I've never been the kind of kid who loves to go far from their house to go on holiday. Heck, the furthest from the city I've been was when I travelled to a large town called Dauper, around 10-15 miles away from Trost; a large city where I've lived for my measly 18 years of life.

What I didn't expect was to be woken up at stupid o'clock in the morning, and dragged downstairs to a quick breakfast. My mother pushing me to go faster so they could miss the early morning traffic.

My first question to them was "what the fuck?" My second was, "where the hell are we going?"

And then they had the fucking audacity to reply:

"We're going on a holiday for the rest if summer."

...yeah, remember my earlier statement about not liking holidays?

Ten minutes later saw me trying to avert my eyes from my reflection, only looking in the mirror for a few seconds to make sure my hair didn't look like a total birds nest (though try as I might, my hair never likes agreeing with me) Though before I could look for my contacts to make my eyes look better, my mother pulled me out by the arm and shoved me, a small suitcase full of my clothes; a rucksack filled with necessities (which I found out my contacts had been hastily stuffed in) and even my fucking violin; my dad explained when I had protested that I needed to study for my grade 6 exam at the end of summer...so much for a fucking holiday.

After the last of my parents essential items were packed (including a fiasco with my mothers manicure kit...ugh) we finally hit the road, the city skyline slowly shrinking as we hit the motorway.

Houses began giving way to rolling farmland and country side. The early morning sun had just started to rise higher in the sky as Trost escaped my view in the rear view window, so I let my head rest on the tinted glass as I looked at the scenery blurring past our (very) expensive car. My parents were sat out front, their voices going through one ear and out the other, I think they were talking about some stupid socialite party they went to and blah blah blah.

Raising my still groggy head up from the uncomfortable angle that I was resting at, I reached down and zipped open my rucksack. I fished out my phone and sat straight up, flinching at the popping sounds in my back. My parents didn't even turn around from their conversation.

With a grunt of annoyance I turned on the phone before I could look at my reflection, the bright screen showing for new messages.

(3) new messages.

From: Connie

Sent- 11:35pm

I challenge to a rematch! Ur pokemon will not be superior forever!

From: Sasha

Sent- 11:46pm

Ready 4 party at JEAGER'S?!

From: Connie

Sent- 12:11

...Ur fckin asleep aren't u...

Rolling my eyes, I exited the messages and swiped at the screen until I found an app to pass the time. I'll reply to those messages later. I don't really want to endure Connie and Sasha's guilt trip messages about me being away that they'll no doubt send me.

So instead, I immersed myself into the world of flappybird. I will beat 67, if it'll fucking kill me, I will beat the damn score that Jaeger put on my phone. (Damn idiot)

Tap...taptap...falltap, wait for it...tap tap splat!

It's official, I am the worst at flappybird! Fuck that game and the stupid-ass hamburger bird thing!

Growling, I grit my teeth and instead changed it to an app I had recently got called brave frontier (epic) and just after beating a mimic on a boss level, I felt the purring sound of the engine rumble to a stop, the immediate smell of sea salt assaulting my nose and making my face scrunch up.

Well, looks like we're here.

Kicking the door open, I pulled my stuff out and took another deep breath of the salty air, my eyes landing on the house that we would be living in for the rest of the summer.

It was cute, I'll give you that. Bright white paintwork and a red tiled roof, with a light blue painted door and matching wooden shutters. It wasn't far from the Main Street that faced the golden beaches of...my parents called this place Jinae...I think.

So I waited for my dad to unlock the door before racing up the stairs to stuff everything under my bed. (Including my damn violin...putting that deep...deep underneath my bed) My room was nothing much, a decent size with a twin bed propped against a light cream wall, the large window letting in a golden light and illuminating the room nicely, drawers sat just beside where the window was, and a small bedside table accompanied with a lamp. (At least this place had electricity...thank fuck.)

I checked the time on my phone again before ruffling around in my rucksack and pulling out my box of contacts. Sighing, I walked down and quickly located the bathroom, ignoring my parents calling for me to come down and gathering up the courage to look myself in the eye.

I cringed at the golden/amber irises that stared at me back.

Uglyuglyuglyuglyuglyugly

"Tch." I averted my eyes again before I could see how ugly they were. After placing my contacts and blinking until nothing was as blurry, I looked into the mirror again; my eyes now a brilliant green and looking a lot better.

Letting a smirk slip onto my features, I walked out and jumped down the stairs two at a time to see my parents walking out, talking about going down to the seafront street.

Having nothing better to do, I followed.

My name is Jean Kirschtein, I'm 18 years old and I hate this holiday already.

someone get me out of here...

((A/N))

so I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Yay!i really wanted to do a jean x Marco on here, not sure why but I hope people like this all the same! And hopefully I'll update this soon!