Hello everyone and welcome to Chapter 1 of Drunk on You.
Full summary: Drunk on You is a modern day alternate universe that takes place in Seattle, Washington. Marco's old roommate has recently moved out and he has begun finding his apartment lonely, thus, he posts fliers around the streets of Seattle, advertising that his apartment is open for a second renter. Jean, who has grown tired of the bullshit his landlord has been putting him through for nearly 6 years, sees the fliers and takes interest. After Jean and Marco discuss Jean becoming the new renter, Jean moves in and they find themselves gradually becoming more and more inexplicably attracted to each other as time passes. They feel conflicted however, because both of them have girlfriends. Destiny seems to have put these two couples together for a reason, because when Yumir, Jean's girlfriend, meets Marco's girlfriend, Krista, sparks begin to fly and there is immediate attraction.
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin, nor do I own any of the characters featured in this work of fiction. Neither my role-play partner nor I are gaining any sort of profit from this.
Warning: May contain inappropriate language, sexual themes, alcohol usage, mentions of violence, potentially triggering subjects, and very very bad puns. Rating may be subject to change in the future.
Chapter 1 has been beta-read, edited, and revised. Mostly minor updates have been made.
Saturday. The 19th of October.
It had taken several hours and two and a half rolls of tape, but almost every single telephone pole in Seattle had one of his flyers taped to it. It had been a little over three months since his last roommate had moved out to live closer to home, and Marco Bodt needed a new one. Not just for rent money, but also for company and help with groceries. All of his friends from work already had their own places and/or roommates, and none of them had any suggestions.
So, he'd resorted to his expert flyer-making skills and added a phone number, his address, and a list of qualifications. He didn't have many, but he did add "must not be a convicted criminal" - just in case - and he would be checking. Once he'd gotten back to his apartment, he tossed the empty tape rolls on the couch and pulled out his phone from his back pocket and turned the volume up. It was unlikely that anyone would call today, but it was just a matter of time. Until a potential roommate called, Marco decided he would be perfectly content with reading in his comfy armchair.
Jean's nose hurt and there was no way around it, he knew that, but that sure as hell didn't stop him from taking his frustration out on anyone that dared to look at his bloody and bruising face. It didn't make him feel better, but at least it kept others away from him and a little space was what he needed right now. Or at least, a new space. He'd grown tired of his current life, he decided. Running with the 'wrong' crowd, pulling shady back door deals, working a dead end job, getting the snot beat out of him if he was late with even one singular fucking penny of his rent. Enough.
Jean pulled the dingy blue sleeve of his hoodie over his hand and scrubbed at the dried blood trailing from his purpling nose. Thankfully, he was only missing half-a-hundred from his rent this month, so his landlord socked him once in the nose, lectured him, and called it quits for the day. It's not like his apartment is even worth the full rent considering it's an absolute piece of crap that's basically falling to shambles, not to mention most of his neighbors are addicts of some sort. Drug addicts, alcoholics, sex addicts, you name it, his apartment complex has it.
Jean's thoughts stopped momentarily as he heard a couple of outrageously dressed women, probably prostitutes, giggling at a flyer taped to a nearby telephone pole.
" 'Must not be a convicted criminal' Hah! That poor guy is gonna have a hard time trying to find someone like that in downtown Seattle!"
"Oh Lita, honey, maybe we should call the poor boy and tell him..."
"Patty, please, if he wants to put himself in danger just so he can have a renter for his apartment, then let him. It's not any of our business."
The two women trailed off, absent-mindedly chattering about the flyer that was currently flapping in the strong ocean breeze. Jean's curiosity got the better of him, so he walked up to the pole and tugged the flyer from the dark wood. Giving it a quick once over, he scanned the list of qualifications, applied them to himself and nodded slowly, a bit surprised. Really? Is this guy trying to get himself killed? He even put out his address. Jean sighed. It was a pretty good deal though... It's in downtown Seattle, near University Village, so it's not in a shady area. The rent is okay, a bit steep for Jean considering he's just a simple part-timer at Starbucks, but he could do it. Plus, it's a good way for him to get a bit of a new start. He procured his ancient flip-phone from the pocket of his hoodie and dialed the number on the piece of paper he held in his hand.
A few hours passed and no one called. Marco had quickly gotten bored of reading and, given the hour, decided to get up and make dinner. It was a little late for someone to call anyway.
That morning, Marco had taken out a chicken breast just in case he was in the mood to make dinner. Luckily, he was. Just like always. Halfway through making his (totally famous) chicken parmesan, his phone buzzed and rang in his back pocket. He practically jumped with excitement (and surprise, obviously). He took the pan off of the burner and answered his phone midway through the third ring.
"Hello? Are you calling about the flyers?" He could hardly contain the excitement in his voice. Meeting a new person was just so exciting to him, and maybe they knew how to cook!
After he dialed the number and pressed the call button, Jean leaned up against the brick walls of his crumbling old building and stationed his flip-phone between his ear and shoulder, freeing up his hands so that he could gingerly touch his nose, testing it if it was broken or not. A small 'click' on the end of the other line alerted Jean that someone had picked up. "'Hello? Are you calling about the fliers?'" Jean winced as he accidentally prodded at his nose too hard.
"Ow.. um yeah, I guess I am." He was a little bit unsure of what to say... Maybe he should chat with this guy a little bit? Judging from the cheerful tone in his voice, he didn't sound like such a bad guy.
"Uh, yeah, my name is Jean Kirschstein." He paused and swallowed for a second. Might as well get straight to business.
"According to this flyer you posted, I fit all of your qualifications and uh, I'm not even a convicted criminal." He laughed weakly. Damn it, he was so nervous. Would it be obvious that he lied a little bit there? I mean, he's not convicted, but he has done some things that he isn't proud of... "Anyway, I'm interested in becoming a renter for that apartment..." Crap. What else should he say? Jean didn't know. One of his hands gripped his phone while the other fiddled with a loose thread on his hoodie.
Marco pressed the speaker button and set his phone on the counter. He put the pan back on the burner and continued to cook. Jean had a nice voice, not too unkind. "Well Mr. Jean Kirschstein, I didn't expect someone to call today. I'm actually making dinner, would you like to join me and check out the apartment? I have two bedrooms but only one bathroom, a pretty decent living room and a very nice kitchen slash dining room. Oh! And there's this cool little patio that branches off from the living room that you will probably love. Oh, and if you're a smoker, no smoking in the house. Only on the patio. But I'm getting a little ahead of myself, sorry!" He laughed a little, scratching his cheek with his free hand. "So yeah, you have my address. If you're free, come on over and we'll talk rent over dinner. Sound good?"
Jean looked back at the address on the sheet. If he was lucky he could catch the 70 and bus 8 and get there in about 30 minutes, but that's only if he runs his ass over there right now. He hopped off of the wall and started making his way towards the bus stop, just a few steps down his street. He probably had enough cash on his Orca card to get him there.
"Yeah that sounds great! I can probably get there in about 30 or 45 minutes... That's not too late is it? I don't have a car so I've got to take a couple of buses." Just as Jean said this, bus 8 pulled around the corner and stopped in front on Jean. It was obvious that this was one of the older buses when the brakes squeaked and the door rattled open. Jean plopped down in one of the handicap seats. The bus was basically empty with Jean, the bus driver, and a scruffy looking man sitting towards the back.
Marco raised his eyebrows as he listened to the sounds of the city. Background noises in phone calls were his favorite. You could always tell what was happening if you listened closely. It was easy to figure it out by the squeaking brakes that Jean had just gotten on a bus, and the quick sound of feet meeting plastic then a loud thud told him that Jean had just sat down. "I'm assuming you're free then! I'll put the chicken on simmer and cook the pasta in a little over half an hour, and it should be ready by the time you get here. Don't rush though, it's fine if we eat a little late. What do you drink?"
Jean fluffed his hair and coerced a couple of lose, blonde strands to sit in their rightful places upon his head. He let out a quick huff of air and sighed lightly. "Uh, I drink basically anything as long as it's safe for consumption. Poison of choice tends to be imported beer but if you don't have that, then anything is fine" He's not picky when it comes to liquids, foods how ever, it's quite the opposite. All he knew was that this guy was making chicken and pasta and that sounded good to him. Wait a sec... he never got his name. "Ah shit, um, sorry what did you say your name was?" Jean rubbed at the bruise on the bridge of his nose. Holding a conversation isn't easy...
Imported beer? Was that fancy or just the opposite? Marco wasn't big on beer, so he wasn't 100% sure. His face went a little pink once Jean mentioned his name, or the lack of mentioning it. "Oh, sorry! I got a little carried away. I'm Marco Bodt. I don't think I have any... Imported beer? I have red wine, I think I used to have some kinda Italian soda aaand... pepsi throwback. Y'know with real sugar? Oh, and water. Obviously." He'd been rummaging through the fridge, phone in hand, while searching for something they both might like. Of course, he had no idea what Jean liked.
Jean pulled the yellow cord laced along the windows, requesting his stop, and stood up. A robotic voice in the background called out about how the bus had reached Denny Way and next was Broad Street. "Marco, huh? That's a nice name." He accidentally said out loud. Jesus Christ, he hoped he didn't sound like a creep. "Uh, I mean, It's not one that you hear often..." He trailed off pathetically as he made his way downtown, walking fast, people passed and he was bus bound. "Ah, that sounds good, I'll drink pretty much anything, it's just that beer imported from Belgium or Germany happens to be a preference. American beer is pretty boring as far as taste goes. But uh, like I said, anything is good!" He chuckled a bit nervously as he stepped up onto bus 70, swiping his Orca card at the front machine, and sitting down yet again. 'Wow, way to go Jean, great first impression.' He thought to himself.
Marco grinned, covering his mouth with his hand a bit. He cleared his throat and and set his phone on the counter, putting a pot of water on another burner to boil. "Well, I think tonight has the potential to be worthy of celebration. Maybe just water for dinner, and if you pass, I'll get the wine out. Does that sound okay?" He got down two cups and, while the pot started to boil, he took out silverware and places and started to set the table. He hadn't had a dinner guest in a while. It was all a little exciting. While the food continued to cook, he did a last minute check and cleaned up around the apartment. Of course, since his last roommate moved out, his apartment was almost always neat and tidy. In other words, boring.
Jean laughed a little bit. "Heheh, yeah that sounds perfect. I just I hope I'll pass." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't excited for this. He couldn't even remember that last time he had sat down and eaten a real dinner made by an actual person that wasn't some dumb grunt making minimum wage. "I've got about 15 minutes or so before I get there, so I'll see you then." He found himself grinning stupidly as he hung up, his smile lingering while he stared at his phone. This Marco guy didn't sound half bad, plus he'd finally be out of the hair of his landlord. 'Oh shit... my landlord...' Jean dreaded the thought of what his landlord will do when he gets told that Jean is moving out. The extra $50 from last months rent is no big, but he'd heard rumors about the people that moved out. They were probably just rumors but he wouldn't put it past his landlord to do things like beating them half to death, trashing their new houses, or even making them lose their jobs. A couple of tenants at his old apartments heard that the landlord was in a gang or was part of the mafia or something equally threatening. Oh well, Jean figured he could deal with it later. He just hoped Marco wouldn't judge him too much because of his broken nose...
Marco mumbled a quick "see you in a bit," and locked his phone. Give or take an hour and he could have a new roommate. The possibilities were endless; what did Jean do for a living? What did he look like? Did he cook? That was the biggest question. Would he clean up after himself? He sure hoped so. He finished up the chicken parmesan once he returned to the kitchen, then finished setting up the table. He grabbed the glasses off of the counter and filled them with ice and water from the fridge, then set them on the table and clapped his hands together once. Everything was set and all that was missing was his guest. If it all worked out, he would probably have to go to all of the places he'd taped flyers and take them down. But he was getting a little ahead of himself. It was a big "if", and dinner going well never decided much of anything. Anything related to being roommates, anyway.
Jean hopped out of the bus and shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. He walked down Eastlake Ave and turned left onto Garfield Street. Thankfully, a bus stop was only about 7 minutes away from this apartment, and it was actually within walking distance of the Starbucks he worked at. By walking distance he meant 30 minutes of going down hills wasn't all that bad. For sure he would taking the bus back to the apartments if, and when, he moved in. Jean sighed. He was getting ahead of himself again. 'If' is such an evil word. He trudged along the sparsely populated sidewalk of Garfield and began fiddling with his probably broken nose again. He stopped momentarily to check his reflection in the window of a parked car. It wasn't crooked, at least, but it was pretty noticeably bruised. He shrugged and hoped Marco wasn't picky about appearances or about people that get into fights every once in a while. He stopped in his tracks when he arrived at the apartment complex. It actually looked like a pretty nice place. Way better then his current house. He let out a quick sigh and walked up to the door the paper had indicated belonged to Marco. He knocked, quiet at first, but the next two knocks became solid as he regained his confidence.
Marco cleaned up in the kitchen, putting everything he'd used in the dishwasher. He always made a little bit of a mess when he cooked, mostly because he was a tad forgetful with what he needed. Most of the time, he would take out a dish and forget if he used it or not. He would wash it anyway, just in case. He had just put dishwasher soap in the machine when his guest knocked on the door. He shut the dishwasher door and put the soap container back under the sink, then entered the hall and opened the door. The first thing he noticed was Jean's hair, blonde on top and brown on the bottom. Interesting. The second thing he noticed was his nose. It looked painful, and he couldn't have suppressed a grimace even if he had tried.
Jean smiled nervously "Ahah... Sorry for my face at this moment. It's not exactly the prettiest thing, I know, but um..." Jean stuck his hand out, waiting for the brunette male before him to shake it. "I'm Jean Kirschstein." Surprisingly he didn't really have to fake a smile, a small grin naturally plagued his lips. Marco had a pleasant feel about him. It was probably because he seemed like such a gentle guy, which is a tad odd considering he's pretty tall. 'It's the freckles.' Jean decided. 'The freckles definitely make him seem less intimidating.'
Marco shook his head and took Jean's hand firmly, shaking it once before releasing. "No, I didn't mean to offend you or anything! It just looks a little... bad. Do you want something for it? I have some Aleeve in my bathroom, or ice maybe? Both?" He looked behind him, then stepped aside to let Jean in. That probably should've been the first thing he'd done. Aside from introducing himself, but he'd already done that and it seemed a little silly to do it again. Unless it was polite? His mouth was set in a slight frown, though more out of concern than anything. "You must've gotten clocked pretty hard... But anyway, come in and I'll get you something for it. Make yourself at home."
Jean chuckled. "Yeah I guess you could say I did. It's not as bad as it looks though so I don't think ice or Aleve will be necessary, but thanks for offering." He lied as he stepped inside. In all honesty it hurt like hell, but he didn't know this guy well enough to trust him with medication of any sort. He looked down at his dirty tennis shoes and thought it would be best to not wear them inside. "Make myself at home? I like the sound of that." He accidentally said out loud as he was removing his shoes. 'Good job, Jean. Let's just say whatever we possibly can to make this guy uncomfortable.' He let out a little smidge of nervous laughter.
Marco snickered and shut the door once Jean stepped in, then followed Jean's lead and looked at both of their feet. He'd forgotten he was wearing slippers, but he shrugged. It didn't matter, it wasn't a fancy dinner or anything, so what's the wrong with dirty shoes and slippers so long as they're comfy? "If you say so. If you change your mind though, let me know." He offered Jean a smile and stepped into the living room, expecting him to follow. "Dinner first, I'm assuming? Or a quick tour? I always think it's better to get to work after eating, but most people advice against it and say it makes you sleepy. So I'm leaving that choice up to you."
"I think either way works. I mean, it'd be a shame to let the food get cold or something like that, so the tour can wait." Jean tried to reassure himself and Marco by putting a smile on his face, though it probably just made him look like he was really uncomfortable, so he gave that up at once. He let out a sigh a glanced around the place. It was really nice... and clean. Exceptionally well-kept. Jean could definitely see himself living here in the future. All future-visions aside, his stomach was beginning to complain. Food now, drool over awesome house later, figure out how to move out much MUCH later.
"You have a pretty good point. Bon appétit." He motioned to the dining room table and sat down, propping his elbows up on the table and resting his head in his palms. He glanced at Jean, then at the chair across from him. "So business now, play later? I do kinda need to interview you, but I don't really know what to ask if I'm being honest." He shrugged, one leg crossed over the other under the table. He'd had a mental list prepared, but he had gotten a little too caught up in the moment as soon as someone actually answered his flyer.
Jean sat down across from Marco and stared at the meal before him like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on, and if we're being honest, as far as food goes, it probably is. A real, actual meal made with actual ingredients. Marco's voice broke him from his trance and he nodded. "Well, I can't really help you with that... but I can tell you that my apartment right now is pretty much trash so that's why I'm moving. I don't make much noise, unless I'm drunk, which is hardly ever so uh... I probably won't bother you too much. Or at least I hope I won't. I can do all of my own laundry and cleaning and stuff like that. And I'm not picky about anything at all really, so if I were to bug you or something, it's no problem for me to change what I do." Jean finished as he began eating the glorious, heaven-sent meal before him.
"Well it'd probably be a deal-breaker if you didn't clean up after yourself. Then again, I was cleaning up after my old roommate for a year and a half. Sorry to hear about your place, but keep in mind that I have..." He cleared his throat, then continued, "Many other options, I mean I just put those fliers out today! Well, you're the first person that's actually called, but that's besides the point." He shrugged and started to eat as well, keeping his mind focused on deal-breakers. "My old roommate and I had a laundry schedule, by the way. I had Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. He had the rest."
Jean was slightly stunned at Marco. 'Is he... bluffing?' Jean smirked briefly and somehow managed to pull off his 'no-bullshit-business face' and looked directly into Marco's eyes. "I don't doubt it that you have other options for renting this place. It's a rather nice place indeed not to mention that you seem like a decent person yourself. However, there are quite a bit of... unsavory people that would make indecent roommates." Jean set down his dining utensils and looked back up into Marco's eyes with a wolfish grin on his lips. "I can guarantee that I can be the perfect roommate for you."
Marco raised his eyebrows and and smiled, though he didn't show any teeth and it looked more lopsided than anything. He leaned back in his chair, setting his utensils down as well. "You're getting a little ahead of yourself! But I like your confidence. But actually I don't have any other options I was just trying to make you more interested. And it seems like it worked. Either that or you came here tonight fully expecting to rent this apartment. If I do happen to pick you, you're going to help me take down all of the flyers. Of course I'm going to need a little time to think it over. I'll need your number for whenever that is, but it can wait until you're ready to leave."
Jean let out the breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding in. 'He likes my confidence? It's too bad that it was all bullshit' he thought to himself. Jean nodded at Marco and muttered something along the lines of "sure" or "that's a given." Jean looked around awkwardly for a moment and absent-mindedly poked at his bruised nose with a grimace of pain. He sighed again. He couldn't tell if the atmosphere really felt this tense or if it was just him. "How about we clean up the dishes and then get on with that tour?" He mumbled
Marco hadn't really noticed the tense atmosphere at all. In fact, he was having a pretty good time. "I can take care of the dishes. I have to run the dishwasher anyway. You can poke around, doesn't bother me. My bedroom is the first door on the right, the empty bedroom is the second on the left, and the door at the end of the hall is the bathroom. First door on the left is the hall closet. Bathroom supplies and towels mostly. Knock yourself out. But if you'd like to wait for me to finish up, that's fine. Doesn't matter to me either way." He smiled and stood up, setting Jean's plate on top of his, and the silverware on the top plate. He left the glasses and took the rest into the kitchen, then rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher. He returned to the table to pick up the glasses, loaded them in the machine as well, and pressed the start button. If Jean poked around in his room, well... He had nothing to hide. It wouldn't be very polite, but it didn't matter much to him.
Jean cast a concerned glance at Marco but didn't question him before getting up and walking towards the rest of the apartment. Before he left the dining room, Jean stopped in the doorway and said "You really..." 'trust people way too much...' was what he wanted to say, but he felt that might be taken the wrong way. "are rather kind." He substituted before roaming around the other area. The entire place was really nice. Jean ended his self-given tour with the bedroom he imagined as his. It was nice, not super luxurious, but not the hole-in-the-wall room he had right now. He leaned against the window-sill and stared in the well-lit Seattle streets. He couldn't see a single prostitute, which was something he was quite unaccustomed to.
While Jean looked around, Marco stood in the middle of the kitchen and frowned, wine bottle in hand. He'd said he would pour them both a glass if Jean met Marco's standards, but maybe he'd just really felt like celebrating for no reason. He shrugged and picked two of his favorite wine glasses from the shelf above the regular glasses, then popped open the wine bottle. His demeanor changed quite a bit then, his effortless smile returning as he poured them both a glass. He left the bottle on the counter and picked the glasses up, locating Jean rather quickly and leaning one shoulder against the doorway. "Nice view, huh? The patio's even better. Come celebrate with me."
Jean's thoughts stopped when he heard Marco's voice from behind him. He turned around and grinned. "A celebration, huh? Who in their right mind could refuse that." He joked as he followed Marco onto the patio. "You were right. The view is better on the patio" He said as he let his eyes take in the sight. It was probably even better than his view back at his old apartment. Just maybe. He took his glass from Marco's hands and sipped at it gently. He made a small noise akin to something of approval.
Marco led the way to the patio, stepping aside for Jean to go first. He stepped outside, shutting the screen door behind him. The apartment needed to cool down a little anyway. He leaned over the railing and looked down, watching people and cars pass without any knowledge that he was above them. "It's someones birthday right now. Someones wedding day. Someone is celebrating the life of a loved one that died. So I figured we should celebrate too." He sat down in one of the two patio chairs, setting his glass on the table between the chairs. "Tell me about yourself. I won't have to hop out of bed with a cricket bat at 3am only to find out you're just getting home, will I?" He smiled at that picture in his head. He'd almost never done that with his old roommate unless it was his girlfriend's birthday or his own. They usually celebrated late into the night and into the early morning right across the hall.
Marco's reply was surprisingly simple-minded in Jean's opinion, which rose an unintentional snort from him. In this society and economy, no one really thinks like that anymore. 'It's refreshing.' Jean thought to himself as he smiled over his of glass wine."Um, probably not." Jean replied to Marco's question. "I'm used to being home well before midnight, and I don't think that'll change or anything" he said. Martin Luther King Jr. Way was beyond sketchy once the sun started going down. Jean cleared his throat. "What um, exactly is it that you want to know about me?" he inquired as he took another sip of wine from his glass, eyes still roaming the Seattle streets below.
Marco nodded and looked up, gathering his legs on the seat of his chair and crossing them. He rarely came home before 8, unless his friends invited him out for drinks. Of course, that only really happened once or twice a month. It didn't seem important enough to mention. As for Jean's question, he figured it was best to just get right down to it. "Where do you work and how much can you chip in at the end of the month?"
Jean tore himself away from his favorite hobby of people-spectating and turned around to face Marco, elbows supporting him as he leaned on the patio railing. "I'm a part-timer down at the Starbucks on Pike. Money isn't tight with me though, so I can chip in as much as needed." That wasn't a total lie. He could chip in as much as was needed, it just required him doing extra jobs here and there. Jean wasn't sure if he should mention that or not, so he kept his mouth shut. Perhaps he should state that he thought 50-50 was how people normally split rent, bills, food, etc. etc.? Nah, it's not up to him, he's not the one with the contract on this place. "Is there a specific way that you'd prefer to split the costs?"
"Not really. I guess 50-50 is the norm, but I'm fine with switching it up a bit sometimes if you give me a little notice. I won't have any problem with it. Honestly I don't actually need a roommate. Money isn't tight with me either, I just like the company." He smiled, cheeks pink with embarrassment. "But uh... rent here is around $1,400 a month. Landlord's super sweet, too. So if cash ever gets tight for the both of us for a little while, we just have to let her know and she'll just have us pay in full when we can. Happened once when I was just starting out here." He propped his elbow up on his knee and sipped a little from his glass, then set it back on the table. "Does all of that sound okay?"
'How strange. Getting a renter just for the company. If I were him, I'd rather enjoy this place all to myself. Or just have my girlfriend move in.' Jean speculated. "Yeah, that sounds more than okay." He grinned to himself. If Jean managed to snag this place, then he'd be free of his landlord forever! Not long afterwards though, Jean's happiness faded. He only makes, on average, $1100 a month, but he had a couple of student-loans to pay off so it came down to about $500 each month. Depending on how many hours he gets, he could make more or less, meaning he could hardly afford the rent and he might have to pick up on his extra 'jobs' to pay for the electricity and internet bills, not to mention food, or clothes. He absent-mindedly chewed on his lower lip in thought. Sure, he didn't like doing his extra jobs but they paid quite a bit, and in this case it might be necessary. He shrugged it off. It didn't matter at this point, so he settled his worries with a quick swig of the red wine that Marco had so kindly offered. "Speaking of things that are okay, do you have internet here?"
Marco snickered and scratched his chin. "Of course I do. It's pretty fast. I threw a kind of get-together with my friends a while back. Near Christmas actually. I had maybe fourteen people here and almost all of them were connected to the internet and it only lagged a little bit. Oh, and I visit family in San Diego every Thanksgiving, so you'd be free to have anyone over while I'm gone so long as they don't steal or trash anything." A few years back, he'd brought his then-girlfriend with him to introduce her to his aunt and uncle, and they'd loved her so much that she still joined him even after they broke up. Of course, that didn't seem like necessary information, so he kept it to himself and sipped at his wine. Jean would probably meet her eventually anyway. And even if he didn't, it didn't matter much. "So what about your family? Where do they live?"
Not that internet mattered all that much to Jean, it was just really annoying to pay for internet that 20 other people in his building were constantly using. Jean tensed up a bit at that last question. He wasn't sure how to word his reply to that without seeming like a brat. "My father lives in D.C. and last I heard, my mom was thinking about moving back to La Wantzenau in France, where she grew up." Jean chuckled a bit, although it came out sounding nervous. He added, "I guess she's missing her hometown or something." He hoped that his word choices wouldn't invoke any questions from Marco. Jean got the feeling that if Marco knew that he hadn't actually talked to his parents for nearly 6, maybe 7 years, Marco wouldn't like him all that much. "Anything else you want to know?"
"You're French? Wow, okay, that kinda sounded rude because not everyone from France is actually French, they could've just... grown up there. I guess." He chuckled awkwardly, running his hand through his hair. "My parents are from Belgium." Well shit, hadn't meant to blurt that out. "Not really sure where, I mean I lived there for a few years but I moved because of... stuff. But no, I don't think I have anymore questions. In fact, let's just be quiet and enjoy the frigid fall air, yeah?"
"That's good with me..." Jean mumbled before taking the last sip of his wine. Socializing, especially with strangers, sure took a lot of energy. He sighed lightly and turned back around to stare at the streets below. Not 2 minutes after he remembered he still had to give his number to Marco. Without speaking, he pulled his scratched flip-phone from his hoodie and installed Marco's under his contacts. Then he scrolled to where his own number was listed and he held the phone out to his, hopefully, soon-to-be roommate.
Marco's glass quickly emptied the next time he picked it up, and for a moment he couldn't understand why Jean was holding his phone out towards him. After a few seconds of looking at Jean then his phone, he pulled his own phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. Marco's phone, unlike Jean's, looked brand-new, although he'd had it for almost a year. It was, like most of his friend's phones, an iPhone. He didn't like the black design, so he'd picked the white one. He added Jean's number to his contacts and made a note, 'Potential roommate'. He smiled and looked back up at Jean as he pocketed his phone again. "There we go. Leaving already?"
Jean chuckled. "Yeah, it's getting kind of late and the last buses will be leaving soon." he neglected to add that he really didn't want to be caught in the streets near his apartment so late. "It was nice meeting you, Marco. Thank you for everything, the dinner was really wonderful and the wine was more than excellent." Jean added a hint of charm to this statement. He may be a thug nowadays, but he could remember his manners when he wanted them. Jean took his phone from Marco's hands and shoved it back into his hoodie. "Call me with your answer whenever it's most convenient for you." Jean stated finally as he walked his way into the kitchen and set his wine glass on the counter.
Marco stood up and stretched after Jean had gone inside, then took his glass and followed him into the kitchen. "Nice meeting you too. I'll probably call you by the end of the week. You're pretty nice, and you don't seem like a total bad guy, so you're at the top of the list. And it'll probably stay that way if no one else calls." He grinned and motioned towards the door. "So, good night, have a safe trip home."
"Thanks." Jean said as he smashed his feet into his dirty, worn out tennis shoes. He glanced at the clock on his phone and realized he would probably have to run to make the last bus. "Crap..." he muttered. He turned around quickly and shook Marco's hand real quick as a farewell before dashing outside and running down the stairs. He felt a little bit like a kid. Partly from the exhilaration of running and partly from the excitement of possibly getting an awesome new apartment along with a really cool roommate. He vaguely regretted not asking Marco more questions about himself, but he supposed that would only be of importance if Marco decided he would be the new renter. Jean sighed and slowed his pace as he neared the bus stop. Now it was just a matter of time...
Thursday, the 24th of October.
Eleven phone calls and five meetings later, Marco sighed and flopped down onto the sofa. He had been under the impression that roommate hunting would be easy, but it turned out to be quite the opposite. Two people he'd interviewed actually had been to prison. In fact, one of them had been three times. The other was a woman that looked like she'd had a stroke a while back. She'd arrived with a cigarette in hand and seemed like it was her life's mission to blow smoke in Marco's face. Other than that, the other three had completely awful personalities. One had shown up dressed all in black, as though they had thought that it would attract the sun's light and make him warmer. When asked about it, he said he dressed like that year-round. The other two were just... not that great. So, there he was, dialing an almost complete stranger's number and inviting him to live with him. How could it go wrong? To Marco, it couldn't. He waited patiently for Jean to pick up, but he would just leave a message if he was busy. It was after 9pm on a Saturday, he was either relaxing, in bed or out on the streets doing something fun. Or maybe he was still at work, it's hard to tell with part-timers.
"Fuck. Where is it..." Jean cussed as he searched for the source of that annoying standard ringtone. Not in his hoodie... not on his bed... As he went to search for his phone in the bathroom, he heard a small 'crack' noise come from under his foot. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me..." He picked up his phone from the bathroom floor and glared at the wimpy thing as half of the plastic cover fell off. He quickly tossed the broken off piece in the trash can and pressed the 'accept call' button. Putting the thing up to his ear, Jean thought, 'thank god, it still works' to himself. Jean cleared his throat before speaking into the mic. "Hello?" crap. who was it on the caller I.D again?
Marco grinned as soon as he heard Jean's voice, but he quickly shook his head and cleared his throat. "Congratulations sir or madam, you've been selected! For what, please refer to the address on the flyer you picked up last Saturday night!" He paused. That sounded so, so ridiculously stupid. He sighed audibly. "Okay but seriously. It's Marco. I'm assuming no one else is going to call at this point, and most of the people I met were... not the type of person I'm okay with being in my home. Y'know? So the place is yours, or at least half if it, if you still want it."
Jean couldn't hold it in. He held the phone away from his face as he bent over and nearly literally laughed his ass off. That was probably to most ridiculous thing he'd heard within the last decade and wow... he couldn't believe Marco would even say something so stupid. With a smile still plastered onto his face, Jean cleared his throat again and put the phone to his ear, the bad mood from the phone incident completely forgotten. "You bet your bottom I still want it. When is it okay for me to move in?" He asked while scuttling around his bathroom and throwing things into the moving boxes he had previously prepared. He paused for a second and looked at the spare toothbrush that his girlfriend had left there. She rarely came over anymore so it probably wouldn't matter if he threw it out. "Won't be needing that..." he muttered to himself as he tossed the toothbrush into the trashcan.
"Ah... Well I can help you move out this weekend if that's cool? Just one problem. I already have a ton of plates and cups and bowls and stuff. Do we wanna add onto that, put your dishes in storage, or put my impossibly fine china in storage?" He snickered quietly. Only old ladies had "fine china", and he couldn't even understand why. Hell, even his mom had had fine china when she was still around, and she didn't even like it! "Hey, why do old ladies always have fine china? It's a question that's been bothering me for five seconds. Does your mom have fine china? My mom did, and now my dad just stares at them a lot. What's the point of having dishes if you're not going to use them?"
'Jesus Christ, this guy sure talks a lot. It's not exactly unpleasant though.' Jean kept stuffing things into the boxes sloppily. "That's a really good question. What's the point of having anything if you're not gonna use it?" That sentence could definitely be attributed to the fact that he tossed another of his girlfriends left-behind items into the trashcan. "I don't think my mom has fine china though. She does, however, have copious amounts of shoes, most of which she never wears." He looked at all the stuff left in his bathroom. He didn't have much, just a couple of towels and hygienic stuff. "By the way, don't worry about dishes. I'm probably just gonna go throw them out." He moved onto the kitchenette to see if there was anything he wanted to keep. "Does your kitchen have room for a six-pack, 2 boxes of mac n' cheese, and some Ramen?"
"My kitchen always has room for mac n' cheese! And sure, that other stuff too. My aunt Clara has a ton of jewelry. She has a lot of rings but I've only ever seen her wear her wedding ring. Women are pretty weird... Then again, my dad has a lot of ties. Not sure what for though." He frowned and tapped his chin as if he were deep in thought. "Say, how much stuff are you bringing? I have a friend that owns a truck, and I'm pretty sure he'll let me borrow it."
Jean chuckled. "Women are weird, you can say that again." 90% of the time, Jean wasn't even sure he spoke the same language as his girlfriend and his mom. Well, most of the time he *wasn't* speaking the same language as his mom because he refused to talk to her in French. "No that's alright, I've only got a couple of things. Like probably 7 boxes plus a mattress and a dresser." Jean said as he ripped his sheets off of his mattress and stuffed them into the nearest box. He began working on pulling his clothes from his dresser and tossing them into another box. "I'll probably just call Yumir and have her drive my stuff up there." Dating a farmer-raised tom-boy came in handy sometimes. Mostly when you wanted to borrow their trucks. Jean only had a couple more things to pack, but he decided to leave a few pairs of clothing out so he would have something to wear until the weekend.
"If you insist! I already have another key made from when my last roommate lived here, so that'll be my first gift to you. Consider it a housewarming present. Also, there are no spare keys. Leaving one under the mat would practically invite some unknown thief in, and I don't think you'd be tall enough to reach it if I put it on top of the door..." He laughed, propping his feet up on the ottoman. "Just kidding. Anyway, I'll see you this weekend. What time do you wanna come over? I'm pretty much completely free, but I promised a friend I would help her with her plumping issue. Tap leaks. She lives a good half hour away, so I'll be out from 9 to either 11 or noon. If you'd like to drop stuff off earlier, I will come to terms with my issues and leave your key under the mat." He rolled his eyes, his lip sticking out in a sort of pout. You just never know who could be watching! The neighbor across the hall could see you place the key under the mat and you'd be doomed. "Wait... do I even have a mat?"
"No way. All kinds of shady people live in Seattle, I'd rather not risk your life by having you leave the key outside the door." Jean flopped down onto his bare mattress. "I'm working this weekend, but I've got the early shift so I'll probably show up about 1 or 2pm. Hopefully you'll be home by then. If not, I guess I'll just chill by the door." He pulled his phone away from his face really quick and sent a text to Yumir that read 'yo, i need a favor from u'. He propped his phone between his ear and shoulder. "How do you not know if you have a mat or not?"
Risk his life? Yeah right, more like risk his things getting stolen. He paused, listening to the clack of the keys that he knew was from texting. He'd been on the phone with several friends that text while in a phone call, and some of them didn't have a touchscreen. He missed his old phone sometimes. It was really sucky, but he liked the keyboard sounds. "I don't look down when I enter or leave my apartment, that's how. Oh, also, we need to arrange a meeting with our landlord and put you on the lease. Or whatever it is. But we can do that after you're settled. Oh again, do you have any allergies?"
"I'm allergic to stupidity and bee stings, but that's it." Jean paused for a second. He didn't really know what to say. "Um, what about you? Any allergies?" It was a dumb and cliche answer, but whatever. He just really didn't want this conversation to end. He pulled his phone away from his face again when he heard a soft chime, notifying him that Ymir had replied saying 'i love how that's the first thing you ask for. not even a hi.' Jean groaned. He really hoped she wasn't in one of those 'you're-a-terrible-boyfriend' moods again. Apparently she was, because not soon after he received another text sayin 'fine, whatever can i do for you, your majesty' Jean tapped out a reply saying 'u should call me that more often. i need 2 borrow ur truck skills tho bc im moving out this sat.'
Marco waited for the clacking to stop, then shrugged before remembering that Jean couldn't actually see him. "I'll allergic to dogs. I'm more of a cat person though. Oh, and cheap wine. Sooo allergic to cheap wine. And beer. I'm an expensive date, it's awful. My ex-girlfriend and I split bills whenever we go out, but she makes me pay for my poison. Isn't that just awful?" It wasn't awful, actually. He was grinning like an idiot and he didn't really care. He was still very close with his ex, and she even called one of their outings a "date" quite recently. They'd only really broken up because she'd been stressed about her parents divorce and needed some time to sort things out, but over the past year she'd grown to love both her parents and her dad's new girlfriend equally. And if they were all happy, then the odds of them getting back together were fairly high. Really, he hadn't needed to mention her, but he just loved talking about her, so it fit.
"Well, it's good to know that I won't have to share my Chimay with you. I wouldn't want you dying because of my terribly cheap taste in alcohols." He said cheap, but Chimay, imported straight from Belgium, was probably one of the most expensive beers around. "Woaah, you still hang out with your ex? That's a rare one these days." Most of Jean's ex-girlfriends couldn't stand the sight of him. He wasn't a terrible boyfriend, he just never cared much for any of them. Speaking of girlfriends, Yumir wasn't having any of his shit today. 'fine, but youre taking me on a date. not a crappy one. i want a nice dinner, and a movie at the very least.' "Women are impossible..." Jean absent-mindedly muttered into the phone before writing his reply. 'fine whatever but only after i get moved in'.
"Chimay? I think my dad drinks that. I've tried it once, and wouldn't you be surprised. I didn't have an allergic reaction to it. Guess who's sharing?" He got up and stretched, absently wandering into the kitchen. "I'm only still friends with her because she's the sweetest girl you could ever hope to meet. And because we were friends before we started dating and it wouldn't be fair to either of us if we lost a friend because of a perfectly reasonable breakup. I'm friends with all of my exes, actually. But I only have like two. ...Are you having girlfriend troubles?"
Jean chuckled. "Damn, and here I was, thinking I'd be able to spend my days alone with all of my beer." Yumir sent him a message saying 'no because for all i know, that could take you years. we're going out this saturday, right after im done being your pack mule' Jean had been hoping he'd be able to get to know Marco a little better after he moved in, but man, the things he sacrificed for a somewhat decent relationship. "Yeah, that's a word for it. Girlfriend wants me to take her on a date right after she helps me move my stuff. Apparently it has to be a fancy date too." 'fine' was all Jean replied. He didn't feel like arguing with her anymore tonight. He'd much rather focus on his conversation with Marco.
"No such luck." Marco grabbed a gallon of orange juice from the fridge and poured himself a glass, then returned to his seat. "Oooh, a fancy date? Will I get to meet her first? She has to pass roommate inspection before I can trust her to take you anywhere. Or... Well... Really she should be on my case actually I mean I'm kind of a stranger. But my point still stands! Where are you taking her? You seem like a sports bar type of date to me, honestly. Cheap beers and nachos. I think that'd be fun though. Why does she want something fancy?"
"Oooh, beer and nachos sounds really good right now actually. That's creepy, how do you know me so well?" Sure it was almost 10pm, but when a man gets hungry, food he must eat! Jean stood up and walked over to his fridge. He didn't have nachos, but 2 day old chinese take out was just as good. He sat down on his mattress, setting a bottle of Chimay on the floor, and started digging into his chow mein. God he sure hoped Marco couldn't hear him eating. "Probably because I haven't responded to her texts or calls for almost 2 weeks, so she's pissed at me and wants to take revenge on my wallet. Oh, and you'll definitely get to meet her. If she sizes you up, and then smirks and laughs, don't worry, she does that to most people."
"I'm secretly craving nachos and I was hoping I wasn't alone? I think I actually have some tortilla chips and nacho cheese. Are you off on Sunday?" Oh boy, smirking and laughing? That sounded... Pretty brutal actually. "She sounds... difficult." Difficult? God, there were SO many ways Jean could interpret that! He's only officially known the guy for like hardly even a day and he's already insulting his girlfriend? "Woooow I didn't mean that. I mean like... hard to please? No. That is not what I meant I'm sure she's very easy for you to please. Not implying that she's easy though! Y'know what, I think I dug a pretty damn nice hole. Gonna go ahead and lay down in it now."
"Make those nachos and eat them for my sake." Jean stated. This Chinese food was *not* cutting it. Jean gripped his plastic fork for dear life and broke out laughing. "Dude! Chill, it's all good. She's definitely difficult and hard to please. She's... an enigma." He chuckled to himself. Yumir probably hated his guts by now so he didn't really feel all to bad about saying that about her. It held some truth, and he was never the kind of guy to defend a perfect image that someone had just because he was dating them. Too much trouble. "Luckily, I am off on Sunday though."
Marco laughed quite a bit himself, mostly because he was relieved that he hadn't scared Jean away. Or pissed him off, that'd be bad too. "Sorry to hear about that. Can't say I've had any partners like that." He shrugged, swishing the juice around in the glass. His first boyfriend had been a little... off, but it still worked for a while. "As for the nachos, I think I'd be heartbroken if I had to enjoy them alone. I can totally wait. Oh hey, what are your shifts like at work? Sorry for changing the subject, but once I think of something I need to get it out before I either forget or lose the nerve."
Jean set the almost empty take out box on the floor next to his unopened beer. "My shifts aren't really fixed, but I work 4 hours, unless I pick up for someone else, and that could mean anywhere from 8am to 9pm on Monday through Saturday." He paused for a second to open his beer. A gentle 'Ksssh' that came when he popped off the cap was more than satisfying for his ears. "Most of the time I get the opening shift though." Jean added before taking a swig from his Chimay. Pure Perfection. "Hopefully my schedule won't mess anything up for you?" He half-asked, wondering why his shifts were important.
"Those kinda shifts always confuse me. My cousin worked shifts kinda like that and I never understood it. Still don't. But anyway, I was just checking. I leave at 7am, so it won't be a problem. We only have on bathroom, so that's why I was a little concerned." Marco set his glass down and wiped his hand on his pants, the condensation from the glass making his hand cold. "I feel kinda bad for asking so many questions. And talking so much. Sorry."
"No it's cool. Might as well talk a lot considering we're going to start living together for who knows how long." Jean looked at the clock on his phone. It was getting kind of late, and he had work tomorrow... so he should probably get to sleep, but he was enjoying talking to this guy. "Uh, sorry, but I don't think I ever asked you before. Where do you work?"
Marco stood up, leaving the juice on the table as he wandered into his room. He put Jean on speaker and set his phone down, starting to change into his pajamas. "I work at the Apple store over on University Village street. Mondays through Fridays, 8am to 5:30pm. I like working there because people forget to log off of Facebook on the computers. I've personally never done anything aside from logging them off, but I've seen some people come and go because of it."
Jean decided to fake a couple of sneezes. "Ahh oh no, I'm having an allergic reaction just hearing about that. A-a-achoo!" He grinned to himself and took another gulp of Chimay. "Ouch, people get fired just for messing with those guys? I hate to sound insensitive, but don't those guys kind of deserve it? You know, considering that they're the ones that left their Facebook open in a public place?" It didn't make sense to Jean. Why sack a guy just for having a little fun with an idiot that left their Facebook open?
Marco paused, taking a moment to sit down on the edge of his bed to laugh. Once he composed himself, he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "Well why don't you get a job with me and find out if that's really the case? I don't even know why we let them log on in the first place. Do people really need to check Facebook while they're out and about? What if someone was doing errands and just wandered into the store just to like a page? What's even the deal with that, what is the point?"
"Part of me wishes I took psychology classes in college so that I could do studies on them to see if a Facebook Addiction is real like people say it is." Another sip of Chimay slid down Jean's throat, warming it with the usual fire that came with alcohol. "I might take you up on that idea though. Getting a job just to see if people really get fired for screwing around on the customer's Facebook pages. It's rather tempting..." He chuckled to himself. 'Oh man... the fun I can have with them...' Jean thought as a devilish grin wormed it's way onto his face.
"I'm pretty sure it is real. My cousin would exit Facebook to check something else and a few minutes later she'd be back on Facebook. I don't really get it. But y'know, I was only joking about you working with me. That kinda stuff goes on your record and it's not good at all. Buuut... If I were to call you when someone kept themselves logged in and you just happened to be free, then there wouldn't be anything I could do to stop you from posting something on their Facebook..." He laid down on his back, setting his phone on the pillow next to him. It was getting pretty late, but he didn't really feel like hanging up. Hell, he'd probably be more likely to pass out than to hang up first.
"That's just as good. I'd be a fool to pass up a golden opportunity like that. I don't get chances like that where I work right now." He said absent-mindedly. Jean finished off the last of his beer and tossed it into the trash can from his place on his bed. Lucky for him, it hit the rim and bounced in. He wasn't usually one to do something so frivolous. It was probably just because he was in a good mood from joking around with Marco for a while. It really had been a while. "Wow, I can't remember the last time I talked to someone on the phone for this long..." Jean hadn't meant to say that out loud... He felt his face flush with embarrassment. "Uh, I mean, I've um, never really been a phone type of guy y'know? Ahaha..." Ugh. His palm hit his forehead. 'Way to go Jean...'
"Pays to have friends in high places, y'know." Well no, actually it pays to know people in high places, they weren't necessarily friends. Of course, it was a great opportunity to make a new friend, and they were going to live with each other for a while so they'd have to at least like each other. "I'm more of an in-person type of guy I guess? Talking on the phone is nice and all, but social queues are kinda hard to pick up on if you can't see the other person. Does that make sense? It's especially awful for me because I talk so much."
Jean didn't really think he talked that much, he did talk quite a bit, but hell, he'd only talked to this guy what, like 3 times so far? For all he knew, Marco would turn out to be one of those people that talked non-stop even if someone wasn't listening to them. He shuttered a bit at that. His previous girlfriend was one of those people... and that was a horrifying experience. "Uhm, yeah that does make sense. Cause you can't tell if they're joking or not sometimes right? Plus it kinda sucks when you can't see what's on their faces." 'cause then you can't tell if they're lying or not...' "Aha, anyway... it's getting kind of late, and I've gotta wake up at 5am tomorrow, so I've gotta go? I'll see you on Saturday I guess." This kind of farewell was really strange in Jean's opinion.
Marco glanced over at the clock, his eyebrows raised. "Shit, didn't mean to keep you up. I'll see you Saturday then. Nice talking to you." He hesitated, then after a moment he ended the call. There wasn't much else to say, and as much as he hated hanging up first, he was the one that had kept Jean up. He set his phone on the bedside table and got up to put his juice in the fridge for something to drink with breakfast, then brushed his teeth and returned to bed. If he could get Jean to himself on Sunday, they could take a trip around Seattle and take down the flyers. He'd forgotten to mention that, or even ask about it, but he'd ask on Saturday, no big.
Notes:
Edits and Revisions: My roleplay partner and I were previously misinformed about West Seattle. We had been told it was one of the shadier places in Seattle, but it turns out it's actually one of the nicer places so this chapter had to be revised a bit to make accomodations for the new locations. If you've already read Chapter One, I recommend reading it again before starting on Chapter Two.
Orca cards are basically debit cards for buses. They work only for the bus systems in Washington, and most working adults and/or students have them.
Chimay is a popular brand of beer produced in Belgium. I'm not sure if it's actually sold in the states, but for the sake of this story, it is.
If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please leave them in the form of a review.
Farewell, everyone, and see you next chapter, where things get a little more eventful.
My wonderful roleplay partner's tumblr: bokunomarco . tumblr . c o m
My beta-reader's tumblr: arseraptor . tumblr . c o m
My tumblr: sexon3dmaneuvergear . tumblr . c o m
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