He knew he shouldn't have even bothered trying to explain. The story seemed pretty weird while it was happening, but repeating it to Eren and Mikasa made him seem outright insane.

"You woke up in some guy's bed, and you didn't run like hell out of there?!" Eren stared at him in disbelief.

Jean rested his chin on his hand and glanced away.

"Basically." he mumbled.

"You're crazy. Mikasa, tell him he's crazy."

Mikasa sat down quietly beside Jean. "But you said he was nice right? Nothing seemed off?" she inquired.

He nodded. "I mean, at first I thought it was weird that a random guy would drag another random guy that he found passed out in his yard into his home and take care of him rather than calling for help or something. But, as I talked to him, I got the feeling that…"

"That?" Yaeger asked impatiently.

Jean shrugged and stood, readjusting his shirt. "I don't know. I'm gunna go home now. Sorry for running out on the party."

"Jean, we aren't mad about you leaving." Mikasa grabbed his hand reassuringly.

"We're mad because you stayed in a stranger's house hungover without calling one of us!" Eren snapped.

"Eren." Mikasa warned.

Eren sighed exasperatedly and walked down the hallway and out of sight. "He's just worried about you, you know." she said quietly as she walked him to the door.

"Yeah, I guess."

"We'll see you later okay?"

Jean waved as she closed the door behind him. Quietly he glanced up at the sky. "Looks gloomy." he mumbled as a cool breeze ruffled his hair. "Better just go home." He tiredly climbed into his slightly beaten up car and turned it on, changing the radio station to one not so upbeat. As he began driving, he suddenly took a detour, away from downtown, where his apartment was located. He figured that, on a gloomy day such as this one, hardly anyone would be going to the old fashioned square just outside city limits.

As he arrived to the square, he noticed his assumption was spot on. Hardly anyone was walking on the cracked sidewalk bordered by store after store. Shop keepers could be seen cleaning up inside, the warm glows of their stores illuminating the sunbleached patches of sidewalk just outside their doors donned with "We're open!" signs. He parked on the street just in front of a store that had already closed and began walking down the sidewalk barely inhabited by others.

But, he was content.

Here, he didn't have to talk to anyone or pretend to enjoy their company. But, as he made his way further into the center of the square where the fountain beginning to be overrun by weeds was located, the sky began to drop small, cold droplets.

"No! Please no." a frantic voice sounded from across the street.

Jean glanced over and noticed a man donned in two hoodies, jeans, a beanie and scarf struggling with multiple squares of wood and bags of stuff that looked heavy. And it was all about to be ruined by the rain.

Quickly he jogged over and began picking up the squares, which he now realized were pieces of blank canvas. "Here, I'll help."

"Uh, thank you!"

As the man stood, Jean stepped back. "Marco?"

The freckled boy met his gaze then, his brown eyes widening. "Jean? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

The rain's speed began picking up, and the panic in Marco's eyes returned.

"Where are you parked? We can take these to your car, right?"

Marco shook his head. "I took the bus here, and it's not returning until 10."

"Tonight?" Jean asked in disbelief.

Marco nodded.

"What were you gunna do for 4 hours?"

Marco smiled. "Paint."

Jean studied his face and shook his head. "Okay well, there's a coffee shop up the street a few stores. Let's go there."

Marco nodded and followed behind Jean as they jogged up the street. Luckily the coffee shop was still open. The door creaked slightly as they entered and slammed shut behind them. They plopped down at the table next to the window and began taking their wet jackets off.

"Why are you wearing so many hoodies?" Jean inquired as he took note of the long sleeve shirt Marco was also wearing. "And it's barely even the season for a scarf."

Marco removed his emerald colored beanie and shook out his damp hair, and then placed it on the table beside him. "I get cold really easily." he blushed slightly as he began to take inventory of all of his supplies.

"I'll go buy us coffee." Jean said as he stood.

"Uh, you don't have to do that."

He began walking over to the barista. "Don't worry about it, I owe you."

Jean ordered and made his way back to Marco, who had just straightened up from observing all of his supplies. "Are your papers ruined?"

"No, thanks to you." Marco took a sip of the drink Jean had placed in front of him, and then he paused.

"What? If you don't like it, you don't have to drink it. I can get you something else." Jean said. He hadn't meant to sound rude.

Marco smiled at him then. "No. Actually, you got my favorite drink."

Jean glanced out the window beside him, trying to cover his blush. He hadn't imagined it. Marco's smile was actually kind of…cute.

"So, what are you doing all the way out here?" Jean asked suddenly.

"Oh, I come out here to the little crafts store over there." he said, pointing across the street. "I've been coming here for awhile. But I haven't been here lately. That's why the fountain looks so abandoned."

Jean looked back over to Marco. "What do you mean?"

"I used to take care of the fountain. You know, weeding around it, picking up trash, stuff like that. But I haven't been back lately, so it's gotten kind of messy. I was going to fix it up today, but the weather got kind of crappy."

Marco took a sip and returned the question. Jean stared at him, or rather, the whip cream mustache lingering on his upper lip. Then, he laughed as he handed Marco a napkin. "Nice mustache." Marco turned beet red then, and frantically wiped away the whip cream.

"Do you really have to laugh?" he whined as he stared into his lap.

Jean's laughter faded into an amused smirk. "I came here to be alone."

"And now I'm here. Sorry, I've kind of ruined it, huh?" Marco mumbled.

Wait a second. Was that disappointment that laced his words? Jean couldn't believe it, but he decided to play along. Teasing Marco was just too easy. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Jean watched as Marco's shoulders slumped slightly and his gaze drifted even lower. It seemed like he was trying to disappear.

"Marco?"

"What?" he asked quietly, still not making eye contact.

"I'm kidding." Marco's almond eyes flicked up to Jean's.

"Are you sure? I can understand how disappointing it would be to see someone you know when you're trying to get away from everyone and-"

"Marco. Shut up."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"Uh, sorry."

Jean snickered again and stared out at the darkening sky, thunder rumbling overhead. "Do you want a ride back?"

"Huh?"

"I drove here. I could give you a ride back to your house, instead of you having to wait for the bus tonight."

Marco smiled again. "That'd be great!"

Jean stood and put his jacket back on, grabbing his keys. "Okay, I'll be right back. I'll pull it around so you don't have to endanger your paper again." "It's canvas, Jean."

"Same thing." he said playfully over his shoulder as he stepped out into the rain.

He couldn't believe he was doing this. Taking the guy home who had saved him in his drunken state only seemed fair, right? Quickly, he plopped into the driver's seat and started the engine, pulling around to the coffee shop and parking. He stepped out of the car and paused briefly, turning around and cranking the heater all the up, just in case Marco was cold. He hurried inside and grabbed his coffee, turning back to Marco, who had already placed one of the hoodies, his scarf, and beanie back on.

"You're not putting the other one back on?" Jean asked as he pointed the hoodie in his arms.

"I, um, uh…didn't know if you would need it. Ya know, just in case you got soaked again as you went to get your car." he replied quietly.

Jean chuckled and began grabbing some of Marco's bags.

"Let's get out of here."

Marco nodded quickly and picked up the rest of his stuff, following Jean to the car. "Thank you!" he called back to the barista as the door slammed shut behind them. They placed the canvases and paint in the back seat and plopped themselves in the front.

"Ah, it feels so good in here." Marco settled in and tossed his extra hoodie in the back.

Jean smirked and pulled away from the curb. As they passed the fountain, Marco sighed. "I really need to come back soon and fix it up again."

Jean snuck a glance at Marco's soft expression, but quickly retreated. He definitely couldn't deny that Marco had a cute face, what with those freckles splayed across his cheeks, and those wide, deep brown eyes, and that full bottom lip-

"Jean?"

Oh shit, had he been staring?

"Did you hear me?"

"Um no. Sorry. I got lost in thought for a second." Marco chuckled lightly. "I asked how long it was back to the city. I've only ever ridden the bus here, and it makes multiple stops before actually coming here, so I don't know how long the drive is."

"Oh, um, about an hour. But it'll be a little longer than that because I don't really like to drive in the rain."

Marco busted out in laughter. "Mr. Tough Guy Jean hates rain? Are you serious?"

Jean really wanted to hit Marco right now. He gritted his teeth and gripped the wheel angrily.

Marco finally caught his breath. "I'm sorry Jean." he breathed. "I'm not laughing at you. Well I am, but not the real you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he spat.

An amused smile still played on Marco's lips. "I'm laughing at the tough exterior you've built up. You're not really that mean."

Jean's eyes widened, but he didn't respond.

"You don't really want to punch every guy that says something stupid to you. You don't really like to get drunk like the other day. And you also don't think all skies are the same."

Jean looked over at the boy who had gone quiet, but he wasn't looking back. He was looking out the windshield silently, all amusement gone. The timeless look in his eyes had returned again.

"What do you know-"

"More than you'd think."

Jean was just about to ask him what he meant when his car lost traction and swerved into the oncoming traffic lane.

"Jean!"

Jean jerked the wheel to the other side, a little too violently.

"Shit!" He growled as they went off the side of the highway and into the ditch. "Damn." he rubbed his head tenderly and checked his body for injury. All clear.

"Marco?"

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah. I think so." he grumbled.

"You're bleeding."

"What?"

"Your cheek." Jean reached out and tenderly touched his freckled cheek, which was cold and clammy. He reached into the glove box and pulled out a few napkins. "Here," he said softly, handing them to Marco. "This is all I got."

Jean unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. "Sit tight, I'm gonna see if I can get a signal on my phone to call for a tow." Marco nodded and dabbed at his cheek. Jean turned away, and without looking back he sighed. "I'm sorry Marco. I didn't mean to overcorrect on that swerve. And now, you're stuck with me for awhile. Sorry." he began trudging off.

"Wait, Jean!" His voice was lost in the rain.

Marco grunted and gingerly removed his hoodie, and rolled up his sleeve. He sighed and began massaging his throbbing arm, covered in the unattractive scar he was born with. Damn it hurt, and the airbags hadn't even deployed. Maybe he shouldn't have said those things to Jean. Of course he freaked him out. How else would he have known anything about him? He'd only known him for a few days! Well, that's how long Jean had known him. Marco had known Jean for much, much longer than that- "Marco? Are you alright?"

Marco snapped away from his reverie and met Jean's amber gaze.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine!" he smiled halfheartedly.

"Then what's up with that?" he gestured to Marco, who was still absentmindedly massaging his scar.

"Oh," he pulled his sleeve back down. "it's just a habit I guess. It's always throbbing."

"Well," Jean said, settling back in driver's seat. "The tow truck will be here in a few hours."

"Hours?"

"Yeah, apparently they don't have many people on duty today."

Marco groaned and paused, and then unbuckled his seatbelt.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting in the back. It's cramped up here."

Jean smirked and rested his head on his seat. "Man, this sucks."

"Don't you have anyone that you can call to come pick you up? I can stay here with your car."

"I don't want to freak them out again after the other day." he replied quietly. Then he turned to face Marco. "And are you stupid? I can't just leave you here by yourself."

"I-I m-mean, you could."

Jean stared at him and smirked again. "Are you shivering?"

"Shut up, I told you I'm not good with the cold."

Jean sighed dramatically and began climbing into the back.

"What are you doin- get off of me!"

"Scoot over then!"

After they settled in, Marco stared daggers at Jean. "You're heavy, you know that?"

Jean shrugged, and Marco's hard expression dissolved into amused laughter.

"So what's the real story behind that scar?"

"What do you mean?" Marco sobered up.

"Were you really born with it?"

"Hmmm. Sort of."

Jean studied his expression. Marco seemed to be serious.

"What?"

"Jean," Marco began quietly, twiddling his thumbs absentmindedly. "Do you believe in reincarnation?"

Jean remained silent, not really following Marco's train of thought anymore.

"In a past life, I used to fight these…these monsters, I guess you could say. Giant, ruthless monsters that kept everyone confined within walls."

"Just you, alone?"

Marco shook his head. "No, there was a whole squad of us. Multiple squads even. And we all fought against these things so that one day, everyone could leave the walls. I never got to see that day though. One h-had bitten me almost in h-half. Hence the scar." He traced a finger along it.

"Marco," Jean looked concerned, and Marco knew his story seemed farfetched. He shuddered, no longer cold, but numb.

"Are you okay?"

Marco smiled then and laughed halfheartedly. "Just kidding, I was born with this. Got you, didn't I? It was a dream a had a long, long time ago."

He looked out the window at the torrential rain as the smile faded from his lips.

Jean felt weird. He didn't really feel like he should question Marco's mental state, but rather comfort him instead. Something in Marco just seemed so raw and exposed at that moment and Jean felt that Marco hadn't really been joking. Jean inhaled slowly and held it. He hoped he wasn't going to regret this. "I've had this recurrent dream, and it sounds similar to yours."

Slowly Marco looked at him, searching his face for any signs of deceit.

"I can't really make out anyone's faces-they're all just blank. And I'm always holding these two blades in each of my hands, and there's these things standing in front of me, huge things towering over me, licking their lips. And just when we're about to clash, I wake up."

Marco remained quiet.

"That's it."

"That's it?"

Jean nodded.

"Then why are you shaking Jean?" Marco asked quietly.

Jean stared down at his hand, which was, in fact, shaking. "I don't know." he replied, just as quiet. "How weird."

"Yeah," Marco stretched and removed his beanie, musing his hair. "You're probably right."

"Marco," Jean began, grabbing his scarf and forcing him to face him.

"Jean, what are you doing?" Marco was blushing, and something about it seemed familiar and safe. Jean searched his face carefully, taking note of every freckle and every eyelash.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Jean paused for a second, noticing the slight way Marco's bottom lip quivered. Carefully, he pulled Marco closer and tentatively pressed their lips together. Jean was surprised. The tender kiss had opened up something within Jean, something he hadn't felt in a long time. He wanted to be here, with Marco, doing this.

But why?

Why did he feel this way?

Why did it have to be Marco?

Slowly, he pulled away and studied Marco's dark eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Are you really?" Marco replied shyly, and somewhat defiantly.

Jean paused for a moment, and then removed Marco's scarf. "No, I'm not."

Gently he placed his palm against Marco's cheek, which seemed warmer now, even hot. He softly ran his thumb along the cut on his cheek, silently asking for permission to continue. Marco's blush deepened, and his gaze fell.

Then, he nodded.

Jean softly smiled, a real one that he hadn't had to use in awhile. Slowly, he pulled Marco closer to him and kissed him once more, calmly at first, but then picking up the pace. He couldn't hold it anymore. Something about Marco had warmed Jean up, in many places, especially one that he'd rather not admit.

Jean slid his tongue along Marco's bottom lip (damn it felt just as good as it looked) and laced his hand in Marco's softly mused hair. Marco slowly worked Jean's damp jacket off of his shoulders and, with Jean's help, off completely. Swiftly, Jean pulled Marco's shirt over his head and paused.

"Stop staring." Marco pleaded.

Jean reached out and traced his fingertips along the angry scar that shot across his shoulder and down his arm, and Marco flinched.

"Sorry."

"No, it's just, your fingers are cold." Marco grabbed his wrist and brought his fingers to his mouth, slowly licking each one and lingering on his index finger. Gently he kissed the tip of it and released it, the lust in his eyes driving Jean mad. "Better?"

Jean blushed then and intertwined his fingers back in Marco's hair. He tilted Marco's head slightly to the side and exhaled slowly, his warm breath causing Marco to shudder.

"Better." he smiled and placed his lips softly on his neck and began to suck. Marco's hands grasped tightly at Jean's shirt, and he pulled him closer. Jean took that as permission to keep going. He bit then, suddenly and roughly, eliciting a short yelp from Marco. Jean chuckled and licked the small bite mark, making his way lower and sucking roughly again. Another small groan made it's way from the boy's plump lips as Jean left hickies across his tan skin.

"Jean." he moaned as Jean bit him once more. Marco bucked slightly and gasped, pulling at Jean's hair. Roughly, he pulled Jean's head away from his neck.

"Marco?" Jean looked worried, but Marco looked ruffled.

"Jean," he panted, leaning back and pulling Jean on top of him. Silently he unbuttoned Jean's pants, hiding his face with his arms when he was done. Then he muttered something.

"What? I couldn't understand you." Jean questioned.

Oh no. Had he messed up? Maybe Marco hadn't really wanted this, and was just going along with it because Jean had.

"More."

Jean stared down at him as he slowly uncovered his face.

"I want more."