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Chapter 2

By the time Jean had made his way home,the sun had hidden below the horizon and he was bitter with cold. The autumn air whipped his messy hair around his face, in a way that would normally piss him off to no end, but right now… nothing could have brought him down. Meeting Marco had turned his afternoon completely around, bringing colour to him in the most unexpected way. Jean was on top of the world, even though he could no longer see the warm hazel, or the light dusting of pink, the memory was vivid in his mind. The shy chuckles and bashful smiles were clear in his mind, filling him with a buoyant daze that he hadn't felt in years. Jean hadn't even begun to make sense of it all, the mysterious brown eyed boy who seemed completely at ease with his own flustered awe, and still grinned so that the cute smattering of freckles was scrunched up on his face. His eyes glanced down to the discarded phone that currently lay face down on his desk, he flipped it over reflexively, and stared at it willing for a message from Marco to come. He instantly regretted not getting the other's phone number. He sighed and picked up the slightly crumpled assignment (oops) he was working on, trying to distract himself. He stared blankly at the page, trying to contemplate whether it was possible to write an entire essay on the functions of the mitochondria within the cell in the space of an hour, so that he could just write it tomorrow morning and spend his evening doing… what exactly? He couldn't contact Marco, and most of his friends were 'studying' too. 'Well, anything's better than this...' he thought, setting the hopelessly boring assignment aside on top of a heap of revision papers. His head hit the desk with a thump as he admitted defeat. The phone buzzed against the desk sending slight vibrations through it, as he shot up, grabbing for it. 'New message from Marco' was displayed on the bright screen. Although he would never admit it in the future, Jean did a victory dance, his fingers fumbling over each other on the screen, hastily trying to unlock it. After a few seconds of furious cursing as he attempted to get the stupid 7-letter password right for once in his life, he finally managed to unlock it and hastily scanned the message screen. It read: 'Hey Jean, today was nice (if a lil brief, haha). But I want to meet again. U free tomorrow? ;D -Marco'

Not caring about seeming too eager, he practically squealed while furiously typing his reply. It took several minutes for him to come out with something that seemed an acceptable balance of complete kouhai-ness and cool, no-big-deal vibes. Jean hit send before he could change his mind.

'Yeah that'd be great! What time? Uh, Today was fantastic, sorry I had to run. :)'
'Sent 9:41pm'

Delivered 9:41pm'

He waited anxiously for Marco to get it, reading over it repeatedly mentally berating himself for sounding like an excited puppy. Was the smiley face really necessary? But Marco had sent one…

'Read 9:43'

He focused on the screen intently, the three dots torturing him. He glanced around the room trying to distract himself, his eyes falling to the screen every few seconds. Finally, the phone buzzed in his hand and he unconsciously jumped up from his bed where he had taken residue.

'New message from: Marco'.

'Um, is 12 okay? We could head to the Trost cafe and have lunch, if that's good with u.'

Jean's stomach suddenly dropped. He'd forgotten about that cafe. Ever since the last time he'd been there, he had sworn never to visit again. Trost cafe used to be the place he and his friends would meet, and wasn't actually that bad, until Eren started working there. Jean had first met Eren Jaeger at a house party, the kind where everyone's got papers they should be working on the next day and money borrowed from parents for cheap beers. Your typical college get-together. Only, that was the first time Jean had tried alcohol, and it didn't take long for him to get completely shit-faced… and in bed with none other than Eren himself. He still didn't know what happened exactly, but it certainly wasn't the most romantic of nights. After that, they both avoided each other as much as possible, shooting heated glares, forbidding the other to even mention it. They rarely saw each other after that, only occasionally seeing glimpses at parties and classes. Jean gradually learnt how to manage his alcohol, and to avoid that cafe as much as he could.

He bit his lip, realising that he still hadn't replied to Marco. He couldn't exactly turn him down on a first date… wait, was this even a date? Jean groaned in frustration. Gritting his teeth, he decided to go for it-Eren probably didn't even work there anymore, right?

'New message: To Marco:

'Sounds great. I'll see you then :D'

'Sent 9:47 PM'

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Whatever happened from here was outside his control, he just had to get some sleep now. After going to the bathroom, he lay on the bed and smiled. He couldn't help himself, the grin practically forced itself onto his face. He was truly happy, his mind wandering over the encounter with Marco today. How rapidly his mood had changed. His hazel eyes were still vivid in his memory and he took comfort in it, looking forward to when he would see them again tomorrow. Maybe see them change slightly as emotions flickered in them. He closed his eyes peacefully, the smile remaining on his face. But as he began to sink into sleep, worries plagued his mind. 'What if Marco decided he didn't want to see me again?' or 'What if the world went back to being monotonous and dull, what if everything was an illusion?' If he messed up tomorrow, and Marco ended up thinking he was some kind of weirdo… Jean cringed. He didn't exactly have much of a great track record with first dates. He could only hope that Marco knew what to do. That is, if this even was a date. There were so many things that could go wrong. He reached over to check the time on his phone, anticipating tomorrow. The bright screen blinded him and he cursed, squinting at the figures. 12:35. He was about to place the phone down, before he noticed something. The field of the grey monotonous flowers that served as his background picture remained, but to the side one rose, yet to bloom, stood crimson, like a promise of hope. Jean smiled at this, this promise that the world was not as dull as i seemed. He placed the phone back (only after checking the red tulip was still there numerous times) and rolled over, finally drifting to sleep.

In the way that bad dreams do, Jean's dream that night was filled with every single thing that could go wrong going wrong. He arrived for the date, only to discover Eren Jaeger there-sneering down upon him, about 50 feet tall, declaring loudly to everyone who could hear about their… incident together. When Marco arrived, he was covered with eerie blotches of green and blue, that blurred and shifted creepily. There was something about dream-Marco that made Jean want to throw up, and Eren was still laughing at him from up above. He foolishly tried to run, but of course this got him nowhere. Colours began to blur together in front of his vision, covering everything he saw in discordant shades dripping across everything he saw. Jean dove for a bus, to get away… and fell. Down, down, down… his stomach dropped and he yelled out loudly.

He woke up, drenched in sweat and shaking violently. He couldn't decide whether to cry or laugh hysterically, at the terrifying absurdness of it. The room was still dark, the sun far below the horizon, stars barely lighting the clouded sky. Jean steadied his breathing, as time passed the pure ridiculousness of the dream became more and more evident and he felt more at ease, Marco wouldn't turn up sporting some algae disease tomorrow. The cooling sweat on his skin felt extremely unpleasant and he was forced to change his clothes, after taking a cool shower. He returned to his bed, lightly laying down on it as far from sleep as possible. It was too early to get up… surely he'd be fine to just doze for a minute.

However, several hours later, Jean woke up with a sinking feeling in his chest. He jumped up suddenly, and sent a glare at his alarm clock. 11:30 AM. 30 minutes until his date. Which was at least 40 minutes away, if he walked. He cursed out loud, and began frantically pulling on clothes. Ordinarily, Jean would spend at least half an hour deciding on what to wear, but there was no time for that. Hoping that he looked vaguely presentable, he hurriedly brushed his teeth and ran a hand over his short, choppy hair. Nothing he could do about the mess that was. He ran out of the door with a quick glance at the mirror, not registering it. Slamming the door shut he jogged down the street, pushing past busy passers by, thankful for the chilly Autumn air that prevented him from sweating. Double gross. He glanced at the watch 11:54. Shit. Even if he sprinted he was at least 10 minutes away. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Marco. The phone rang repeatedly, with no answer, until Marco's smooth voice played from the voicemail. He shoved the phone back into his pocket., sprinting to his destination, mindless of the looks strangers were giving him. There was nothing for it but to run- there was no bus route, and Marco wasn't answering his phone. Please, please, don't be early. he mentally begged his freckled date. Three blocks to go… 12:01… Two blocks to go… perhaps Marco would be late too, and he wouldn't mind… One block to go.. 12:04… And he was there. Jean gritted his teeth. No turning back now.