Chapter Ten: Biellmann

The following day is the usual whirlwind beginning at 3:00 AM with Marco's alarm blaring throughout his room. He rolls over with a loud groan of protest, his hand searching his bedside table for the culprit of annoying tone. Finally he comes across his phone and unlocks it, turning off the alarm. The brightness hurts his eyes and he squints. 3:01. He sits up and stretches, another groan escaping as he leans to turn on the lamp.

He slowly pushes himself out of bed, setting his phone down on his bedside table once again. He stumbles around his room to grab his clothes for the morning, although it's so messy he doesn't know if he has anything clean. Which irks him, considering he always keeps his room as tidy as possible. But with his current schedule… it's more rigorous than anything else he's put himself through, figure skating or otherwise.

He pads through the dark hallway, the marble cold against his bare feet. He pushes the bathroom door open, a yawn emitting from his mouth. He shudders a little; he can't stand the taste of his mouth in the morning. He sets his clothes on the counter and quickly brushes his teeth to rid of the putrid taste (and smell, too).

He turns on the shower, letting the water run over his hand as he adjusts the temperature. Once warm, he checks the bathroom for everything he needs: a towel, his razor (he's pro at shaving in the shower without a mirror at this point), and his phone.

He throws his head back, releasing a loud groan and grumbles as he hurries back to his room. He's probably going to be a few minutes late to practice now, which isn't something he can currently afford, and he also doesn't want to put up with Levi's disapproving glares.

He nearly runs back to bathroom after retrieving his phone, quickly setting and starting a five minute timer. He strips off his underwear and jumps into the shower, sighing softly when the hot water hits his back. But he can't stand here for hours even though he would like to. No, he has to quickly rush through washing his hair and body as well as shaving (granted, he doesn't really grow much facial hair, which he's actually thankful for. It doesn't suit him anyways).

He finishes rinsing out his hair when the timer sounds. He turns off the water and grabs his towel, drying himself as quickly as possible while stepping out of the shower. He stops the shrill alarm on his phone from sounding and starts pulling on his clothes.

With one more ruffle of his hair with a towel, he heads from the bathroom to downstairs.

3:14 AM.

He grabs a granola bar, his zuca bag, and his car keys and silently heads to his car.

Today was Tuesday, meaning his schedule was killer. He mentally goes over the day, trying not to cringe at the lack of time to pack (which he really should have done last night…)

3:30 AM - 3:50 AM Stretch

4:00 AM - 6:00 AM Morning Warm Up - On Ice Training

6:00 AM - 8:00 AM Footwork / MIF

8:00 AM - 10:00 AM Break

10:00 AM - 12:00 PM Off Ice Training

12:00 PM - 12:30 PM Jumps

12:30 PM - 1:00 PM Spins

1:00 PM - 2:00 PM Short Program

2:00 PM - 4:00 PM Break

5:00 PM - 7:00 PM Long Program

7:00 PM - 8:00 PM Cool Down

He shared this schedule with a couple other skaters, like Mina and Sasha. Eren and Mikasa followed a different schedule, since they were a pair and not singles skaters. If he was remembering right, everything from 3:30 AM to 8:00 AM was with them, but then instead of a break they had their off ice training and then a break. After that the schedule was the same, but on a different sheet of ice.

Jean wakes up at 6:30 on the dot. His entire body is sore and freezing, and it's definitely not because of the temperature outside. They keep the house pretty warm and he's curled into a burrito blanket. He struggles to uncurl himself, partly because it's really fucking tightly wrapped around him. The other part is being under oxygenated. He hasn't woken up feeling like this in a long time and he can feel the bubbling worry and panic rising in his throat.

He manages to snatch his phone from his bedside table. For good measure, he sends a snapchat to Marco of himself in his burrito blanket thing. He's probably on the ice, but maybe it'll make him smile once he's on a break. Then, he sends a text to his mom, reluctantly asking for help because I can't breathe again.

Seconds later his bedroom door slams open and his mother rushes into the room, his older sister (by three years) trailing closely behind. He sends a cheepish smile their way. "Hi," he manages to muster. Yeah, he really can feel the lack of oxygen. His mother and sister say nothing and instead get to work unwrapping him from his burrito blanket. Once he's escaped, he begins shivering. His mother helps him sit up while his sister digs around his closet for clothes for him to put on. And then it'll be off to the hospital. Jean would sigh, if he, you know, had the lung capacity to do it.

"I'll call you in for school," his sister says while his mother helps him slide on his pants.

He feels like he should be embarrassed but… this has been his whole life. He's unphased at this point. He manages to shrug on his own shirt, though.

8:00 AM rolls around and Marco finally gets to sit down and pull his skates off. He stretches his legs out, reaching into his zuca for his phone.

He has a snapchat from Jean from about an hour and a half ago. He opens it and chuckles at his boyfriend, wrapped comfily in his bed sheets. Marco wishes he could do the same, or better yet, be cuddled up with his boyfriend in the warmth.

He replies with a picture of his skates laying on the cold floor of the club room with the caption freedom.

He slips on his real shoes and hastily stuffs his skates back into his zuca after placing his soakers on his blades. He grabs his car keys and heads for the door.

"Where are you going?" Sasha questions. Mina glances up from her phone to Marco, then quickly redirects her attention elsewhere.

"I'm getting food. Wanna come with?"

For once in his life, Jean is grateful for his mother. Before their big move across the country, she had his old doctor set everything up with a local doctor in their new town. This meant he could skip over the slow chaos of the emergency room and immediately see the doctor. He had met him once before as a sort of check up and get to know appointment when they first moved.

He's currently set up in a (not so comfortable) hospital bed with at least a dozen machines hooked up to him. His doctor isn't in the room when his phone buzzes beside him, so he takes the opportunity to check it. It's a snapchat from Marco.

Jean debates on whether or not he should open it. If he opens it, he can't really leave it unanswered. If he doesn't open it, the Marco will probably assume he's busy with schoolwork. For now, that's the best option. But what should his reasoning be for not heading to the rink after school? Too much homework? Stayed home 'sick' (and then he could say he slept the day away, which is why he didn't answer)? Family issues?

He wants to open it but. Marco can't see him like this, not yet. If he didn't have this stupid nasal cannula in he could, but unfortunately it's uncomfortable resting in his nose.

Instead, he texts Armin.

Jean: hey man, im having a shit time with my lungs so im in the hospital, can you get me the notes im missing and also cover for me at the rink today

Almost immediately Jean's phone dings.

Armin: Yeah, of course! What happened?

Of course Armin would use proper grammar and punctuation while texting.

Jean: dunno woke up with my lungs being asshats again

The door opens and Jean quickly locks his phone and sets it on the table beside himself.

"Well Jean," the doctor says, flipping through the pages on his clipboard, "according to the test we've already done, you should be fine. It seems as if your condition is acting up slightly, but so far appears to be nothing serious. However, I would like to do a few more tests regardless, because it appears it may actually be one of your medications causing sudden complications."

Jean sighs a little. On one hand, he's relieved. On the other hand, this might mean trying out another medication which is always, well, not easy. There's a span of time where everything hurts. Specifically his lungs. His body attempting to adjust usually results in coughed up blood.

"We'll be taking you in for another test in about a half an hour."

Marco absent mindedly munches on his dinosaur chicken.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Sasha asks from across the table, her food already demolished.

Marco, pulled from his thoughts, glances up at her. A slight blush crosses his face as he realized what he had been thinking about - the previous night.

"Ooh!" Sasha's face lights up. She pushes her plate out of the way and leans forward onto the table, "You're red! What is it? What happened?"

"A-ah, it's nothing-"

"Are you done, Sasha?" Mrs. Jaeger asks, a gentle smile on her face as she reaches for Sasha's empty plate, "Would you like anything else?"

"An ice cream sundae!" The brunette bounces in her seat.

"Of course," Eren's mom says, "coming right up!"

"Okay," Sasha leans forward yet again, a twinkle in her eye. "You have to tell me what happened."

"I, uh. Sasha, it's not…" Marco pauses and sighs. Her gaze is unwavering. "Okay, um. Alright so Jean and I are-"

"Dating, I know. It's obvious. Continue."

"We kind of… did stuff last night?" he says, feeling the confusion in his own voice. "It was nice but. I guess I'm nervous? I've never actually done stuff with a guy before and it's so different."

"Probably not as gentle as Mina, hm?" Sasha muses. "Anyways, what about him? Has he ever, with another guy?"

"No," Marco replies, trying not to feel on edge about the Mina comment.

"Then he probably feels the same way."

"I know," Marco says, his voice quiet, "I'm not worried about it or anything. I was just thinking about it is all. Also," he glances at his phone, sitting on the table, "He hasn't answered me. Not that I'm overly worried about that either but…"

"Well, Jean," his doctor smiles (Jean can't quite tell what kind of smile it is), "you're pretty much clear to go. We're going to keep you overnight though. We also will be putting you on a new medication. Replacing the Pelentor will be Redenca."

That's the medication that keeps his airways open. Or, well, that attempts to.

There's a silence that fills the room, save for the beeping of several different machines.

"Isn't that… his main medication? Is it really a good idea to change it? He's been on it since his last relapse and it hasn't caused any issues so I don't understand-"

"Mrs. Kirschtein," the doctor cuts off his mother, "please don't worry. I believe this would be a much smarter plan that keeping him on Pelentor. I consulted with your old doctor back in California and he agrees that this is a much better option. After all, Pelentor is only meant for those under the age of eighteen. And if I'm correct, your birthday is in about a month."

"What are the side effects?" Jean asks. He feels like a knife of anxiety has stabbed him in the stomach.

"The same as Pelentor, actually. It's made by the same company, even, but it's meant for those over eighteen. If anything, you shouldn't even notice the switch."

Jean glances at his mother. He can see the worry in her eyes as she studies the doctor. She looks skeptical of him, of this change, but when she notices his gaze she offers a comforting smile.

Sometimes Jean doesn't quite hate his mother as much as he thinks he does.

Behind his mother's messy bun, he can't really see anything outside. It's completely dark out and it's only what, seven o clock? But he can see his own reflection. And for once, he doesn't look like shit after being stuck in the hospital all day.

Marco falls back on his bed with a loud sigh of relief. His bed doesn't feel quite a comfy since it's unmade, but either way it'll do. He holds his phone above his head and hopes it doesn't land square on his face if he drops it. Unlocking it, he notices he has no notifications from, well, anything. Which means nothing from Jean.

He's overthinking this. He doesn't quite know what he's over thinking - he's not worried that Jean doesn't like him or anything. They've both already made their feelings clear. So, he guesses he's not worried about anything but rather, he wants to talk to him?

Marco groans and rolls onto his side. Maybe he had hoped they could end their night with a cute phone call ending with an I love you fight and seeing who'll hang up first.

Curious, he decides to see what'll happen if he sends a message his way.

Marco: are you busy?

Jean: uhh not at the moment

Jean: wait shit my last message to you didn't send im so sorry omfg

Jean: i was wondering why you hadn't responded but i had a shit ton of homework tonight

Marco feels some sort of relief when he reads the message. Not only had Jean tried to message him, but he wasn't being ignored. Granted, Armin had mentioned that to him, but he couldn't help but worry until he heard it from Jean himself.

Marco: its okay! I was worried is all

He can't help the huge grin that crosses his face.

Hey guys! This chapter is both important and filler. The important side is Jean's side of the story - this is kind of the beginning of a new arc. Almost. There's one more arc to get through before the main arc of the story really takes off.

Either way, I hope you liked this chapter! I'm really looking forward to chapter eleven - it's going to include some pretty great moments of the story as well as one of the moments I've been most looking forward to writing.