Sorry for the delay guys! There's been a huge blackout in PR, literally across the whole island, and living without internet (and water, in addition!) is the worst. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan.
Summer Camp Love
Chapter Eleven
-"Oh my fucking…,"- I groaned as I sat up from bed rubbing my aching head, -"… fuck!"- I cursed aloud, gripping and pulling my hair… and making it worse. It feels like it's being split open, holy fuck. I dragged my legs to the side and tried to stand up… only to have them give up on me and stagger down, dropping on my ass, -"Fuck me!"- I cursed, again. Every limb in me was numb and my fucking head ached. This is the worst part of drinking the hell out of your liver, the fucking hangover. I'm even nauseous and groggy, everything was spinning and bouncing. I can't even stand up, Christ's sake. Where's Marco when I need him?
And then it clicked.
I propelled myself up and dashed to the bathroom, slamming the door close and falling to my knees in front of the toilet, barfing the fuck out of my poor belly. It hurts, leaving my throat scorching and aching. I whined and gulped unintentionally, making the situation worse for myself. I gripped the toilet's cold edges and sunk my head deeper in, puking the last of the alcohol out. Once clear, I spun the shower on and literally sat on the slippery tiles with clothes on. I kept staring at the white, tiled wall before me for what seemed like eternal hours… doing absolutely nothing. It's like my brain and my whole body did a shut down and I just had to wait until I sobered up enough -enough to at least think.
After… I don't know how long, I managed to at least bring up one thought: Marco. And it hurt. My head hurts and my chest tightens when I repeated his name. Marco. I hissed at the struck of pain and rubbed my sodden temples. Why the hell does it hurt? What did I do to deserve this? I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to remember anything from last night but if my experience with alcohol thought me something… is that remembering stuff is practically impossible, especially if you drank more than ten bottles of it.
I gave up with dragged sight and dropped my body back, letting the water shower on my whole body. I can't remember anything and something tells me that that's for the best. It feels weird, though. I feel weird and uncomfortable with myself. I feel like I did something weird last night but I can't wrap my head around it.
I ignored that like an ignorant prick for the next eternal hours or whatever.
I managed to at least wash my hair and teeth, feeling really grubby and dingy. With a towel around my head, I trudged out of the bathroom with a tired sight and sat on the bed, drying my hair. I then gazed up by impulse, suddenly wondering about Marco. I don't remember him ever coming back from Armin's little hangout and it made my heart ache, more than usual. I clutched my chest and dropped my head.
Not this again, I thought, stop being such a baby.
God, I hate myself. A sudden sadness threatened to overwhelm me now that I was thinking of Marco, and that pain in my chest lingered again. He abandoned me, he really did. I got drunk and he didn't even bother this time. I bet he forgot all about me. I bet he now watches Armin's back and takes care of him when he gets drunk-
I slapped myself, literally slapped, like an overly possessive girl in one of those dramatic late night novels slapping their boyfriends.
Not that again, dude, I thought, it's really annoying.
It proved difficult, though, so I stood up and rummaged the fridge for something to eat, trying to distract my mind. I found an apple prone to decay and since my stomach voted against eating it, I tossed it in the dump and kept searching. I snatched a pack of crackers and slammed the door shut, turning around and trudging towards the lounge. I sat on the chair and clicked the TV on. That's when I realized that the place was unusually clean, tidy. When I get drunk, I always make a mess so this… cleanup is out of place.
I wanted to believe it was Marco, really, and I shook my head briskly at that. Just forget about him, Jesus fuck.
Abruptly, loud moaning sounds rang across the dorm and I hopped in place and flipped the remote control into the air. It spun and crashed on the floor behind me with a loud crunching sound. I quickly stood to pick it up and then, just then, the main door opened up and Marco popped in innocently, making my heart skip one big beat, -"Jean? Can I... uh…"- He heard and saw the porn I must've been watching last night and his cheeks lit up, like always.
I laughed nervously and threw my leg back, kicking the TV off, -"Uh… forget 'bout that,"- I stuttered, nervously rubbing my nape as I knelt to pick up the blasted TV control, -"I was t-totally not watching that."- I added and it was stupid. Really stupid.
-"O… okay,"- He said, with a deep breath following after, -"C-can I…?"
I gazed up at him, feeling oddly heated up inside, -"Uh, yeah."- This is our dorm, dumbass.
-"Th-thanks…"- He spoke, meekly stepping in with his head down and hands in his pockets. I picked up the last bits of the remote control and dropped them on the table, wincing at it. That's gonna cost me a lot if someone finds out. Thoughtlessly, I picked it up again and prompted to dump it but Marco spoke against it, -"What're you doing?"
-"Uh, getting rid of it?"- I drawled uneasily and awkwardly, avoiding his gaze.
Marco shook his head and snatched the bits from me, -"It's easy to fix, lemme just…,"- He sat on the chair and started tinkering with it, clicking the buttons back together and pressing the battery lid until it was good as new… relatively speaking, -"Let's test it…,"- He mumbled, aiming it towards the TV and clicking it on, again displaying the porn movie and rattling the fucking sounds aloud. He yelped and smashed his finger on the button again, his cheeks flaring up, -"Um… here, good as new… more or less."- He hovered it before him, clearing his throat awkwardly, and when I took it, our fingers grazed slightly and I felt a wave of warmth swamp me from the tip of my finger to my toes. I shivered and yanked my hand back, startling him.
Awkward silence ensued afterwards and I was tapping my foot both nervously and angrily. I wanted to speak to him, apologize for being a prick, but I was also pissed off, -"What're you doing here?"- I snapped, unable to handle it anymore, -"Last time I checked, we weren't speaking."
His eyes rose up a bit as he fidgeted his shirt's fringes coyly, -"Well, you weren't…"
I blinked, -"Huh?"
-"Look, Jean, I…,"- He took a deep breath, as if being here in the first place proved difficult for him. It's like he has a lot to say but those words were stuck in his mouth, -"I know you're mad at me but… I… I…,"- He gulped and shook his head, abruptly changing the topic, -"Y-yesterday, I came here and y-you were… drunk but you said some things, some really… unusual but emotive things… to me and I…,"- His breathing staggered, his lips quavering as he forced himself to gaze up at me, his eyes teary, -"… do you remember?"
I started to shake my head until something clicked again, harder this time, and it struck every nerve in my feeble body. I started trembling in place as my head cramped up with memories, hitting me like a tidal wave, making my eyes widen painfully. I remember saying something really weird to him, even though it felt truthful, like it came from deep within the confines of my heart: that I loved him. I remember telling him that I missed him, that I felt lonely without him and I remember confessing to him that I was jealous, that I pictured him naked in my mind, that I like his scent a lot and that I watched him masturbate at night -all of these are more than enough to make my head spin and they're too much for me to handle, too much for me to feel comfortable with.
Oh, and here comes the best part.
I almost fucked him. I remember I almost fucked him after telling him all that. I remember kissing him like there was no tomorrow for us, I remember sinking my hand in his pants to… to fap him, to seep my finger in his ass and-
I remember his moans; they ring just right beside my ear as of now and it made me shiver.
I remember him jacking me off then by his beseech. I might've been drunk and I might be suffering a hangover right now but it doesn't take much thinking to know that I wanted to do that -drunk or not- and he wanted it too. It felt right and it felt good.
Because I do house feelings for him.
I should've drunk more.
-"Jean…?"- Marco called, his voice hoarse and lapsing as he loomed closer to me, waiting for an answer, -"S-say something…"
I don't think I should. I bet my face says it all and even so, I shook my head and started laughing maniacally and nervously, -"Nope, sorry, man. I can't remember shit,"- With a hand on my forehead, I avoided his gaze as best as I could, trying too hard to play the innocent and ignorant act, -"Whatever I said, I didn't mean it. I was drunk, like… really drunk and I tend to say and do stupid things,"- With a dismissive wave of my hands, I turned around and sauntered straight to the TV, -"So, yeah… just forget about it."- I clutched my chest, feeling it tightening painfully.
God, those words felt really wrong coming out of my mouth, foul. They stung and itched on my tongue, like when you accidentally bite something nasty in your food. I had a serious impulse to turn around and just say the truth but… I didn't. I kept my shaky mouth shut, making my chin ache and sore.
I heard Marco taking in a shaky and tedious intake of breath, gulping and gasping several times like… like he's trying really hard to hold tears and cries, -"Th… that's really cru-"
I didn't want to hear it so I spun around and started laughing louder, -"I must've looked like a real moron, right? You should've filmed me, just to have a laugh!"- As I faced him, my eyes locked on his expression and it was as if he spilled a giant bucket of cold water on me, drenching me whole and making waves of cold, unbearable shivers ebb through me, literally knocking me off my feet. It really hit me hard in the guts. I leant against the chair before I could fall, eyes still locked on his face: it was full of sadness and disillusion, of betrayal and dismal. He looked broken. He clutched his chest as if he were in pain, just like I was, and tightened his jaw.
I saw a thin tear escape his eyes as he gaped his shaky lips to speak, without looking up… not even once, -"Oh, I… I see…,"- He drawled, sobbing silently as he turned around, -"I'm… I'm really sorry for bothering you,"- He headed towards the door and I wanted to go after him, lock the door and keep him in here forever with me, to play games, watch anime and cheer him up, -"G-goodbye… Jean."- He opened the door and looked over his shoulder, giving me one last grieving look before he started to close the door.
At that second, I couldn't control my body and dashed straight ahead but it was too late.
I fell to my knees and dossed my head on the door, staring down at the floor and watching my tears slosh on it with a light sound. I started sobbing uncontrollably, chocking and coughing often.
I haven't sobered up one bit.
And I tried to but Marco's broken expression was carved in my mind like cavemen engrave doddles on rocks or… whatever. I couldn't rip it out and it hurts. It really hurts. Marco looked broken, like I just minced his heart with those awful words. I feel horrible, like shit and trash, like a real damn jerk. I've never felt this bad before with myself and I couldn't stand it. I wanted to smash my head hard on the wall, knock myself out and never wake up.
I wish I hadn't remembered. It's a cowards' way out for a coward like me.
For the rest of the day, I didn't do anything other than think about Marco, try to figure out why my cowardice wounded him so much and take baths. I had a gut feeling that it's stupidly obvious but I really couldn't wrap my mind on it, especially when I'm unable to sober up.
Then suddenly, while bathing, Reiner's words popped in my head, like a bubble or a light bulb. He told me he suspected Marco has a crush on me, that he's gay and I totally second that. He's definitely gay: first the porn and then yesterday's little ahem is enough to clarify it.
He can't have a crush on me, I mean… it's me! Armin's a… nice guy, with the same interests and quirks as Marco, so why the hell would he hold a crush on me? Why will anyone would? I'm unbearable, annoying, dramatic, a jerk, a wreck, a prick -just think of the uncoolest guy ever, I'm that. None of my quirks are cool or positive. They're all bad. Heck, all these years no one has shown interest in me and for good reasons.
And trust me, I wanted to believe someone has actually found something relatively good among the bad traits in me but… it can't be Marco. It's just that… he's sweet, he's caring, he's loving, he's gentle and… and cute. How can someone like him have a crush on me? It's impossible!
And then I forget that he nurtured me when I had no one else to watch my back, when no one cared about me and he was there when I needed a shoulder to lean on. That… that has to mean something; that for him, I'm somehow worth all that trouble… because I'm special to him.
But that still doesn't prove that he has a crush on me. We're just… best friends, so it's normal. That's what best friends do, right? They take care of each other, they watch each other's back and they spend time together. They watch… um, weird stuff together and they play… Twister, in a weird but still fun way… right?
Who am I kidding?
Last night, I said some things to him that really had his attention -and it wasn't just saying, it was confessing. I confessed to him that I like his scent a lot, that I watched him jack off at night and that I was really jealous when he started hanging out with Armin. I cringed, the memories coming back to me painfully. That's a straight hit at my dignity -if I ever had one. I wouldn't ever say that -I mean… confess that- unless I'm drunk… which, to my misfortune, I was. I also confessed to him that I loved him, more than a friend, and I admit, it felt truthful, heart warming. Now, though, I felt embarrassed beyond belief and I wanted to go back in time and stop myself from getting drunk -or encourage myself to drink more, so I wouldn't remember anything the next day, meaning, today.
I sat on the table, hands gripping my hair tightly as I pondered and pondered over and over again for the answer to the big question: do I like Marco more than a friend? Am I gay? Last night, I spoke with certainty but right now, my mind's a mumbled mess: I don't know and it scares the hell out of me. Marco and I have done weird shit, and last night, I was really drunk. I mean, I still like girls; I see Mikasa and my heart still bounces against my chest. If so, I'm bi, not gay and it doesn't mean I like Marco. Maybe it's just simple infatuation, maybe I just like him a lot because he has taken care of me and given the attention no one has even given me, maybe it's… it's…
I'm so confused, so lost like a kid in an amusement park. I don't know anything anymore but what I do know is that I have a lot of issues -sexual issues- and all of them involve that freckled son of a bitch of a roommate.
