Please note the uh, "smut" scene has been edited to fit the requirements for this site. Please go to AO3 if you'd like the uncensored version (although it's not much of a change).
March slowly comes to a close, with April bringing the typical rain showers and a few blizzards because this is Michigan, so why the hell not? Jean's birthday comes and goes quickly, since it hits on a Monday. Marco wants to make a big deal out of it, although Jean isn't so keen on it. He knows eighteen is important for the, you know, normal teenagers since it means becoming an adult or whatever, but this birthday is important to him for entirely not normal teenage reasons. Turning eighteen with his condition means quite a few different things. One, he has lived long past his life expectancy. Two, he could officially be on the lung transplant list. Lung transplants were few and far in between. They were hard to come by, since lungs usually weren't viable by the time they reached the person in need of the transplant.
It was a breath of relief (ha) to him and his entire family. Still, Marco doesn't know about anything lung related in Jean's life, but he doesn't think today would be a good day to tell him. No day would ever be a good day to tell him. At this point, he's waited far too long for him to easily be able to slip it into conversation. It would be far too obvious that he had been hiding it this entire time, and while Marco is definitely the sweetest, most understanding person he has ever come across, it felt wrong to tell him after this long.
It also felt wrong to keep it from him.
Regardless, his birthday passed with no issues. Marco treats him to dinner at a cute diner on the outskirts of Trost and buys him a new beanie. Jean's beanie collection is mostly deep reds, but Marco opts to give him a dark blue one ("It's kind of like the ice! Also blue looks good on you!").
That weekend, Trost Figure Skating Club holds a celebration for the Trost Twizzlers, who were returning from worlds with a bronze medal. Jean makes up some silly reason for not attending because he has an appointment to confirm quite a few different things with his doctors. Marco wonders about it, but decides it's probably nothing to worry about.
"Okay, Jean, try to take a deep breath."
Jean sits up a little straighter and slowly breathes in as deep as he can. He coughs and sputters a little, but he supposes he did pretty good.
His doctor hums from behind him and he feels the stethoscope fall away from his back. After a moment of listening to the doctor scribble on whatever sheets he was filling out, he speaks. "You seem to be doing pretty good, but not good enough to keep these lungs forever. I can go ahead and have one of the nurses help you finish filling out the paperwork to get you on the transplant list."
Jean nods and watches the doctor swiftly leave the room. He sighs, his emotions caught somewhere in the middle. The potential of getting new lungs was mind blowing; he never imagined he would live to this point. On the other hand, transplants are quick. When the word comes that lungs are on the way, he knows he'll be at the hospital within the hour. He knows that Marco will need to know sooner rather than later, or at the very last minute.
He's pulled away from his thoughts when a nurse comes into the room, handing him the paperwork and telling him where to sign.
New lungs. Someone else would have to die for him to get them, but he tells himself it's okay because at least he'll do his best to put them to good use.
Hours turn into days and days turn into weeks. Time moves in a blur as senior year quickly passes Jean by, leaving him breathless (no pun intended) and unprepared for his last month of high school. April brings lots and lots of water in Michigan, between nonstop rain and melting snow. Some mornings are more dangerous than others, with cold temperatures causing everything to freeze again. Jean has to be incredibly careful not to fall on his ass, but at the same time, it seems his friends who have quite literally competed in figure skating at the Olympics are struggling with the uneven ice coating the high school parking lot most mornings.
"Mom, can you please stop fussing over me?" Jean nearly whines, pulling away from his mother's prying hands yet again.
"This is the last time I am ever sending one of my children to a high school dance. I have every right to fuss," she replies without missing a beat, placing a hand on Jean's cheek. "Besides," she continues, her hands returning to Jean's tie, "this thing is a mess."
Jean lets out an over dramatic sigh, followed by a few coughs.
"Do you have your inhaler?" she asks without breaking her focus on the tie.
"Um, yeah. It's in my pocket," Jean replies, patting his leg a couple times.
"Good. I know you've been to these things before, but they do get stuffy fast. If you need to get out of there-"
"I know, mom."
She smooths his tie down and takes a step back, giving a nod, satisfied with the changes she's made to his suit.
"Happy?" Jean asks.
"Yes. But…"
"What?" Jean furrows his brows, looking down at his suit. "I think it looks nice-"
"You haven't told Marco yet."
"I haven't told Marco yet."
She gives him a disappointed look.
"Mom, please don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" she says, feigning innocence.
"Like I killed your cat!"
She laughs for a moment, but the serious look returns to her face. "You need to tell him. This isn't protecting him anymore, or protecting yourself. I need to know that if something happens while you're with him that he can handle it. That he knows what's happening and what to do."
"I'm going to tell him tonight. But after we leave the dance. I don't want it to put a damper on the mood. Don't worry though, I have my medical necklace on, so if something does happen at the dance, I have that."
His mom sighs, but nods. "Alright, baby. Stay safe, okay?"
Let it be known that high school dances are not Jean's thing. At all. It's always too hot, the guys always take off the entire top half of their suits save for the vest and bow ties (any guys who wear regular ties end up tying them to their heads), everyone is grinding on each other while the teachers turn a blind eye, and Jean doesn't know how to dance.
Marco, on the other hand, definitely knows how to dance. Whether it's quick songs or slow songs, Marco is graceful and brilliant, his smile lights up the room, and his laugh nearly makes Jean's heart stop. Jean could trace entire constellations from the freckles on his face. He has to stop himself from reaching out and poking the freckle that adorns the very tip of his nose several times throughout the night. He also has to stop himself from pulling Marco off the dance floor and sneaking off into a dark, quiet room they're definitely not allowed to be in to kiss him senseless.
Needless to say, he fails at the latter. They end up in some quiet classroom a few hallways away from the dance, careful to check that no one witnessed them sneaking away from the dance. Lucky for them, the dance isn't actually at their high school, but instead one of the centers on Trost University's campus. There aren't any high school teachers lurking or lingering beyond the actual ballroom and the rest of the staff for the building has long since gone home.
Jean nearly slams Marco into one of the desks, his arms trapping Marco. Marco sits on the desk, pulling Jean in by his suit jacket, their lips crashing together. Jean feels a warmth he's missed spreading through his entire body; despite the Olympics being long over, Marco's been so busy with training, they hardly have moments like this. Their lips meet over and over in hurried, sloppy, forceful kisses that leave them both breathless (and Jean holding back a coughing fit), yet craving more.
Marco takes over, standing from the desk and pushing Jean's back against the nearest wall. Their lips meet once more but Marco is quick to move on, his slightly agape mouth trailing along Jean's jaw and neck, leaving the boy shuddering every time his hot breath touches his skin. Marco's hands trail to Jean's waist, slowly undoing the other boy's pants while sucking at his neck. He kneels down, slowly slipping Jean's pants and underwear off. Slowly, ever so slowly, Marco wraps a hand around Jean. Jean takes in a sharp breath, his hand gripping and pulling at Marco's hair hard to steady himself.
Marco continues to take his sweet time, his hand slowly working its way up and down, causing Jean to close his eyes and rest his head against the wall. He whines in protest when Marco's hand retreats, but a loud moan emits from his mouth when Marco's tongue moves and then, again, so damn slowly, takes in as much of Jean's length as he can.
"Fuck, Marco-" Jean sputters loudly, biting down hard on his lip when Marco shoots him a warning glance. But fuck, there was something about being in Marco's mouth and having him look up at Jean through those lashes, a loving but dark look deep in his eyes, that makes Jean feel like he could lose it then and there. "Please," he whispers, his grip on Marco's hair tightening.
Marco finally builds up speed, no longer taking his time to try and get Jean off. His head bobs quickly and Jean can't stop moaning, pressing Marco's face closer and closer so he can feel more. He has to force himself to stay quiet, but somehow getting caught right now, with Marco wrapped around him like this, makes him feel hotter than before.
"Fuck, Marco I-" Jean tries to warn him, but his brain is short circuiting and he's seeing stars. Marco pulls away from Jean, licking his lips and staring up at the other boy, who is flushed and breathing heavily. Jean pulls his clothes back on as Marco stands.
"Jean?" Marco asks, watching his boyfriend somewhat suspiciously.
"Hm?" he asks, trying to breathe deep through his nose to avoid wheezing.
"Are you okay?" Marco asks, closing the space between them once again, concern coloring his face.
Jean lets out a breath, a few coughs following, but nods. "Yeah, fine. That was amazing, thank yo-" his sentence isn't finished due to the coughing fit he's launched into.
Jean flashes Marco a sheepish grin, trying to find a way to stop the intense, worried look that has taken over Marco's expression. "I'm fine, okay? Totally fine."
Marco's eyes trail to the inhaler on the floor before flashing back to Jean's.
"Oh," Jean leans down and picks up the inhaler, pocketing it.
Marco tilts his head and Jean has to curse himself for not telling him sooner. "Do you have asthma?"
Oh, right. Normal people associate inhalers with asthma, not a debilitating lung disease.
"Um, yeah, kind of?" Jean replies with a question. How does he tell him? It's been too long to spit it out, but is there another option?
"You can kind of have asthma?" Marco raises his eyebrows, a hint of amusement sitting behind his eyes.
"Yeah, obviously," Jean says. Is his vision getting prickly, or is that from trying to see in a dark room for too long? He blinks fast, but his vision continues to blur. "Or, well, um."
"Jean?" Marco's voice comes across concerned, but Jean isn't really paying attention. The world is getting blurry and dark all too fast and he can't focus enough to force out any kind of reply. He stumbles forward into Marco, coughing hard and gripping onto his boyfriend tightly.
"I have a medical necklace on under my shirt. Have the paramedics check it before they do anything," Jean gasps out. He would be shocked at the ability to choke out two full sentences, but he doesn't have time to think about before the world goes black.