"There ain't no lover like the one I got;"
My singing echoed the room of cubicles and urinals where I'd gone to avoid, well, everyone, really. Not in a bad way, more like in the way that celebrities have to avoid the Pap's; it's nothing personal, in fact it can be pretty flattering. I thought so anyway.
"Ain't no lover like the one I got."
I winked at myself in the mirror, the wetness of my hands spraying as I mimed shooting the glass. There was no point in using the hand-dryer because my hands would dry before the thing even turned on. I subtly altered the lyrics, because Jean gives himself what he wants.
"He and I had a brand new start, gotta give him all my love~"
Me? Pumped up? Well… only because I was the mystery man now known as "#Maria'sPrankster2K13". Word spread around fast in this tiny school in Trost. As in, it hadn't even been half an hour since the assembly.
I was the valiant student, bestowed by Twitter a truly honorable title that I would one day boast about to my less successful friends at a penthouse party, because even when you're out of school your reputation as a high-school-er lives on, 'til death do you and the rep' apart. I was the kind of person, who would make a promise like that and keep it, due to my pathetically amazing memory.
Other than that, I was busy also thinking about Connie's advice-the guy should just leave school and become a therapist, or no wait he needs to go to school to do that (he was not allowed to miss another day of school ever again, I'd make sure of that too)-and although it was some awesome advice, I found myself steering away from it. Only slightly though. And it was just because I wanted to get Marco to like me sooner rather than later.
His hand on my thigh this morning? That was normal for the Bodt; he always was one of those touchy-feely guys, and I knew this since he often-he had often-given me hugs that I begrudgingly accepted because he was soft and nice, etc. Roaming hands brought a roaming mind when it came to Jean Kirstein… So unsurprisingly, I was a little distracted from coming up with "#MakeMarcoRemember" ideas.
My singing stopped just as said guy walked into the bathroom, toilets, whatever you want to call it-it's still a stinky shithouse-and gave me a small but friendly grin-I was still trying to get used to him being nice since something magical had happened to him overnight (WAIT THE SÉANCE) - and waved, dodging a suspicious puddle, most likely the same suspicious puddle from earlier that week, on his way to a urinal.
My heart plummeted in embarrassment; I gripped onto the edge of the basin and my back tensed up as I faced away from him. I was SO glad that he couldn't see me pulling my awkward "freaking out" face. It wasn't attractive, even if it was a split second long. A split second TOO LONG, I think you'll find.
What are you supposed to do when a guy you like whips out his penis when in the same room as you? Granted, he was using it to go to the toilet, but, like, in porno, wasn't there scenes where a situation like this would lead to an impromptu blowjob?! Also, where the hell do you look? The sound of him pissing broke through my inner monologue. Nopenopenope-
With a quiet, frustrated groan I decided to just avoid the entire situation, neglecting my wet, soapy hands that needed drying but could do without, and made a beeline for the door on my left. I had my hand curled around the door handle when I heard:
*diminuendo of the sound of pee*
*zip*
"Hey Jean wait up, won't you?"
A patter of footsteps and tap water turning on soon followed, meanwhile I was stuck standing there, holding onto the door like an idiot because I was a coward and far too scared to let myself do…anything, if I was being honest. "Anything" was a very vague thing, as in "Jean, don't do anything to fuck this, whatever it is, up". But it seemed to be enough because I turned to see Marco up close behind me-it would've looked VERY suggestive in another situation-and he gestured for me to open the door that I was currently blocking.
I don't think I fucked up because a few minutes later, we found ourselves hiding in Marco's bat cave (he was wearing an appropriate t-shirt, how cool) and it felt really weird not seeing his friends in here with him. Hmm, are ex-friends a thing? He sat beside me on the red tiled steps, leaning forward so he could rest his face in his hand and-hahrlgh, oh, jeez, that was cute, the way it smooshed up half his face. Heh, heheh, I seriously felt the need to hide my face because this was slightly too much-wait, what was I talking about?
Oh, right, so he was sitting on the step behind me, I was sitting down too, obviously and uh, god he was so freaking close, I really wanted to cuddle him, the memory of him hugging me was seriously vivid right then-
He glanced over at me worriedly. "Jean, are you okay?" His sociable attitude that he'd been sporting since that morning was weirding me out, which was probably, unbelievably ironic. Marco had always been really social, even with me-perhaps especially so, just… not in this life.
"I was just going with the flow before, but now you actually do look like a horse. A horse that's about to sneeze or throw up."
How charming.
There he was; there's the Bodt I had come to know and love, um, well, like. (Okay, so… Sometimes I'd go all out in my mind and party, hell I fucking raved in there half the time, about how much I liked the guy, and other times I would clam up and hide every existing memory of that fact.)
I sighed, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. I reached a hand up to my pale face, rubbing at my cheek while looking at him with what I hoped was fear and worry.
"Do I really? Do I honestly look like a horse? I mean, I know it's always girls that get a bit self conscious when they're teens, but I've been told by so many people that I look… I look like a horse," I pretended to tear up.
"And I ain't never gonna get laid if I look like Black Beauty!…But without the beauty…'cause I'm a guy and horses aren't exactly beautiful? Like, what's with that? I'd rather look hot, if I'm being honest with you. Am I even remotely attractive, Mar-mar? Or have I been given equestrian features that I am doomed with until I pay for painful, heart-breaking surgery that most likely won't work?"
"Uh…" He glanced at me in confusion, raising a dark eyebrow. "I don't know… I'm not really the best person to go to about stuff like that."
"Like what, pep talks?"
"…Well, just advice in general, really."
I spun around, putting my hands on his step and stared at him.
"Dude, you're like, the best of the best to go to for advice. You always have been, and I seriously doubt that that would've changed in any shape or form."
He scratched his nose and sniffed, looking away from my intense gaze that totally wasn't me ogling him.
"Nah. I'm not. You would be, but you lecture too much for it to sound like advice."
"What do you mean nah?!"
"I mean… nah? Nope? No… sir-ee? I'm not sure if I can explain it better than that, I'm just crap at giving people advice."
Marco Bodt? Incapable of giving advice? HA. That's completely wrong. He pretty much had been the unofficial counselor of the 104th Trainee Squad. He'd told me about comforting Daz, several kids that came up to him and started talking about things ranging from mental disorders, to people they had crushes on, to their reputation, even though he barely knew him. He'd helped me countless times as well. I supposed that maybe things weren't like that now, but he'd still be good at helping people out, right? Why wouldn't he be?
"You used to help me all the time with Mikasa." I told him, turning around again, folding my arms angrily.
"I helped you…?" he frowned until the realization set in. "Oh, you mean you liked her, and I helped you?"
"Basically. But I'm over her. Do you…?" Bluntness gets answers, you see. Although… maybe that sounded a bit out of place. IDEK.
He leaned his side against the metal banister, gazing into space longingly. "I don't think I've ever liked anyone. Apparently when you do, you just know, and I haven't felt something like that before." He blushed, as if he just understood that he'd shared something personal with me.
"Hmmm."
I wouldn't be the better man; I actually was really relieved that he didn't like Mikasa, and I didn't know what I would have done if he said he did. I couldn't really imagine them together anyway… Mika-Marco. No. It didn't have a ring to it, not like, say… Mar-Jean. Perfect, Mar-Jean had the perfect sound to it. We could be called Margarine as a nickname.
However, I was a bit disappointed that he'd never liked anyone; half because it meant he didn't like me-okay, maybe more than half- and half because having a crush was actually pretty awesome.
It was only painful if you got in over your head, or if they didn't like you back.
"Well, I'll come to you if I ever-"
The door behind us flung open, making us both jump and I gasped. Marco stumbled in an attempt to stand up, ready to run should it be a teacher, which it was. But they were wheezing far too loudly for them to try and tell us off for going to the Forbidden Stairwell of St. Maria's.
He was about to sprint over us, most likely about to leap down the stairs four at a time, then his tired, hazel eyes focused on us and he fell back slightly. He combed fingers through his mousy brown hair, using the other to lean on the railing above Marco. Poor Marco was grimacing in fear; he totally was still such a goodie two shoes.
"Hanji…" he huffed hopefully. "Where is it?"
I shrugged at him apologetically. "Sorry Mr Moblit, we haven't seen Hanji. Well we have, the other day and it wasn't really that great an experience-"
"Okay, sorry, I'd love to talk but this is pretty important so I got… I gotta go." I think I heard him screaming in agony after the door closed behind him, leaving me and Marco alone again.
I looked at the swinging door behind us, Marco did the same with sympathy all over his features. Me… Well, I did pity the poor, flustered guy. Some things never changed.
"Being a headmaster's pet must be hell."
"Yup."
It was something simple; he'd gone over this with me, telling me how much he had to do this, that he'd do it because it was important to him, not just because it was important for it was still simple, until Marco saw our lunch table and went into a very uncharacteristic panic.
"No, Jean, it's bad enough that I tried to make you guys sit with me-"
"I spent break with you earlier, I'm inviting you this time-"
"And a lot of people really, and I mean really don't like me over there-"
"True, true; but I'm sure that apology you promised can change that."
He continued to struggle in my grasp on his shoulders as I tried to push him to our table; his warm fingers tearing at my hand were sending these amazing jolts up my arm that had me wishing we could do this all day.
"Chill man, it's not like they bite. Well, maybe only when food is around. Connie can be surprisingly protective of his food while Sasha just eats it out your hand like a seagull."
"They might think I'm food, I'm being fed to the lions here!"
I shook my head, rolling my eyes as I continued to shove him along and he comically let me in mock defeat.
"I bet they're cannibals…"
I paused dramatically, and then continued walking and pushing.
"Jean," his voice rose fearfully. "Why aren't you denying it? I don't want to be eaten!"
I froze.
He slipped out of my loose grip, trudging in front of me with slumped shoulders.
"Fine, fine, I did say I'd say sorry. I must change for the better, a positive character arc, I think it's called. Things won't ever be the same."
I hesitated in answering. "Hey…" I said quietly. "Is it alright if we meet up later? After school, if you've got time?" I looked at the wooden table where Sasha, Connie, Bert and Reiner sat.
He sighed in annoyance. "The things you make me do for you, Jean."
Our table looked like a poker table; crowded with shifty glances and contempt. Most of it was directed at Marco. Reiner clasped his hands together, leaning forward on the table, acting as though he hadn't just clapped loud enough for it sound like thunder. His frown-that was just his face-but it was in an even deeper frown today and he looked a bit like a pug.
A burly, blonde pug.
Now that's not something you see every day.
"Listen," he growled at the fake Marco polo. "I know fine well that anybody can say sorry, but it doesn't mean anything. I just want you to tell me why you felt the sudden urge to call me out in front of everyone, and for to tell me exactly what it is that you hate so much about the fact I'm gay-that me and Bertholdt are going out-tell me why you hate that." He paused, keeping his blue glare on Marco's calm, brown orbs.
"If you're honest, I'll consider letting Jean near you two times a day; and that's if you're lucky."
Marco rolled his eyes. "I'd be lucky if you kept him away from me, but okay, whatever."
He squirmed at his place on the bench, sighing loudly, folding his arms as he pulled a face. Maybe this was why he had been so nice; because he hated saying sorry so much that he just didn't do anything to annoy people. I never could have lived by a rule like that. My apology would've just ended in an argument anyway.
"See, the thing is, is that although I'm what you call a "homophobe", it's not in the way you think." His shoulders slumped and he lifted a hand to speak into it. "Homophobes are just seen as people who hate gay people, but me, I'm… I'm just scared, I guess." He scoffed at himself. "A guy afraid of other guys liking guys. What the hell, right? But you could say that about any fear, like… I don't know.
Some people are afraid of bees, some more than others, and the ones who are completely terrified are a bit hard to understand… Since most others don't see bees as being that scary… And that's what it's like for me about gay guys… Or girls… I'm totally not making any sense, am I? I just, I got scared, like, actually scared in the middle of class so I whined about it. That's it. That's why I was a dick."