~~.~~
Best friends or not, Jean swears that sometimes he could just murder Marco Bott.
He can live with Marco's late night, half-asleep chatting while they're watching a movie. He can live with Marco's obsessive need to have every jar's label in their fridge and cabinets visible at all times. He can even live through the 10-minute lectures Marco always gives him when he finds out Jean hasn't done his laundry in a week (and the 20-minute lecture afterwards while Marco himself does said laundry).
But he draws the line at Marco's latest detestable habit; moving his damn alarm clock across the room and therefore out of his reach.
He slaps a hand down onto his nightstand as the obnoxious beeping rips him out of a very nice dream involving Mikasa and lots of seashell bras, but when he fails to locate his alarm clock Jean lifts his head with a groggy grunt, only to realize that Marco had come in during the night and moved it. It was a habit he'd picked up in their senior year (Jean was pretty sure that Armin had given him the idea) and it was the only foolproof way to assure that Jean would actually get out of bed when it went off.
But to hell with that; he'd stayed up until three-thirty last night organizing their stupid pantry - labels out Jean! - so he was going back to sleep right now. Marco's freckled wrath be damned.
Growling at the irritating alarm, Jean leans over the edge of his bed and fumbles around in the dark room, grabbing the closest thing he can reach (a sneaker) and flinging it at the red numbers glowing from the clock that was now sitting on his desk. The sneaker misses the clock completely because that's just his luck and Jean cringes when it knocks over his new desk lamp instead. The bulb shatters as the lamp clatters noisily to the floor, the alarm clock is still squawking like a damn demon, and Jean hears Marco's approaching footsteps seconds before his door flies open.
Sunlight shining through the living room windows fills the dark room and Jean flops back with a hiss, covering his face with a pillow. Jean already hated that window - the sunlight went right into his room unless his door was shut, and before this week was over he was either going to put up some blinds or nail a sheet of plywood over it. He was leaning towards the plywood option, but Marco would probably lecture him about the benefits of natural light. Stupid best friend and his stupid logic.
"Jean?! What's-!" Marco starts, but trails off when he spots the lamp surrounded by fragments of a broken bulb and a sneaker that's seen better days. Sighing, Marco crosses the room and finally shuts the alarm off, easily avoiding the scattered glass pieces littering the floor. Jean has burrowed himself back under the blankets, knowing that Marco will target him next, but he still grumbles petulantly when Marco rips the blankets off.
"Why's the sun so damn bright?" Jean asks, voice still slurred with sleep and muffled by his pillow.
"Alarms exist for a reason, Jean," Marco says instead with an amused smile, folding Jean's blanket up in his arms. "You have your classes soon, and you still need to eat and take a shower."
"I don't need a shower," Jean protests as he sits up, blinking blearily from the bright light that his eyes still haven't adjusted to. "And my classes don't start for another three hours... I organized the stupid pantry for you, so let me sleep!"
"We still have a whole house to unpack and you're taking a shower whether you think you need it or not," Marco replies, still smiling as he tosses the blanket onto the foot of Jean's bed. "Now get up and get clean, Kirstein, and we can go get some breakfast."
"You're literally the worst roommate in the world," Jean grumbles but he pushes himself out of his bed anyway, rummaging the floor again for the jeans he'd discarded last night. Marco just clucks his tongue at the piles of laundry scattering the floor and walks out to let Jean get dressed. Jean always hated Marco's ability to make him feel guilty over the most trivial things, but at the same time at least it gave Jean some motivation to keep his room clean. Well, cleaner.
Marco was on the phone by the time Jean has showered, gotten dressed and cleaned up the remains of the busted lamp, and for a moment he just stands in the doorway of the kitchen, watching the freckled boy putting things away while propping the phone up against his ear with his shoulder.
"The ride was fine, mom... Yes, we both had plenty to eat on the way. What? Yeah mom, Jean's fine too, in fact he's being deliberately unhelpful right now and watching me struggle, same as always," Marco says into the receiver and Jean lets out a loud snort in reply. "Uh-huh... Yeah... Okay, tell Marcus I said hi back. Alright, I've gotta- What? Yeah, I'll tell him - Jean, my mom says hello - okay, I told him. Yeah mom, I'm sure he heard me. Okay mom, I will... All right, love you too, hanging up now, bye mom, stop talking..." Jean snickers to himself as Marco finally hangs the phone up with an exhausted sign, but there's no missing the affection still glowing in his eyes.
"It's like she thinks we've been gone for months," Marco mutters fondly as he starts rummaging a nearby box. Jean nods in agreement and opens his mouth to remind Marco of his promises of breakfast, but he's interrupted by several loud and rapid knocks that could only belong to one person; an obnoxiously short person with a shaved head and an irritating habit of talking too loudly during the early hours of the morning.
Jean yells out "Go away!" just as Marco opens the door to let Connie in, though they're both noticeably surprised when they notice that Sasha doesn't come barreling in after him.
"Sasha's got morning classes," Connie explains when he sees their puzzled looks, "Mine don't start for a while and we don't have any food left over there so now I'm bored and hungry."
"Well, we were just heading out for a bite to eat," Marco replies, lifting his jacket off of a nearby chair and heading towards the door before Jean can remind Connie that he's a grown man now and therefore should be capable of feeding himself in spite of the unhealthy dependency he and Sasha seem to have on one another, "You can tag along, Connie - we need to start exploring this new neighborhood anyway. You coming, Jean?"
"Yeah, yeah," Jean replies, grabbing his own jacket and slipping it on before following his two companions out the door. The sun's still out, though a few clouds are starting to roll in, and there's just enough of a chill in the air to make their jackets necessary. A few other groups are mingling around as they head down the sidewalk, but most of the other students are either in their classes already or still sleeping in, which Jean wishes he was still doing.
"So I ran into Armin at the campus's little snack shop last night," Connie remarks as they start to leave the residential lots behind them and get closer to the downtown shops, "He's here along with Mikasa and Eren, but those two were at night classes or something. It kinda makes me wonder how much of the old gang's here."
"I know Christa's here," Marco replies as they pause in front of a restaurant and peer inside, but they all simultaneously decide that's it's already too crowded in there and move along. "Ymir might move out here too, but only to be with Christa. She says college just isn't her thing."
"Well isn't that something to look forward to," Jean mutters, wondering how many nights he has left until the sound of Ymir breaking into their house every morning to raid their fridge is what wakes him up. Oh well.. at least it was a better option than that possessed alarm clock, though just barely. Not that he didn't like Ymir, but in the years they'd known each other she had more or less become the semi-bullying sister Jean never wanted.
"She's gotten better since high school," Marco spoke up in defense for his cousin, "In fact, ever since she and Christa started-"
Marco words are suddenly caught off with a loud yelp as he's suddenly pulled back and off the ground, and before Connie or Jean can even turn around they both being lifted into the air as well by a pair of strong hands, and all three are now caught in one of the most crushing bear hugs they'd ever felt.
"R-Reiner?!" Jean hears Marco laugh beside him, and all Jean can see is the black fabric stretched over the broad chest he's being smothered against. But then he hears Reiner's booming laugh and Connie's squirming beside him and good god Reiner's about to break his damn back!
As suddenly as they were being picked up they're suddenly being dropped down again. Marco lands on his feet like the damn nimble deer he is, Connie somehow manages to stagger himself upright (which isn't all that surprise since Connie and Sasha used to ride towards each other on skateboards and ram their [sometimes] helmeted heads together for fun), but Jean drops back onto the sidewalk like a bag of wet sand.
"Sorry Kirstein," Reiner grins, offering him a hand but Marco is already at Jean's side, pulling him to his feet and brushing the dust and gravel from his shirt. "Didn't expect to see you guys here!"
"Likewise, Reiner," Jean mutters as he rubs his lower back with a slight wince. If that was just how Reiner hugged then Jean suddenly felt a well-deserved pang of sympathy for any of the guys that ever played football with the big guy. Speaking of which... "Let me guess - football scholarship?"
"Damn right!" Reiner booms again, giving Jean a slap on the back that nearly sends him back down to the sidewalk, face-first this time. Not even blinking, Marco just reaches out and catches the collar of Jean's shirt, pulling him back upright. Jean mutters a thanks and shoots him a quick smile, which Marco happily returns. They'd learned years ago that Reiner could be a very "hands-on" kind of friend, and these things were all too common. Still, that didn't mean even his light slaps and playful punches didn't sting like a bitch.
"So does this mean Annie and Bertolt are around here too? I doubt I've ever seen you guys go anywhere without each other," Connie pipes up, and the grin suddenly falls from Reiner's face but he quickly covers it up with an obviously forced smile. Connie and Jean don't seem to notice the blond's grin falter. Marco does.
"Y-Yeah, they're both here. Annie's in one of her classes right now, Kinesiology or some weird ass course like that. Part of her curriculum to becoming a physical trainer, I think." Reiner mutters with the best casual shrug he can muster, though this time Jean and Connie do note that his wanna-be casual shrug looks more like a wince. "Bertolt's, uh... he's around, I guess."
"Wait, did you and Bertolt actually have a legit fight" Jean scoffs with disbelief. He hadn't seen Reiner and Bertolt apart since Freshmen year of high school, let along be openly upset with each other, and judging by the surprise on Marco and Connie's faces, this is a new experience to them as well.
"Really? You actually managed to have an actual argument with Bertolt? The guy's a six-foot pushover!" Connie inquires before Reiner can respond to Jean's remark, but Marco steps in at the look of discomfort that's flashing over Reiner's face.
"If Reiner wants to tell us about it then he will," Marco says in that scolding tone of his that makes Jean and Connie instantly feel ten years younger. As they shrink back, Marco turns back towards Reiner and offers him a smile before resting a hand on his shoulder. "We were on our way to find a late breakfast - you want to tag along?" Reiner shakes his head but the smile he gives them this time is a little more genuine.
"Nah, I need to get going - got my own classes starting soon and I've still got part-time applications that need to be turned in," Reiner replies. Jean and Connie both shrug and give Reiner a quick wave before heading down the sidewalk again, still eager to get some breakfast, though Connie glances back when he realizes that Marco's not beside him.
The freckled boy is still standing by Reiner, both of them speaking in hushed tones. Reiner is frowning and shaking his head, suddenly seeming much more upset than before, and Marco is frowning with a look of sympathy on his face. His hand in still resting on Reiner's shoulder, and Connie blinks when Reiner suddenly sighs and sets his much larger hand on top of Marco's.
Wait... they weren't...? Were Marco and Reiner-?
Connie glances back towards Jean to see what his reaction to all this is but Jean's still walking down the sidewalk, oblivious to the absence of his companions, and Connie glances back at the other boys just in time to see Reiner lean down and peck Marco's cheek with surprising tenderness, making the shorter boy blush. Suddenly feeling like that was not something he was supposed to witness, Connie quickly turns on his heel and scurries after Jean, who had finally realized that he was walking alone and stopped to wait for them.
"Oi, we getting any breakfast today or what!" Jean calls back towards Marco, tapping on foot impatiently. Marco just chuckles as he jogs to catch up to them, and Connie notes that Reiner is now nowhere to be seen. Marco's face is still a little red, though Jean doesn't really point it out, probably because the cold has turned all of their faces a little flushed. The two fall back into their typical morning chats while Connie lingers a few steps behind, his mind whirling with new questions.
Except for Jean himself, Connie didn't think there was anyone from their old gang who didn't know that Marco Bott had the biggest and most pathetically obvious crush on Jean Kirstein. Connie had spotted it on the first day of Freshman year, when he and Sasha met Marco for the first time. Jean had been tilting back in his chair, droning on about already dreading having Ms. Zoe as a teacher, but Marco had been leaning on one hand with the widest smile Connie had ever seen, his expression steadily softening as Jean spoke.
Connie Springer knew that look all right - it was the same face Sasha made whenever the two of them went to a new restaurant and realized that it had a buffet.
But if Marco had fallen so hard for Jean, then why the hell was Reiner kissing him? Or the more confusing question, why had Marco been so casual about being kissed by the blond?
.~.
About thirty minutes later they finally find a restaurant that isn't completely packed, with luckily a few outdoor tables available, and all three of them plow their way through of breakfast of pancakes and sausage. Connie, it seemed. was still a near-bottomless pit but he had nothing on Sasha, and it made Jean a little glad that she hadn't been there to tag along; watching Sasha eat was something he'd never gotten used to, nor did he really ever want to.
"So, you guy picks your majors yet?" Connie asks around a mouthful of half-chewed pancakes. Jean wrinkles his nose at the sight but Marco doesn't seem fazed at all; the aftereffects of living with four messy younger siblings and Ymir, apparently. "I think I'm gonna go with Web Design. Sasha thinks that's stupid but she wants to pro barrel racer like her dad was so I'm not sure if I can really trust her judgement."
"I wouldn't trust her judgement if you paid me," Jean scoffs in reply, sipping from his coffee and wincing when the bitter liquid burns his tongue. Connie almost looks offended at that, as if only he was allowed to called out Sasha's questionable opinions. "And screw that barrel racing shit - first time she took us to one of those shows her dad's stupid horse kicked me in the head!"
"Ha! I remember that! Eren called you horse-face for like two years!" Connie cackles, but Marco immediately winces at the memory, remembering how terrified he'd been when he'd turned around and saw Jean slumping against the wall with blood oozing down the side of his face. Luckily it hadn't even been a serious injury - the edge of the horse's hoof had just grazed his temple deep enough to break the skin but Marco had still panicked about the whole thing more than Jean had.
"Jaegar's such an asshole," Jean mutters under his breath before tilting his chair back, "What about you, Marco? You pick your major yet?"
"Mm-hmm, architecture," Marco beams back at him, and Jean's a little surprised by that. He and Marco hadn't really discussed much about their futures yet, but architecture definitely wasn't something that Jean would've guessed that Marco was interested in. "One of my great-great-grandfathers was a famous architect in Eastern Europe, and he actually designed on some castles that real kings have lived in. Could you imagine doing something like that Jean, especially for a king?"
"Guess that'd be cool," Jean shrugs, though not indifferently since Marco seems genuinely excited about the topic, "I just want a job that'll let me live an easy, comfortable life after we leave this place."
"I think I want more than to just be comfortable," Marco shrugs back at him, fiddling with the top of his coffee cup and smiling, "I want to accomplish something great so that I'm remembered by people even after my time..." Jean just raises an eyebrow at that, smiling as he leans over and bumps his shoulder lightly against Marco's.
"You're already that kind of guy, Marco," Jean assures him, "I don't think anyone who meets you could ever forget you." Marco opens his mouth to reply but only a tiny squeak comes out and Jean laughs as Marco tries to hide his reddening face by drinking from his cup again.
Meanwhile, Connie's growing more confused about what - or rather who - Marco wants by the second.
~.~
In spite of his reassurances and the confident "I can handle a few stupid boxes" he had called out while Marco was heading out the door to go to his classes, Jean was coming to the rapid and embarrassing conclusion that no, he apparently could not handle a few boxes.
It had been nearly an hour since his housemate left and Jean felt like he hadn't even put a dent in unpacking. Marco's old station wagon had a lot of space, therefore they had brought a lot of boxes with them, but Jean honestly couldn't even remember packing half of this crap. After opening the third box of paper plates and packages of men's socks (these mystery boxes must've been care packages Mrs. Bott had smuggled in while their backs were turned) Jean was ready to give up and just get ready for his own approaching classes, until a rumpled box nearly hidden behind the others caught his eye.
It was a tall box, stained from years of use and torn along most of the edges, but the words 'Memories w/HF' sharpied on the side in Marco's handwriting looked pretty fresh. Curious, Jean pulled a chair over and sat down before dragging the tall box toward him and opening it, and almost immediately he was hit with a wave of nostalgia.
Folded up at the very top of the box was Jean's red hoodie from high school, the one he'd stopped wearing about halfway through their senior year, and when he unfolded the rumpled article of clothing he couldn't help but smile when he saw the splotch of ink still staining the sleeve; in spite of all their attempts and washes, they never did get that stubborn stain out, though they did manage to dull the hoodie's color down a few shades. It had hardly been a year since he'd worn it but now it felt like a lifetime ago.
Still smiling, Jean tosses the hoodie onto the table behind him before reaching back into the box, pulling out a stuffed manila envelope which Jean soon discovers is packed to the seams with multiple stacks photos behind held together by various rubber bands. Turning in his seat, he spills a few out onto the table, and from every angle he sees pictures of Marco and himself staring back up him.
A rush of memories blurs in his mind, but Jean can remember almost every instant that these pictures are being taken. There's a few from Jean and Marco during freshmen year, which they'd taken a field trip to some history museum by Ms. Zoe. The museum itself had been boring as hell to everyone but that nerd Armin, but the bus rides had been pretty damn fun between having spitball fights with Eren and watching Armin try to talk to Annie without stumbling over his words.
Jean chuckles again when he recalls that it had taken their whole gang until their Junior year to wonder why and how their biology teacher had taken them to a history museum.
Jean pushes the pile of bus pictures away to inspect the second stack; it was Jean's first real vacation, a trip to the beach with the Bott's during the summer before their sophomore year. There's a photo of him and Marco smiling from the back seat of the Bott's van, a few of them at various hotels they'd stayed in alone the way, one of Jean dozing on a beach towel with Marco's siblings crowding around him with buckets full of sandy water (though luckily Marco had spotted them and intervened while their dad was snapping the picture), Marco's parents standing by a grill and waving at the camera, one of Marco and Jean both laughing after being buried neck-deep in the sand, Marco and Jean sleeping at a picnic table after a particularly long day of chasing the youngest of the Bott brood around, and finally the whole Bott family and Jean posing on a knoll while the sunset reflected beautifully on the ocean behind them,
Sighing, Jean pushes the beach photos aside, lazily riffling through the rest of the stacks. There were photos from every trip he'd taken with the Botts, several stacks of various time periods throughout their high school years, a thick stack of pictures from senior prom and graduation day (with way more photos of Jaegar's stupid face mixed in than Jean would have preferred), and at the bottom of the stack were a few photos that Marco had taken during their trip from Wallgate City to Three Saints University.
Jean smiled, holding up a random picture Mrs. Bott had taken of him and Marco in their living room, with both of them grinning at the camera while trying to keep focusing on the video game they'd been playing. Marco and his family really had given him some of the best days of his life so far. Jean almost winced when he wondered what he'd have done during those long years if he'd never met Marco, though in all honesty, Jean didn't really want to know what might have become of him...
The buzzing of his phone suddenly broke him from his thoughts, and Jean blinks as he realizes that he has about five minutes until his Astronomy class starts. Cursing, he gets to his feet and shoves the photos back into one big pile, which he can sort later while hoping that Marco doesn't lecture him about getting them all mixed up together.
Without thinking about it he grabs the red hoodie off of the table, pulling it over his T-shirt and picking up his binder and heading out the door. Though the odds aren't high, Jean hopes his classes will end before Marco gets home - he would've liked to have gotten more unpacking down before the box of photos distracted him.
It's not until Jean's walking into his crowded Astronomy class that he remembers the 'Memories w/HF' that had been written on the box, and half of his classmates look over when he suddenly lets out an indignant squawk of realization.
That freckled bastard had called him 'Horse-face'!
~.~
"So much for handling a few boxes," Marco mutters under his breath when he sees the stack of photos piled onto the middle of their table, but he still smiles as he tosses his bag onto the floor. He supposed it was his own fault; he knew that Jean couldn't clean or sort anything without getting distracted every five minutes by the things he came across.
With a fond shake of his head, Marco stacks the photos into fairly neat piles and stuffs them back into the manila envelope, making a mental note to buy some photo albums the next time he goes out. Jean and Ymir had always teased him about his love of photo albums, but the only thing Marco loved more than his memories were the physical reminders of those memories.
He smiles as he puts the pictures away, occasionally laughing at one of him and Jean making goofy faces at the camera, but he pauses when he gets to a small stack of notes on the table that had been hidden underneath the photos.
The stack was still wrapped with a rubber band, so he assumes that Jean hadn't looked through it, but Marco recognizes Jean's handwriting on the outside of a few of the folded squares of paper. Curious, he unwinds the band from the notes and riffles through a few of them, but almost immediately he wishes he hadn't.
They were notes from Jean's high school girlfriends. Most of them are simple and short, with the typical cheesiness you'd expect from high school couples, but some of them are more intimate, and Marco catches Mina's name in a few of them. He feels his face and neck flush and Marco quickly tosses the stack of notes back into the bottom of the box, wanting to keep them as far away from his pictures as possible.
His good mood now damped by those notes, Marco tosses the manila envelope back into the box and sets it beside the other boxes that needed to be taken to his room. Yeah, maybe he was being a little juvenile about it; Jean had dated those girls years ago and half of them he probably didn't even remember now, but that didn't change the fact that all those girls had gotten what Marco still wasn't brave enough to trying and get; Jean's romantic affection.
Sighing, Marco pulls another box towards him but before he can open it up his phone suddenly buzzes with a text notification. Marco frowns, knowing that Jean doesn't usually text him during classes, but his confusion turns into curiosity when he sees that the text is from Reiner instead.
He knows what the message is before he even opens it, and Marco sighs again as he reads the familiar request Reiner is asking of him. He quickly types out his usual reply before looking around the room again.
Oh well.. The boxes aren't going anywhere.
Marco scribbles a quick note to Jean about one of his classes being postponed and being back later before grabbing his jacket and heading out the door again.
As he stops to lock the door, Marco pulls his cellphone from his pocket again and deletes the message Reiner had sent him.
Better safe than sorry.
~~.~~