kind and he looked Jean right in the eyes. "Tell me what is wrong. You cannot go through all that and collapse and then tell me there is not a thing wrong with you. Why aren't you sleeping? You're exhausted. Please, Jean, talk to me, it is what I'm here for, it is why I am with you, not just for kissing and hugging, but also so that I can help you." He tugged Jean down beside him as he sat on the bench, he grabbed both of Jean's hands with his own, and squeezed them tightly.
"I don't want to fight, but this is something I'm not backing down on. You will tell me what is wrong, we are not leaving this room until you do. Got it?" His tone was soft, comforting, but there was a stern edge to it that promised they would remain there, no matter what Marco had to do.
Jean sighed, slumping in the seat. Closing his eyes he hesitated. The words danced at the edge of his lips, so easy to just say it all. But he couldn't. He had to, though. "I… I've been having nightmares." He looked away from Marco, his grip on Marco's hands loosening, but Marco held on tightly. It sounded so foolish when he said it out loud, it sounded so incredibly weak and foolish and stupid. He snapped his mouth shut, reluctant to continue, wishing he could take even those few words back.
"What kind of nightmares?" Marco prodded. Jean looked up, and where he expected to see mockery he just saw concern. But then, he should have expected that, Marco would never have mocked him, Marco always took it so seriously. It was why Jean loved him, here was a boy who cared for him, even if it was just over something as simplistic as nightmares. It was also why he found the words so incredibly hard to speak, he didn't want to tell Marco that he saw him die every single night. Who wanted to hear that kind of thing? No one did.
"Every night, every single night. I see you die. You're there and sometimes I watch you die and other times you are already dead. But no matter what I do you die. And I can't sleep, they just keep coming, and I don't want to sleep because I don't want to close my eyes and see your mangled, bleeding, broken body. I want to see you alive and breathing, not cold and lifeless. But that's all I see. It hurts so much, I cry so much, I scream and I plead, but you always die, or you are already dead. I always try to wake you up, to call your name, but you never respond. It's always "Goodbye, Jean"." His hands had wrapped themselves tightly, once more, around Marco's
Marco untangled his hands from Jean's, then he reached upwards and cupped Jean's cheek in one smooth, warm hand. Jean looked at Marco. "I'm alive, Jean. Look at me, I'm right here, I'm alive and I'm not going anywhere. Someone has to look after you. Come here, Jean." Marco grabbed his shoulders, before pulling him forwards and into a hug, Jean hung there, burying his face into Marco's neck. "You need to get some sleep, this is going to get you kill you, if you don't sleep."
"But I can't, Marco. I can't, I don't want to see it again." He was almost pleading with his boyfriend, begging him to see it and understand. Marco smiled, nodding his head. "Alright then. I have an idea. Come on, you need to get some sleep." Jean tried fighting as Marco pulled him onto his feet, but in his state Marco had no problem at all dragging him out of the dining hall and into the area where all the rooms were. Within a few short moments they were at Jean's room, Marco pushed the door open, before marching straight to the bed where he pushed Jean down. Jean groaned, his body protesting as he fought against Marco's treatment. "Stop, Marco. I don't want to sleep." He pleaded, a weak attempt at pushing Marco away.
Marco sighed, "move over, Jean." Jean did not move. He simply stared at Marco, still unwilling to comprehend what they were doing, so Marco pushed him, his hip grazing the well his bed rested on.
"What are you doing?" Jean asked as Marco tugged his shoes off and turned to lie down on the bed. Marco looked at him. "Well, isn't it obvious. I'm going to lie down here and sleep beside you so that your nightmares go away. If I'm here you'll calm down and then your dreams will calm down." Jean had no idea if he was telling the truth or not. He eyes the freckled boy, skeptical of such a plan.
"That's stupid. Why would that work?" He pushed Marco, but Marco didn't budge.
"Shut up, horse face. Go to sleep." Marco chuckled, Jean scowled at the name. He pressed his head to his pillow.
"You are going to get in trouble from the officers if you don't go to class, you know." It was a lame try at getting him to go, Marco shrugged, turning on his side to face Jean.
"I don't care. I'll get in trouble then, not that big of a deal. Get some sleep, Jean, just trust me, please. If this doesn't work then I don't know what will, but either way you need to try to sleep. Your body can't cope without it." He poked Jean in the stomach. Jean bit back a retort, and with a sigh he turned on his side, so that he was facing Marco. He gave the boy a faint smile before closing his eyes.
He wasn't sure how long passed before he opened one eye. Marco's were both closed, his face completely relaxed and calm. "Hey Marco?" Jean asked.
"Yes, Jean?"
"Take my hand." Jean reached forwards, hand open. Marco's eyes fluttered open and slowly he reached out and grabbed Jean's hand. Jean closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Marco's touch spread through him as he fell to sleep.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed it!