Learning to Love the Cold
Chapter Four: Pivots
Christmas comes and goes, but not all that quickly.
Jean's family's going to be around until the day before he starts school back up. And really, he's not sure if he's going to survive at this point.
Having his siblings home is one thing, but all of his aunts and uncles, along with his cousins? There's hardly any room to walk without running into one another, and he has to share his room with his brother. It's not like he hates his brother—he's probably Jean's favorite out of everyone in his family—but sharing a room with him isn't the greatest when he's eight years older. As a kid it was fascinating. Now he needs his space.
So when Marco texts him and asks him if he wants to hang out and spend the night at his house for new years, he happily agrees. For both the reason of his family crowding him and the fact that it's the last time he and Marco will get to properly hang out before nationals, and possibly the Olympics if he makes it.
Jean: really though like it needs to new years now i can't do anything my family is everywhere i think they're multiplying there's like three people i don't even recognize
"Jean, no texting at the table!"
"Sorry, mom," he shoves his phone into his pocket, inwardly groaning.
"You actually have friends?" One of Jean's older sisters—the one by three years—asks.
Jean nods. "Yeah, believe it or not I actually do."
"Oh!" Jean's mother perks up as she glances between her two youngest children. "Jean, did you tell the girls about all of your new skating friends?"
"No." Can I please go to my room? Or better yet, Marco's room? (He wonders what Marco's room looks like. Is it messy, or clean? Probably clean. Marco seems so neat when it comes to that kind of stuff. Does he live in a big house? A mansion?)
"Well, tell them!"
"I have friends. They skate," he turns back to his mother. "There, I told them."
"Jean."
"Fine. I have friends. They skate. They might go to the Olympics. So that's a thing, I guess. Good enough this time?"
His oldest sister—by five years—leans forward. "Give me names. I might know who they are if they're that good." She looks like she doesn't believe him.
"Marco Bodt—that's who I was texting a minute ago. Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, Mina Carolina. There are others, too."
His sisters are staring at him with their mouths wide open. "Marco Bodt? You're friends with Marco Bodt?"
"Um, yeah. Is it that big of deal? He can skate. Why are you so amazed?"
His phone vibrates in his pocket.
His mom's not paying attention anymore, so he pulls it out.
Marco: that sounds terrifying oh gosh
"Are you talking to him? Like, right now?"
Jean glances up, making a face at his oldest sister. "Yeah, so what?"
"Can you tell him I said hi?"
"He doesn't even know who you are."
"So you've never mentioned me before?" She looks offended.
"There wasn't a point." He ignores her after that, his attention settling on his phone again.
He has mentioned her before, but only in passing. (It was a, "I have two sisters. They both suck," kind of thing.)
Jean: my sisters are like huge fans of you apparently i find it really funny like they're freaking out that not only do i have friends but they're like famous or whatever
Marco: tell them i said hi! :)
Jean: no they're terrible they don't deserve it
Marco: u only dislike them because ur siblings
Jean: no though like they dressed me up as a fairy princess before i could defend myself as a child you don't understand that pain
Marco: im the youngest too jean don't act like ur the only one that suffered
Jean: yeah okay but did your sisters dress you up as a fairy princess and then take you to show and tell while your mom proudly took pictures of her daughters parading around the school with her youngest son's face smeared with red lipstick because
Marco: no but
Marco: yeah no I didn't suffer that much
Jean: on the bright side i'm pretty sure i look hot as hell with red lipstick on to this day
Marco: r u saying u were hot as hell in red lipstick as a child?
Jean: yes
New Years Eve finally comes around. Jean spends most of his day impatiently counting down the minutes until he'll be at Marco's, away from the craziness that is his family.
At 4:30, he grabs his stuff and makes his way for the door. He gets stopped by different family members about four times before he makes it, but he manages somehow. Twenty five minutes later, he's parked in the Bodt's driveway.
So he does live in a mansion.
Jean's only been in one mansion. His grandparent's on his mom's side back in France. They'd usually go there over Christmas break, but with moving not long before everyone decided it would be best to come to them, hence how packed his house has been.
I'm five minutes early.
Five minutes isn't that bad. But what if I was five minutes late? Isn't that usually a bad thing? So being five minutes early might be bad, too.
He pushes back his internal struggle and makes his way to the massive front door and rings the doorbell. He can hear a faint ding dong from inside the house, and then shuffling.
The door opens and there stands an older woman who strongly resembles Marco. She even wears the same kind smile and sports freckles. "Hello! Come in, come in! You're Jean, right? Marco's told me all about you. I'm his mother. It's lovely to meet you!"
Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Marco's making his way down the (also massive) staircase. "Jean! Hi!"
Jean slips his shoes off and leaves them by the door (he figures they'll be fine there; there's four pairs of shoes sitting there besides his own). "Hey," he smiles at Marco.
Marco turns around, waving for Jean to follow him. As they go, Marco's mother says, "I'll bring you guys a tray of snacks in a few minutes!"
"Thanks, mom."
When Jean reaches the landing, he stops in his tracks. "Oh my God, your house is huge," he says, looking down the hallway. It stretches to both the right and left, doors everywhere. He can see that if you continue all the way to the right, the hallway curves. On the left, there's another staircase to the third floor. "How do you not get lost in here?" he asks when he stumbles into following Marco again. The floor is cold on his feet (it's marble. The floor is literally made of marble. How rich is he? Or, his parents, he supposes).
"I grew up here," he says, heading to the right. "Well, mostly grew up here. I was born here, then we went back to France for a year, then Italy. We came back when I was two, going on three."
"You're French?"
Marco nods, going down the curve in the hallway. (This time, the hallway is one long stretch with only a turn to the left at the end.) "Yeah. My dad actually really wanted me to skate for France, but I was raised here. So I feel like that wouldn't be right."
They make it to the end and turn again. Jean opens his mouth to respond when one of the doors open and out steps a girl. She looks like Marco—almost like a girl version of him without freckles. She eyes Jean for a moment before slipping past the two without a word. Marco opens the door opposite of the one she came out of, taking Jean's bag when he enters behind him.
"That was my sister, by the way." He sets Jean's bag by his bed, which he then plops himself onto. "She's evil. Don't ever go near her. Don't even look at her."
"Wait. Evil compared to you? Because pretty much everyone is evil compared to you." Jean sits down next to him. (Oh my God I'm sitting on Marco Bodt's bed. This is probably my best accomplishment yet.)
"Evil compared to the average person."
"So, like me?"
"You're not average."
"I'm below average, probably," Jean says. He doesn't really mean it in a demeaning way; it's simply that he's never felt that he's done anything outstanding ever in his life.
"Above," Marco says, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.
Jean looks at him. The way the other's lips curve makes him want to close the short distance between them and kiss him, but he decides that's probably not the best move. Not yet, at least. He doesn't want to ruin any chances by doing something without warning. He also doesn't want to be a distraction to Marco leading up to nationals and, hopefully, the Olympics.
After a moment of silence, Jean asks, "Do you speak French?"
At 11:45, Marco pauses the videogame they're currently playing. "There's only fifteen minutes until the ball drops," he says, changing the channel to the live coverage of the New Years event going on in New York. "I can't believe 2013 is almost over," he adds as an afterthought.
Jean sets his controller down, yawning. "I can't believe I'm so tired. It's not even that late."
Marco leans back, staring up at the ceiling. "This is late for me. I have to get up way too early in the morning, so staying up late isn't really a thing I can do."
"I always thought you seemed more like a morning person."
"I can be," he says, "but only sort of. So long as I have coffee."
"Then wouldn't most people be morning people? Coffee is what helps night owls get through the day, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess it is. So, I'm not really a morning person, I have to be."
They both go silent as all of the people on the TV begin to count down the final moments of the year. At twenty, Marco picks up counting and Jean joins in.
"Three, two, one! Happy New Year!" they both shout, grinning at each other.
They both watch as the confetti falls over all of the people. (He always felt bad for whoever gets stuck with cleaning all of it up.) He turns to Marco. "Hey, have you ever had a New Years kiss?"
Marco shakes his head. "No."
Jean's grin widens, though he feels a ball of nervousness in his stomach, spreading throughout his entire body. "Would you like one?"
Marco nods. "Yeah, that would be nice."
This time, Jean really closes the distance between them, rather than only thinking about it. There's not much that's special to the kiss; it's simply him firmly pressing his lips to Marco's, with Marco doing the same back. Besides it not being a remarkable New Years make out session, Jean still feels like he's—well, he's not sure, even. Floating? Like an electric shock has spread throughout his body, replacing the nervous feeling, and it won't stop tingling?
Marco pulls him back for a second kiss by grabbing onto his shirt and tugging Jean to him. This kiss is rougher, and the next thing Jean knows they're completely intertwined with each other. They're a mess of limbs on the floor of Marco's bedroom, really. It probably doesn't look as nice as it feels, but Jean was never one to care too much about appearances anyway.
Marco breaks the kiss and Jean has to stop himself from pulling him right back in. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is ruffled and sticking up in all the wrong directions (which looks so right on him). He's breathing somewhat heavily to catch the lost breath.
"How was that for a first new years kiss?" Jean asks after a few moments.
Marco nods for a moment, "It was good," he says breathlessly. "Really good. Thank you."
First real JeanMarco action of the story! Finally. There's still probably two or three more chapters before the real issue will even come up, so we have quite a bit to go yet. Maybe even more than three chapters until that issue evolves.
On a side note, this will probably be the only chapter this week. There's a slight possibility that chapter five will be up by Sunday, but I won't have any time to write besides tomorrow and Sunday. I'm actually going to be at a competition! So, I won't be writing about skating, but I actually will be skating.