It was no surprise to anyone that Marco Bodt had gotten his masters degree in counseling. All his friends loved him and went to him for advice or to vent. He was Freckled Jesus, for crying out loud.

When Eren's mother died, Marco helped him through it. When Armin had panic tests after getting below an eighty on a test? Marco gave him a reminder that it wouldn't look bad. He even helped Sasha through eating problems.

Where Marco worked was classified. The only people who knew about Marco's job were him and his mother. If he told others, they would be resistant of using the services that were available. Trost Helplines was the most well known helpline service in the Trost district. And the most effective. So when Marco landed a job there, he decided to make sure that nobody would find out.

Wednesday. July 8. 10:28 A.M.

Marco had already gotten off the phone with 5 different callers that day. And just as he was about to go and retrieve some coffee from the break room, his phone buzzed again. Marco licked his lips and answered it. He gave the standard "Welcome to Trost Hotlines. What seems to be the problem today?"

A troubled voice rang out from the other end. "My siblings. They're arguing again. It's my fault." From Marco's deductions, the person sounded like a male, mid-twenties.

"Take a few breaths, okay? In and out. Let's calm down."

In and out. In and out. In and out. Marco heard the other taking deep breaths. "Are you in a safe environment for the next day?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I don't think so." Click.

The line went dead, leaving a stunned Marco Bodt sitting in his chair.

Thursday. July 9. 10:36 A.M.

It was a slow day. But nothing could prepare Marco for the call.

"Welcome to Trost Hotlines. What seems to be the problem today?"

"It's happening again. They won't stop arguing. What if they hit each other? I'd be to blame." Came the voice. It was that same voice from yesterday. The same guy.

"Sir, I can help. Can you just tell me what happened?"

Marco was shaking. When he didn't hear a voice after a while, he spoke once more. "Sir, are you still there?"

"Ever since our parents died in the accident, they've helped me live. I have cancer now. We don't have enough money for the treatment."

And then it happened. Click. Line dead. Marco requested work for the next day. And he hoped that the man would call again, telling him more.

Putting his car in park, he stepped out, rushing up to the house that belonged to Connie Springer. It was movie night for him and his friends. It used to be a tradition back in highschool. Every Thursday was movie night. And since all of them had made it back to the Scouting District in Trost, they decided to bring it back.

Marco walked right in, bringing his warm smile to the room. His friends were scattered among the house. After greeting most, Marco sat on the couch, right next to Eren's sister Mikasa Ackerman. Once everyone was settled around the television, Mean Girls was turned on. And once they hit that play button, he walked in.

Jean Kirschtein walked in. Marco's former highschool bully. They seen eachother every Thursday, which was hell for both of them. But they both pulled through, to make their friends happy.

"Sorry I'm late! Had a bit of trouble with my car," he said, sitting on the ground in front of Mikasa. He didn't hate Jean, actually, Marco enjoyed his presence now. Marco rolled his eyes. Jean had a thing for the girl he sat in front of, though he would never admit it. Everyone knew. Mikasa just wasn't interested.

And so Marco endured all of the movie, going home and straight to bed afterwards. They had all eaten at Eren's.

When Marco got to work the next day, he recieved the call. The call from the mysterious man.

"They're arguing again. My brother hit my other brother. It's safe though. They only fight when they think I'm sleeping," the guy inhaled. "It's my fault. If I would have never told them none of this wouldn't happen."

And before the guy could hang up, Marco hurried and spoke up.

"Please don't go. I can help. Tell me what has been going on. Start from page one if you'd like," Marco breathed. "Just don't hang up."

And to Marco's surprise, the other didn't hang up. Instead he exhaled.

"Okay."

"It started about a month ago. I was diagnosed with Chronic Leukemia. My brother told me not to tell anyone, so things wouldn't be different. None of my friends know. But my other brother... He wants me to tell people. He also wants to start a fund. I don't want that. I don't want people's money because they pity me. I just want to be the same as all of my other friends," he breathed. "It's been stressful lately. Both of my brothers have taken overtime. They won't let me get a job, so I'm only out when I'm with my friends or going to the doctors."

Marco was shocked. He had never gotten a call from someone with a disease wearing them down. Nor did he know how to handle this. He had to think back...

Sasha! He had helped her start eating more. She got over anorexia with the aid of Marco. "Sir. Why did you call here tonight?"

"I need advice," he muttered.

"Advice for what?"

"I know I'm going to die. I just need to figure out how to say goodbye." Click.

The line was dead. Just like that. No more man on the other line. Just Marco sitting in silence.

Pushing himself out of his desk chair, he walked over to the break room. A sigh escaped his lips. A sigh of discontent. "Are you okay?" Petra Ral, one of his coworkers asked.

"Yeah. I just feel uneasy about a call."

A laugh fell from Petra's mouth. Her voice was like honey. "Don't worry to much on it, sweetie. We all get calls like that from time to time. How about you just go home and relax? Go get some real coffee."

A grin ran itself across Marco's face. "Yeah, I think a nice cup of coffee would work. Did you want me to pick you up something?"

"No. You get your coffee and go sit near the water or something. I don't want to see you until you're scheduled next!"

And with a grateful huff, Marco walked out.

Just as Marco went to walk into the local cafe, someone walked out. There was some frozen drink everywhere. "I'm sorry si-," Marco stopped mid sentence. Jean stood in front of him, shirt drenched in cold. "Jean! Oh my goodness. Let me get you a new drink!"

Marco was in a frenzy of guilt. He felt horrible for bumping into Jean. He had to offer Jean coffee on him after the accident. It wouldn't make a dent in his pocket anyway.

Jean licked his lips. "Sure," he let out a shaky breath, reentering the store. Together, they stood in line. Marco worked up the courage to speak first. "So Jean, how have you been?"

"I'm still alive, so I guess everything is good. You?"

"I've been good lately."

"How's your mom been?"

That was a weird topic. Marco's mom was the top clothes designer in the whole state of California. "She's good. Been keeping her profile lower than usual though. Says she needs some time out of the centre of attention."

"That's good for her."

"Next." Marco and Jean walked up to the counter, Jean reciting his previous order to the cashier. "And can I get a Caramel Frappe with Caramel chips?" Marco grinned.

After paying for the order and leaving a small tip, the two men walked out. "Thank you," Jean muttered, probably embarrassed to be apologizing to the other.

"Oh no, it was my pleasure! We should get coffee again sometime." Marco exclaimed, examining Jean. He had an undercut and brown eyes. A large smile. He was also pretty muscular, due to being on the wrestling team in high school. He had managed to keep in shape, it seemed.

"That sounds cool."

"How about Thursday? I can pick you up and we can get some before heading to Eren's."

And Jean agreed with a smile. The boy stuffed his hands in his pockets before departing with Marco. Marco gleamed with pure happiness. If someone was happy, so was he. Even if it was his former bully.