So my friend catofblue (on tumblr) and I began an RP and it sort of turned into a fluffy fic. This is only part one! There will be more to come! Enjoy~
The night air was cool and the only sound that could be heard was the young actor's shoes against the pavement. The constant slap, slap, slap of his tennis shoes against concrete echoing as he searched for his destination with an empty, and thankfully washed, beer bottle in his hand. There was supposed to be a bar around here somewhere…
There!
The small, tacky bar looked like nothing special, with its tasteless neon sign and dusty windows with sounds of noisy carnival-like music pouring out of the open doors. It supposedly got some of the best business in this small town though, despite the fact that it was pretty much unknown, what with all the more "extravagant" bars in the area. This was exactly what he needed. To be surrounded by drunks.
He took a deep breath, gathering all the courage he could muster before, literally, stumbling into the bar. You can do this Marco.
He dragged his feet across the slightly sticky floor, waving his beer bottle in front of him, and falling into an empty bar seat.
Immediately the bartender walked over, an eyebrow raised in question. This guy is already completely gone, Jean thought as the freckled man reached up and waved the beer bottle in his face, as if trying to pass it off to the bartender.
Jean shook his head at the drunk, "…I'm not into alcohol, buddy." And began reaching for another glass to poor him something else. Should he even do that when this guy was completely fucking wasted?
The freckled man shook his head, cradling the empty bottle in his arms, "Snot for youuuu issss fo' meeeee." He hiccupped. Marco never understood how he could force himself to hiccup like that.
The barman raised an eyebrow again, leaning forward on the bar slightly as curiosity took over. "Great! You know what I want to drink though?" The question was murmured, but the freckled man could still hear it over the sound of everyone else in the bar and the loud music.
He leaned away slightly, his head drooping off to the side in an effort to stay in character. He grunted, "Eh?"
"A tall glass of you," was the smooth reply.
The young actor blinked, too fast for someone who was supposed to be drunk. He sighed, "You broke my character, damn it."
The bartender shot him a wink.
The other blushed.
"Lemmie get'ya another drink, freckles," the man replied, already reaching for some more alcohol.
"Eh... I don't like the alcohol stuff to be honest..." he trailed off, that probably sounded really stupid for someone who walked into a bar drunk. Unless, of course, this man understood. He set the empty bottle prop he'd been holding on the top of the bar carefully.
The barman looked at him, "Guess you're a good actor then, what with the previous slurs." He flashed him a smile. "But that's fine, cuz' I can make a mean..." He started to pour a dark liquid into a cup, watching the bubbles fizz and almost pour over the top of the fancy glass before sticking a lemon on the side. "...Fancy glass of cola" he finished, before sliding the glass over to the freckled cutie.
Marco caught the soda in his open hand, "I uh... t-thanks? I... well, it's like a hobby of mine..." he murmured, trailing off without really finishing his thought. "Acting that is!" he quickly added. No shit, you meant that! As if going into a bar in the middle of the night, appearing to be completely wasted was something normal people did. He mentally face-palmed himself.
"Oh?" The barman chuckled as he grabbed a rag out of his back pocket and started to clean the bar counter. "You here to study or something?" He asked as he gestured at the random drunks that were lying on the floor.
"...Or just here to practice on unsuspecting targets?" Like me.
"Uh..." The man ran his finger along rim of glass in a nervous fashion. "I-it's more like observation practice?" It sounded more like a question than a response, but he was too nervous right now to really say anything else.
"Hmm," he hummed at the answer he got, glancing at the cute dude with a face of stars. "...You're not too bad to observe either, freckles. But I'm guessing you mean in a more studious way of staring at people," he teased.
The freckled man blushed furiously at the other's words. "I ah...t-well, yes…I do," he stuttered embarrassingly and looks down at soda to save himself from more humility.
The barman laughed quietly, turning to serve another customer before returning once again. "So how'd ya find this place? It's not the most well known bar and we don't get a lot of people besides the regulars. You get lost or something?" Not to mention that the guy didn't look like the type of person to go to a bar in the middle of the week, but hey, who was he to judge?
"I...uh..." He didn't know the guy, but could he really just blurt out information like that? "I tend to go to random bars for...my uh observations...I wanted something quiet." He returned his focus entirely to his glass in front of him.
"Well then, guess I ruined that last part for ya'. Sorry 'bout that." After that, he went back to cleaning some glasses and putting away bottles, serving the usual for some of the regulars who managed to ooze back once in a while. The guy was cute, but he seemed a bit stiff. Usually, one would think they'd go out to a bar to fix that, but... guess not. "You do any performances then?" Fuck, Jean, great job shutting up there. You barely lasted 10 minutes before you had to go back to your intense desire to ogle more at the hot guy. Fucking fantastic.
Marco was actually very thankful the two-toned haired bartender came back...he really did want to talk to him. Despite how nervous he's acting at the moment. "I do actually. I'm not very big yet, but, I mean, gotta' start somewhere right?" He smiled timidly at the bartender.
He nodded, thankful that the guy didn't mind him opening his big mouth again. "Sure do. Even if it's shit and you hate everyday of your life and want to strangle anyone who says hello to you when you're down low. Until it gets better, it's either that or not moving anywhere in the direction you want to," he sighed dramatically. "I'm sure you'll get on the big stage, freckles. With a face like yours, it'll happen in no time. I don't know much of your acting skills, but I bet you could win an Oscar with that drunken slur skill of yours. Almost couldn't differ you from the other drunks here," he joked, a smile crossing his face.
He chuckled at the bartender's words, another light blush brushing his cheeks. He was sure that his freckles were no longer visible at this point. "Well, thanks but there are better actors out there, and many of them are better looking."
"Psh, so what? There's always someone better than you, and you are always better than someone else in that business. You'll climb over them in no time if you keep at it." He gave a thumb up. Wow. Lame, Jean. Whatever, just roll with it. The dude didn't give himself enough credit though. He was stupidly handsome and precious at the same time, what the hell was he insecure about?
The freckled man took a sip from his drink, taking pride in the guy's compliment, and offered another smile, "What about you?"
"Hm? Me? What about me?" Jean asked, surprised that the other actually took interest enough to ask. Most customers were comfortable with just talking about themselves and drinking until their words turned into goo and became things he could only nod at.
This guy sure was good at dishing out compliments, though Marco was sure that he did it on a regular basis, it didn't make him any less giddy at hearing them. "Well, what do you want to do?" The utter confusion on his face was startling. Did he not know? Or was he never asked?
"Uh…" Wow, grace. Well, it wasn't like he hadn't told anyone before but then again... He hadn't told many what he did. His social circles weren't the biggest, okay? He answered anyway, getting a bit bashful as a small blush cornered him. He was pretty sure the guy was decent enough to tell though. "...Well...I'm a composer…I write music," he rubbed the back of his neck, straightening his back. "Well, when I'm not here mixing drinks and dealing with people who pass out regularly on the floor."
Marco's eyes widened in awe, looking up at the guy with a dreamy expression. Attractive and intelligent? Holy crud. "That's incredible," he murmured. "With a piano? Do you sing?" He could feel himself growing with excitement. He would very much become a screaming high school girl if this guy could sing as well as he looks.
Wow, the guy seemed… genuinely interested. Jean let out a nervous laugh as he distracted himself with washing out a few more glasses. "Yeah, piano...I sing, but not with an audience. It's not my forte, so I prefer to keep to the instrument alone," he hummed. It's not like he was bad at singing per say... He just… He didn't really share his works with people, so he couldn't help but be a bit iffy about that stuff in front of others. His friends managed to get him to do it once in a while though if they got him drunk enough, but that didn't really count, what with him being drunk 'n all.
"How about you? You in the musical part of acting? Or is it the monologues that get you?" Jean didn't know much of acting, but he met a few musical people who got highly upset when he mixed up different things in the acting world or what ever. The dude didn't seem like the type to get too upset about it though, but you never know.
Marco couldn't help the slight sinking in his chest when the bartender told him he didn't sing around people, but he was still impressed. It took a lot to be able to make your own music. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "Well, I do a bit of both... though I don't get casted to do a solo or have a monologue, but it's still fun to practice."
"Awh, bummer. I'd love to see ya' sing a song or act on stage sometime, freckles," Jean winked. If he was this good looking and sweet off stage, imagine him on stage. He knew people changed on stage, and it was just as mesmerizing and incredible each time, pretty boy here wouldn't be an exception. "If you ever do get a part or a song on a stage you think would be worth checking out, I'll be there. Dump some roses at your star and watch as everyone went on the prowl, ready to pounce at your ass from your pristine performance and blending looks," he joked. Well… not entirely all joking. Was he being too forward? Eh, who cared? It's late, and honey seeping into his words had become routine and habit since he started working here.
Marco's eyes dropped to his drink, that he pretty much had forgotten about, as his cheeks flamed red. He had no idea what to say to this guy. He only knew that his words were doing something to him. He had heard these words from many of his friends before, and complete strangers, but this stranger was different. Or at least he hoped. But he still couldn't believe his ears.
"I...uh-" he cleared his throat. "Well, what about you? A young composer? That's definitely a head turner! At least in my book." He shut his mouth before he could embarrass himself even more. He was trying to turn it around, but it seemed to have backfired. Why don't you just yell it to the entire bar that you think he looks likes a damn god?
"Nah man, you'd be surprised," he sighed, shaking his head with a laugh. "Being a composer isn't quite as appealing as you would think. You spend most of your days holed up in your apartment, losing track of time, making neighbors wish they could move as far away as possible. Sure, the songs might sound nice at first, but you kind of forget that repeating a melody a few million times might not be as appealing to others as it is to you. You also sort of lose all track of any social life you ever had when you get that absorbed in doing the things you love. Though, it's nice to know that it's a plus in 'some' hot guys book. Thanks for that, freckles," he looked over at him. Poor guy. He probably should stop firing compliments and flirtatious words at him, but even if he did want to, he wouldn't be able to. First of all, it was all true, and second, the dude was fucking adorable when he got all red and flustered.
Marco gave a shrug. "I understand. I mean...Well, my friends don't exactly like to hang around me when I'm working on memorizing my lines. I probably think one of them still has all of Hamlet still memorized because of me," he grinned. He had so much patience for hearing things over and over again that it was easy for him to be able to hear others repeat things. It didn't bother him any more than hearing himself repeat his lines or lyrics until he was hoarse. "I'm sure it's not bad at all," he smiled widely at him, trying to be encouraging.
The bartender rolled his eyes. "Tell that to Miss Johnson. That old hag has tried to get me kicked out of the building on more than one occasion. Spry ol' lady at the age of 83, a devious little wrinkly raisin." He chuckled again, though the thought of the little old lady did scare him more than he'd ever admit. She was a fucking demon, and no one could convince him otherwise. "But Hamlet, huh? That's probably basic shit for you. I can't recite poetic stuff like that for the life of me, but as soon as I write it to a song, I'm like a deck of memory cards." he grinned back at him.
Time was going by fast, and before they knew it, hours had passed. It was already nearing closing time for the bar. Jean had to go help some of the drunks out and call cabs for some, but for reasons he didn't know, the freckled prince had stayed through the whole thing. Not that he minded. The guy was great, and not to mention easy to talk to. They even kept going as he was cleaning up, mopping, wiping and lastly, the very important task of dancing around with the broom. Which earned laughs from both parties.
"Dude, it's late, like, it's like three or four in the morning... Shit. You should probably get going." Not that he wanted him to go, no, that was the opposite of what he wanted, but...trying to be a reasonable human being was part of being adult, even if it sucked. Though another thought made him laugh. "Dude, you've been at a bar for hours without a single alcoholic drink, I'm impressed. Guess you did come to study. Bravo Freckles," he leaned on his broom and clapped at the dude, flashing him another smile.
Marco glanced down at his watch noticing the time and shrugged. It wasn't unusual for him to be out this late for his observation. He usually stayed up at least three times a week like this so he could practice in various ways. But he was not going to say anything about that. "I'm not in a rush anywhere," he replied, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. He actually hadn't done any real observations because he spent his entire time talking. Now that was embarrassing.
"Though I hope I'm not being a bother! I really don't want to keep you from your bar tending duties. I can leave I guess..." He really wanted to stay and talk to this guy, crazy as it sounded, it being three in the morning. But he wasn't one to impose on people when they were busy or needed to get other things done. He gave a small timid smile.
"...Really, freckles?" The barman gestured around him. The place was empty and he'd cleaned it for closing. It was a weekday and they always closed early at around three during these days. He put the broom back against the wall and walked over to the bar again. "You make it sound like I kicked a puppy, geez. That's what I get for trying to be a decent human being." Another laugh escaped him.
Marco looked around and realized the bar was already completely empty. He didn't even notice that everyone had gone and that he had even been cleaning the place up. "Did I even pay for my drink?"
Jean laughed and shook his head at the trivial question. "It's on the house." he waved his hand dismissively at any protest the guy might have had. This guy was ridiculous. But then again, maybe he wouldn't mind his next suggestion if that was the case... "Okay, so I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I think you're pretty dang hot." And sexy, charming, dorky, funny, amazing- well, the list could go on. He turned around and grabbed his jacket from a hook on the wall, keeping his back to the guy as he kept going. "And I'm not sure if you picked up on this, but I also really like your company and talking to you." He shrugged his jacket on. "So uh, I'm thinking of closing this place up and going out for a really early breakfast, where maybe we could talk more?"
Jean turned back to the freckled wonder and couldn't help that his voice cracked at the last part. Bartender hours were over and his confidence wasn't as clear once he was out of the bartender-zone. The spell was broken. Not that there was that much difference, but hopefully the other wouldn't mind either way. "Also, I really need a cup of coffee right now."
Marco blinked at his words. Hot? Him? He seriously doubted it, but hanging out more with this guy was definitely something he wanted to do. He giggled, covering his mouth with his hand at his words, maybe it was because he did feel like a kicked puppy. This was the best observation night he's had in a long time. He smiled, "Breakfast actually sounds great right now. Especially with you." He tried to hold it back, he really did, but it slipped past his lips before he even realized it.
Well now. If that wasn't the confidence boost Jean needed, he didn't know what was. Grin beaming on his face, he grabbed the keys from his pocket and twirled the loop around his index finger. "Alright then! Let's g-.." -aaand there they go. The keys he'd been twirling slipped off his finger within milliseconds and flew straight across the room with a loud thud. Whoosh and there they go, bye-bye confidence, hello Mr. Failure, almost forgot you were a thing my daily life. Just... smooth Jean, so, oh so very, smooth.
"Shit-" he cussed, jumping over a stool to go retrieve the cursed keys as fast as possible. He grabbed them off the floor, slapping his forehead with his other hand, feeling his face heat up from the godforsaken embarrassing event. God freaking damn it! "Yeah, okay, I'm sure you'll say no, but could you pretend that this didn't just happen and that I'm still that much smoother bartender that you were talking to before?" He got up with a sigh and walked back over, trying his best to forget the shame that was flushing him over.
The giggles that came from Marco's mouth were uncontrollable. He very much wanted to stop giggling, but that was such a cute dorky thing to do. He shook his head in response to his question and smiled widely at him. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who does that...I think I nearly took my dad's eye out one time."
It was Jean's turn to laugh. "Seriously? Man, your dad is lucky. I don't know how many times I've somehow managed to hit myself with inanimate objects in some freakish way. I think my spatula is out after blood, to be honest." He stopped himself. "...Don't ask."
Marco began giggling again, hiding his mouth behind his hand. "I don't think I want to know if it's after your blood," he chuckled. He giggled again, looking at his bartender...wait his? He shook his head, and grinned, "Don't worry though, you're still suave in my book...I'm sorry, I don't think I ever caught your name." He looked at him, a crease forming between his brows. He would have never lived with himself if he had left this guy without even knowing his name.
Jean shook his head and walked to the door, opening it for the other. "Nice to know. And it's..." he paused. Well now, three in the morning, hot guy, showing lame side to said hot guy, and now a devious plan that he wasn't sure would work out? Fuck it, it's time to play.
"...You know what? If you manage to keep me company 'til sunrise, I'll reveal myself to ya'. Adding some mystery to your everyday life is never a bad thing, Freckles," he winked at him again.
Marco walked outside, waiting for the other to lock up the now empty bar. His eyes widened, brown eyes searching this guy. What does he have to hide? Not that it mattered now; if he was something bad, he would have had his chance hours ago when he gave him his drink. He shrugged, blushing at his wink, "Alright, I like a little mystery." He looked up at the dark sky, sunrise seemed like such a long time away... not that that bothered him.
Locking the door and checking that the alarm was on, they left the building. The cold fall air being a refreshing sensation after having been in a stuffy bar the whole evening, and the smell of alcohol surrounding them slowly fading into the crisp night. Soon enough, they reached a nearby family restaurant around the corner.
"Shit, real food is sounding really good right now, but I'm not sure how long I will last. Do you mind if we give in and dive in here? I don't think I can survive another block without some fuel. Uh, my treat?" Jean said, waiting for an 'okay' from the other. He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them back up. Shitty food at three in the morning was food nonetheless, and he couldn't care less what he trash he shoved into his mouth right now. The beast they had named 'stomach', was trying to pry out of him to find sustenance, no matter what garbage can was closest by.
Marco nodded eagerly, his own stomach eating itself from the inside out. "Though, you don't need to worry about paying for me...I mean, I can eat quite a bit and I don't want to put a hole in your wallet." His mother always complained about how much it cost his family to eat out because he could eat so much. He was a growing boy after all! But, he also blamed his mother for the same reason... man could she cook. He told this all to the bartender, making small talk as they made their way to the small twenty-four hour restaurant. He smiled, holding the door open for him to make his way out of the cold.
Jean shook his head at the tales of freckle-face's own monster. All the talking about good food though wasn't helping either of them though, so as soon as they got in they sat down at their own booth. The place was practically empty, save the chef and two waitresses.
Okay, so, the kid didn't lie when he said he could eat a lot. The list of items he ordered from the menu was incredible, and Jean doesn't think the guy even took a breath in between listing the items. He should have just thrown the menu at the poor girl and told her to bring him everything.
"Shit man, you weren't kidding, huh?" He watched the poor girl walk away, still writing everything he had told her down on her tiny notepad, stumbling into a chair along the way. Would she even remember his order?
"So, food champion, obviously, and drunken actor with a slight interest in yodeling on stage... What else is there to ya' freckles? Got a job? Studying?" He poured himself some of the shitty coffee, but fuck, he needed it. Calm down, oh mighty growl master in my stomach, shit's heading down your way soon enough. Be happy with some black ooze for now.
Marco blushed deeply at the small mountain of food he ordered. It was bad enough on a normal day, but in front of this attractive bartender? That was even worse.
He gulped down some of the scalding coffee, burning his tongue and throat, and avoided the other man's eyes, instead staring at the black liquid inside his cup. "I'm...um- sort of a freelance worker right now. Minor parts in plays and some movies. I do a lot of...uh a-ads..." Though Marco wasn't going to say for what because, even if everyone thought it was great, he found it embarrassing. "There's not much to me, actually." He played with the creamers, stacking them into a pyramid. "And you? Or is that part of the game, too?"
"Wait- 'There's not much to me'? Are you shitting me?" Jean put his cup-of-joe down dramatically. "Dude, I hang out with drunks everyday who barely make sense before they start drinking. Talking to you is more interesting than anything I've talked to these past few months. You've been on TV and shit- are you holding back on me? Are you actually some rising star I should know of?"
As the cutie kept quiet, Jean leaned forward, grabbing a pack of cream from the pyramid. He opened it and drank the small pack like a shot. Didn't know why, but he loved the stupid little things since he was a kid. Grinning, he leaned back and continued, "But well, I won't press you if you don't want to talk. Not my place to butt in." He shrugged, even though he was immensely curious to know what he'd been in. As soon as he got to know the freckled prince's name, he was going to Google his ass as fast as he could... Well not his ass... But who knows what would pop up, right?
Marco kept his eye on the pyramid, trying to stack it as tall as he could even after the bartender had removed an important piece of the structure. "I- yeah. I mean no! Not like that at least." He was a freelance worker, he wouldn't complain about the work he got. But advertising clothes, while wearing as little as possible, always seemed to embarrass him.
"Well, if you're 'not much', as you say, then I'm pretty much nonexistent in the interesting department." Jean raised his hand, counting up on his fingers as he kept talking. "What you do know is that I'm a bartender, have a hobby in composing when not dealing drinks, and I'm pretty much... I don't know..." Jean sighed, arm flopping back his side. He hated thinking about shit like this. "... A confident loser maybe?" He hated to admit it, but for some reason it felt okay to admit it to the dude he barely knew. But at the same time...it felt like he did know him, or at least that he really wanted to. " If there's anything else you wanna know, shoot."
Marco shook his head, looking at the man across from him as he downed another creamer from his pyramid. "You aren't a loser. There's no way that's even possible." Seriously, how could anyone with any type of talent say that? He got lucky and stuck his foot in every door that he could until someone picked him up. "Have you tried putting your music out there? Because I know about a lot of agencies that take up music from people for their commercials. Because that's cheaper than paying royalties to bands." He looked back at his hands, hoping that he didn't offend him in some way. Some people just thought that they were better than that kind of stuff.
Jean groaned at the mention of commercial music. Or rather, jingle music. The worst kind. Yeah, it was easy money, but doing that crap was a nightmare. Easy tunes? Yeah, easy to get stuck on your brain like a mantra. "Trust me, been there, done that. Commercial music is like, the worst. Sure, easy money, I did it, but fuck, the mental scarring it has on you," he laughed, humming on some stupid jingle he did a few years ago. "Catchy stuff leaves battle wounds on creative composing. I dropped that work like one...maybe two years ago? Not sure, but I'm still in recovery."
The guy was sweet, trying to convince him that he wasn't the pathetic loser he actually was. But it was something that his friends told him constantly, not to mention his family. Don't even go there now, brain. He was nothing but a hotheaded fool, being graced with some charm and the skill to be stubborn as a mule. 'Try to make a life out of that', they'd said to him.
He shook his head and continued. "I have written some scores for a couple movies, mostly independent ones, but I've gotten good feedback. Working on another one currently as well. Not sure where that'd get me, but I might get good contacts if I keep it up. Shit thing about coming from nowhere is that you basically gotta compose songs until you pass out. One after another until someone picks it up." He straightened up in his seat, spying the waitress starting to pile up the immense orders on her arms. "But I'm sure you know that road as well as me. Business is hard."
Marco nodded. Oh, how he did know. He understood what this guy was saying, he really did.
Marco watched the waitress pile all the food in front of them and dug in quickly, his stomach not being able to the handle the wait any longer. He ate his eggs, bacon, and sausage quickly before he decided to slow down so he could talk to the bartender sitting across from him. "Yeah, I get why those jingles could suck." He had done a few commercials with those annoying jingles himself, they were the worst part. "But that's not what I mean actually. Some agencies are going for a more...uh, sensual route? That sounds really bad, but I mean that they want better soothing music. Something softer. You know? Easy on the ears. It supposedly makes the mod- er, actor easy on the eyes too." He began eating his pancakes, hoping that he didn't catch his slip of words.
Still waiting for his own food, Jean stole a sausage from his plate. Humming to himself, he gave in and sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I get what you mean. Did that too. It was better, but still…not what I wanted to do, y'know? Pulled out of that area as well..." Another sigh left him as he picked up his cup of coffee and took a swig. "Not to mention that the people I worked with for those things were sometimes rather...uh...special. They knew what they wanted and um... I don't know, I just wasn't comfortable with it. I was just lucky I got a movie deal to work with before I was stuck in there for too long. Commercial music is just not my cup of tea, no matter the type. Kudos to those who like it though, that's some hero's work right there." He shuddered at the thought.
They liked his work, and they still called sometimes, but being good at it wasn't something that made him particularly happy. No thank you and good bye. No, he wanted to write things that actually mattered, had an impact on people. Not that commercial music didn't impact people, but y'know... It wasn't the type of impact he wanted to make.
"What about you? Had any shitty jobs? Shittier even perhaps?" He saw the waitress return with the next load of food, hope in his eyes only there to be put out immediately as she placed the items next to freckle boys pile. Damn it, c'mon! He huffed and sulked into his cup of coffee.
Marco pushed a plate of food towards the two-toned pouter. Giggling, he said, "Would you eat that? Because if you don't and don't get rid of that adorable pout, I will dump it in your lap."
Jean put his cup down, his stubborn side showing as he tried to deny himself the offered food. But alas, he wasn't strong enough to hold back the monster in his belly. "…Fine, but you better tell me at least one shitty job story, no matter how embarrassing it is." He took the plate before it could reach the edge of the table and wolfed the food down, still slightly pouty about the whole thing. "…'n I'm not c'te…" he mumbled under his breath, still chewing reluctantly on some hash browns.
Marco returned to looking at his food as he tried to think of something else, he wasn't one to not help people, and this guy's problem was upsetting him a bit. He really did want to help him out, especially because he always had a soft spot for people who could write music. They reminded him so much of his mother. He smiled at the guy across from him, "Well, we have some rough times in the arts field don't we? Not exactly the best well-rounded jobs out there. But it always starts off tough I suppose..." He took a sip of his coffee that was surprisingly still hot. His thoughts started wandering to some of the recent producers he'd met with and wondered if any of them were looking for scores. He was sure they were.
Jean nodded at his words, agreeing completely. The arts and performance world sucked ass until you somehow got up in the skies. However, until then, it was dirt and gravel unless a miracle hit you in the face. Hard work and good luck, what a piece of crap ratio for success. " I'm sure you'll get there one day though, Freckles. Sooner than you think too. I know this kind of stuff, trust me. But on the off chance that you don't, you can come burn down my house or some shit for being wrong."
Marco laughed at that, though he was sure he would never be able to burn down someone's house. The thought was scary enough. He gave him a bright, warm smile at his words, "Thanks...I'll keep that in mind."
His fingers tapped against his fork as he worked on the waffles he had in front of him, thinking of the bartender's words. "Well, the worst job I've had? Hmm," he tapped his finger against his chin, trying to think of the worst and most embarrassing job. He grinned, "When I fist started working, the only acting place that would hire me fresh out of school was a place that paid you to go to children's parties in an animal suit. The pay was terrible and the suits were disgusting." He shivered at the thought of them.
Jean's laugh was caught in a cough, making him into a sputtering mess until he downed the food lodged in his throat with some water. "H-Holy shit, seriously?" he coughed some more, clearing his throat. Well, he knew shitty jobs, but that was pretty bad. It can't even really be counted as an acting job either, holy shit.
"That's one hell of a space fare away from your original goal, huh?" he grinned. He'd had some terrible jobs himself, but actors really had it shit starting up. Never understood why it was an appealing career for most. "Care to share why you want to go into acting? 'S there some super dream weaved in there, or is it the usual: fame, glory, girls & cash thing? Never really got why it's such a popular thing to do. Well, I do but eh…" he waved his fork in the air. "You get my point."
Marco giggled. "I do understand you, don't worry."
He tapped his finger on his chin again, thinking about the question. In the end, he shrugged, "Well, I mean, I've always enjoyed it I guess. It's the typical childhood dream, though this one stuck. If I make it big, the money will just be a bonus. You know?"
He didn't mention that he came from a long line of artists. His family was just lucky he guessed. But he'd forced himself out and moved across the country to make it on his own. He learned more and it was actually interesting to use a pseudonym so that he could get honest work. Most people did that anyways, and he really did love acting.
"It's also exciting to be another person, you know? Try to be someone else, anyone else in a different time or place, hell, or even universe. To move with that confidence in front of so many people." He stared at a spot over the bartender's shoulder, a far off look in his eye.
Jean closed his eyes, listening to the freckled prince go. Yeah, this was definitely the best. You know, people who talk about their dreams with such warmth and fondness that you can't help but enjoy it with them. Even if you don't understand everything, you just.. I don't know, feel happy for them.
Before he knew it, his lips curled into a smile. "I told you so. You're gonna go far, Freckles. You've got that thing that makes it believable. God I'm good at spotting these kind of things, I fucking knew it!" he chuckled and flashed another smile at the guy. Not the usual smile he'd have to practice to get right, but an honest one.
"You're special, freckles. You've got stars in your eyes and you've got so many of them that they over flooded and flecked your skin. It's just one of the many things that makes you so beautiful." Jean gazed at the other a bit longer than he should have, staring at his big doe eyes, but then it hit him…what he'd just said.
Holy fuck. HOLY FLYING FUCK. Jean's face turned beet red in a matter of seconds. What the fuck was that? Are you fucking MADE out of cheese? Holy freaking hell… This was worse than at the bar, because he fucking meant it. Every word. YOU FUCKING CHEESE. To distract himself, he finished his food, and praise be the lord, the waitress actually came with his own food this time, giving him another thing to distract himself with by shoving it down as well.
Marco stared at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide with surprise. He had never heard anyone say that to him. Most people just laughed at him when he started talking like that, but he was used to that, from his family and his friends.
But this complete stranger was complimenting him on something he hadn't even seen him do yet. Yet? He looked back at the bartender, watching him shovel food into his mouth alarmingly fast. He even likes my freckles... and that was something wonderful in itself.
"A-anyway…" Jean almost choked again on his food from abruptly starting to speak. "You uh, your next role any interesting? Is it why you're studying drunks or bar people?" Wow. Bar people. You're just fucking shitting all over yourself now, aren't you?
Marco's lips stretched into a timid smile, feeling a lot better about himself than when he first walked into the bar. He giggled again at the adorable stutter and cute flaming cheeks, his hand flying to his mouth. He cleared his throat, "Yes actually, I'm playing a drunken father in an upcoming play. It's not exactly the lead, but if I do this well enough, I may get some scouts. Apparently, drunk people are hard to play while sober...if that makes sense?" He let out another timid laugh and squeezed his eyes shut at how ridiculous that sounded.
Jean's chewing slowed down, quietly putting his fork down. "Heh, I see…" was all he could say. He'd had his own experience with drunken people in life, but alcohol in family matters was… not an easy deal.
Jean scratched the back of his head and let out a tired sigh at the thought. "Well, as long as it's on stage and not offstage, I don't think I'd mind going to see it." He took one last bite of his food before lying off of it completely.
"And considering you're actually studying it, I'm sure you'll get it down. It's an important role that needs to be played off right. Though I can't say it's a great role to delve into, freckles." He couldn't really imagine such a sweet guy becoming that kind of monster, but actors had that amazing switch which could convince anyone that they had more than one face.
Looking out the window, Jean clenched his fist without noticing, his knuckles going white at some past memories floating by. The faded scars on a row of his fingers becoming a bit more visible from the action, though he just as quickly released the tension and pulled himself back into his seat again.
Marco shook his head in response to the bartender, he saw his reaction but didn't comment. He wasn't one to pry if anyone didn't want to talk about it, but he was always around if they did. "I really hate alcohol. It makes people do stupid things, so I try to stay away from it." He drank more of his coffee and finished off his pancakes, finally eating all of his food. He gave the bartender a timid grin, glancing out the window to notice that it was still dark out.
"Make sure to hook me up with some tickets once it's up and going, okay Freckle face?" Jean looked back at the other, flashing another toothy grin at him. Although, this time a bit more forced as to get his mind out of the gutter.
It's not time to mope when ya' got a hot guy in your company.
"Gotta' make sure I see with my own eyes what the freckled wonder can do, and watch him be all amazing like I've predicted." Get your head back in the game Kirschtein!
"If you want, I could do that. Though, I don't know if you'll like the play any. It's a really cheesy production, and I'm not...well..." Marco was a little embarrassed now to be playing such a character. He played with his fingers on the edge of the table nervously, freckled wonder, yeah right. He sighed and gave a small smile, "If you really do want to go, I wouldn't mind getting you tickets."
"Oh shit- really? No no, I was just playin', I can pay for the ticket on my own!" he chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "An' no worries, I'm practically a living entity of cheese by now, I've heard the worst and-" and at times uttered said cheese on my own. Jean coughed into his fist at that, remembering the previous fondue of shame.
Marco shook his head, "The cast is always given a free ticket to give out, but my friends never want to go after practicing with me and my family is…erm... too far away. I wouldn't mind giving it to you? I-if you want that is!" He mentally smacked himself on the forehead again. Don't force it on him!
"Yeah, uh, I'd love to go." Jean smiled, finishing off the last of his, what, fifth cup of coffee? Well, that was going to come back and bite his ass later. Great. "It can't be worse than the crap I've seen so far. And even if it is, I wouldn't mind spending my time and money to ogle more at you-"
Shit-fuck—bitch tits- on a stick-ff- Could you SOUND creepier? Please, go ahead. Wow. Just, wow.
It's kind of amazing how this dude hasn't left yet or called him out on the shit he says. Guy must be a saint. Does he even know the number 911? Is it because he doesn't, that he hasn't called them yet? Maybe he should share it with him, just in case he wasn't aware the service existed. Who the fuck even says ogle nowadays? He pulled his hand over his face and groaned at his own awkwardness. "Dude, shit, I'm so sorry…"
Marco giggled at the man's sudden outburst. This guy, this freaking hot guy, was hitting on him. He couldn't believe his ears, how did he gut lucky by walking into that bar last night? And who says ogle anymore anyways?
The actor grinned, shooting the guy a wink. "Well, then I suppose you picked the right show. I, unfortunately have a scene where my son and I get into an argument and I basically strip." That was the only reason that he didn't want this guy to go see this production. It was embarrassing as it was, to have this guy watching? But, now that he knew, maybe he'd back out of it. "Though if you could refrain from drooling while that happens, it'll be much appreciated," he sassed, his lips stretching into a smirk as he watched the man fluster, still recovering from his outburst.
Did…did he just freaking sass me?
The freckled saint was capable of sass? Well, there was his proof that the guy had more to him than he let on. Jean's face was a bit heated from the explanation though, but at the same time he was grinning from ear to ear getting to see the different side of him.
"Oh ha ha, very funny freckles. I'll make sure to bring a bucket- no, you know what? They should probably be handing out buckets, because I'm pretty sure everyone is going to create a collective flood of drool if your bare ass is going to be live on stage." Oh shit… What if his ass had freckles on it? Fuck. No, don't go there. You've been creepy enough. He shook his head again. Get your head out of there right now, mister.
"Though, It might be a bit disturbing if you undress in front of the kid. There's no pedo shit in there, right? You guys are payin' for the therapy the kid will need if that's what happens? I mean, I'll gladly volunteer to stand in for the kid if that's the case-…uh…" God fucking damn it. He knew when he went too far, he did, because he always regretted what he said the second it left his mouth.
If Jean could become any redder, he'd probably combust. Is there a ditch somewhere nearby he could go hide in? No? Well, fuck. And the worst part is; he brings it upon himself and there's no one else to blame. He's so used to saying dumb shit like this at the bar, that he can't help that it locks into his regular speech as well. Though, at the bar people are too drunk to care. And the thing is, he really doesn't mean to say it in 'real life'. That shits freaking embarrassing. But it just slips out, and he can't stop it. Why can't he flirt like a normal human being? Fuuucckkk. He groaned again and hugging his head. "Dude, I swear I'm not being creepy on purpose, I swear to god..." Well, there goes the free ticket to the play he mentioned. Or the play in general. And probably any respect he had from the hot freckled man. Should he just leave? It would probably be healthier for the both of them if he did…
Marco laughed, this guy was something else. His attempt at flirting was adorable, and when he did actually flirt he was really cool about it. It's funny how one can change within the matter of a few hours. He looked over at him and chuckled at his red face, "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm still going to be having my underwear on. That's as bad as it's going to get."
He looked around quickly and noticed that the small restaurant was still empty and the sky was still moderately dark. He gathered all his courage and walked around the table to sit beside the bartender, trapping him between the wall and himself. He enjoyed the closeness and could practically feel the heat radiating from the man next to him.
Jean laughed at the mention of the underwear. This guy was being too nice, seriously. He pulled at the hem of his vest, and just as he looked up, the other got up, and he felt his heart plummet. Great. You made the freckled wonder get up and leav-... or not, okay then. "Uh…" was all he could get out. The guy got up to…sit next to him? Wasn't really what he'd expected what-so-ever, but he didn't complain. Nope. Though the guy did get a bit closer than he had imagined that he would.
"I don't think you're creepy. It's kind of cute how flustered you're getting over thinking of my naked ass." Marco nudged him slightly with his elbow, teasingly. "Even after you thoroughly embarrassed yourself, do you still want that ticket?" He wasn't going to lie, he imagined seeing this guy at the show, and maybe meeting him after for dinner or something, maybe even giving him flowers! He shook his head; it wouldn't do to start daydreaming at the moment.
"Okay, first of all, I'm going to punch you if you keep calling me 'cute'. And second, I wasn't migrating to become a tomato at the thought of your, probably, amazingly freckled ass, no, it's because I'm being so amazing with words that I'm blowing my own mind." Shit, there really was no time to enjoy the close up view, because the guy was off with his tongue made out of sass again. He barked out a low laugh, rubbing the spot where he'd elbowed him. The guy was pretty built, he noticed, now that he was up close. And fuck, those freckles. Is it wrong to want to touch something so bad? Probably. "… But yeah, I could use the consolation prize?"
Marco grinned at him, didn't like being called cute, eh? Well, this would be fun for him. He could feel his confidence building and it felt like he was on stage, being anyone he wanted to. No one made him feel nearly as good about himself as this guy did.
He inched closer to the bartender, trying to show him that he was interested without being too forward. He reached over, tugging on one of the man's blonde strands that hung low over his amber eyes, "Despite the fact that you are attractive, I can't help but find you flushing cute. So I suppose you're just going to have to punch me every time you embarrass yourself."
"Oh fuck off, freckles," he laughed, combing a hand through his messy hair and pulled it back, only for it to fall back into place again. Jean grinned and leaned against the wall, still staring at the guy. He had stolen glances at him earlier during their conversations, but now... He didn't really want to hold back anymore and thoroughly gazed over his features. He never thought someone could work the prep hairstyle as well as he did, not to mention make it look so hot. He even came with a cute button nose... Strong bone structure... Eyes with a light in them he never thought he'd see again. And as he'd repeated several times before... The freckles. He really was-…
"Heh…" Jean let out a longing sigh, closing his eyes and turning his head away to face forward. He was going to get arrested soon if he kept going on like this. He was pretty sure one of the waitresses was checking them out too. "I'm really fucking lucky tonight I guess."
Marco smiled at the bartender, watching his hair fall back into his face, covering those gorgeous amber eyes. He rested his elbow on the table and leaned his head in his hand, his back to the waitresses and his shoulders open up to the bartender, a wide smile on his face. "Why do you say that?" If this man thought he was lucky, then he must have hit the damn jackpot. He was trying his damnedest to keep his eyes on the man's face and not roam over his body. Don't be a freaking pervert now!
Well now, the freckle face was definitely starting to loosen up now. Interesting to know. "I thought you went to the bar to study drunks, not asshole bartenders. That roles mine, not yours," Jean said teasingly, sticking out his tongue briefly. He turned more toward the guy, a half smirk on his face. "What? Why I'm lucky? Well, the list could go on forever but…" he paused.
Wait, was this guy checking him out? Seriously? What the fuck- No way. I mean, he'd hit back on some of his flirts, but he hadn't been sure if the other had been interested the same way he was or just jokingly responding in pity. Huh… Maybe he was ever luckier than he thought.
"Well, first of all, I don't seem to have been the only one lucky enough to get to 'ogle' at a hot guy tonight," he grinned. "And well… I'd say my luck turned the second you somehow stumbled into the bar. People come, but not a lot of people stay. Well, at least not sober. It was… nice… to actually have some real company for once, I mean. And I was just lucky it was a handsome freckled prince like you." Another low laugh slipped.
"Willing to hear me out and shit… It was a change of pace. It's harder than you think to find decent people to talk to in this town." He took another look at the guy, and they locked eyes. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. He tried to pry himself away from looking, but it was just so comfortable and relaxing to drown in his eyes.
What the fuck is this, a teen drama? Might as well be, because he didn't fucking care anymore, it was nice and he damn well needed something nice right now…
The compliments slithered into Marco's heart, like the sap he was, and nestled there, causing him to feel all warm and happy. He felt like a teenage boy again with a little crush, although, this felt like more than a simple crush.
He grinned, and sincerely said, "Well, I'm glad I could help you enjoy your night." His eyes never left those amber ones, watching them change colors as he stared back at him. He brushed his knee against the bartender's and noticed the light changing behind him, growing a light pink. His smile widened as inched closer, "Soooo, since the sun is rising, do I finally get to know you're name?" One of his arms was on the back of the booth chair and the other was on the table, his entire body was open to the bartender, giving him his full attention.
Jean laughed, hanging his head down in defeat. "Well, it's not like you're giving me much of a choice here, freckles. What, you don't trust me? Think I'll run away or disappear?" He looked up, nudging him with a knee to make the point of him intruding on space quite obvious. "The bar never existed, and the bartender is just a sob of a ghost, right? That kind of shit?"
Jean pushed the gorgeous mans arms back against the booth, pinning him against it and then proceeded to straddle over onto his lap. " You've got to learn to have some more faith in my mysterious ways." he flashed him another teasing grin.
In fact, that was exactly what Marco thought. That this incredibly attractive and kind (in his own way of course) would just, somehow, disappear from existence and he would never hear from him again. He felt his knee move and, before he could move back, the bartender pinned his arms back and straddled his lap. His eyes grew wide and his breathing practically stopped.
Jean stopped the daring tease and got off of him now on the other side of the booth, free from his captivity and stood on his feet. "C'mon, I'll tell ya, but you gotta have faith a little longer bud'." He held a hand out to him. "Can't have the epic moment happen in a freakin' family restaurant, now can we? Gotta be a bit more romantic and memorable than that after a night like this." he threw a few bills on the table to cover the food for both of them. That was going to burn a hole in his wallet, but it was more than worth it.
Marco couldn't even think, he barely registered what the other man was saying to him. He felt a little lightheaded, trying to regulate his breathing. By the time he could finally think, the bartender had already paid for the meal, which he felt extremely bad for, and was holding out his hand for him to take. He grabbed it, not being able to keep from lacing their fingers together. He allowed the other to pull him out of the restaurant, following close behind as he was led out into the slightly warmer air. He smiled when their hands stayed entwined, ecstatic that this man was holding his hand. Romantic and memorable were the only words on his mind.
Jean guided them to a nearby park, one he hadn't paid much attention to, but it was a pretty dang nice park if he was honest.
But... what the hell was he doing!? A cute guy walks into the bar, he flirts, they talk for hours, he somehow manages to get the guy to spend the whole morning with him, and not to mention to get out and eat with the dude, just so he could spend more time with him. This wasn't stuff that happened in real life, no way. This is some rom-com movie bull crap. Dream or not though, he was going to enjoy it until he woke up, to the fullest.
They walked through the park for some time, chatting now and then but mostly just enjoying each other's company in silence. Neither of them mentioned the handholding. Every time one got insecure about it, the other would squeeze it tighter and hold them closer, and so it would go on.
Once they got to the center of the park, he noticed the morning light of a vivid orange dancing through the trees, shifting images of light on the ground before them.
"Alright, I've dragged you on enough I guess. Sunrise was the deal," he sighed. Game over, Kirschtein. "Ya' beat me, Freckles."
This time, Jean did let go of the others hand. The cold surrounding it being a horrible thing, and quickly shoved both his hands into his back pockets, sad that he had to stop the play now. It was as if once he actually revealed his secret, the spell would break and none of this would have happened and the freckled fool would forget about him.
A walk in the park with this guy while holding hands, this was beyond imaginable. Marco didn't think something could happen and he felt his heart sinking in his chest as the other pulled his hand away from his. It felt light without the others being held in it. He looked at the bartender, wondering where to go from here.
"… But I am a polite son of a bitch, so you know what? Manners. You clearly don't know them." Jean grinned, playing on his last thread.
"You want to know someone's name? You gotta introduce yourself first." He shrugged nonchalantly. "You gotta follow the rules." he gave him anhother grin, which quickly melted into a smile. He watched as the man before him practically shone with light, as if a halo surrounded him when the first sunlight of the day hit against his back. God damn… This guy is so fucking beautiful, the world just isn't fair.
Marco laughed, his hand covering his mouth. This guy was something else. "What was it you said? 'Do you think I'll run away or disappear'?" he chuckled as he threw the words back at him. He reached over and tugged at the blonde hair that hung over his face before looking into his amber eyes. If he could physically fall into those eyes, he wouldn't mind it one bit. He couldn't stop staring at him, he didn't want to stop.
Marco tapped the tip of his nose, "But sure, I'll introduce myself. I have faith in your mysterious ways." He grinned, and, in a joking matter, spun around and gave him a wide-eyed brilliant smile.
"Hi there! It's great seeing you again. It's been ages!" He stuck out his hand to the bartender, "My name is Marco, cutie, what's yours?"
Laughing, Jean rubbed his nose as the guy spun around and put his acting abilities to work. Fucking dork. He rolled his eyes. "That better not be your stage name, because it's fucking adorable," his smile softened as he took Marco's hand. Warm, kind, familiar and…fit perfectly in his.
"Hey Marco, where the fuck have you been all my life?" he joked, but he couldn't have meant it more. "I've been waiting for you to contact me, and fucking finally, you did! You kept me waiting!" he continued on the play, but he finally decided to get it over and done with.
"… I'm Jean," he said, almost closer to a whisper.
… He was kind of expecting the world to crumble, or for him to wake up in his bed by uttering the magic words. But for some reason, the world seemed to stop instead. He stared at Marco's face… Marco… His name was Marco. And without noticing, he whispered his name quietly to himself, letting out a huff of air in relief, as he finally knew the guys name.
Marco smiled widely, gripping Jean's hand a little tighter. "Jean." he repeated softly, letting it roll off his tongue. It sounded French, something he normally wouldn't hear around here. His bartender's name was Jean, and god if that didn't relieve him to finally put a name to the handsome face.
The freckled man stepped closer, watching the light bounce around in his amber eyes, causing them to shift color and appear warmer. How could they even do that? The smile left his face as he grew nervous with anticipation. He wanted to see Jean again, and his show would not be enough.
"So, now that I have my mystery man's name, would it be possible for me to get his phone number?" he asked quietly. He didn't want to disturb the peace, but he did want a way to contact Jean later. There was no way he was letting this man slip from his life.
"Wow, since when did I become 'yours', your highness? Did I sign some contract by telling you my name?" Jean laughed, teasing the guy further. But he was happy. He'd gladly sign that contract if it meant he could keep the guy in his life longer. His number? Fuck yes.
Jean whipped out a pen from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers once before grabbing Marco's hand, scribbling down his number on his ridiculously soft skin. Seriously, what the fuck?
"I don't have a cell right now because of personal reasons, but you can reach me by my home number. I'm usually there, y'know, being a shut in and all with my piano, the only one who understands me in the world," he added jokingly, being the little drama queen he was. "Otherwise, you know where to find me."
Jean closed Marco's hand and pulled back, giving him another wink. God how he wanted to reach up and just touch him, but he didn't want to scare him off. He was still a bit scared that the guy was just going with him on his actions, but then again, he was pretty sure Marco wouldn't do that kind of thing. They just seemed to have this insane connection- yeah yeah, bull crap movie shit again, but it was the only way to explain it.
"Hey, Marco?" Fuck it, he was worth one last risk, or Jean would probably regret it.
He reached up to Marco, pulling him down a bit by his jacket so that their faces were merely inches apart. He could at least do this. He closed his eyes and slowly put his lips against his skin, kissing his cheek softly. He let go and backed up again, a slightly mellower smile on his face. It wasn't much, but it was enough for now… Not really. He wanted to fucking eat his face, but restraint was something Jean needed to practice. "I can't wait to see you on stage."
Marco had always been one for small kisses and gentle caresses, but a kiss on the cheek wasn't going to be enough for him, if he was honest.
He grabbed Jean's hand, bringing him close to him, his other hand going to his waist. "I have to go, some final rehearsals before curtain tomorrow and all that. But before I do..." he trailed off.
Jean stumbled on his words at the sudden move Marco pulled, not really registering what happened and only being able to let out a surprised grunt in response. So much for being a polite gentleman and holding back for once. Marco was making it hard to do that now that he'd pulled them so close together an-.. The thought was never finished.
Marco leaned his head down, capturing Jean's lips with his own in a soft kiss.
Jean's eyes fluttered shut, and took in the feeling of kissing Marco's soft lips properly. Compared to the unsatisfying kiss on the cheek from before… shit, it wasn't even comparable. His arms smoothed their way up Marco's arms, tender touches up his neck until his arms were leaning on him and his hands were gently holding the back of his head, threaded in soft felt his heart explode as his eyes closed, he could taste the coffee and syrup on Jean's lips, along with something else. He smiled, pulling away and licking his lips at the sweetness there.
It was bittersweet as they pulled away from each other, Jean already missed the feeling of the other being so close to him. He was on cloud nine and was going to build a fucking house on the damn could so he would never have to leave, Jesus. He'd never felt so good from a single kiss in his whole life.
Crap, I'm going to be late. Marco started backing away, releasing Jean's waist, until he was holding his hand at arm's length. He waved his hand that had Jean's number.
"I'll give you a call today, so you know where the show is... I'll probably stop by again tonight, you know, to make sure I got my part down and all that." He smiled, his heart sinking slightly when he let go of Jean's hand.
"I'll see you soon, my mystery man." He winked and turned around, walking fast to the theatre. Shit, he was already late, but hell if it wasn't worth it.
"Yeah, yeah… Sure. You have my number and all that…" He chuckled and winked back, waving as his handsome, freckled prince left him. "Cya later, my freckled star."
As soon as he was gone, Jean placed a hand over his heart all dramatic, yet again, and let out a wistful sigh. You fucking love-struck ape, he thought to himself. He marveled in the feeling he was left with, falling back onto a nearby bench as he closed his eyes and tried to remember everything they had done together, everything they had said. Thinking it all over, he leaned back with his arms behind the back of the bench, his head falling back as well and gazed up at the orange tinted sky. He began to hum to himself, a melody he hadn't heard before, a melody he'd created just at the thought of Marco. Fucking beautiful. Everything today is fucking beautiful.