–Jean's POV—
Jean never got around to calling Marco or anything after getting his number. He planned on keeping his word and not abusing his right to have this privilege. He actually did want to try making things work. They were supposed to be soul mates, after all. Naturally, his intention was to only become friends with him.
It was Saturday, and the team was celebrating their victory over their cross-town rivals the night before. They decided to have the party at Reiner's summer house, which was right along the beach.
The music was blasting around the house, and of course Reiner supplied the beer. Most of the team was already getting wasted. Jean, however, was sitting on the couch and watching everybody make fools out of themselves. He wasn't really in the mood to drink at the moment.
Reiner plopped down on the couch next to him. "Hey, what's up?"
Jean glanced up at him. "Not much, I'm just bored."
"Why? It's a party, man," he smirked and patted him on the back. "For the first time in seven years, the Knights have beaten the Titans! You should have seen Coach Shadis' face when we won."
Jean gave him a smug look. "That's because I was too busy making that winning touchdown with three seconds left in the game."
"That's right," Thomas Wagner, the team's quarterback, smirked as he nodded.
Reiner handed Jean a solo cup as he stood up on the couch.
"To Kirschtein, the team's last resort," he joked. "Without him, we would have never had such a record win against those douchie Titans!"
"To Kirschtein!" the rest of the team cheered before chugging down whatever beer was left in their cups. Jean smirked but only took one sip.
"You're too kind," he chuckled. "It was everyone working together as a team."
"Oh yeah, because Daz tripping over some mud had a huge impact on us winning," Thomas laughed.
Other team members laughed while Daz rolled his eyes. "Very funny."
They all glanced up when hearing a knock on the door. "Hey," Reiner smirked. "That must be our pizza."
"You ordered pizza?" Jean questioned as he watched his friend go to the door. Of course Reiner was ignoring him and answering the door instead.
Armin Arlert was holding the order, and he gave the football captain a neutral look. "Here is your order. It's thirty-five dollars and forty cents."
"Did you add those extra coins to piss me off?" Reiner muttered.
Armin shook his head. Normally Jean did not care if Reiner behaved like this towards him and Marco, because he did the same thing. However, since he wanted to try and be friends with Marco, he figured that he should not be like that anymore. Reiner first paid for the food before Daz took the order from Armin. As soon as the food was out of his possession, Reiner grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him inside.
"So, Armin," Reiner smirked. "How much should I smash your face in to make you stupid?"
Armin's eyes narrowed slightly. "As many times as it would take for you to ask that question over and over again until you say your threat correctly."
Reiner's eyes narrowed as he pushed him down to the floor. "You'll pay for that."
Armin shrugged, but it was evident that he was getting nervous.
Jean couldn't just sit there and let this happen. He got up from the couch and ran over to them just as Reiner was about to punch Armin. He blocked the punch by taking a hold of Reiner's fist. This action threw everyone off.
Reiner glared and tried pulling his hand back. "Jean, what the hell?"
"Reiner, Armin is just doing his job," he muttered. "Fuck off, okay? We already got Marco fired from us doing stupid shit like this. I don't think his boss would like to lose another employee because of us."
His friend glared still, but the other teammates stayed quiet. Bertholdt moved closer to Reiner and held him back as he moved away from Jean and Armin. Jean took that opportunity to look at Armin and hold out his hand. The smaller boy was unsure but complied as he helped him up.
"Thanks," Armin mumbled.
"No problem," Jean assured him. "Now, get out of here, okay? It's not worth your time."
Armin nodded. "You're changing. It's a good thing."
"Maybe I'm just growing up," he shrugged.
"It's about time someone did." He pondered for a moment. "Hey, can I slap you? Just this one time so that I have a cool story to tell about today."
Jean figured he did deserve a good slap, considering he tormented Armin and Marco for years. "Sure, I guess."
"Cool." Armin them made the best angry face he could manage before slapping him hard across the face. "Thanks, asshole."
Jean had to admit it did sting a little, and he rubbed his cheek slightly. "Later, Armin."
As soon as Armin left, Reiner went over to Jean despite how hard Bertholdt tried to hold him back.
"What the hell is your problem?" he muttered. "You let him get away, just like that!"
"And he slapped you!" Thomas added.
"So?" he shrugged. "It's not worth our time to keep hurting them."
"Pull yourself together!" Daz exclaimed. "Jean, we're losing you, man!"
"You're not losing me." He rolled his eyes quietly. "I just don't want to keep doing that. I want to keep playing football without having to prove my strength by beating up a nerd."
Reiner groaned in annoyance. "Whatever. You're on an 'I wanna be a good boy' streak? Okay, fine. But I'd better not see you try and be a hero while I'm beating someone up, okay? Do that again, and you'll be sorry."
"Oh, I'm so scared," he muttered. "This party sucks, I'm going home."
"Who needs you, anyways?"
He heard Reiner but didn't acknowledge him as he went outside. It was raining, but his jacket was at home, so he just tried quickly going over to his car. He drove quietly once getting settled. He had to think for a moment.
"Why the hell is everyone getting so worked up?" he mumbled. "It's not like being a bully was my lifetime hobby. Everyone stops being a douchebag some time in their lives, right?"
He froze when seeing the Check Engine light turn on. It has been turning on like that ever since he got it—and it didn't help that his parents told him that it was used—but of course he never got it checked. No one ever checks the engine when seeing the light. But shortly he was going to regret not doing so.
As he was on the main road, he felt the car jerk slightly. Jean froze and his ride was quickly getting bumpy. Just his luck that now the car decides to start breaking down. He glared as he pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car.
"Shit," he hissed. He got out of the car as the rain was pouring down harder. He went over to the hood and checked the engine. Once opening the hood, he flinched back and covered his face when smoke escaped from the confinement. There was a spark as well, and that made Jean quickly close the hood again.
Nope. Not even going to bother. This car's done for.
"Well, that's just great," he glared. "Fucking perfect."
By now he was drenched from the pouring rain. He crossed his arms and kicked his tire. He seriously hated this, and his house was fifty minutes away on foot. However, he had no choice but to walk, so he proceeded to do so. Thankfully, he used the sidewalk to guide him and had his cell phone in case his parents try to call him.
After about ten minutes, he heard the blaring of a car horn behind him. He glanced back and saw a 2002 navy blue Mercedez-Benz. There was only one person he knew that had a car that was over ten years old.
Marco Bodt.
Marco pulled over and got out of the car. He had a jacket on and took out an umbrella before going over to Jean while staying dry.
"Are you crazy?" he blurted out. "You could catch pneumonia walking out here like this. Where's your car?"
"Broken down on the side of the road," he mumbled. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine."
"No, you're not." While still keeping the umbrella over his head, he took of his jacket, having to switch hands as he did so. He then handed it to Jean. "Here. You need this more than I do."
Jean sighed and then put Marco's jacket on. He already felt a little warmer. "Thank you, Marco."
"You're welcome," he nodded and glanced at his car. "Come on, I'll take you home."
"Are you sure about that?" he said. "I thought you don't trust me."
"I don't," Marco insisted. "But I'm not heartless, either. Let's go, okay?"
Jean shrugged and walked over to the passenger side.
"Besides, I'll need my coat back sometime," Marco confessed and smirked as he went in the car, putting the umbrella away.
"You little—I knew there had to be a real reason." The younger of the two sat in the passenger seat, and Marco soon was back on the road. "Hey, you work at the library, don't you? Why aren't you there?"
"The library is closed today," he replied. "Columbus day weekend."
"Oh," he nodded. He watched Marco turn his stereo up. The music playing sounded like a theme to a cheesy eighties movie. "What is this shit?"
Marco's eyes narrowed as he gave him a sideways glance while driving. "Imagine Dragons."
As soon as the singing started, Jean realized he was right. "I never heard this song on the radio."
"Not every artist gets all their songs on the radio," he shrugged. "It's called 'Tiptoe.'"
Jean listened quietly and sat back. "Catchy. So, I guess they're your favourite."
"Second," he answered. "My top favourite is AC/DC. Third is Trans-Siberian Orchestra."
"Wow, that's a lot of variety," Jean whispered.
The chorus began, and Marco started to sing along as he drove.
"Hey, yeah. Don't let them know we're coming. Hey, yeah, tiptoe higher. Take some time to simmer down, keep your head down low. Hey, yeah, tiptoe higher."
Jean listened to Marco, a little surprised. "Wow. You can act and sing."
A light blush dusted Marco's freckled cheeks, and he shook his head. "N-no, not really. I-I'm a little tone deaf."
"Not at all," he insisted. "You sound pretty good."
Soon his whole face was a bright red as he tried paying attention to the road still. "Thank you, Jean."
"No problem," he nodded and thought for a moment. "Hey, do you want to stop and get something to eat? It's still early, you know. And I'll pay."
His companion looked nervous. "I-I'm not sure. I have to be back home by a certain time."
"Don't worry," he assured him. "You'll know when you need to get back."
Marco sighed and hesitantly nodded. "O-okay. I was planning on visiting my friends at the pizza place."
"I'm down for pizza," he nodded and then put his feet up on the dashboard.
"Hey, feet off," Marco chided. "Have some class."
"Sorry," he chuckled and put his feet down.
The song changed on the stereo. There was a well-known guitar riff in the beginning.
"'Thunderstruck?'" Jean mused.
"What?" he shrugged as he smiled. "It's a mixed CD."
"I can tell."
They stayed silent for the rest of the ride as the music played. This was a side of Marco he had never really seen before. He was actually fun. Nervous, but fun, as well as kind. And meanwhile Jean was a pompous asshole that was trying to clean up his act. See the difference? He did feel bad, come to think of it, since for years he intended on making his life miserable, when in reality he did not deserve that kind of treatment.
"We're here." Marco finally got to the pizza parlor and stopped the car in the parking lot.
"Cool," Jean nodded. He still had Marco's jacket on, so he went out of the car and embraced being out in the rain yet again. Marco got out as well and had his umbrella hovering over his head.
"Hey, what are you going to tell your parents when they question you about your car?" he asked while they walked to the door.
"I'll just tell them the truth," he answered. Then he opened the door to the parlor and held it. "After you, Mr. Bodt."
Marco blushed lightly and slowly went in. "T-thank you, Mr. Kirschtein."
"Wow, calling each other by our last names sounds really weird."
"Indeed. Let's not do that anymore."
"Agreed," Jean nodded. "Why are we still talking like fifty-year-old gentlemen?"
"I don't know, but I think we should stop." Marco cleared his throat to try and suppress a slight glare. "Let's go order something."
"Way ahead of you," he nodded and they both went up to the front counter. Jean could hear Armin in the kitchen.
"Then I gave that smooth jerk face a piece of my mind. I came at him, and I said 'This is for all the crap I have to deal with!' And then BAM! I slapped him right across the face!"
"Still find it hard to believe," Jean heard Ymir mumble.
"I wonder who he's talking about." Marco shifted nervously but found what he was saying amusing.
"I know," Jean smirked. He cleared his throat before calling out. "Armin, you mean to tell me that they don't believe you?"
There was a startled noise from inside the kitchen, and all three of them went out into the kitchen. Armin chuckled nervously.
"I did try to alter the story a little bit," he stammered.
"So, what really happened?" Ymir crossed her arms.
Jean walked closer to them. "The truth is, he did slap me. But he went through with it because he asked for permission to."
Marco froze. "Armin, you slapped Jean?"
"Yep." Armin looked really confident.
"B-but why?"
Jean spoke for Armin. "He was delivering Reiner's order. I was there for a lame victory party. Reiner tried beating him up in front of the team, but I stopped him. And Armin really wanted to have a story worth talking about, so I let him hit me."
Ymir looked at Armin. "That was not at all what you told us."
He shrugged and gave her a shy smile. "Yeah, I know."
"So, what are you both doing here?" Christa asked.
"My car broke down," Jean explained. "It's ancient, though, so I knew it had to die sometime. Marco found me while I was walking and offered me a ride home. In return, I'm offering him dinner."
Christa smiled. "That's adorable. And look, you're wearing Marco's jacket."
"N-no, it's not like that!" Marco insisted. "He was an idiot and forgot his own raincoat at home."
"That sounds about right," Ymir smirked.
"Anyways," Armin spoke up. "What would you two like today."
"I-I just want one slice," Marco stuttered. "Y-you know what I like."
"You sure you want only one?"
"Yes," he assured Jean. "I'm not that hungry."
"All right." Jean then looked up. "Two slices for me, please. Everything on it with extra anchovies. Add in a can of brisk if you can."
"Gross," Armin groaned. "But you got it. That will be seven-fifty."
Jean nodded and took out his wallet, paying for the food. "Hey Marco, let's go sit, okay?"
Marco nodded a little. "S-sure."
They sat at a table close to the counter so that Marco could still talk to his friends. That was understandable. In the meantime, they just sat there and waited for their food. Marco then finally spoke.
"T-that order you made on Labour Day," he started. "That one weird pie with all the anchovies. Did you intend to eat that entire pie yourself?"
"Yep," he nodded and smirked. "I fucking love anchovies."
"Disgusting," he sighed.
"I ate that entire pie after we got it too."
Marco pretended to gag a little. "That's too much for me to hand. I hate anchovies."
"Cool, so you won't steal my food," Jean joked.
"As long as you don't like black olives."
"You can keep your damn black olives, Marco," he laughed.
"Thanks," he smiled.
Ymir then came over and gave them their order.
"Can you tone down on the cuteness? I'm about to throw up," she mumbled.
"Oh, come on," Marco sighed. "What about you and Christa?"
"That's different," she muttered. "We're together. You guys are just being weird."
"Well, thanks," he muttered.
"Can't two friends just hang out together?" Jean added.
"All right…" Ymir stepped back and then went back over to the kitchen.
Marco looked a little confused. "Friends…?"
Jean nodded. "Yeah, friends."
"You… You think of me as a friend?"
The two of them were equally getting a little flustered, and Jean rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I do."
They looked into each other's eyes quietly. Jean noticed the small smile on Marco's face, and he couldn't help but embrace the warm feeling he was getting in his heart. Soon both their chests were glowing a bright red, much brighter as well as warmer than the last time they looked at each other this way. Jean propped his head on the table with his arm and was focused on Marco's face…mainly his freckles. Now that he really looked at him, Marco was not that bad looking at all. Not only was he tall, he had a nice, natural tan. And those freckles, God, they completed him. Jean just couldn't help but try and see if his freckles had special patterns.
Marco was blushing now as he quickly looked down when realizing how long they were looking at each other. "L-let's eat."
Jean nodded as he cleared his throat. The both of them started eating their slices of pizza.
"Those anchovies look putrid," Marco groaned.
He shook his head in response and hummed quietly in satisfaction as he ate. "They're delicious."
"Ew," he muttered and finished his slice.
"You're one to talk," Jean retorted. "You just ate a pizza with black olives and sausage!"
Marco shrugged as he looked at Jean, and he then smiled. He covered his mouth as he couldn't help but giggle. Jean was confused as hell.
"What?" he questioned. "Is there something on my face?"
Marco nodded as he laughed. "A piece of an anchovy is on your chin. It's so disgusting."
"Oh?" he smirked. "Want it?"
"Ew, no!" he gasped and shifted back.
He then raised his arm. He was still wearing Marco's jacket, and he had the sleeve hovered over his chin. "You sure?"
"N-not my jacket!" Marco acted like he was horrified. "Don't, that's gross!"
"I'm just playing," he laughed and grabbed a napkin so he could clean his face properly.
The two of them laughed about that for a couple of minutes. They were having a pretty good time just talking to each other and making inside jokes about their favourite pizza toppings. Jean never felt so laid back in his life, and he loved just being able to talk to someone like normal friends do. And he didn't even have to drink alcohol to make the conversations anymore lively than they already were.
After a few more moments he looked at their empty plates. "I'll go and throw our trash out, okay?"
Marco nodded and stayed in his seat as he watched Jean get up. "Okay."
Jean looked at him and then turned to throw out the trash. He kept thinking to himself how nice it was to talk to Marco, and he really liked seeing him smile. It was much better than seeing him cower underneath him, because now he was free to be himself. He started to make his way back, but he stopped when looking at Marco.
He noticed that Marco's face looked a little pale, and he was cautiously glancing in the direction of the front counter. He followed his gaze and saw that he was staring at a tall, rather bulky man with a crew cut. Jean was confused on why Marco was acting that way, and he went over to their table.
"Marco?"
"Shh!" Marco tensed as he got up silently.
"What's wrong?" His voice was a little quieter.
Marco started going over to the door. "T-that's my dad," he whispered. "D-don't ask questions, let's just go."
Jean nodded a little and slowly followed him, although he was really confused.
"Marco."
When his name was called, Marco tensed up, very hesitantly turning around. "H-hi, dad."
"What are you doing here?" he muttered. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
"Uh…" He trailed off. "Y-yeah, about that—"
"And who the hell is this clown?" his dad retorted as he pointed at Jean.
"My name is Jean Kirschtein," he replied for Marco. "You must be his father. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Kirschtein…." He glared slightly as he looked at him up and down. "Marco, why is he wearing your jacket?"
"H-he didn't have his own," Marco stuttered. "H-his car broke down, so I wanted to help him out."
He crossed his arms slightly. "But you were supposed to be at the library at the first place."
"Dad, please…" he stepped back slightly. "Y-you don't want to make a scene here, do you? I will explain everything when I get home, okay?"
Jean was still a little confused, but he watched the two of them. Marco's dad looked really intimidating and could make anyone cower away. But he was using that attitude towards Marco, his own son. Marco was practically cowering away as they spoke, despite how much he seemed to try and hide his fear. It was very evident.
"You'd better be at the house by the time I get home," he snarled and then went back over by the front counter. In that instant, Marco quietly sighed in relief and went out of the parlor with Jean behind him.
He now wanted answers from Marco. He wanted to know what was going on and will not let this pass like nothing happened. Jean grabbed his arm as they went over to the car, causing him to tense up.
"What just happened back there?" Jean asked.
"D-don't touch me," Marco mumbled, and with that request Jean let go. "Nothing happened, Jean."
"Don't give me that," he snapped. "Something is going on, and I'm not going to stop bothering you about it until you tell me."
"T-then you'll just have to keep bothering me." Marco sighed. "Come on, I'm taking you home."
Jean was surprised but now a little more concerned. He followed Marco and went in the passenger seat. He watched the older boy start driving, and he sat back in his seat. They sat in the car in silence. Marco never turned the stereo on.
What is going on with Marco?
Jean only spoke to give directions to his house. This went on for the whole ride. However, once Marco pulled into the driveway once he brought Jean home he stopped the car and rested his head on the steering wheel. Jean was nervous for him at this point. He held his breath when Marco then finally talked.
"T-to be honest, I hate that this is the only way to find perfect matches," he mumbled and curled his fingers.
Jean stayed seated. "Why?"
When Marco looked at him, he noticed that his eyes were a little red as tears started forming. "It's bullshit. Sure, once you find your soul mate, it's all great and wonderful. But scientists fail to mention the fact that we are still not immortal. We don't live forever. When two people find each other, what happens when after a little while, one of them is abruptly taken from this world? What if they die too soon? Once that happens, the one that is left is all alone."
He froze as he listened to him. He never thought of it that way. He never even considered that. He wanted to know more about why Marco felt that way.
Before Jean could ask, Marco continued talking. "My parents were happy. They met each other at the military academy after they graduated high school. They enlisted in the Navy together. They had their entire lives planned out. They got married, they had me, and everything to them was perfect."
He felt a little uneasy as he listened to his story, and he wasn't sure if he should stop him or not. Nevertheless, he found himself asking, "So then what happened?"
Marco had more tears in his eyes that were now running down his cheeks and trailing along his freckles. "I-I was eleven. M-my mom was killed while they were fighting overseas. I was so upset, that I had no will to do anything. I stayed back that year because I kept missing school and didn't do my work. I-if I didn't stay back, I would have graduated already. B-but that was only the first wave of the pain."
"'Pain?' What do you mean?"
The taller boy's eyes narrowed slightly as he sniffled. "It's called heartbreak, Jean Kirschtein. It is the worst thing you would ever feel. And according to those scientists, we are supposed to be in the age that is the end of all heartbreak. That's pretty fucking hilarious, because I feel it every day. My father felt it when she died. He was all alone. And over time, he grew bitter and angry. That was the second wave of pain. The third is the one that I still go through now. H-he feels that he has to take his anger out on me in order to satisfy himself. It helps him calm down. He likes seeing me tremble a-and cower, and it takes away his anger and pain."
Jean shifted a little closer, feeling worse for everything he did to him in the past. It was bad enough he was already feeling such pain without him and Reiner picking on him and tormenting him all the time. A dark though crossed his mind, but he didn't want to believe it. So he hesitantly voiced it so that he would know the truth.
"Marco… Does your father hurt you?"
His companion tensed. He avoided eye contact entirely, and Jean bit his lip when seeing him slowly nod. "H-he hurts me with his words. He beats me sometimes, b-but most of the time he just hits me once to shut me up. I-I'm scared at night that he would do something far worse to me, even though he has never done those kinds of things."
Jean found that he was growing a strong hatred towards Marco's father. How dare he hurt Marco like this. Didn't he know how smart he was or how talented he was? Why would he do those things to him? What did he hope to gain?
"Marco…" he whispered. "Marco, I'm so sorry."
"W-why do you care?" he retorted. "Y-you spent our entire lives just adding onto everything my father has been drilling into my head! You just made everything worse for me! I-it's bad enough that I am losing motivation because of assholes like you!"
That really hurt, but Jean deserved that. He was right, but he was trying to change.
"Marco, please. You said you didn't trust me. If you really didn't, then you wouldn't have told me about your father. And here is what I'm going to tell you now. There is no way I can ever make up for what I have done to you in the past, and I don't expect you to forgive me either. But your father is a fucking bastard. He should not be hurting you for his own personal gain. That is sick. I know, I sound like a hypocrite, but I want to change. That's what I am trying to do. I don't want to keep hurting you. I want to help you, Marco."
"Y-you've done enough," he whimpered and curled his fingers into the steering wheel. He shuddered as he then hesitantly glanced at Jean. The two of them did make eye contact, but the pained atmosphere in the room made the warm feelings they felt unnoticeable. Jean finally realized why Marco always looked so sad and hurt. His heart was broken.
Not even a moment passed, and Jean saw that his new friend hid his face in his hands, shivering as he now started to cry. Marco looked more fragile than before, and that was killing him inside. Jean shifted a little closer until the interior of the car that kept them divided stopped him from inching further.
"Marco…?"
Jean wasn't prepared for what happened next as Marco then quickly hugged him. He could tell that he just needed something to hold onto, anything that he could reach out to. So he responded by giving the sobbing boy a hug in return, not minding that his face was now buried into his neck.
"It's okay…" Jean hesitantly whispered to Marco in hopes that he could help comfort him. He rubbed his back slowly. "It will be okay, Marco. I want to help you. Let me do anything I can to make sure that you don't feel this pain anymore. I don't want you to feel so heartbroken over something that you can't control. Please, Marco…."
In response, Marco let out a whimper as he was trying to calm down. He nodded as he was clinging to Jean.
"J-just…" Marco then sniffled as he curled his fingers. "J-just don't hurt my dad. P-please don't."
"Let me just ask you something. Why do you still stay with him?"
Marco hesitantly looked at him. "H-he needs me. I-I don't want to leave him all alone."
"He doesn't need you," he insisted. "He is making you think that you do. Marco, he is too far gone, and there is no guarantee that he will stop hurting you."
"I-I know," he mumbled and hugged Jean still. "B-but he's still my dad, and I love him."
Jean sighed quietly as he kept him close. "I'll tell you what. You have my number. If your dad hurts you, don't hesitate to call me. I will comfort you that way and try and help you through it. However, if he hurts you beyond your limit, and something bad happens to you because of it, I am not holding back. I will be right over and I will take my anger out on your dad and see how he likes it. And I will take you away from that house and help you move out, because at that point he does not deserve to be near you. And that is a promise, Marco."
He saw that Marco looked really hesitant, but after thinking for a moment he nodded hesitantly. "O-okay, Jean."
"Good," he murmured as he rubbed his back gently still. Marco was calmer now.
After a moment of just holding each other like this, Marco reluctantly pulled back. "I-I have to go home. M-my dad will be really mad if I'm not back in time."
Jean nodded and then took off Marco's jacket. It finally stopped raining just a minute ago. "Okay. Be careful, Marco."
"I-I will," he assured him. "I-I'll see you at school on Monday."
He nodded and then got out of the car. He watched Marco wipe his eyes before starting the car and driving away again. Jean sighed quietly. He really hoped that Marco would be okay, but now that he knew better, he was not going to let Marco's father get away with hurting him anymore.
Jean was now going to protect new friend no matter what.