Jean slunk into the lecture hall, taking a seat near the back. Biology wasn't really his thing. He dropped his backpack into the empty seat to his right and put on his grumpy face, hoping to deter any eager beavers looking to make friends on the first day. Lord knew he'd had enough of that with Marco.

"Hey! I didn't know you were in this class too!"

What the… Jean turned. It was Marco. Of course.

Jean sighed loudly as Marco took the empty seat to his left. "Do you have to sit with me?" Jean asked irritably.

"No, but I want to." Marco seemed impervious to Jean's annoyance. "This your first class of the day?"

"No. I had math before this." Jean placed his head in his hands and stared straight ahead, wishing Marco would go away. What was with this guy? Didn't he know when he wasn't wanted?

"Hey, Marco!"

Despite himself, Jean turned to look. Waving at them was a tall girl, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Walking with her was a shorter blonde girl.

"Ymir, Christa! Didn't know you'd be in this class," Marco said cheerfully.

"All thanks to Christa," the girl named Ymir said. "Without her I'd never have gotten the credit in high school." She dropped into the seat next to Marco, the blonde girl taking the seat beside her. Jean groaned internally. Couldn't Marco lay off with the friends?

Ymir leaned around Marco to peer at Jean. "Who's this?"

Jean glared at her. After a beat of silence, Marco spoke. "This is Jean, my roommate. Jean, this is Ymir and Christa."

"Huh," Ymir said, eyeing Jean. "Looks like a real cranky sort of dude. Bad dye job too."

"Fuck off, Ymir," Jean snapped. He liked his hair.

"Be nice, Ymir," the blonde girl – Christa – chided.

Ymir snorted and shot Jean one last glare. "Good thing I have Christa and not some grumpy old stranger. Speaking of which – how come you didn't room with anyone you know?"

Marco shrugged. "Wanted to meet someone new."

Yeah, well, you've got some shit luck, Jean thought, getting me as that "someone new." He placed his head down on his arms, closing his eyes and trying to shut out Ymir's voice. And that was how he remained for the rest of the lecture.

"Good grief. You're not asleep, are you?"

"What?" Jean groaned. Shit.

He heard Marco sigh. "You're lucky it's the first day, so we didn't do much."

Jean slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. Class was over; students were filtering out of the lecture hall, chattering to each other. Automatically he turned to look around at Marco's other side.

"Ymir and Christa left already," Marco said, noticing Jean's glance. "Ymir was making fun of you for falling asleep the whole time. I didn't think you were actually asleep. I thought you were just ignoring her." Marco shook his head.

"She's annoying," Jean muttered, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "How the hell do you know her, anyway?" She didn't seem like the type who Marco would be friends with. Then again, Marco could probably be friends with anyone.

"She's from my high school. A lot of people think we're related, just 'cause we both have dark hair and freckles. Drives her nuts." Marco shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "But I guess she likes me enough to stick around."

"You guys don't look at thing alike." Somehow, Jean ended up walking alongside Marco from class.

"No?"

"No. She looks vicious."

"And I don't?"

"You couldn't scare a puppy if you tried," Jean snorted. It was true; Marco himself had what girls would call big brown puppy-dog eyes. Jean retched internally at the thought.

"Ouch. I'm not vicious enough for you?"

"That's not necessarily a bad thing, you know." Jean stopped himself right there. He was getting way too borderline-complimentary.

They stepped outside, Jean squinting against the sudden brightness of the sunshine. He was busy trying to think of excuses to get away from Marco – their little walk-and-talk had gone on sufficiently long enough – when Marco spoke.

"Wanna join us for lunch?"

"No," was Jean's immediate and instinctual answer.

"Come on, why not? It'll be fun."

"Trust me, it won't."

"Dinner the other night wasn't so bad, was it? You said so yourself!"

"'Not so bad' definitely doesn't equal 'fun'," Jean said, rolling his eyes.

"What do you think is fun, anyway?" Marco asked curiously. They had stopped walking now and were standing under the shade of a tree whose branches hung over the sidewalk.

"None of your business."

"You are one tough nut to crack."

Jean shot Marco a look of disgust. "Don't say weird shit like that."

"Was it that weird?" Marco asked, falling into step beside Jean as Jean started walking again.

"Why the hell do people even talk to you?"

"You're talking with me right now, aren't you?"

"Yeah, 'cause you forced yourself into my personal bubble." Jean knew he sounded childish but didn't care. "Is it really that hard to tell that I kinda like being by myself?"

"No, but I think you'd like being around people if you gave them a chance. Like me." Marco gave him a winning smile. "Give me a chance."

Jean rolled his eyes. "You know, based on what's happened in these past two days, I honestly don't think I have a choice."

"I'll take what I can get," Marco said. "So, lunch?"

"I take it you'll bug me every day we have Bio?" Jean quickly counted in his head. Three days a week. That would be three days a week.

"Without a doubt," Marco said cheekily.

"Someone save me," Jean muttered under his breath.

In the end, Marco won. No matter how stubborn Jean was, Marco was even more so, and Jean was dragged to lunch with the rest of Marco's friends.

And then again after class on Wednesday, and then on Friday. And then again the week after that, and the week after that.

And Jean didn't want to admit it, but it had kind of become a thing. A thing that he kind of – didn't mind.

It wasn't like he really actively talked with the others. He was just kind of there. But sometimes Reiner would crack a joke and the whole table would bust up laughing, and Jean would let himself smile a little. And sometimes Connie would say something stupid and everyone would give him crap for it, and Jean would throw in a little snarky remark or two. And always, always Marco sat next to him and laughed at his stupid comments.

So yeah, maybe lunch with everyone really wasn't such a bad thing. Not that Jean would ever admit it, especially not to Marco.

Besides, Marco was still annoying and pushy and weirdly friendly, and also too perfect. Everyone seemed to like him. With the exception of Jean. He only tolerated Marco.

Jean was lounging around on his bed on Saturday afternoon, earphones plugged in and music blasting at full volume. There was a tap on his shoulder, and he opened his eyes to meet Marco's displeased face. "What?" Jean asked irritably. Marco seemed to have a habit of interrupting his relaxation time.

"What is this?" Marco asked, shoving a sheaf of stapled papers into Jean's hands.

It was his Bio test. Which Marco should have known, given that he was in the exact same class as Jean. "My Bio test."

"And that?" Marco jabbed a finger at the red 58 scrawled across the top.

"My score," said Jean, looking Marco squarely in the eye.

"Are you failing the class?" Marco asked, exasperated.

"No!" said Jean, indignant. "I have a C."

Marco abruptly turned around and went to his desk, rummaging through the drawers until he pulled out a heavy textbook. Marching over to Jean, he plopped the book into his lap. "We have a test in three days. Let's start."

"Start what?" Jean asked, now feeling really annoyed.

"Studying."

"No fucking way!" Jean shoved the book off his lap and onto the floor.

"Jean Kirschstein, we're going to study and you are going to get an A on this test."

"Why do you care so fucking much?"

"Because I want you to do well."

Jean sputtered, momentarily speechless. "What are you, my mom?"

"No," said Marco very patiently, "I'm your friend."

"My – " Jean stopped and gaped at Marco. "You are not my friend."

"Colleague, then," Marco said. He bent to pick up the book and pulled his chair over to sit beside Jean's bed. "Let's start with chapter eight."

Jean folded his arms, scowling. "You are the most annoying person on the planet."

"You'll thank me later," Marco said, ever cheerful, and Jean wanted to punch him in the face.

I'm your friend. Jean turned the words over in his head as he stared up at the dark ceiling. Did Marco really consider them friends? They'd known each other for a couple of months now, and sure, Jean found him slightly less intolerable than most other people. But that was bound to happen if they were roommates. Living together forced Jean to make room for another person in his life; it wasn't as if he'd had much of a choice.

But that didn't mean they were friends.

Jean had always been kind of a loner. It was just easier that way. No one to stab you in the back. No one to owe anything to. Friends came and went, so why bother?

Anyway, it wasn't his fault. He'd been kind of a sickly child, plagued by nightmares he couldn't really remember, always running off alone from the other children. He'd been afraid. Of what, he didn't know. And the other kids thought he was weird, so they stayed away.

By high school, Jean had grown accustomed to being alone. Comfortable, even. Because this way was easier.

No one that you care about. No one that you might let down. He rolled over and closed his eyes.