Author's notes:
This takes place in Paris, France, and all the places mentioned are real. I'm not sure how familiar with French culture you guys are, so I added a few footnotes. The book is also real, as well as both movies, and the facts about the author. Moreover, surprise d*ck is real (the thought that some of you might check it on google cracks me up - I'm so sorry).
There are many things happening behind the scenes that I left out because they weren't relevant to the plot, but might be interesting bits to some (like what the other characters are up to). I'm always available to chat and fill in the gaps if needed (for this fic and the others that I wrote).
"Hey."
Jean sits at the desk Armin's neighbor has just vacated.
"Hey," Armin replies without looking at him, his voice quiet and almost lost in the cheerful noise of their classmates leaving.
The last class of the day is just over, every student going through the door one after the other, alone or in small clusters. Mr Smith, their French teacher, who has finally revealed the details of their Christmas holidays homework in the last hour, is at his desk, packing books and papers in his old leather satchel.
"So," Jean says, leaning in the seat's back. "I was wondering if you'd work with me."
They're supposed to team up with another student and make a presentation on their chosen novel in front of the whole class. They have four days to tell Mr Smith who their partner and chosen book will be.
"Well," Armin says, "depends on what book you have in mind."
Jean sighs, looking bored. One would think that Jean feels like working with him is a chore, a mere result of circumstance he didn't have a say in. But Armin knows better than to assume anything of the sort.
For a long time, Jean and Armin didn't get along too well – or in fact, interact at all, outside of the clashes the former tended to have with Eren back in middle school. At the time, Armin always suspected that he was more or less seen as a mere attachment to his best friend. Jean barely ever noticed him.
And yet, for the past year, Jean has been seeking his company more often. Most of the time in the context of school work, actually. It's true that they both get good grades in French in general – Armin at the top of their year and Jean not too far behind. Their presentation will most likely be stellar if they work together, so it'd be a logical choice. Jean might even have an idea of what kind of book he wants to study.
But Jean simply shrugs.
"Actually, I have no fucking idea. Do you?"
"Huh," Armin says, trying to keep his face neutral despite being slightly surprised. "I have a couple books in mind."
Jean rests his head in his hand.
"As long as you're not dead set on a play," he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slight smile that could probably pass for charming to anyone else.
"Right," Armin says, a little disappointed. "Then I guess Andromaque1 is out."
Jean chuckles in response.
"You bet," he says, his smile deepening. "You always like to choose the most boring stuff."
"I don't think it's boring," Armin retorts, a small smile on his lips like an apology. "I like the irony – I mean, the protagonist starts off as a prisoner of war and ends up queen. She was at the mercy of the whole cast, but it turns out she had power over them all from the start. That's beautiful, in a way."
He stops abruptly, realizing that, once again, his enthusiasm made him sound like the dork he is. After this somewhat long-winded rant, he's almost short of breath, and he can feel his face heating.
But if Jean notices, he doesn't voice it.
"Yeah," he says instead, leaning onto his hand like he's going to keel over, his eyes somewhat unfocused like his mind is miles away from the conversation. "I can see why. Still," he adds with returning awareness, straightening in his chair, "I'm not working on a play. Even with an interesting plot or whatever, all those alexandrines give me headaches."
And that's a thing Armin likes about Jean. He used to take him for a moody, temperamental idiot, misusing his obvious intelligence and quick to judge – or look for a fight where Eren was concerned. But nowadays, Armin finds that Jean is actually quite perceptive, if sometimes awkward, and not judgmental of Armin's own embarrassing quirks in the least.
And Armin has lots of those.
"Right," he finally says. "What about 'Le diable au corps', then?"
"Radiguet, huh?" Jean frowns. "I haven't read it."
"Neither have I," Armin says. "There's a movie too."
"Oh?" Jean perks up.
"Yeah. It's considered a classic."
"Hmm. Well, in any case, we'd better get a copy of the book and read it." Jean scratches his chin. "How about we head for the bookstore right now?"
"Whatever you do," Mr Smith suddenly says from behind them, "it's time to head out. I'm closing the classroom2."
"Yes, sir," Armin says. "Sorry."
He's always felt a little self-conscious about letting his classmates in on how much he admires their French teacher. But Jean, now absorbed in his smartphone, merely nods at Mr Smith and that's it.
They exit in silence and head for the stairs at the end of the hall.
"Hey," Jean suddenly says, making Armin startle, "I'm checking Wikipedia, and there's actually another movie, a recent one. The plot sounds kind of far removed from the original, though." He glances up from his phone to look at Armin. "Do you think we should watch both?"
"In any case, let's get the book first." Armin hesitates. "You know, I was thinking I could borrow it from the library."
Jean stares at him this time.
"Huh. We might need to have it on hand for the next month or so, you know."
Armin knows that. He also knows that their local library only allows subscribers to borrow books for three weeks at most, unless they don't mind paying the fine. But he doesn't reply. He's living alone with his grand-father, who's retired, and money is kind of tight most months. Even if he suspects that Jean wouldn't judge him on that either, money has always been a touchy subject for him. He doesn't really want to tell Jean about it now, possibly ever. But doesn't know how to skirt the issue.
"Whatever," Jean sighs when Armin won't answer. "Hey, I could get you one."
Armin laughs nervously.
"No way."
"Come on," Jean insists. "You can even pay me back whenever, if it bothers you."
But Armin shakes his head stubbornly.
"Aw, man," Jean sighs, looking a little disappointed. "Either way, I'm buying mine before I get back home, so we'll have at least one copy at all time when we work together."
Armin doesn't look at him, playing with the loose end of his backpack strap instead.
"I was thinking we could rush and finish the presentation before I have to give it back to the library," he says. "Since we'll have lots of free time during the holidays."
"I'll be away for the most part. You know. Family stuff."
"We still have a week before the holidays, though," Armin says, looking up.
Jean seems embarrassed all of a sudden, for some reason.
"And I'm not leaving before the 23rd, which leaves us a few more days, but –" he hesitates. "There's that stupid math test on Thursday, and I still haven't started on the geography paper, and... Well, it's gonna be a busy week."
And Armin gets it, really. It's well known among their classmates that Jean is a procrastinator when it comes to homework.
"So we'll have what – school ends on the 19th – three days?" Armin muses, biting his lips.
Jean chuckles sheepishly and clears his throat, not looking at him, trying and failing not to look as guilty as he probably feels.
"We'll figure it out when we need to," Jean finally says with a sigh. "Let's head out for the library."
"We only house two copies, and the second one was borrowed a couple days ago," a bespectacled librarian tells them. "No idea when the other's coming back, though it should be before the new year. Other libraries in the nearby districts might have it, though," she adds after seeing Armin's frown. "I could look it up for you."
"Sure," Armin says, worrying his lower lip as she taps away at her computer.
"Ah, the library in the 4th 3 has all its copies. You should go check."
Armin thanks her and Jean follows him outside.
"It'll be closed by the time we get there, huh," Armin says, still biting at his lips. "So much for rushing before you have to leave."
"I guess," Jean replies, hesitant. "Wanna come with me to the bookstore? I'm going now."
"Huh..." Armin trails. "Sure."
Armin loves and dreads bookstores at the same time, especially in Paris, where most shops are small and cosy. They're wonderful places to be when you have enough money to partake in consumerism, but Armin is too broke to buy anything. Salespersons make him nervous, so loitering and discretely snatching a few minutes of free reading is out as well.
In the end, he waits for Jean outside as he buys his book.
When he comes out of the store, Jean lets Armin skim through his copy of 'Le diable au corps' as he walks him to the subway station. Jean lives a few blocks from there, but Armin has to ride a train to go home. He used to live nearby until they were in their first year of high school, but then had to move to the suburbs. His grand-father couldn't afford the expensive rents in the inner city anymore after he retired.
They part for the day before the stairs to the underground station, with a grin and a wave from Jean, holding the book Armin just gave back.
The next day though, Jean uncharacteristically sits next to Armin in history and drops the brand new book on his desk.
"Huh. Jean?" Armin starts.
"You can have it," he replies, a small grin stretching his mouth.
Armin sighs, knowing from all the ridiculous fights Jean got into with Eren in the past how stubborn his classmate can be.
"Jean, look, I'm not sure what you're trying to achieve here, but I said I'd go to the library tonight. Besides –"
"I know, I know, but look at what I found in my parents' collection," Jean says before Armin can go on a rant.
Armin merely stops to think he'd love to have parents who have a book collection, though he's not jealous in the least. Jean's already rummaging about his school bag – an unassuming canvas messenger bag. When he brings out another copy of the Radiguet novel, this one battered and obviously not recently bought, Armin doesn't know what to say. He decides to look at Jean instead, whose smile stretches wider.
"Huh."
Armin must really look unimpressed, because Jean's smile falters a little.
"Yeah, so, since I already have the book at home, I thought that you could have the other one," he says, hesitantly.
"Jean..."
"Come on! That way, you won't have to waste time at that other library that's out of your usual way home anyway," Jean says, barely stopping to breathe. "And I'm only lending it to you until we do the presentation, if it makes you feel better –"
"Jean." Armin tries, but the other isn't listening.
"– though I have no idea what I'll do with two copies of the same book but –"
"Jean! I got it, okay? I'll take it, but only if you give me the old one."
When he stops talking, slightly breathless from this small outburst, he realizes how quiet the room is around them. A quick glance confirms his suspicious : the whole class is seated, and they're all staring. Including the history teacher, who's looking pointedly at the both of them. They're in the front row, too, so everyone has a pretty good vantage point as it is. When he looks at Jean, he looks just as red as Armin knows he probably is, if only for the heat he can feel in the general vicinity of his face.
"Now," the teacher starts, "I'm sure this is a great book, but this is a course on world history, and if you'll let me start on the cold war... Right," he adds when neither of them replies. "Thought so."
As he begins his lecture, Jean discreetly coughs behind his fist, silently sliding the battered copy of the book.
Armin slips it into his backpack, still red in the face, somewhat annoyed and a little grateful at the same time.
Like most books that might have been bought before the 80s, its pages have a yellow tinge to them. Most of them are dog-eared, and the bottom right corner of its cover has a couple crumbly chunks missing. It smells of ink and glue and dust, like most old books, and something like wood cleaner. Armin wonders if the smell of Jean's home is there to find, but his sense of smell isn't accurate or strong enough to tell.
The book isn't even 200 pages long, but Armin decides before even reaching the 50th one that the unnamed protagonist from Le diable au corps is kind of a jerk. He doesn't hesitate to manipulate people to fulfill his selfish desires and he's utterly unapologetic about his lack of empathy towards even his loved ones. What makes things even worse is that he apparently thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread, with all the brashness and arrogance youth is capable of. Unfortunately, it also means that he's very inexperienced, and barely understands himself, which is probably why he's unable to make up his mind about anything that truly matters. Not that Armin would blame the latter on anyone, as inexperience at such a young age – sixteen, just like Armin himself – is common. It usually gets better with time, but it's still annoying, and it's hard to feel sympathetic towards someone who acts so despicable.
Not even the weak love interest, a 19 years old ingenue named Marthe who never thinks twice before believing all the lies the protagonist tells her, manages to make the book redeemable. The style is choppy and unrefined, trying to remain simple and matter-of-fact, but reading more like an unorganized mess. Armin guesses it works, since it's a memoir of sorts, but he finds it utterly charmless.
He's barely read more than a quarter of it, and he doesn't even like the main character. And yet, he finds he can't put the book down. The protagonist stops being so badly manipulative after the 60th page, and if he is after that, it's only caused by his conflicting emotions. Armin feels strangely fascinated by the resulting chaos, and he thinks, maybe that's it, maybe that's how the style fits, even if he doesn't necessarily like it.
In the end, he can't even bring himself to truly hate the character, because he feels so familiar. Perhaps he reminds him of Eren, who tends to act without thinking in a similar fashion, except Eren isn't nearly as selfish. But Eren isn't that self-conscious either. If Armin has to be fair, the character really reminds him of Jean. These two are more alike than they'd ever admit, but Armin has gotten to know Jean well enough lately that he's able to see past the similarities and tell there are differences as well.
Unlike Eren, Jean is kind of self-conscious, for one thing. Sometimes too much. And he definitely gets embarrassed quicker than Eren. It also takes a lot for Eren to get flustered, though Armin has seen it happen a few times, which isn't surprising, considering they've basically known each other since kindergarten. Jean gets flustered all the time. Eren doesn't care what others think, aside from his closest friends and family; Jean would like not to care, but tends to react badly to criticism.
What's funny is how neither is really competitive at heart, except when it come to each other.
He ends up reading the whole book in one go. Somehow, he doesn't regret suggesting this book to Jean for their project.
"Hey, Radiguet was a student in our school4," Jean remarks, looking at his phone.
Armin – who considers himself lucky to have a functional cellphone, an old thing he can't really use for anything other than texting and phone calls – is skimming through one of their school's cinderblock-like encyclopedia tomes. Every once in a while, he looks away from the book to jot down a few notes.
They decided to take advantage of a gap in their schedule to do some research in their school's tiny library – mostly on the author's background, since Jean hasn't even read the book yet.
"That's funny," Jean adds, looking up at Armin from his phone.
"Kinda," Armin replies, quickly glancing from the encyclopedia. "Here it says he wrote the book when he was about our age, and... Damn, he died young. He was only twenty years old."
"Typical of a poet. He lived a full life, though, or so Wikipedia says," Jean adds. "Listen to that : apparently, the book is part autobiographical. And here it says that he used to hang around famous intellectuals of the time, like Apollinaire and Satie... He was Cocteau's protégé, too."
"And possibly his lover," Armin supplies, after checking the encyclopedia article before him.
He glances away from his notes towards Jean when he doesn't reply, only to find him looking absentmindedly at his screen, worrying his lips. Leaning into his space a little, Armin tries to have a look at whatever Jean is looking at.
"Is that Radiguet?" He asks when he sees Jean is browsing through old black and white photographs of a man on Google images.
"Nah, that's Cocteau."
He types Radiguet's name in the search bar though, and starts sliding down the result page, when a picture of the author5, lying completely naked on a beach, his junk out in the open, comes into view.
They both freeze for a split second, until Jean drops his phone on the desk with a tiny yelp. One look at his red face is enough for Armin to burst out laughing.
"What the fuck, dude!" Jean protests, turning to glare at Armin while retrieving his phone, looking offended.
"The – the look on your face!..." Armin wheezes, trying to breathe and failing.
"Shhh!" The librarian hushes them from her desk in the back room.
Armin tries controlling the irresistible urge to laugh, breathing through his mouth and closing his eyes. When he opens them again, Jean's frowning, still red in the face and fumbling with his phone.
"Jeez," Jean says in a muted voice, still looking embarrassed and mildly upset. "And I was only curious about what he looked like. I didn't mean to be assaulted by an early 20th century dick."
This has Armin doubling over again, just when he was about to calm down.
Of course, they get thrown out of the school library for making too much noise. Fortunately, Jean remembers to take a picture of the encyclopedia article before they leave. They end up sitting against a wall in the courtyard.
"At least we got some research done," Armin says, sighing somewhat contentedly.
It's been a while since the last time he's laughed like that.
He feels Jean twitch nervously at his side. When Armin looks at him, there's a tiny smile lifting a corner of his mouth. He's about to ask him what makes him smile, but ends up being distracted when Jean opens his mouth.
"Hey, I was thinking," he starts without looking at Armin. "I'm gonna read the book on Thursday night. The math test will be over, and we're handing out that paper tomorrow, so I'll have more time. How about you come to my place on Friday after school, and we watch the movie?"
"You mean the 1947 one? Were did you get it?"
Jean snickers.
"The internet has no secrets for me," he says, and he looks like such a dork – which he is – that Armin can't help his own smile from surfacing.
"Huh, right," he says.
"And we could work on the presentation during the weekend or something," Jean adds, a smile on his face, sounding hopeful.
"I usually help my grand-father with chores on weekends," Armin slowly replies. "I'll be free on Sunday, though."
"No problem," Jean says, his smile widening and suddenly, he's beaming.
Armin knows Jean likes him well enough, but the fond look in Jean's eyes is a new development in their somewhat recent and tentative friendship. Are they really even friends to begin with? Armin doesn't really know what to make of it, and feels troubled.
But Jean is standing up, turning back to Armin, who's still sitting on the ground.
"Anyway, I'd better get going. That science essay's not going to write itself," he says, and stretches a helpful hand towards Armin.
They part, once again, in front of the subway station. Armin's palm keeps tingling from the warmth of Jean's fingers long past the ride home.
Jean's place is warm. So warm, in fact, that Armin ends up removing his sweater not 10 minutes after Jean lets him into his home. It's also pretty large, for an inner city apartment. Armin knew Jean's parents were kind of loaded – they'd have to, to live in one of Paris' most expensive districts. No wonder Jean offered to buy him a copy of the book. He probably gets so much spending money that, to him, the expense for a paperback is probably trifling.
It's pretty early in the afternoon. School let out an hour early, and they had a free period before then. That's a very good thing, because they have school the next morning, and Armin has to commute the whole hour and half back home before dinner time.
They settle on the cosy couch in Jean's living room and prepare to watch the 1947 movie. Jean turns the lights off – it's already dark outside, the day being one of the shortest in the year. He then plugs an USB flash drive in the back of the set-top unit and sits next to Armin.
The movie is an old thing in black and white starring Micheline Presle and Gérard Philipe. It's not bad from what Armin can tell after about 20 minutes, though it's definitely quaint. The actors are good, but the protagonist, named François in the movie, remains annoying. He can see why it's a classic, but the truth is that he has trouble staying awake. Jean, who stayed up late to read the book, keeps yawning, and it's distracting.
It's not long before Armin starts yawning as well. Earlier, he was feeling nervous at the though he was going to Jean's place, which always depletes his already low energy levels. It's too warm in here, the couch is too comfortable, and he feels tired.
Five minutes later, he can barely keep his eyes open. As Jean stifles yet another yawn beside him, Armin wonders if closing them for a few minutes would really deter from his overall comprehension of the movie.
He does anyway.
He blinks awake, later, and doesn't recognize his surroundings at first, but a warm weight against his back makes his memory come back. Once he remembers where he is, still drowsy with sleep, he closes his eyes again.
The whole apartment is silent. He assumes that he fell asleep while watching the movie – which he doesn't feel pleased about, since it means he'll have to watch it again. Someone turned the TV off after the movie was over. That same someone, most likely Jean, also threw a plaid on him at some point, which explains why he's feeling so comfortably warm. Of course, that doesn't explain why his head is resting against Jean's shoulder, or actually – he only realizes now – why Armin ended up more or less nestled under his arm.
He really doesn't want to move right now.
He doesn't know how much time passes as he stays, his eyes closed, listening to Jean's quiet, slow breathing. From the dead weight of his arm around him, he must be asleep as well. Armin finally opens his eyes. The apartment isn't actually dark, the lights from the street painting abstract shapes on the walls and furniture. The clock on the set-top unit tells him it's just past 6 PM, so he should leave soon if he doesn't want to be late for dinner. He'll have to wake Jean up, but he feels reluctant to do so.
Delicately, Armin tilts his head to look at him.
Just like he thought, Jean is sleeping. His eyes are closed, and in the weak light of some street lamp, Armin has a perfect view of his face : his straight nose, a little on the long side; his eyelashes, that are kind of long; the dark circles under his eyes, legacy of his late night reading. His lips are slightly parted, a little chapped from breathing through them.
Armin blinks, and it's like he's waking up for real this time.
Jean stirs as Armin sits upright and puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, wake up," he whispers softly.
Jean lets out a sleepy groan, curling his hand in a fist against Armin's shirt as if to prevent him from leaving. But he lets go and opens his eyes.
"Huh, yeah," he says, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry."
Armin can't help but smile because Jean looks kind of endearing like that.
"You fell asleep," Jean adds after a bit, "and there was no point in watching the movie without you."
"So you thought you'd better catch up on lost sleep?" Armin asks.
"Well, yeah."
Jean stretches, and Armin averts his eyes when he realizes he's probably staring.
"I – um, I have to go." He says after clearing his throat. "I'm gonna be late for dinner."
Jean seems to perk up at that.
"What time is it? Damn. My parents are gonna be home like real soon."
"Huh," Armin says, feeling suddenly small and inadequate. "Am I not supposed to be here?"
"What? No!" Jean says with more force than was probably needed. "They don't care who I bring home, but they get back pretty late after work. I was just surprised that we slept for so long."
"Oh," Armin replies, feeling silly.
"And we'll have to watch the movie again, too. Damn," Jean says, scratching the back of his neck. "You know what? You should stay the night tomorrow. We'd have plenty of time to watch it, and there's the presentation to work on, too."
"Hmm," Armin replies, thoughtful.
At this underwhelming reaction, Jean looks sheepish.
"If you want to, that is," he says, a tiny smile on his mouth.
"I do," Armin says, "but..."
"I know, I know," Jean says, holding both hands as if to appease. "Send me a text tonight if your grand-father says you can come, okay?"
"… Yes."
Jean's smile turns goofy, and Armin wonders if his friend realizes how hard it'd be for him to say no to such a smile.
The next day, instead of riding the subway to the train station, Armin waits for Jean to pack his school things. They leave together, and maybe for the first time, Armin's glad Eren chose to enroll in another school. They still talk often and meet each other regularly – most of the time with Mikasa, who chose to follow Eren there. Eren even knows that Armin is on friendly terms with Jean, and if he doesn't exactly approve, he never said anything against it either. But Eren knows Armin a little too well, and would probably know exactly what's going on in his friend's head. He'd have probably guessed even before Armin himself knew.
And he really doesn't need anyone to rub his private thoughts in his face today.
When they get to Jean's place, Armin is surprised to find the apartment is empty again.
"Are your parents usually busy during weekends?" He asks as Jean reheats bolognese pasta – leftovers from the previous day's diner, which his mom made.
"Not really," Jean says. "They sometimes have errands to run on Saturdays, like groceries and stuff, but they're usually home on Sundays."
He grins at Armin as the microwave rings.
"But this time, they're on a trip. They won't be back before Sunday night."
"Oh," Armin says.
"I'm actually glad they're not here," Jean goes on. "My mom can be such a bother when I bring friends home."
"Oh," Armin says.
Oh.
"She's not really that bad, you know, just... She's can be so embarrassing."
He then goes on to tell him time about that time in middle school when he had Connie and Sasha home, on a Saturday afternoon. His mom managed to call him "Jeannot lapin"6 in front of his friends and tell Connie embarrassing stories from when Jean was a toddler – which Sasha knew for the most part, being his childhood friend, and had mercifully shut her mouth about. But Connie was a blabbermouth, and he proceeded to tell everyone on the next school day. Jean had to suffer the embarrassing nickname for months after that.
Of course, being in the same school at the time, Armin already knows that story, and he even heard the nickname before. Eren teased Jean about it endlessly then. But Armin was never one to embarrass others. He never used that nickname – possibly because he and Jean barely ever talked back then. But if Jean believes that it's because he never heard about it, Armin isn't going to prove him wrong, especially after such a long time, and especially not after he told him such an embarrassing story on willingly.
Jean is showing his trust in him, and Armin isn't going to brush it aside.
They chat comfortably while eating, mostly about their weekend schedule, and decide against discussing the book before seeing the movie again. Jean especially is adamant about watching it while still unbiased. Armin laughs at him when he manages to get some tomato on his cheek, which results in Jean becoming nearly as red as the sauce.
Way too easy to rile up, Armin thinks.
They watch the movie in broad daylight, this time. Outside, the sky is clear, and it's a beautiful day. Armin doesn't mind spending the afternoon inside though.
Le diable au corps as a movie has a little more happening than in the book, but weirdly, the added drama makes it duller to Armin. And yet, somehow, he finds that François is growing on him. He's not really sure why. He finds him pitiful but somewhat relatable, and if he doesn't exactly like him, he doesn't find him as obnoxious as before. The character in the movie seems less instrumental in his own demise, more of a victim of his own immaturity and inexperience. And after all, he's barely older than Armin.
Or maybe it's Jean's presence next to him, distracting him from the protagonist's shortcomings. He seems engrossed in the movie, frowning when drama unfolds, or at the funeral scenes. He bites his lips, when François asks Marthe's husband for a light.
They spend the next few hours discussing the book and taking notes. They agree on the diverging parallel between the brutal progression of the romance and the ongoing – yet ultimately ending - war, which is shown as omnipresent despite being only portrayed from the rear side. Jean seems sympathetic towards the ill-fated lovers, but it's not surprising. Even though Jean doesn't like to admit it, Armin knows that his friend is easily moved, and the love story they're trying to dissect is a pretty sad one.
"Okay," Jean says around 6 PM, "I think we've done enough for today."
"Yeah, me too. We can go on tomorrow, anyway."
Armin rests his head on the back of the couch while Jean fumbles with papers on the coffee table.
"Um," Jean finally says after a bit, "we need to take care of food. Wanna order?"
Armin, not moving, tilts his head sideways to look at him.
Jean stares at him for a moment, and Armin feels something unspoken passing between them, but maybe it's just in his mind. After a moment, Jean blinks and clears his throat.
"Or we can make more pasta," he adds, but he doesn't sound too enthusiastic about eating the same thing three times in a row.
"I got money," Armin says. "Pizza?"
"Actually, I was thinking sushi."
"Huh." Armin pauses. "I don't know. Pizza sounds nice."
"My treat."
"Jean..." Armin starts, not knowing how to refuse Jean's offer without voicing the fact he's too broke for expensive sushi.
But Jean speaks again before he can say anything.
"Look, I know what you're thinking," he says in a somewhat nervous voice. "We both know that – well... You're not as well off as I am. And I don't mean that in a bad way; it's a fact."
Well, duh, Armin thinks, but doesn't say anything. Jean is obviously trying to tell him something, and it doesn't look like he's done yet.
"I know what it feels like to be embarrassed about money," he says after taking a shaky breath. "Sometimes, that's how I feel when people realize that my parents are loaded. But this isn't something I have control over, and neither do you. So, what if I have money? I might as well enjoy it, and you should, too, because we're friends and sometimes, I might just want to do something nice for you. Or for any of my other friends," he adds after a pause, and laughs nervously. "Anyway, what I'm trying to say is: I don't want you to feel like you have to pretend with me. I don't know about you, but I – we're friends, right? I'd like you to feel comfortable enough around me not to have to do that."
Friends, huh? Filing this confession for later, Armin decides to stop Jean before he starts babbling.
"Okay."
Jean blinks at him.
"Okay? What's okay? Aren't you even going to argue?" He sounds surprised.
"We can have sushi," Armin says slowly. "But next time, I'm the one treating you."
"You won't have to," Jean says, and his grin tells Armin that he's relieved. "Because you're paying for the beer."
"Beer?"
"The restaurant we're going to order from has Japanese beer that's not bad at all."
Armin isn't too fond of alcohol, but he doesn't plan on drinking much. Beer is pretty light anyway, and they're done with school work for the day.
"Sure."
"Then I consider us even," Jean declares, "until next time."
Armin can't refrain the small smile taking over his face.
"By the way," Jean says, "I have a surprise for you. We're watching another movie tonight."
Armin raises an interrogative eyebrow at Jean's grin, which is growing larger.
"Yeah. You'll love it."
Turns out the beer isn't bad at all, like Jean said. Armin only ends up drinking a can while Jean drowns two, but all that happens is that he's left with a pleasant buzz for the whole movie. Which is a good thing.
Turns out Jean found the other movie based on the book.
Later, when he's able to process the events of that night, he'll find that he actually enjoyed the second movie better. It's an Italian modern piece, made in the 80s, and isn't following the book's plot closely at all. The protagonist, Andrea, is a lot more relatable than François. And Maruschka Detmers, the actress portraying the love interest – Giulia, in this case – is a lot prettier – and sexier – than Micheline Presle.
The movie is also a lot raunchier.
They get settled on Jean's bed, a large thing with more than enough room for two, because his parents' TV can't play the file for some reason. They have to watch it on Jean's laptop, which they could have done on the couch, but Jean said it'd be more comfortable in bed.
He was kind of right, but they have to huddle close to watch on the tiny computer screen. Jean's sudden proximity in the darkness of the room makes Armin feel nervous.
There are several sex scenes in the movie, but these are common in media nowadays, and they barely elicit a reaction from either of them.
Until the main actress grabs the guy's dick through his pants, casually takes it out, puts her mouth on it, and Jean briskly closes the laptop, interrupting their watching.
There's silence in the room. Armin, who was starting to feel sort of sleepy, is suddenly wide awake. Jean, who was sitting close enough that their shoulders were touching, feels stiff as stone.
And then, they both suddenly start speaking.
"Holy shit!" Jean says.
"No way," Armin says, disbelief in his voice. "What the fuck was that?"
"I don't know!"
"What the fuck are you making me watch?"
"I have no fucking idea," Jean says, rubbing his face with the hand not holding the computer on his lap.
"I mean, is this even allowed?" Armin says, before realizing Jean's making a face. "What's wrong?"
"Me and this book are cursed. Remember the library?"
"Huh?"
"Surprise dick?"
"Oh."
Armin can't help snicker at that memory, and maybe it's the beer, maybe he's just tired, or maybe it's the fact Jean just started laughing as well, but they're soon both laughing their hearts out. Jean has to put the laptop on his desk, for its own safety. Every time one of them starts calming down, one glance at the other and it's all over again. It gets so bad that Armin ends up hiding the tears streaming down his face in Jean's shoulder.
He doesn't know how they ended up like this, but when he manages to start breathing normally again and look at Jean's face without dying, they're facing each other. They were leaning against the wall minutes earlier, but now they're lying on the bed, Armin on his side and Jean on his back. Jean has an arm around Armin's shoulders. Jean is looking at him, a smile still stretching his mouth, and their faces are so close Armin almost has to force himself to keep breathing.
He can feel Jean's strong heartbeat against his temple.
"Um," Armin says, unsure about here to go from here, of whether he actually has somewhere to go.
But Jean is rolling on his side, and suddenly they're even closer, their noses almost touching.
"Armin," Jeans whispers.
"Yes?" He says, cursing his voice for sounding so loud yet weak and hesitant.
"We don't –" Jean starts, but he changes his mind and averts his eyes. "You can sleep in my parents' room."
"I can?" He blurts out, cursing his brain for not having more intelligent things to say.
"If you want to. But," Jean adds, a shiver barely noticeable in his breath as he glances at Armin and raises a hand to pull softly at one of the long strands of blond hair that's falling into his face, tucking it behind his ear, "you don't have to."
"I don't?" He breathes, cursing his heart for beating so fast that he's afraid he'll faint.
And Jean's arms are around him, the fabric of his sweater soft against his nose. Jean's face is pressed against Armin's shoulder, so close that he can feel his mouth move when he speaks next.
"Only if you want to."
Jean's embrace is warm but light still. Armin's arm that isn't trapped under him shakes as he reaches around to return it.
With a muffled sound, Jean tightens his hold like he never wants to let go.
They stay like this for a while, eyes closed, lost into each other and oblivious to the passing of time. This is very new for Armin, experiencing another's warmth from so close, feeling each inhale, each exhale they take. Jean smells like fabric softener and deodorant, and Armin can't help his whole body shivering.
Jean leans back after a while.
"Are you cold?" He asks in the same hushed tone as earlier.
Armin shakes his head. He doesn't quite trust his voice yet.
Jean, frowning, tucks more hair behind Armin's ear.
"Is something wrong?" He asks, delicately stroking his cheek with his thumb
He sounds unsure.
After a glance at his face, Armin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He opens them when he feels Jean's finger brushing against the corner of his mouth.
"Just nerves," he finally lets out.
Jean is staring at his lips, tracing them with a light finger.
It seems inevitable at this point that that they are going to kiss. Armin has been wanting this for a while, and he sees no reason to be shy about it. He gently pulls Jean closer, hoping he'll get the hint but leaving room for escape – just in case.
He can see Jean's eyes flutter shut before he closes his own.
The press of lips is soft, so light at first that he wonders if he's dreaming. But it soon gains momentum when Jean buries a hand into Armin's hair – which Armin might or might not have washed the previous night, absolutely without any definite purpose in mind, but he's not going to admit it now. Armin opens his mouth when Jean presses his lower lip between his, and soon, a warm, wet tongue tentatively brushes against his. He kisses back with all he has, and it feels so good he has to muffle the moans threatening to escape.
After a while, Jean puts distance between them with a sigh that sounds more heartbroken than Armin feels.
"I think we'd better stop," Jean says.
He sounds almost sad, and Armin is suddenly afraid that he's changed his mind.
"Why?"
"Erm, I –" Jean stammer, looking anywhere but at him, embarrassed, and suddenly, Armin understand.
It's not like he's ever been that turned on in his life, and despite his meager experience in this field is any indication, he guesses that Jean might be in the same predicament.
"Oh," he says, heat rising up in his face.
"Well, yeah."
"Um," Armin says, not knowing where to start. "It's okay."
"Right," Jean says, but he doesn't come back closer.
"No," Armin says, his voice a bit louder, "I mean – I don't mind. If we don't stop."
Jean looks up at him and blinks. His body feels tense against the hand Armin has on his side.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, um," Armin tries, only to finish in a way that sounds lame even to his own ears, "yeah."
Jean takes a deep breath, his eyes filled with purposeful intent that paradoxically ends up making him look sort of fragile.
"Ah, um, I should probably tell you – well," Jean says, trying to sound confident and failing, "I don't want this to be a one time thing." He clears his throat. "I like you. A lot."
Armin's heart flutters. He closes his eyes and breathes slowly to try and tame it, to no avail.
"Me too," he says, burying his face in Jean's chest. "We can wait, but I don't want to."
Jean's arms close around him.
"You know that we can stop anytime, right?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
They start kissing again, softer this time, but it doesn't last. When Jean sneaks a thigh between his, Armin can feel how aroused he is. It doesn't take long for him to get back into it as well. Jean's hands slide under his shirt, which makes him gasp. Soon, they start moving against each other, seeking more contact, more friction.
Jean gently pushes Armin down, and when he has him lying on his back, takes advantage of their position to remove his own sweater. He's bare underneath, and when he comes back to Armin, whose shirt is bunched up under his arms, his skin feels warm.
Jean kisses him breathless. Mouth sliding down his neck, down his chest, hands sliding down his belt and stopping there, he glances up at Armin as if to ask for permission.
Armin holds his stare and subtly rolls his hips. He doesn't stop him.
When Jean's hand pushes down his pants and underwear, it feels warm and a little overwhelming. Armin knows he's not gonna last, so he gently pulls at Jean's hair to get his mouth back onto his. He needs the weight of Jean's body on his, but the feeling of Jean's hardness against his hip as they kiss and fumble is almost too much, until much too soon, it is, and then, he thinks, this is it, as he gasps into Jean's mouth and spills in his hand.
His mind is foggy afterwards, and yet clearer than it's been in years.
Before he can even recover from the hormone-laced high, he sneaks a hand between them to return the favor. But when he reaches Jean's pants, all he can feel is wetness. He looks at Jean, who's breathing hard and staring with hazy eyes, looking like he's just discovered the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything, though he also looks embarrassed at the same time.
He's smiling.
Armin can feel himself smiling as well, and he wonders whether what he can see in Jean's eyes can be seen in his as well.
1* Andromaque is a famous tragedy by French playwright Jean Racine. The titular character was the wife of Hector, son of Priam (who was king of Troy during the Trojan war). She and her son are made prisoner after her husband is killed by Pyrrhus, who is in love with her. But Pyrrhus is betrothed to Hermione, Princess of Sparta, who loves him, and she in turn is loved by Orestes, who came all the way from Greece to the Spartan court to exert revenge on Andromaque's son for his people. It doesn't end well : Pyrrhus and Hermione die, Orestes turns barmy. Andromaque, who agreed to marry Pyrrhus to save her son, becomes queen.
2* I'm not sure about everywhere else, but classrooms in most French schools are always closed, unless there's a supervising adult, to avoid vandalism (most French students were pigs in my time, and I don't believe things have changed since then).
3* Paris is organized in 20 numbered districts. The 1st is at the center, then it more or less spirals outwards (1-4 are at the center, 12-20 are outwards); in general, the higher the number, the bigger the district.
4* Armin and Jean attend the Lycée Charlemagne, known for being one of the best high schools in Paris, which is located in the 4th district. The closest library is in the 3rd district, which is right next to the 4th and just across the street from their school.
5* You can look up "Radiguet" on google images to find the pic.
6* Benjamin Bunny's French name.