Feel New Chapter Seven: Your Eyes Told Me More That Night Than Your Lips Would Ever Say
"Take my hand
Take my whole life, too
For I can't help
Falling in love
With you"
-Elvis Presley "I Can't Help Falling In Love With You"
Your little sister giggled from her booster seat, kicking her feet. Sighing, you stepped into the car, sketchbook, pencil, and eraser in hand. It was almost (insert random little sister name here)'s birthday, and your mother insisted that it should be something special, unlike last year. That ended in a total disaster when (little sister name) kicked the cake by accident and the candles fell. They were lit.
Your mother sat in the driver's seat with a sigh, shutting the door beside her.
"What color do you want your streamers?" she asked her youngest daughter as she continued to giggle and kick her feet.
"Purple!" she responded.
"As always," you said. "Why do you even ask?"
"Kids go through phases," she said simply, turning on the ignition. The car roared to life and you buckled your seat belt, making sure (little sister name)'s belt was in as well.
Sitting beside her was usually annoying since she made a lot of noise, but you found ways to zone her out completely. One of those was drawing.
Flipping your sketchbook open to a clean page, you readied yourself with your trusty HB pencil and eraser as your mother put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. You asked for her to turn up the radio and she did, and you hummed along with the local radio station's tunes, though they were much too pop for you.
You glanced sideways at your little sister as she stared out the window beside her, her wide eyes taking in the whir of colors as the car sped on by. Not taking your eyes away from her, you managed to get an outline of her head. Tongue sticking out the corner of your mouth, you fixed up the lines and continued down with the rest of her body. You clutched the sketchbook to your chest to keep it from moving with the car's movements.
Just when you were getting used to the loud noises (little sister name) was making, she began to chant, "Twinkle, twinkle, little star! How I wonder what you are!"
You cringed. She barely knew how to speak, but she knew how to sing that lame song perfectly. As she continued on with her war cries, you glanced up at your mother as her cell phone rang, you hand hovering above the page. You glanced at (little sister name)'s hand and began sketching her finger when suddenly there was a loud honk of multiple cars.
Your whole body jerked to the side, your head banging against the window, causing you to cry out in pain. There was a scream and the sound of tires squealing and a loud crash. You strained to keep your eyes open as pain throbbed all throughout your body, something wet trickling down the side of your head. You could see sunlight streaming in through the broken windows, the headlight of a car blocking most of it. The blurred form of your hunched over little sister and the sound of little thumps was all you heard before you blacked out.
You opened your eyes, head hanging and blood trickling down the side of it. The pain was unbearable, the throbbing only intensifying it. You blinked multiple times and wrinkled your nose to the smell of gasoline. But there was something worse in the air.
Oranges.
—
Holding the hand drawn poster in place, you ripped a piece of tape off from the dispenser and stuck it onto the corner of the paper. You patted it down and stepped back, observing you work in the empty school hallway.
'Celebration Is Here!' read the top in bright letters. Below it was information Rico had you type and glue onto the poster. Beside it were little drawings of what would be there, like the arcade, funnel cake, carnival booths, and other activities.
Down in the other hall Jean and Eren were hanging a poster of their own. Rico made the three of you stay after school to hang them up.
"I simply have no time on my hands to hang them!" she had said, and right afterwards she plugged in her earbuds and started watching her operas.
Some teacher, you thought to yourself as you stuck on the last piece of tape.
You picked up the three other rolled up posters and shoved them under your arm, slipping through the strap of your book bag and went on to the other hallway where Jean and Eren were, passing the main stairway. As you neared the end of the hall, you could hear them bickering.
"So is it love or like?" asked Eren.
"I don't…just shut up already. Like? No. Just shut up."
"Hah! Denial is the key."
"Don't make me punch you."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me, fuck face."
You rounded the corner at the end of the hall, finding the two of them taping up the poster. Jean looked like he was close to pulling back his fist and hitting Eren, but the other boy was only grinning mischievously at him. It had only been three days since Jean began talking again. Apparently he had spoken to his parents and told them all about you, from what he had told you himself while walking home from school one day.
"You told them about me?"
He'd scowled. "Well, kinda. My dad asked if there was, um, a girl involved. He saw us, uh, well me going into your house with you, but, um."
"He took it the wrong way didn't he?" you had asked.
"Yeah, pretty much. Now my parents want to meet 'the girl who got my son talking' and my annoying siblings think we're dating."
"Whoa."
He'd rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Y-yeah. And guess what?" He had laughed nervously.
"What?"
"My parents want to invite you over for dinner," he had said with a smile.
That was yesterday. You still hadn't given him an answer on whether you were going or not. You told him you needed Hanji's permission, but you hadn't even told her about it yet. Truth was, you were just…worried. Would his parents think you were in a relationship with him? But on the other hand, you were curious to meet his family, even if it meant they would misunderstand your actual relationship with Jean.
You were friends, strictly that. Right?
Eren snickered when he saw you, and Jean turned around. His eyes widened and his face turned red from embarrassment.
"It's okay, Jean," you said. "I like you, too."
His face turned even redder. Eren snickered again and asked, "As a friend?"
"Yeah."
At your words, Jean relaxed. You raised an eyebrow. Was he actually relieved?
Eren slumped his shoulders. "Aww."
You narrowed your eyes at the dark haired male. "What?" you asked, adding as much ice in your tone as you could muster.
He squeaked out a short, "Nothing!"
Jean snorted.
You grinned at him and then said to the two of them, "Come on, you idiots. We have posters to hang."
"You sound like we're going to kill them," Eren muttered.
You spent the next twenty minutes going around the halls in the school on every floor, hanging a poster here and there and moving one when they seemed to close to each other and then moving them back.
Finally the three of you were done. Eren said goodbye as he parted ways, saying he was going to pick up something at the library. You and Jean walked out of school.
"Don't you have guitar lessons?" you asked him.
He shook his head. "The teacher isn't here today."
"Oh."
You walked in silence for a while longer. You kicked your feet a little, hopping over the cracks in the sidewalk. The breeze tousled your hair and you smiled.
Jean raised an eyebrow as you walked ahead of him. "Whoa there tiger," he said.
"It's almost summer man!" you called back to him.
"Yeah, and about summer. I-I've been thinking."
"What?"
"Maybe…we…you know, like, the two of us…go to Celebration?" You glanced over your shoulder to look at him, stopping in your tracks. He looked so panicked.
"I thought you said you weren't going," you said.
"I…." He opened and closed his mouth before finally answering, "I guess I changed my mind?"
"That sounds more like a statement than a question."
"I-it did?"
"Jean, you don't have to be so flustered if you want to hang out with me," you said, raising an eyebrow.
"That's what not talking for, like, a year does to you," he replied, though it didn't sound so convincing. You decided to just leave it at that
"So is that a yes…?"
"Yeah, sure, I'll go with you." You tugged at the hood of your hoodie, covering the blush seeping into your face.
"Really?" He sounded surprised. "I thought you didn't want to go."
"How can I not go if you're going?"
He paused. "O-okay then."
"Stop being an idiot and let's go," you said, turning back around and rolling your eyes.
He bounced over to you as you walked ahead, trying to match your pace.
"You still haven't given me an answer," he said.
"Hm?"
"The dinner."
You paled. "Oh. Yeah. Uh, when is it?"
Jean scratched the back of his neck. "My mom said whenever you can come."
"Oh. O-okay."
"Then…you'll go?"
"Sure. How's tomorrow sound like?"
"I'll tell her," he said with a smile.
The two of you walked into your street and parted your ways, heading for your houses. You entered your home and dumped your pack onto the couch. You didn't find Hanji in the kitchen, so you checked the backyard.
It was hard to see anything through the stacks of logs and plants, so you had to push a few of those out of your way as you weaved through, eyes searching for Hanji. You found her hunched over a pile of wood beside the side of the house, muttering to herself.
"No, no," she said, casting aside a log from the pile she was searching through.
"Uh, Hanji?" you said.
She whipped around, startled. "Oh, it's just you!" She tipped her sun hat in a greeting as you kneeled beside her in the cool grass.
"How was school?" she asked.
"Good."
"How's Jean?"
"Good."
She eyed you, annoyed at your lame responses.
"Um, is it okay if I go over the Kirschtein's tomorrow for dinner?"
"Yeah, sure, just as long as they know you're going."
You frowned. She always seemed to be letting you go off to places if it had something to do with Jean, which almost always did.
She examined another log and chucked it over her shoulder, grumbling.
"Uh, what're doing?" you asked her.
"Looking for the right kind of wood," she answered, picking up another log and bringing it close to her face. She tapped it and scratched the rough surface, and for a moment you thought she was going to taste it.
"For what?"
"Your carving," she said creepily, turning her head slowly. There was a crooked grin on her face and her eyes were wide and chaotic. You shuffled away, making a terrified face. She howled with laughter and you laughed nervously along.
After that Bean had sauntered over and leaned on you, his massive and heavy body pushing you over, interrupting the conversation. You ruffled the mass of fur covering his neck as Hanji continued to look for the 'perfect log elsewhere.
"Hey there, Bean!" you cooed, cupping his snout and planting a kiss on his wet nose. He licked your nose in return.
Bean yawned and lay in your lap. You scratched his neck as he laid there, not really doing anything. He seemed to be doing that more often, and he wasn't chasing after his ginger companion so much. Actually, Sawney seemed to be keeping his distance from Bean. You patted his side as he licked your knee.
You wondered if Jean had any pets. He probably didn't; he never said anything about having any.
How would dinner at Jean's house be like? You worried they would get the wrong idea, or possibly pressure you and Jean to…why were you even worried about this? What's with all the relationship stuff?
Just ignore it, _, you thought to yourself.
You glanced down at Bean in your lap and nudged him. He made a whining noise and stood.
"Thanks pal," you said, standing.
He padded closely behind you as you weaved through the jungle of logs and back into the house. The house seemed to be a lot hotter than it was outside. Hanji was in the kitchen, laying out her knives. She found the 'perfect log', which was sitting on the dining table in front of the knife collection. You eyed the sharp objects.
Hanji smiled down at the log. "I'm thinking of a little sculpture of you and Jean."
"Why put Jean in it?" you asked, opening the freezer. You frowned when you found the Popsicle box was empty.
"Well, you're always around him. And I don't think I'm the one changing you, _."
You shut the freezer and looked at her for her to go on.
"He's done more to you than I could ever do," she said, smiling and picking up a sharp small knife. She sliced off a small part of the bark on the log. "It's true I know how loss feels, but I've never known my baby. Ever. Jean? He's known his friend for all of his life. Like I said, two peas in a pod."
"But…you've done lots of things for me, too," you said. She cut off another chunk of the thick bark, the yellowish brown of the inside of the log becoming visible.
"Yes, that's true. We've talked, and I can see you getting better as we do. But it's not about Jean helping you more than me. It's about you helping Jean." She glanced at you before going on. "I've always thought that in order to help yourself, you need to help someone else. Do you understand?"
You nodded. You've been helping yourself help Jean…and he was helping himself help you. Was this what it meant to mend?
"Good."
You watched her cut into the wood for a little bit more before turning around and brushing last Bean and heading for the stairs. Sawney stood at the top of the first flight, watching you curiously as you walked by. You reached down and scratched his head, eliciting a purr from the ginger feline. He reminded you of Mr. Francis.
Which reminded you of the book.
You went into your room and slid into the seat by the drawing desk, taking the small chapter book that you had dropped on a few days ago. You haven't even read it yet, but you knew what Mr. Francis was talking about you connecting with the Hollis.
The book was about a girl who was abandoned, and her only homes were the foster homes she lived in temporarily. Her new caretaker ends up losing her memory, and Hollis intends to stay with her no matter what.
You stared at the book. Was this some joke? Did Mr. Francis seriously think you were going to read this? Was this his way of taking pity on you?
You cast the book back onto the desk and turned away, facing the door of your room. You sighed and rubbed your face, standing and grabbing your phone and earbuds. You let yourself fall onto the bed and you turned on your music. Arm over your eyes, you listened to the music play.
And it rained.
The tears fell down your cheeks, curving from your lips pulled back into a grimace, trying to keep in the sobs.
Wiping your face, you stood and reached for the book, fighting back more tears. You sat down at the edge of your bed and opened it to the first page.
Chapter one…
—
Friday came quickly. You had hurried home with Jean to get ready. Now showered and dressed in some decent clothes, you stared at yourself in the mirror in your room.
No.
You didn't like it. You had to change the shirt.
After you changed into a different colored blouse, you examined your reflection again. And changed again. Who cared about the grey jeans you were wearing, or the nice blue blouse with the yellow lining and white stripes? Oh wait, you did, because you were so worried you didn't look glamorous.
Why were you so worked up about some stupid dinner?! It was only dinner! Nothing else!
And why were you so worried about clothes? When did this happen? You wondered if it was part of puberty or just the fact that you were turning normal again.
But what if his family didn't like you? What if they thought you were weird? What if they were weird?
You rubbed your face and groaned into your hand, troubled. You put your hands up in a 'oh fuck it' expression and let them fall to your sides. Stomach growling, you descended down the stairs and into the living room. Before you could even react, there was a flash of white and you blinked, confused.
Your vision cleared for a moment and you found Hanji standing in front of you, beaming and holding one of those old cameras that printed out the picture right away. The paper slid out from the slot and she caught it before it could fall.
"This one's a keeper!" she said, showing it to you.
Your eyes were caught mid-blink, your mouth opened slightly in surprise. You held back your laughter and remarked, "I look stupid."
"And that's why it's a keeper!" she responded, cackling to herself.
"That's mean."
She took another picture and you rubbed your eyes.
"Can you stop that? I'll be blind before I could get there in time."
"Okay, okay," she said, but snapped another picture. She laughed at your expression, which was totally done with her crazy antics.
You cracked a smile and laughed along.
"Go have fun, _, " she said. "And if you're ever in a pickle, just think: 'What would Elvis do?'"
You stared at her. "Hanji, I don't even know how he thinks."
"And don't forget his quotes!"
"What quote-"
She whirled around, hair flying and flashed you a cheeky smile, gun pointing at you. "'Thank ya, thank ya vury much!'"
"I don't think I'll need that unless it has something to do with manners-"
Then she burst into song. "Burning, burning, burning! And nothing can cool me! I might just turn into smoke-but I feel fine!"
It was an Elvis love song, you realized. "Hanji, can I just go now?"
"AHHH! A hunk, a hunk of burning love! AHHH! A hunk, a hunk of burning love! AHHH! Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love!"
"Hanji, bye, I'm leaving, goodbye," you laughed, waving to her as she continued singing the Elvis song, 'Burning Love.'
Once out of the house and on the porch, you pressed a hand to your cheeks. There was no burning love, but your cheek was definitely burning from the immense blush on your face. Whatever it meant.
Taking a deep breath, you walked down the stone path, sneakers making clacking noises on it. The sunshine burned your skin lightly, its touch filling you with warmth. It was days like these that you longed for the most when you were with your family, your little sister's head no longer caked with blood or your mother's neck snapped, or your father sauntering around the house with a bottle in his hand, reeking of alcohol.
You pushed the thoughts away and stopped at the edge of the curb, staring at the brick house across the street. A bike lay on the front lawn, cast aside lazily.
You wrung your hands nervously and crossed the street after looking both ways (once, twice, thrice) and stepping onto the sidewalk. You glanced over your shoulder before walking up the cobblestone path and up to the front porch.
Your fist hovered above the orange tainted door until you brought it down in a knock. You slapped yourself mentally at how quiet it came out and raised your fist again to knock on the wood louder this time when the door swung open.
"Hello? Oh!" said the woman who opened the door, voice thick with a French accent. She was what you would consider plump, but not fat. Her brown hair was pulled back into ponytail, a few short defiant strands falling onto her forehead. She wore a long sundress, one that reminded you of what Hanji always wore with her straw sun hat. Her eyes were warm, the kind that brought love no matter the time.
"Uh, hi," you greeted quietly. "I'm, uh, Jean's friend. The one you invited over for dinner?"
"Of course! Come in, come in!" she insisted. You stepped inside and she closed the door behind you. The living room you had stepped into seemed very typical with the floral couches, coffee table, and rug. Only there was a humongous flat screened television in the room, much bigger than Hanji's. Pictured lined the walls, and you caught a glimpse of what seemed to be baby Jean with his mother and father. There were two hallways, one that you assumed lead into the kitchen because of the sweet aroma of food, and one that lead into the bed rooms and such. The stairs were beside the hallway entrance of the kitchen.
"My, you're pretty," Mrs, Kirschtein said with a smile.
You blinked. "T-thank you."
"How long have you been with Jean?"
"Oh, um, we're not-"
"SSSTRRRAAAAANNNNGGEERR!" screeched a high pitched voice.
You jumped, startled, as a child ran into the room. It was a small boy, probably no younger than eight. He skidded to a halt beside his mother, tugging at his purple waistcoat. He looked like a miniature version of Jean, except he had much darker hair and a rounded face.
"Who're you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Jacob, this is _, Jean's girlfriend," his mother answered.
You cringed. "No, no, no. We're not-"
"JEAAAN! YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS HERE!" yelled Jacob in the direction of the stairs.
For such a small boy, he had a huge voice.
His mother pinched his ear and scolded, "No yelling!"
You heard loud laughter from upstairs, and it wasn't Jean's. It was much deeper and booming. You heard a door open and you looked up the stairs. A teen with shaggy copper hair poked his head out of his room and called back, "What girlfriend?! Jean's forever alone!"
His whole family was loud, you realized. You tugged at your collar nervously as you heard Jean shout back, "Shut up!"
Mrs. Kirschtein looked at you apologetically. "They're always like this."
Just when you thought the Kirschtein family couldn't get any bigger, a girl skipped into the room, her blue dress and copper curls bouncing.
"Bonjour!" she greeted. "Je m'appelle Celine. Et toi?"
You blinked. "Huh?"
Mrs. Kirschtein laughed. "Celine, she doesn't speak French."
Celine pouted. "Why not?"
"I just don't?" you replied, though it sounded more of a question than a statement. God, Jean's family was huge.
Celine giggled a little. "You're pretty."
"Thanks," you said, blushing. God dammit. Why was this so frustrating?
The boy from before with the shaggy hair ran down the stairs and jumped the last three. Jacob squealed in delight as his tall big brother stood beside him, grinning down at you. He nodded and curtly said, "'Sup."
"Hi," you said.
He held out his hand and introduced himself. "I'm Pierre."
You shook his hand sheepishly. "_."
You gazed around the room at Jean's family members. There was Celine, Jacob, Pierre, and Mrs. Kirschstein. You knew Jean was here. But where was Mr. Kirschstein?
Jean descended down the stairs and you almost gaped at him. His copper brown hair that usually just fell onto his forehead in a clustered mop was combed back, a few strands falling into his eyes. Like all of his male siblings, he wore a waistcoat, only his was grey and white. He scowled, shoving his hands into his pockets and refusing to look at you.
"So how long have you and Jeanny been together?" asked Mrs. Kirschtien.
"Mama!" screeched Jean, horrified. You didn't know if he was angry at the question or the way she said his name.
"We're not together!" you assured them. Oh gods, Jean was right; they did get the wrong message.
"Oh come on, Jean," Peirre urged. "Confess already."
Mrs. K laughed and took your hand in hers. "I finally get to meet the girl who made my son talk! Merci, merci! He never stops talking about you, did you know that?"
"Mama!" Jean hissed, face red. "Stop!"
He talks about you nonstop? "What did he say?" you asked Mrs. K, ignoring Jean's protests.
"Don't-" Jean started as his mother answered you, "I asked him once if you were pretty and he said yes!"
Celine hooted with laughter. Jean groaned and covered his burning face with his hand, still yelling at his mother in French, who replied in the same language. Pierre hid his snorts with his hand.
Mrs. K sighed, cutting Jean off. She turned to her only daughter. "Celine, why don't you show _ around the house?"
Celine nodded and Jacob squealed beside her, "Can I go, too!?"
"Oui," his mother answered and the two children took one of your hands, dragging you away. They spoke loudly and fast, showing you the rooms as you passed by the open doors in the hallway.
"So how old are you two?" you asked.
"I'm twelve," Celine answered.
"Seven!" Jacob said.
"How old are you?" asked Celine.
"15," you answered.
"How did you meet Jean?" she asked.
"Uh, long story-"
"We can hear it!" Jacob said, cutting you off.
"Um, okay, sure. Well, I had just moved here and Hanji-"
"The crazy lady across the street?" asked Jacob.
You smiled. "Yes, her. She's my foster parent. She suggested that I explore around the neighborhood, so I went into the woods and I found Jean in there." You decided to leave out the details; they were yours and Jean's memories.
"Has he always been talking to you?" the little boy asked.
"Yes," you answered.
His sister pouted. "He hadn't spoken to us since…you know."
You nodded. "Did you ever meet Marco?"
The two nodded. "He was so sweet," Celine said. "Jean really misses him."
"But now he has you!" Jacob added rather loudly.
You laughed lightly. "Yeah, I guess he does."
"Oi," a voice said behind the three of you as you stepped into the dining room (which, like all of the other rooms in the house, were quite beautiful).
You turned around to find Jean standing by the doorway, leaning against the frame. His eyes were focused on his siblings beside you.
"Ma says she needs your help," he said, and you could tell it was an obvious lie. Jacob ran away and Celine followed, quickly waggling her eyebrows at the two of you as she brushed past Jean.
An awkward silence has settled in, heavy.
"Jeanny?" you said, breaking the silence.
Jean scowled, still not looking at you. "It's a name…"
"Pretty cute name," you said. Your eyes widened a fraction at your words as they escaped from your mouth.
His hand instinctively reached for the watch on the opposite wrist and he found that it wasn't on.
You sweat nervously and he cleared his thought, choosing not to further question your comment.
"So, uh, do y-you like the house?"
"Yeah. You guys seem to have a lot of money."
"My dad does real estate," he answered.
"Cool," you said. 'The Return of the Awkward Silence!'
"Jeanny, you're father's home!" called his mother.
Jean groaned at the sound of his nickname and you chuckled. He led you back to the living room where a tall and broad shouldered man stood, laying his coat on one of the couch's arms. His dark suit gleamed in the light as the man turned to look at you, a warm smile curling his lips. Jean resembled him the most, for he had his father's copper brown hair and the same long face. Mr. Kirschtein's eyes were sunset yellow instead of his sons' honey gold. A sharp prominent nose and square jaw suggested he was a handsome man. You finally realized where his family had gotten his looks, even if the mother was very beautiful.
"Hello!" Mr.K bellowed, eyes lighting up at the sight of you. "You must be _!"
You laughed nervously. "Yeah, that's me…"
Mr. Kirschtein turned to his son and whispered, hiding his mouth with his hand so you wouldn't hear,(but he was whispering loud enough that you could)"She's a pretty one, Jean!"
Jean scowled. "We've established that."
His father laughed, something that resembled the deep rumble of thunder. You scratched the back of your neck, embarrassed. Jean's family was so unlike him. You thought you would see scowls everywhere, but you guessed that they only did so when they were angry.
It didn't seem like that happened much, though.
Jean tugged at your sleeve, "Come on, _, let's go upstairs…"
You could tell he really wanted to get away, but the moment here was too precious to leave. Seeing Jean so flustered like this made you want to burst out laughing; he really didn't know how great his family was despite their implications between you and him.
"What? But your dad is so nice!" you said, digging your sneakers onto the wood floor so he couldn't drag you away.
"And I want to get to know my son's friend!" His father beamed at you. "And to think you would be the one to get him talking again and not his very own family! You must be special."
"It was, uh, nothing," you replied as Jean rolled his eyes and tugged at your sleeve a little more.
"_," he urged.
"Oh, fine," you sighed, giving in. Jean grinned triumphantly.
You glanced at Mr. K as you followed Jean up the stairs, finding the tall man watching you with keen eyes and a small smile upon his lips. Jean's room was probably as big as yours.
His room was what you would expect from a boy; it was messy, the sheets on the bed lazily made. His nightstand was covered in papers, some daring to fall to the floor and clutter the room even further. But everything away from his bed was clean. The television was nicely organized, the movies and games beside it in order. Your eye caught onto something black below the small flat screen.
"Is that a wii?" you asked him, nearing the game console.
"Yup," he said. He leaned down and reached behind the flat screen t.v and pulled out two controllers, one blue and one pink, and waggled his eyebrows at you.
"Wanna play Mario Kart?" he asked.
"Fuck yeah!" You grinned at him and took the blue controller.
"Hey! That's mine," he whined. "Blue is a manly color."
"No, pink is. Stop being sexist." You grinned and sat down in front of the television as Jean turned it on.
Soon enough Jean was sitting beside your crossed legs, the disc already inserted into the wii console. While you waited for the disc to load, Jean turned to you, a smug grin plastered onto his face and said, "You ready to lose to the all time champion of Mario Kart?"
"Who? Is there anyone else playing?" You looked around the room, emphasizing your sarcasm.
"Me!"
"Oh." You grinned at him. "Actually, I'm quite ready to win, Kirschtein."
"No one's beaten me before," he boasted, turning back to the television screen as the menu popped up. You rolled your eyes and looked at the different characters you could choose from. Jean had already chosen his by the sound of him clicking on Waluigi. You wrinkled your nose; Waluigi was such a weird character: you decided to settle on Browser, eyeing the very few female characters. You could only see two, which were Princess Peach and Yoshi.
Once the two of you were ready, the race began.
Jean had already taken fifth place, yourself still in eleven. Cursing, you sped ahead, making sure to pass through one of the mystery boxes. You felt like this wasn't a game anymore.
No, it was life or death.
"Haha! First place!"
"Shut up," you growled, bumping your elbow into his.
"Hey!" he said.
"Oopsies." You flashed him a quick smile before proceeding to use your thunder, electrifying everyone on the race.
"Oh, what!?" Jean screeched beside you as you quickly advanced towards him.
"All time champion my ass," you laughed, passing him.
Finally the two of you were at the last lap, and Jean had returned to first place. Tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth, you leaned forward in your seat, glaring at the bright screen as you neared a certain Waluigi.
"Oh! The finish line!" Jean said, grinning.
You passed through a mystery box and rounded the corner, seeing the finish line up ahead and Jean advancing toward it. You glanced back and forth between the box at the top of your screen as it randomly selected an item and back to Jean, seeing how close he was. Without looking what it was, you used your item, which turned out to be a rocket, and passed Jean, finishing in first.
"Waah!" Waluigi cried when Broswer rammed into him.
You threw your hands up, dropping the wii remote. "Oooo!"
"What!? No fair!" Jean yelled.
"Jeanny, dinner!" called his mother from downstairs.
"Oh shit," you breathed, scrambling to your feet and towards the bedroom door.
"Hey, I'm not done with you yet!" Jean growled, stumbling after you. You dodged his stuff animal-which you were surprised he had; it was a cute little dolphin-and hurried down the stairs, Jean at your heels. He led you through the hallways to the dining room, where his family was laying down plates and such onto the table.
Jean's family was still unbelievably large. You sat at an empty seat between Jean and Celine. Jacob was seated in front of you, kicking his feet and holding his utensils in his little hands, chanting, "Food! Food! Food!"
"Mom makes the best crepe in the whole family," Celine said, smiling at you.
"Crepe?"
"You've never tried it? It's really good!"
Mr. Kirschtein sat down at his chair with a heavy sigh, fixing the collar of his suit. Mrs. Kirschtein sat at the opposite end of the table. You gazed at the family, realizing just how typical they were, but yet weren't. They sat in the same arrangement that you would have guessed. But when you looked at the family's faces, you found warmth (except for Jean's because he was scowling) in them. They were a family, and they had already accepted you.
A family.
After everyone had added piles of food onto their plates, they dug in. The only foods you recognized were the bread, baked potatoes, and the chicken and vegetables. Everything else was too French for you to know. You expected dinner to last only a short amount of time despite the large quantity of food like dinner with Hanji, but this dragged on much longer. You found yourself trying to match their slow pace of eating as they spoke quietly to one another. Celine and Jacob were firing question after question at you before you could even answer even one. You struggled to answer, but Jean intervened and cut off the children's questions. But now that they had been out aside, the eldest family members took their turn of questioning.
"_, you live right across the street, yes?" asked Mrs. K.
You nodded, biting onto your forkful of baked potatoes goodness, the butter melting in your mouth.
"So, you live with Hanji?" she asked.
You nodded again. "She's my foster parent."
"Forgive me for asking," Mr. K began, "but…why are you going to these foster homes?"
You blinked and the table became quiet, waiting for your reaction or answer. You only chewed a piece of your bread, swallowed, then answered, "There was a car accident and my sister and mother… My dad and I are the only ones alive. He's…unfit to parent now." It was a bit too vague, but who cared? You didn't want many people to know the exact details; that was for Hanji and Jean.
Everyone except for Jean paled and threw, "I'm sorry for your loss"'s at you.
Jacob squirmed in his seat. "How old was you sister."
"Jacob!" Mrs. K hissed under her breath.
"Three," you answered nonetheless.
"Oh," he said, looking away.
"So," Pierre began. "How did you and Jean meet?"
All eyes turned to you and Jean. You sweat dropped, fidgeting in your seat from all of the attention.
"Uhh…," you said, not knowing what to say. What should you say? 'Oh, I met your son in the woods, where I found him asleep and I stared at him. He also spoke to me that day. Did I mention I stared at him?'
You glanced at Jean for help and he answered for you, "We, um, ran into each other one day in…school."
Pierre huffed, suspecting that his younger brother was lying. He assumed correctly, though.
"Do you like Jean?" Jacob questioned bluntly, biting into a crepe.
You blushed and Jean sputtered.
"I-uh. N-no? In, um, what way?"
"Like, like-like."
"We're not in a relationship," Jean said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Right, _?"
You swallowed. "Yeah."
The whole family seemed to slump forward in disappointment.
Mrs. K smiled at you. "The girl who made my son talk! You know, the first thing he said to us was, 'Stop hogging the bathroom, woman!' I've never been so happy to hear his voice. My Jeanny!"
"Yes, Jean, you have no idea how much we've missed your voice!" Mr. K added.
I wonder how much Jean misses Marco, you thought to yourself.
"Are you going to celebration, together?" Celine asked you.
"Yeah, so don't try to come with us this year," Jean answered for you again, pointing his fork at his sister.
"Aw, what?" Celine cried.
"Celebration? Together? Alone? Together?" Pierre gasped. You chuckled, catching his gaze and stabbing your fork through your carrot piece threateningly. He leaned away from you in his seat.
That ought to do it.
Jean snorted and Jacob squealed happily.
"What about the dance?" Celine suggested. "Are you going to that?"
Jean didn't answer, only chewed on his potatoes, glowering at her. It was your turn to snort.
Dinner lasted for two hours, which you learned later, was the typical length for a French family meal. Now stuffed, you sat on Jean's bed, him on the floor tuning his guitar. His waistcoat was cast aside and his button down shirt was now exposed. You stared at the top button, finding it was in the wrong hole. You wondered if he was just naturally clumsy like that or nervousness of the dinner made him fuck up that bad. You wanted to fix that button. Really bad. But that required unbuttoning his whole shirt just to fix the jumble of misplaced buttons, so you decided to stay put and watch Jean turn the pegs of the guitar as he plucked each string, hearing the pitch change from low to high as he tried to get it to the right sound.
"How long have you been playing guitar?" you asked him.
"'Bout a year," he estimated, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he worked on the second to last string.
"Is it hard?"
Only now did his eyes shift up to meet yours, glancing over your form on his bed. His cheeks reddened slightly and he answered, "Why don't you find out yourself?"
You guessed that meant you were going to learn to play.
Still, you made no move to get up, coming to the conclusion that Jean's bed was just too comfortable.
"When's celebration, Jean?"
"Next Friday."
Already? Well, it was the end of May. School was ending that very same day.
"Hey, Jean."
"Yeah…," he said absentmindedly, frowning at the last string.
"I like your family."
"They're alright."
"They're awesome."
He said nothing, only continued tuning.
"Do you only think that because you have no family?" He glanced up at your face, searching for a reaction. You were surprised that he would say something like that.
"I do have a family, Jean. My dad and Hanji. And…you."
"Me?"
"Yeah. You're my family."
He stared at you, thoughts and ideas swirling around his head. He looked away, tuning the last string. You smiled at his form, content that he knew those words.
"My…family can be annoying," he said. "Embarrassing, spontaneous, and a bit on the loud side. But they're my family, so I think that's right. And they've already accepted you. So I guess that means you're a part of the Kirschtein family, too."
He glanced up at you and smiled a little.
"Jeeeaaaan," squealed a small voice, startling the two of you. "Can you two makeout already and stop talking…?"
"Celine!" screeched Jean, scrambling to the door. He whipped it open and sitting on the floor in front of it was Celine and Jacob.
"Hi, _," they said, waving. You waved back.
"Out," Jean ordered them.
"But we're not in your room," argued Jacob.
"Then go away. Spying is bad."
Celine pouted and Jacob gasped.
"It is?!"
"Yes!" Jean answered, exasperated. "Now go!"
Without an answer, he closed the door. You laughed lightly. Yup, this was how a family should work. Definitely.
You found yourself leaving later than you thought you would have. Talking with Jean always made you lose track of time. And you managed to get his phone number, just in case you needed to talk. Jean agreed, so he gave you his number. You weren't sure how to feel, since this was the first time you had gotten a guy's number, but he was your best friend. You breathed in the cool evening air and walked down Jean's porch. As you crossed the street, you found your mind wandering to the Celebration.
And thank goodness it was only a week away.
But it would soon become the most feared day of Jean's life.
If only you knew.
—
Sunday morning you felt like crap. It wasn't that you felt sick, it was just that you couldn't really get up. You couldn't explain, but it was almost like the emotions you bottled up inside grew and created a wall, stopping you from doing anything. Whatever it was, it made you feel horrible; sadness. Under your covers you stared at the wall through an opening in your blanket. Your eyes traced over the small crack in the wall down to a stain, though it was barely noticeable.
You glanced up at your phone and reached for it, barely managing to grab it. You pulled your arm back under your blanket fort and turned the phone on. You blinked repeatedly at the bright light that it emit and typed in your pass code. Slowly, you texted Jean.
From: _
To: Jean
I'm having one of those days.
You locked the screen and closed your eyes, too tired and feeling too much to keep the phone on. A minute later your phone vibrated, signaling a reply.
From: Jean
To: _
want me 2 come ovr?
You sniffed and typed in an answer.
From: _
To: Jean
Please
He texted you back almost right away.
From: Jean
To: _
hold on for a while. mom made me clean
You texted back a small 'ok' and stuffed the phone under your pillow. You closed your eyes and waited, struggling to keep the constricting feeling in your chest under control. A wave of guilt and sadness hit you hard, and you forced back tears, biting your lip.
You wondered if Hanji would let him in when you remembered she had to leave for work. She had told you yesterday that there was a tour group coming over or something. You forced to calm yourself down, and twenty minutes later during your struggle for dominance over your tsnami of emotions, you heard the door to your room creak open.
At first the footsteps were quite loud until they quieted as they neared your form under the blankets. Through the little opening of your fort you could see golden eyes peering in, staring straight at you.
"_," Jean said, voice low. "You okay?"
You shook your head. He grimaced.
"Is there something I can do to help you feel better?"
Right now, you didn't know what you needed to help you feel better, but you remembered those times you cried in his arms as he held you, and he was so warm.
You pulled the blankets back and motioned for him to come into bed with you. He stared at you for a second too long and crawled into bed, cheeks slightly tainted pink. You turned around and wrapped the covers over your heads, creating a dome with the blankets. Once you were settled, Jean asked, "So what's up? You said you were having one of 'those days'. Are they what I think they are?"
You took in a shaky breath and nodded. You felt his arm snake around your waist, reluctantly pulling you closer to him.
"You can cry, if you want," he mumbled.
You needed to, but you didn't want to. You were always reduced to tears when you were around him. You wanted to be strong for once. You didn't want him to think you were weak or pathetic.
"I don't want to," you replied, whispering.
"When Marco…you know- I had these days every day. For weeks. Until I stopped talking and gave up." He glanced away and then looked back to you. "I've never told anyone this, but the reason why I was in the woods that day was because I wanted to kill myself. I wanted to die and I felt like I needed to. But then you came along, and you were about to tread on what I had left of Marco, and that was our memories, and I didn't want you to cross."
"Jean…," you whispered, startled.
He looked away, staring at his hands. "And then you made me talk. I haven't used my voice in a while, I didn't even talk to myself or anything like that. Nothing. And it hurt when I spoke…but it felt great. And then we started talking, and we helped each other, and we made promises, and now I…" He trailed off and he flushed. You didn't know if it was from the lack of air and the heat or what he was about to say next. Whatever it was, he brushed aside his thoughts.
"But before Marco was gone, I had nightmares. I would call him or text him when they came, and he would come. He lived right down the street. And since my nightmares only came at night, he would have to sneak in and out of his house and into my bedroom. And I sleep on the second floor, but Marco climbed the tree next to my room. And we would lie in bed like this. Some days he would say something, some days he wouldn't. He didn't have to, because he was there and his presence was just…comforting."
You could feel yourself relax as Jean spoke, the constricting feeling in your chest dwindling.
He looked back up to you. "_, I just want you to know that I can be like Marco-er-be here for you."
"Thanks," you said, taking his hand in yours. It was warm, and he intertwined his fingers with yours. "Thanks."
Jean stared at your hands. "I'm just doing what you'd do."
You lifted an eyebrow. What you'd do?
"Jean, I think things are getting better, don't you think?"
"Yeah…definitely."
—
School was going a lot better. You were being sure to pay attention, despite your mind buzzing from celebration. It was this Friday, and you found yourself longing for the end of the week to come. But you enjoyed your days with Jean, either at your house or in the library after school, his house, and even in the ice cream parlor where Petra worked at and where you bought the same margarita and Jean bought a chocolate chip cookie dough waffle cone with extra nuts. And the two of you would eat outside, sitting on the ledge above river, watching the sunset. You would talk for hours, and when the sun went down, you would go back into the parlor for another helping before it closed, and stayed as long as you dared sitting on the ledge, looking at the stars, before biking alongside Jean back home, where Hanji would usually scold you to come back earlier next time. But every time you went there with Jean, he seemed so frightened to go. He was constantly playing with his watch and wringing his hands, looking for something to grasp until they took your hand. You had asked him about why he was so nervous, and he didn't answer, only stared in the dark waters of the river below.
So you let it go.
But one night you had woken up to your phone ringing. You answered it without looking at the ID.
"Hello?" you said, eyes heavy lidded and still groggy from sleep.
"_, c-can you come over, please?" asked a small voice. It was Jean.
You had managed to rush over to his house, but you remember what Jean had told you about Marco, how he would climb the tree to his room so he wouldn't wake anyone or have Jean get out of bed.
So you climbed it.
It was a lot harder than you thought, but after going up a little, you thought you caught the hang of it. You slipped on a few branches but managed to hang on; it was a difficult process. You had lightly tapped on his bedroom window and he opened it for you. You spent most of the night with him, trying to calm him down. You succeeded in doing so and left him asleep, leaving to get back to your house early in the morning. But before you left, you made sure to see he was asleep, and you pressed your lips to his forehead. But while making your way down the tree, you slipped and fell into the bush below.
That was on Tuesday. And the next day it happened again. You guessed that now that you knew about his nightmares, he knew you could he his Marco. And vice versa.
But like Jean said, things were staring to get better. And as the end of the week neared, there were more and more signs of the celebration preparations nearly finished, and by Thursday, everything was set.
On Thursday night, you made your way to the library after school. You passed by Mr. Francis's increasing pile of books on his desk and sat at the back computer, the last one in the row, farthest from the others. You turned it on and typed in the password that was taped on the top right of the screen. You were curious, and since it didn't seem like Jean was providing enough information, you were going to find it yourself.
You searched up the town's police department. In the search box of the front page, you typed in 'Marco Bodt.' Jean had spelled out his name once to you because you had asked him to. He didn't seem to mind, but you didn't tell him it was going to be for this.
It took a long minute for the search results to show up since this was a pretty old computer (it wasn't like the flat screen apple computers, this was in the shape of a box and resembled an old television). But there were multiple results. You scrolled down the page, eyes scanning over the results. That was when you found it.
You clicked on the link and it took you to another page on the website. It was titled 'Missing Child'. Below those words was Marco's name, then his picture. He was just like Jean had described him; freckles, dark eyes, warm smile, and a dark mess of hair on his head.
This was Jean's best friend for life. They made the pact when they were only little boys.
You scrolled down to where it showed a physical description of Marco.
'If seen or found, please contact this number immediately.' Beside it was a number.
Your eyes shifted to where it said, 'Last Seen.'
'Marco Bodt was last seen with his best friend, Jean Kirschtein. Jean had left Marco at the ice cream parlor, Riverside Ice. Marco's parents were supposed to pick him up, and when they did, he wasn't there. They searched the area but didn't find him.'
You stared at the screen. That was the parlor you and Hanji went to, where Petra worked at. Was that why Jean always acted so weird when you went there with him? You sighed, rubbing your forehead. You should have known. Why did you bring him there? You were only making things worse.
You opened another tab and searched in the date of the disappearance and found several articles. You opened one of them and read it. Again, it told the same story as the report, but gave a little bit of depth into Marco's life. He loved to garden and taught the local church kids about the many flowers and how they helped the Earth. He played in his school's band and orchestra as the snare drum and cello. His best friend for life was Jean Kirschtein, and nothing could change that. Ever.
But it already did, because you had taken his place.
You suddenly felt guilty, guilty that you were here instead of him. How could you ever be like Marco? You weren't Jean's best friend for life. You made no pact. Now you were just viewing yourself as his misery buddy. You were only there to share Jean's sadness, regret, and misery. You could never wake up every day in the middle of the night, climb the goddamn tree, and comfort Jean. You were barely able to the last two times he had nightmares. Jean had said Marco calmed him down right away, and that Marco would do anything for his best friend because that's what they did, they helped each other, and you were supposed to be helping Jean, but all you did was cry in front of him.
You closed the tabs and logged out, lifting yourself from your seat. You left the library, ignoring Mr. Francis's goodbye's.
The next day, you and Jean agreed to meet each other outside when the time came on that Friday afternoon. Hanji and Jean's family were also going, but you knew that the first chance you for that you and Jean would ditch them.
Skipping along the sidewalk behind you, Celine hummed. Jacob trotted beside her, giggling. Jean sighed beside you, running a hand through his hair. You felt a presence beside you and turned to find Pierre walking beside you. He smirked and walked closer to you. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough room on the sidewalk for three, and so you were constantly pushed into Jean by his older brother. Jean glared at the shaggy haired nineteen year old in return. Pierre only leaned into you, causing you to lean into Jean, causing him to stumbled and push back harder. You yelped and fell against Pierre, and he rightened you, patting your shoulder.
"Jean, you're hurting your girlfriend," he said.
Jean growled. "Shut up! You started it. And she's not my girlfriend!"
You opened your mouth to add something when Pierre cut you off. "Oh yeah? Then why do you spend so much time together?"
"Jesus, you're a jackass. Can't I spend time with a friend?"
Again, you tried to say something but was cut off.
"Are you at least planning your move?"
You cut Jean off as he opened his mouth to retort something. "Shut up," you said calmly, staring straight ahead.
That shut the two of them up. Jacob giggled behind you.
Hanji and the two parent Kirscteins were speaking behind the group of you, walking a lot more slower. You glanced at Hanji and she tipped her sun hat to you. You exhaled and turned your gaze back around.
Pierre was leaning into you again and you barked, "Bubble!"
He rightened, raising an eyebrow. Jean held the same confused look on his face. "What?"
"Bubble. As in, personal space?"
The two of the them looked away, saying, "Oh…!" in the same understanding tone in unison. You only sighed again.
Finally the lot of you reached the town plaza, where Celebration was being held. Music blared from different food stands and games. People rushed here and there, and you recognized many of them as students who attended your high school. Others were adults and the elderly, enjoying the bustle of young life among them. Colorful lights shone here and there, twinkling in the sunlight. The bright orange orb in the sky was making its way down for the day, but the large amount of people still remained. You smelled the different foods, tasting the funnel cake and gyros on your tongue. You gazed around, finding this loud and slightly pandemoniac event quite calming, even so then just being at home with Hanji.
Jean grinned at you. "Cool, huh?"
You nodded, still taking in the view. The people seemed to be everywhere. Your eyes landed on the hill beside the old movie theater, where it reached higher into the trees into some unknown place.
"At midnight, there's fireworks!" Celine added, eyes shining brightly.
Hanji stood beside you and she shoved three twenty dollar bills into your hand. "Have fun, be safe, and text or call me if you need me, mkay?"
"You seem to be in a rush," you remarked.
She grinned. "I've got a date with Moblit! So I'll see you real soon!"
You smiled. You were happy that Hanji was dating. She probably hasn't been in a relationship since she miscarried. You watched her scurry off and turned to Jean, who was being coddled by his mother.
"Jeanny, stay safe!" she said, taking his face in her hands and kissing his forehead. He growled.
"Yeah, yeah, just go," he said.
Pierre saluted you with two fingers and ran off with his buddies, who slapped his back. One of them said something funny and the four of them laughed, running off. Celine and Jacob followed their mother and father, leaving you and Jean alone. You stood awkwardly beside him, holding the sixty dollars in your hand. You stuffed them into the pockets of your shorts and tugged at your hoodie.
"What do you want to do first?" you asked him.
He didn't answer. Instead, he squinted and gazed around the streets. Suddenly his hand took yours and he led you through the mass of people. You stared at his hand on yours, his warm grip unwavering, and you blushed, tugging at your hoodie to hide the pink in your cheeks.
"Jean, ya big idiot, where are we going?" you asked him over the loud music that played.
He still didn't answer. He tugged at your hand and stopped in front of a park. You looked around and found many activities going on with the children. They ran and laughed, slipping on the dirt and quickly regaining their original posture and skinning elbows and making dirt fly behind their sneakered heels.
You glanced at your hand in his and caught your gaze. He blushed and scowled, letting go rather forcibly. Your hand immediately became cold, Jean's warmth no longer adding onto yours. You followed Jean through the park, gazing around at the trees and benches in the green grass. You bumped into Jean's broad back, finding he had stopped. You glanced over his arm (he was too tall to look over his shoulder) and found what he was looking at. Up ahead in the large outside basketball court were the teenagers, dancing to the music that played. A few were spread out in groups along the grass, conversing with each other. You spotted a few familiar faces and broke into a run.
Everyone from your homeroom was sitting beneath a huge oak tree, laughing and drinking from their red plastic cups and eating off of paper plates.
"Hey guys!" you greeted, skidding to a halt in front of them.
"Hey, _!" Armin said. The other joined in.
Eren smirked at Jean's scowling face. "What's gotten under your panties?" he asked.
"Shut up, Jaeger."
Eren narrowed his eyes. "Make me."
The two held each other's gazes, making the rest of the group quiet down. Suddenly the two broke into grins and laughed. You smiled in relief.
Connie banged against his boom box in tune with the drums. He was playing some old pop songs. Ymir scowled beside the short teen, annoyed at his music choice.
You say in the grass beside Mikasa. Jean plopped down next to you, legs crossed.
"Connie, could you play any better music?" Reiner asked, drumming his fingers on his knee.
"Fuck you, you fucking fuck," Connie replied, pressing the forward button. To your surprise, it was a song you knew. But the boy had already skipped the song to find a new one.
"Wait, Connie, change it back."
He did, and the music began. You grinned goofily and sang loudly with the singer. "Warden threw a party in the county jail!"
Elvis fucking Presley.
Jean snorted beside you. Connie joined in your singing, and soon the whole group was singing.
"Everybody in the whole cell block was dancing to the jailhouse rock!"
Sasha stood and twirled, her pink dressing fluttering. Connie took her hand and they danced along. They almost looked like they were in the 1900's. Krista turned up the volume. Ymir spun the small blonde around, causing the girl to squeal in delight. Everyone was dancing, and you stood. You felt a hand take your own and you turned to find Jean's warm gaze boring into your own. He smiled.
"Let's rock! Everybody lets rock!"
Jean laid his hand on your waist, his other intertwined in yours. You swallowed, eyes wide as the music played. You shifted from foot to foot in beat nervously. He cringed when you stepped on his foot and you snorted.
"The warden said, 'Hey buddy don't you be no square; if you can't find a partner use a wooden chair!'"
Jean twirled you in the air, and you closed your eyes for a brief moment, feeling the wind tousle your hair. You opened your eyes and found Jean staring at you, eyes wide. You raised your eyebrow in question and he only swallowed loudly. He quickly collected his bearings and smiled down at you. The song ended and you smiled at Jean, and he reluctantly real eases you from his grip. Breathing heavily, you found the next song to be just as upbeat. The drum beat and piano played loudly.
"The footprints over the snow," sang the singer. "The fabrics of all the lonely, c-covering only the tables and hands!"
Kick Drum Heart.
Again, everyone resumed their dancing without hesitance. You took Jean's hand and he pulled you close, grinning down at you. The music was turned up louder, and it caused other people to turn and see what was going on. And that's how more people joined your group.
Jean spun you around again. The two of you laughed, and you stared into his bright golden eyes.
"M-m-my heart like a kick drum!"
Thump-thump
"M-my heart like a kick drum!"
Thump-thump
"M-my heart like a kick drum!"
Thump-thump
"M-my heart like a voice!"
You laughed as Jean twirled you again, and this time he joined in. Your feet shifted back and forth with his movements. God, who knew dancing was so fun? Who knew Jean fucking Kirschtein could dance?
"We're holding hands in the rain, s-saying words like I love you! D-d-do you love me?"
His smile caused something warm to spread within your chest and you faltered. You suddenly became aware of how close he was to you. If you would lean in just a little…
The song got to the chorus and the whole song slowed down, as well as your movements. Jean stared at you, and you stared back, transfixed by each other's gazes.
"Mother Mary…heard us approaching her door…although we didn't make a sound…"
Cheesy, so cheesy, you thought as the song sped up again.
He leaned in, and so did you.
"There's nothing like finding gold, within the rocks hard and cold. I'm so surprised to find more, always surprised to find more! I won't look back anymore, I left the people that do. It's the not the chase that I love."
You leaned closer and could feel Jean's breath on your lips. You glanced down to his lips.
"It's me following you!"
Suddenly you snapped out of it and you pulled back, shutting your parted lips with a snap. Jean seemed just as disoriented as yourself, and he took a step back. The two of you stood there awkwardly, faces a deep crimson red. Did you just try to kiss him? Did he just try to kiss you!? You were about to kiss!
Hooolleeeeeessshhhiiiiittt, you thought.
"Uh," you stammered. "I-you-so-haaaww…"
"I-I-um," Jean stuttered as the song ended. "Fuck. Um."
"Gah. Um, l-let's forget this happened?"
"Y-yeah." He cleared his throat.
You stiffly sat down beside a panting Mikasa as the music continued to play. Jean leaned against the tree behind the boom box, staring into space, eyebrows furrowed. He fiddled with his watch straps.
What almost happened was still on your mind. What…why would you lean in? Why did he lean in? You just tried to fucking kiss your best friend!
After another song ended, some of your friends sat down, panting and sweating. The heat only increased as the sun shone brighter, giving off its last amounts of light before letting the moon take the night shift. Your stomach growled and you glanced up at Jean. He caught your gaze and had seemed to calm down considerably, so he managed to ask, "You hungry?"
"I need something to maul on," you remarked.
Mikasa glanced at you sideways and said, "There's a snack stand nearby."
"Thanks," you said, standing. You and Jean walked off, waving to your friends.
Awkward silence settled in. You shoved your hands into your hoodie pockets and Jean grasped at his watch. You stared at the grey pavement as the two of you walked out of the park. The food stands were lined up in rows with lines of people waiting to order. The sweet aroma of food lay heavy in the air, and you could taste the pretzels and funnel cake on your tongue. Crickets were beginning to chirp as you and Jean reached a food stand with the shortest line.
You glanced at Jean beside you and your heart fluttered into your throat. You were just now becoming aware of how his facial features were being illuminated by the bright sunset light and how handsome it made him. You tugged at your hoodie self consciously and stepped forward to order.
The two of you sat on a rock by the edge of the park, munching on snow cones. Neither of you spoke a word, instead were lost in thought, minds racing.
You took a deep breath and after chewing on more flavored ice, you asked, "Hey Jean?"
He visibly flinched when you said his name. He turned to you. "W-what?"
"Do you want to play some games after this?" you asked shyly.
"The arcade is nearby," he suggested, a grin plastered on his face. The old Jean was back, more or less.
You grinned back. "I beat you in Mario Kart, and I'll beat you again in whatever game you play."
"Your chances of doing so are bleak," he said. "I'm much better at the arcade than at Mario Kart."
"You're so stupid."
"You're an idiot."
You glowered at him. "Butt face."
He smirked. "Poop wagon."
You flicked his forehead and he flinched, blinking.
"Ow."
"Let's just go to the arcade already," you said, standing.
"Fine," Jean grunted, standing as well.
You licked your snow cone as you followed him through the crowd of people. Up ahead was a large white tent that resembled a little room. As you neared it, you could hear the pings of ping ball machines and the rapid fire of the shooting games. The only people who were going inside were little kids and male teenagers. No girls, just guys.
Shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets after throwing away the last of your snow cone in a nearby trash can, you followed Jean through the white flaps of the tent inside. It was dark and the only light was coming from the video games and the holes in the tent. Arcade games lined the walls of the tent in rows. In front of you was a token dispenser. You shoved your change into the slots and pressed the red glowing button. A pile of tokens fell through a hole into your hand, and you gave Jean half of it.
You gazed around at the game titles. "What do you wanna play first?" he asked.
"How about that?" you suggested, pointing to the shooting game at the back of tent. It was making the most noise there, and there was a fairly large amount of teenagers crowded around the game, shouting and cheering. All of the other games appeared too cheesy and childish, and that was the only mature game here. Plus, from the noises you heard, it sounded pretty damn cool. But the people crowding around there were a problem.
"Are you sure? Those guys look pretty hardcore," he said, sensing your slight unease.
"Shut up, Jean," you replied, walking forward. "Don't really care at the moment, I just want to play that game."
You approached the gamers from behind. The noises grew louder, and you peered above the shoulder of a boy and read the title: 'Hell Rising.'
You glimpsed at the screen and found two boys holding onto the gun controllers, shooting at zombies. The screen flashed red when one of them was injured in anyway. The screeches and groans from the dead increased as they reached the final wave. You glanced at the high score and gaped. The second player had a high score of four million points, and it wasn't dwindling. The first player was struggling to overpass him.
"That's a really high score," Jean breathed. He could see clearly since he was taller than most of the kids here. Unfortunately, you weren't. You took your token and pushed past the boys. Now in the front, you found the piled of coins against the screen in line. They were there to show who would be playing next. You counted four tokens and you placed yours in line.
Suddenly the boys cheered and the screen was flashing with big white letters. 'NEW HIGH SCORE: FIVE MILLION' it read.
The second player was praised and he stepped back, a grin plastered on his face. You didn't recognize any of them from your school, so you assumed they were from another school. The first player sighed and laid down the gun controller. The second player placed his token at the end of the growing line and glanced at you.
"Huh?" he said, blue eyes regarding you under his mop of blonde hair. He looked like Armin, only his hair wasn't as long.
You blinked. It was almost like he had never seen a girl in an arcade before. You turned away and watched the other two players begin a new game. It seemed easy enough; just shoot at some zombies and kill them fast.
"This looks pretty easy," you breathed.
The teen beside you, a boy around your age, scowled and rolled his eyes. "You only say that because you've never played this game before."
You narrowed your eyes. "What's so hard about aiming and pulling a trigger?"
He only rolled his eyes, and the blonde kid from before said, "It's a lot harder than you think, actually."
You turned to him. "You were just flopping them left and right."
"That's because I've been playing this since second grade." He flashed you a grin. "I've never seen a girl in here before with as much spunk as yours. What's your name?"
Jean stared at the blonde boy as you answered, "_."
"Well, _, the objective of this game is to kill as many zombies. But you only have a pistol, and the more you kill, the better guns you get. But there are different types of zombies, ones that spray acid in your face or ones that run shitless."
"Well that's unrealistic," you remarked, deadpan.
He shrugged. "It's a game."
"I don't think I caught your name," you said.
"Douglas," he said. His eyes shifted to Jean behind you who was glowering at the blonde. "Oh hey, Jean! Didn't see you there, buddy."
Jean grumbled something but it was lost in the loud rapid fire of machine guns. "You know Douglas?" you asked, turning away from the blonde.
"For years. He's so pretentious, god dammit."
You raised an eyebrow. What was up with him all of a sudden?
A deep voice boomed from the game, "YOU LOOSE."
The two players groaned and stepped away. You glanced at the token line and stepped forward. A few of the boys quieted down at the sight of you stepping up and claiming your gold coin. You inserted it into the slot below the first player game controller. You picked up the gun and held it, a wicked grin curling your lips.
"A chick?"
"This is interesting…"
A boy with dark brown hair stepped up and picked up the gun. He inserted his token and winked at you. You deadpanned him.
"Go, Troy!"
"Oo kill 'em, Troy!"
You turned to the game screen, alert. The numbers flashed on the screen, counting down. At one, a wave of zombies appeared at the back of the misty forest. You aimed at the heads, shooting them down one by one with your pistol. The boy beside you wasn't even trying to aim for the heads, instead he shot at other less important areas. He shot one in the crotch and the boys laughed.
Suddenly a second pistol joined with yours on screen. You could only shoot with one of them. You quickly glanced down and found a small gun controller hanging on a hook. You reached for it and aimed at the screen, pulling the triggers on both guns. Troy beside you switched to duel wield pistols as well.
"Look at her score!"
"Damn!"
The pistols were gone in an instant and were replaced by a shotgun. Concentration increasing, you aimed and fired lead into the zombie's heads. One of them spit and a green liquid covered your screen. It flashed red, meaning you were getting injured, and your health went down. You growled in frustration, shooting randomly until the green gunk dissolved.
Your shotgun was replaced by a small rapid fire gun, and your kills increased. Troy had just switched to a shotgun, and his screen was flashing red repeatedly.
"Get'cha head in the game, Troy!" you barked, inducing a stream of laughter from the boys behind you. Many began singing the annoying High School Musical tune.
You glanced at your score. It was a little over four thousand already. A huge wave of zombies appeared on your screen and the small machine gun was replaced with a flamethrower.
You laughed maniacally, spraying fire everywhere. Your score increased by another two thousand and suddenly Troy's screen went red while yours froze.
The words 'WINNER' flashed on your screen, his saying 'LOSER'.
The boys behind you whooped and cheered. Troy scowled and threw the controller aside, glaring daggers in your direction. You winked, a sly grin plaster on your face.
Another boy stepped up beside you. He was a little on the large size, but he looked intimidating. He picked up the controller and said to you, "Let's see how long you last against me!"
"You're on!"
The crowd cheered and yet another game started. In the first minute he had already changed to duel wield pistols. You cursed; your health was lowering. You switched to duel wield and aimed at heads until the guns were replaced by a shotgun. He was already using the machine gun and had just gotten the flamethrower when multiple zombies spat the screen.
Seizing the opportunity, you caught up to him and switched to your flamethrower. Your health was dangerously low, so you made sure to stand back. His was lowering, but then the green liquid dissolved from his screen and he lit the zombies on fire. You growled and pressed the trigger down harder, stepping closer to the zombies. The flamethrower in your hand was suddenly replaced by a small control. The boys cheered as you pressed it and missiles rained down on the zombies, killing the second player as well.
Another boy stepped up, and again you won. The line of tokens were increasing; each person wanted to try and beat you. By the third win you were pumped. You glanced at Jean and found him grinning back at you. Your heart fluttered and you turned back to the game. The crowd whooped louder as Douglas stepped up.
"Hi there," he said, smiling at you.
You frowned and inserted another token, accepting his challenge. He shoved his into the slot and the game started.
Wave by wave the zombies increased. By the start of the first wave, Douglas had already switched to a shotgun while you were still on a single pistol. Your screen flashed red as a zombie scratched at you.
"Fuck!" you shouted. Your gun changed to a shotgun as his was replaced by the machine gun. You glanced at his score and found it almost to a million. Yours was only at six thousand.
The game raged on and you stepped up your game. You glanced at the second gun controller and picked it up. Your shotgun changed to duel wield machine guns, and you laughed happily as you took down the zombies faster. Douglas was already on his flamethrower.
Your score was quickly gaining up on his, now only a thousand points away. Your guns switched to duel wield flamethrower. Douglas picked up his other controller and his score increased by four hundred. You hissed in frustration. Suddenly your screen flashed red as you were injured again. The control appeared in the place of the flamethrower and you pressed the button. It made you catch up to his score, but he was still alive. His health was still nearly full.
He switched to the control and pressed the button. Your health dropped drastically and it began beeping. Desperate, your finger found a random button on your controller and there was a huge explosion.
Both of your screens flashed bright red. The two of you had died.
'DECIMATED,' the white lettered appeared on the screen. 'NEW HIGH SCORE: SEVEN MILLION.'
Everybody was screaming now, jumping and cheering. You threw your arms into the air, a goofy grin on your face. "I won? I won!"
Douglas held out his hand and you shook it. "Good game," he said with a warm smile. "This is your first time playing, right?"
"Correcto!"
You took Jean's sleeve in your hand and led him away, looking around at other games. The crowd of gamers watched in silent amazement as you and Jean began to play Pac-Man.
"That was fun," you said, turning the joystick in the direction you wanted pacman to go.
"I could tell," Jean replied, leaning against the machine.
"What do you want to do next?" you asked him. The pink ghost touched pacman and the game ended. A new one began and you let Jean take your place.
"How about we go eat some pizza," he suggested, flicking the joystick around.
"Okay." You looked into the pockets of your shorts. "I only have about fifty dollars left, so let's spend it wisely."
Jean cursed as he managed to evade the blue ghost. You watched in silence, and your eyes wandered down his lean form. Broad shoulders and a large chest; you wondered if he was built… Jean glanced down at you and your eyes flickered back to his. Face red, you looked away. He raised an eyebrow and seemed like he was going to say something, but he chose not to do so.
After a few more games, the two of you headed out for pizza. Since the whole town was participating in Celebration, every store and restaurant was open later than usual and was coated in decorations. You and Jean found a small pizzeria and ate outside at one of the tables.
You sipped at your lemonade and bit into the cheese pizza. Jean had orders buffalo chicken pizza, which to you seemed too messy.
While chewing, Jean said, "Things should be like this more often."
"Swallow, Kirsctien."
He ignored your comment. "Everything is so…"
"Calming? Yeah, it's something we haven't felt in a while, yeah?" You stared into those golden orbs of his. They glinted in the sunlight, a mixture of yellows and brows and oranges.
"Yeah…I like it." He took a huge bite of his pizza before wiping his mouth with a napkin. "We should do this more often."
"Do what?" you asked, opening your mouth for another bite of pizza.
"I…I don't know, I guess we should just go out more often. See the streets, stay out late, eat pizza and watch the stars."
"Stars?"
"What? Too cheesy?"
"No. Wait…" You twisted around in your seat to look at the sunset, only it was barely there. Splotches of pinks, yellows, and oranges were what was left of the sun in the sky. Stars dotted the sky, replacing the sun's light. The sky was now more of a dark midnight blue and changed to something more bright as it reached the horizon.
"Oh. Stars." Time sure flew by. "When are the fireworks?"
"Midnight," he answered, looking down at his lap.
You deadpanned him. "Did you just drop your pizza on your lap?"
"…nope."
"You're fucking shitting me."
You picked up the napkin dispenser and flung it at him. He caught it easily and he picked up the pizza. The cheese was hanging off and sauce dripped from. A piece of chicken fell onto the pavement as he laid the pizza on the paper plate.
"Corkscrew asshole shitting into infinity you're an idiot," you laughed.
Jean burst out laughing. "What the fuck? 'Corkscrew asshole shitting into infinity.' Who says that?"
"I do, ya idiot. Hurry up; I want to see more of this town."
He sighed and wiped at the sauce. After the two of you threw away your leftover food, you walked along the sidewalk for a while. You drank your lemonade and kicked your heels a little as you walked, adding a bounce to it. Jean snickered and copied your unusual gait. The two of you walked past people, grinning. They looked at you strangely as you passed.
The town was pretty old. You realized this when you passed by houses and shops that were in need of some makeovers, a few dilapidated. You were never in this part of town before, but it seemed like Jean had from the way he smiled at the people. Most were the elderly, sitting outside their shops and homes, watching the light turn dark, even if it wasn't so dark at all. Despite how rundown the streets were, there was something bright about this part of town, a fire that was never extinguished. You saw an elderly couple ahead of you, the woman pushing her husband on his wheelchair. They looked adorable, but as you neared them, you heard them speaking to one another.
"You lazy bastard. When are you going to use those arms and let me rest?" she snarled.
"When I'm dead, so would you shut up and just push?" he replied in the same icy tone.
Yup, that was the fire.
Jean and you explored for a little longer. He pointed out the many places he liked to go to, and the memories he had in them. You laughed when he laughed and smiled when he smiled. Everything about him was becoming brighter and louder the more he spoke. The sound of his voice was intoxicating, a reason why you would never need drugs. It changed in tone in a matter of seconds, from gentle to stern, from harsh to kind. And not only was his voice so outstanding to you, but so was his aroma. You smelled it in your pillows when he would come over and you would lie down side by side, you smelled it in his room; it was especially strong there. It smelled of strawberry soap and chocolate. His eyes were the most profound of his features; bright and burning like a million suns. Even when he wasn't speaking you would know what he was saying, all because of those eyes. He didn't want anyone to know what he was feeling the whole time, but he openly displayed those emotions in his eyes. You could read him like a book because of them.
But his presence, his voice, scent, everything about him-you loved. You hated to admit it, but you loved it when he was annoyed at you; loved it when he smiling and grinning like a smug idiot; loved it when he was frustrated and his nose would wrinkle; loved it when he would fiddle with his watch and look for something to hold onto, something to grasp when he was nervous.
You loved him. In what way? That answer was inconclusive. You just still hadn't figured it out.
When it was close to midnight and the bands were playing, the two of you decided to get away from the town and find a place to sit at. You took Jean's sleeve and led him back to the old movie theater where the hill was at. You clambered up the incline and into the forest beyond the theater. Together, you weaved through the bushes and trees and finally found a spot where the forest was at its highest on the hill. A small ledge overlooked the city in a clearing by the edge of the forest, and the two of you decided to sit there.
Feet dangling over the edge, you sat in silence, listening to the music play and the loud chatter of people below. You wondered how Hanji was doing on her date and if it was going well. She was probably with Jean's family as well.
"Hey Jean," you said, breaking the silence.
"Hm," he hummed.
"Thanks." He didn't say anything; an indication for you to continue. "Thanks for taking me here, today. It was really fun."
He smiled in the dark. Slipping off his hoodie, he rolled it up into a pillow and lay down beside you.
"I don't know, I feel like there's a lot more you should be thanking me for."
"You idiot. Do you need me to say it all?"
"Yes please."
"You don't need me to say it. Say it to yourself."
Silence again. The crickets chirped all around you, and somewhere off in the distance a loon called to its mate.
"_," Jean said, staring up into the starry sky.
"What?"
"Thanks for being my friend…and putting up with my shitty personality. And my problems. And for coming to me when I have nightmares. You're like Marco, to me."
"No I'm not," you sighed, pulling your knees against your chest and resting your chin on them. "I can't get up at three in the morning everyday to comfort you like he did. I can barely make myself feel any better…so how can I make you feel better?"
He didn't say anything.
"You fucking idiot," he grunted, sitting up.
"Wha?" you said.
His eyes were full of annoyance, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you blind? You're an idiot; do you know that? God."
You blinked. What?
"I'm not asking you to do everything Marco did for me. I'm not asking you to be him. I understand you won't always be there for me, but god dammit you try and that's what matters. What I don't understand is why you're still beating yourself up."
"Jean…"
"You know what? I'll fucking say it because I don't fucking care." He laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair.
"I love you," he declared.
You were silent. A blush spread across your cheeks as you stared at him, wide eyed.
"I'm glad you're in my life," he went on, his words finally catching up to him. His cheeks reddened. "I needed you in my life I need you to be you, because that's what I love most about you. Fucking damn special, dammit."
He toyed with his watch as he fell silent. He looked away, embarrassed, and said quietly, "I just can't help falling in love with you."
Tears blurred your vision and you sniffed. He turned back to you as you wiped your eyes. You smiled through the tears and laughed. He watched as you giggled in rapture. You pulled back your and punched his shoulder hard.
"Ow! What the fuck!?"
"I love you, too, you pathetic oaf!" you said, tears spilling down your cheeks. His blush only spread and he sputtered.
"Oh geez. P-please don't cry. Why do I always make you cry?"
"Because you're the only person I can cry in front of," you answered, smiling at him in the dark.
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good, Jean…it's definitely good."
He smiled and took your hand, his warm fingers tangling within yours. You squeezed his hand and leaned against him, smile growing wider.
You said it. You finally said it. You needed to say it. Had to. And you did.
You loved him, after all.
Jean brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles. Blushing furiously, you leaned closer to him, just like you did a few hours ago. He leaned in, the distance between the two of you decreasing. You could feel his warm breath on your cool lips, and your eyes fluttered closed. Titling your head, you pressed your lips against Jean's, feeling him kiss you back.
You shivered, moving your lips against his in a slow, gentle kiss. His hand cupped your cheek, the other still intertwined in your own. He tasted of lemonade and snow cones, pretty much two of your favorite things.
Jean pulled back slightly, lips still an inch away from your own, which were tingling for the sensation of the kiss. His forehead pressed against yours and you closed your eyes, inhaling his dark aroma.
The two of you stayed like that for a while, eyes closed and hearts pounding. The cool night air bit at your whatever exposed skin there was, and the two of you shivered. Jean wrapped his arm around you and pulled you down. You yelped, falling against his chest. He held you close and stared at the night sky.
You sighed deeply, genuinely calm for the first time in your life. This was what you needed. This was what it meant to mend.
Suddenly there a low whistle and something flew into the sky. Your eyes widened as it popped loudly, and a splash of color danced across the sky. Another firework burst in the sky, then another.
"Perfect timing," Jean whispered.
You hummed in agreement.
Firework after firework the dark sky was illuminated by the different colors. They fizzled and popped, in the wondrous silence. Red and white, green and yellow, blue and purple. Smaller fireworks were taking place on the ground; smaller pops and sizzles supported this. Somewhere down below people were cheering, and you hummed a little song. Jean joined in, humming contently with you.
Jean's pocket suddenly exploded in a fit of rings. You disentangled your limbs from Jean's and sat up. He propped himself on his elbow and pulled out his cellphone and answered.
"Hello?" he asked. You could hear a voice on the other end speak, frantic and high pitched. Jean paled, shock and fear taking over his features. After the voice finished talking, he hung up. Slowly, he lowered the phone from his ear and stared at the grassy floor.
"Jean? What's wrong?"
He dropped his cell phone and buried his hand in his hands, whispering, "No, no, no."
"Jean!"
He looked up at you and your eyes widened. Tears fell from his eyes and his face was etched in confusion and shock.
"I-it's Mar…," Jean choked out, voice cracking and breathing heavily. "I-it's Marco…they found Marco."
Hell yeah it's finished! 44 pages and over 15, 600 words! Sorry it took so long for me to update, I was writing this monster. I suggest listening to the suggested song at the beginning of the chapter while the part with the fireworks show up. Hehe.
Tell me your predictions? What do you think happened to Marco?
DUN DUN DAAHH SUSPENSE
I don't own snk nor its characters. You belong to Jean
