A.N: Woop, update! And for the record, my headcannon Mikasa isn't gay, but whatever I'm just sticking with it. XD
"Soul crushing rejection still hurting?"
Jean groaned loudly into his pillow, and Armin scooted next to him on his bed. The blond hadn't heard from him in a couple days, so he had probably gotten worried. Jean had felt guilty for not telling him anything, but after Mikasa had shot him down, he couldn't find it in himself to approach Armin at all.
"I guess you heard," Jean mumbled, not looking up. He didn't need Armin's pity, especially not now.
Earlier that day, he had seen Mikasa in school. It was the first time he'd seen her since the confession, and Jean hadn't expected it to hurt that much.
But seeing her, walking next to Eren and smiling sweetly, as if she hadn't felt a damn thing, it made Jean feel like complete, and utter shit. When Armin had called out to him, he had run off like a little girl, not wanting to face his problems.
Jean knew his mother must have been worried about him, otherwise she wouldn't have let Armin inside, when Jean assumed he'd followed him home.
"You know, Mikasa didn't mean to hurt you-" Armin started to say, but Jean sat up abruptly.
"Just don't, okay? I don't want to talk about it." Jean snapped, ignoring the stab of guilt he got when Armin flinched.
"...I'm sorry," Armin mumbled, then he smiled, changing the subject. "So, you're friends with Marco Bodt, now?"
Jean furrowed his brows, "Huh? How'd you know that?"
"He lives about half a block away from my house, we used to be in a study group together." Armin explained, smiling fondly. "He's a good guy, he mentioned he had a friend that went to my school, and what do you know? It was you!"
Jean flushed, not liking the proud look Armin wore. "I have a life outside of you, you know."
"Sure you do," Armin chuckled, "That's why you only have, let's see-" The blond snatched his phone up from the bedside table, already knowing the password, and he grinned triumphantly. "- seven contacts."
"Shut up, Armin." Jean whined, flopping back into his pillow.
"But I'm happy! You at least have seven, now!" Armin teased, and Jean batted at him blindly. Armin laughed again, then leaned back a bit. "I'm serious, Jean... Are you doing okay?"
Jean nodded, sitting back up. "I'm fine, really. It's just kind of hard to see her, you know? She never even considered me, not that she could've, but-" He stopped, uncertain of what he felt. True, Mikasa had hurt him, but it wasn't her fault. "I've been a dick." He said, putting is face in his hands.
"Yeah, but we're used to it." Armin said as patted Jean's shoulder, "And besides, Eren's been rejoicing that you aren't his potential brother in law after all, I don't think he noticed how much of a prick you were being."
Jean looked at him with mock gratitude, "You always know just what to say, Armin."
"It's a gift," Armin grinned, and Jean promptly hit him with a pillow.
...
It was the graveyard shift at work. Levi's shop normally only stayed open to around eleven, but that night, it was packed because of some outdoor concert.
Jean and Berthold fumbled behind the counter, with aid from Erwin and Hanji, some other baristas and Levi's friends. Erwin complained loudly about the amount of people, and Hanji kept mixing orders up. Jean groaned, stirring a frappucino lazily.
"One mocha, please!" A familiar voice piped up, and Jean looked over to find Marco, sweaty and breathless, pushed to the front of the line with a nervous expression.
"Marco!" Jean exclaimed, hurrying over to him and setting the frappucino down. "Dude, what are you doing here?"
Some people behind Marco in line complained, and Jean shot them the middle finger. Marco chuckled, adjusting his shirt collar. "Well, I was kind of swept in here by accident, since the streets are so packed. I figured I may as well get a drink out of it, you know?" He chuckled, then smiled at Jean curiously. "Speaking of which, I believe I ordered something?"
Rolling his eyes, Jean left Marco beaming over the counter to go make him a mocha.
The commotion eventually died down, and Levi closed up shop, allowing Jean to take off his apron and go home. To his surprise, Marco had waited up for him, and was reading something on his phone. When they got outside, Jean asked about it.
"It's the script," Marco explained, holding his iPhone up to Jean's face to reveal a very length e-mail. "I mailed it to myself so I could read up when I get bored."
"All I wanted was to be loved for myself," Jean read, frowning. "A bit depressing, isn't it?"
Marco shrugged, "Well, it is a tragedy."
"Who do you play? The Phantom?" Jean asked, and Marco nodded. The cool night breeze blew his hair back, and he shivered a bit. "It's too cold for April." Jean muttered, earning another laugh from Marco.
They finally came to a street where they had to go seperate ways. Marco turned on his heel, giving Jean a look. "Say, do you want to help me memorize my lines tomorrow? Sasha bailed on me since she's going to the movies with Connie."
"Really? But I'm a horrible actor," Jean flinched at yet another traumatic memory of him performing in a kindergarten play. "I'll just read in dumb monotone."
"That's okay!" Marco chirped, "I only need to know my lines, just reading the others back to me is a huge help."
Jean pretended it was hard to consider, "Yeah, sure. Why not?"
Marco grinned from ear to ear, and Jean wondered why he experienced palpitations. No one with a smile that dazzling should flaunt it in public. "Great! I'll text you my address, see you tomorrow!" Marco said, waving goodbye before he broke into a jog.
Jean stood still so he could regain his equilibrium.
What the fuck was that?
...
The first thing Jean noticed about Marco's house is that it was huge.
He gaped, his own two story house looked like a mud-hut compared to Marco's. It was twice the length and width of Jean's house, and the yard was gigantic.
"When were you gonna tell me you were rich?" Jean asked the moment Marco opened the door, and Marco laughed.
"I'm hardly rich! My dad and the landlord are close friends, that's all." He looked sheepishly at the house, and lead Jean inside. It seemed even bigger, if that was possible. With high ceilings, clean, white walls with big, framed pictures hanging on them.
Jean resisted the urge to snicker when he spotted one of Marco as a little kid, dressed up in a big, poofy winter coat and playing in the snow. It was freaking adorable.
When they walked up the stairs (the huge stairs) Jean wasn't surprised to find Marco's room neat and organized, with the exception of a few stray items. He sat on Marco's bed, whistling. "Nice place you got here," he commented, and Marco rolled his eyes.
"Come on, I've got to memorize my lines by next friday!" Marco said, tossing Jean a large booklet of paper. "Page thirteen, please!"
Jean skimmed to the page in question, where some guy named Raoul and some girl named Christine where about to make out by her father's rave. He raised an eyebrow, and read dutifully: "'There's not a moment to lose, Christine. Let's leave now, together!'"
Without warning (well, Jean was reading the script but it still shocked him), Marco let out a wail of anger mixed with despair. Jean shivered, because the sound his friend made was downright unhuman.
"...Marco." Jean hissed, goosebumps fading. "What the hell was that?!"
"Did it sound scary enough?" Marco asked, putting his fist to his chin and pondering comically. "Or was I too low? Should I go for something with a higher pitch?" Marco asked, and then repeated the sound.
Jean clapped his hands over his ears, "Enough! Enough! The first one was less horrifying!"
"Oh, okay. The second one, then." Marco shrugged, as if letting a sound like that come out of him was a normal thing to do. "Alright, turn to page twenty, please."
Jean did as told, albeit shakily. Marco was pretty terrifying, sometimes.
For the next half hour, Jean read lines dully and Marco returned them with flare. He did a really good job at making Jean believe he was a different person, the aura of happiness vanished whenever Marco got into character. It was kind of spooky, Jean thought, how Marco could do that so simply. At one point he commended Marco on his work and the other teenager told him how he wanted to be in movies, one day.
Normally, Jean thought careers in film where a cry for help. But Marco... he just might pull it off.
"Alright, I think that's enough of my lines." Marco hummed, snatching the script from Jean's hands and grinning. "You were so helpful, mister monotone."
Jean rolled his eyes, "Oh, shut up. I warned you."
Marco sat next to him on the bed, and their elbows brushed. Jean blinked in confusion, wondering why he felt so goddamn happy about brushing elbows with a guy. Marco then said something, drawing him out of his thoughts. "So, I didn't know you knew Armin?"
"Oh, well..." Jean chuckled, "That girl I liked? It was his foster sister, Mikasa." Even saying her name made him ache, but Marco's gape of surprise eased the pain.
"Mikasa Ackerman?!" Marco proceeded to look like a shocked housewife who found out she'd missed her favorite soap opera. "You liked her?"
Jean nodded and then sighed. "A lot."
"But isn't she going steady with some blonde girl?" Marco mumbled, and Jean froze.
"What? Who?" He asked, feeling rage boil over. It certainly didn't take her long to get out there.
"Yeah, I've seen her at Levi's, actually. She hangs around with the tall dude, kinda sweaty...?" Marco trailed off, noticing that Jean looked sick to his stomach.
"She's dating Annie?!" Jean hissed, and Marco promptly handed him a pillow to scream in.
"Okay, I was not expecting you not to know that." Marco said, getting to his feet and scrambling across the room. "You draw, right?" He thrust some paper and pens next to Jean's pillow covered face, "Here, doodle something! Just... stop screaming, you sound like a cow on drugs."
Jean sniffled, trying not to laugh, and scowled at Marco before taking the paper with a sour expression. Marco, bless his freckled soul, just laughed.
Before Jean knew what he was doing, he sketched Marco's face, his thin jawline, his average nose, and his weird hair. Marco sat across from him now, only occasionally raising a brow when Jean stole a glance at him for referance.
"Are you drawing me?" Marco suddenly connected the dots, and Jean flushed.
"...Maybe," he said at length, trying to cover his work with his arm. But Marco was too quick, and he held the paper before him triumphantly.
Jean waited, completely embarrassed, for Marco's reaction. Was it weird to draw your friends? Jean had drawn Armin once and Armin had only complained that he looked too girly, but maybe Marco was different. What if he didn't like it?
"Wow you're amazing!" Marco said, his brown eyes sparkling with awe. "That's so cool!"
"Huh? You think?" Jean felt himself gush with pride, his heart thumped away with glee. "It's not that good, it's just a sketch-"
"Shush!" Marco's hands shot up and squished Jean's cheeks, "You're awesome, accept it!"
In an attempt to say 'fine', Jean's words came out muffled due to Marco's hands clapped against his face. He met Marco eyes, and he had to say, this wasn't half bad.
They both laughed for about two minutes after that.
...
After that day, Jean found himself drawing Marco more often. He drew Marco almost as much as he drew random girls with long hair.
"Am I your muse?" Marco asked one day, as they were lazing around Jean's house.
Jean merely grinned, closing one eye and sticking his thumb out to map Marco's head. Marco laughed, folding himself into a sexy pose. "Draw me like one of your french girls, Jack."
"Ha!" Jean snorted, clapping a hand over his mouth. He and Marco looked at each other between laughs, and his heart throbbed a bit. "Hm... Maybe I should." Jean said, wagging his eyebrows.
Marco rolled his eyes, but kept smiling. "Go ahead, I'm all yours." He stretched while making a ridiculous face, and Jean laughed harder.
It was a bit hard to draw through their excessive giggling, but Jean eventually got Marco's pose done. He even made it look purposefully sexy, shading around Marco's lips.
"I should just hand this out to hot guys," Marco said, looking embarrassed.
"No, you're my model!" Jean said in mock betrayal, and Marco smiled warmly at him.
More weird heart fluttering. Jean must be sick.
He cleared his throat, "Um, want to watch a movie?"
"Sure, what have you got?" Marco scooted closer, and Jean felt himself grow warm.
Whatever. This was totally fine.
...
This was totally not fine.
...
Eren Jeager stood in the doorway, arms crossed, green eyes narrowed, and expression sour. Jean glared back at him, inwardly cursing because he probably should have texted Armin instead of just showing up at his house.
"What do you want?" Eren asked, frowning. He was probably still pissed at Jean for making Mikasa cry; granted it was accidentally, but Eren just needed an excuse to hate him.
"I'm looking for Armin," Jean announced, and Eren's frown deepened.
"...He's out on a study date." Eren said it so bitterly, Jean almost laughed at him.
"Then I'll just talk to you," Jean sighed, and Eren raised an eyebrow. "It's a serious issue, jerk." Jean muttered, and Eren promptly stepped aside to let Jean in.
Armin's house was small, but cozy. Eren lead Jean to his room, hands stuffed in his pockets and muttering bitterly about having to deal with this. Normally, Eren acted like a high spirited boy who was a bit too cocky, but around Jean, he was a grumpy old lady.
"Okay, you have to promise not to tell anybody." Jean said once the doors were closed, feeling slightly regretful he hadn't left the moment he heard armin was out.
Eren immediately changed his attitude, perking up into the good friend he usually was. "I promise," he said, curiously. "But what's wrong?"
"I've only ever liked Mikasa-" Jean started to say, and Eren cut him short.
"Dude, that's my sister!"
"Shut up!" Jean snapped, "I'm trying to tell you something!"
Eren let out a groan of complaint, but then he crossed his arms, leaned against the door, and closed his mouth.
"Okay, like I said, Mikasa was the only person I've ever had feelings for." Jean said, ignoring Eren's slightly sickened look. "But, recently, I've been hanging out with someone else a lot, and I feel really fucking weird around them."
Eren blinked, "Weird how?"
"Weird like... I'm happy, which is definitely not normal, and I really like being their friend, but... My chest starts going crazy, and I honestly think I'm having a stroke whenever I'm around them!" Jean rambled, waving his hands around. "What do you think it means?"
"If this is about Armin..." Eren started, his voice low with threat.
"No!" Jean yelled, and then threw up in his mouth a bit. "Dude- gross."
Eren seemed to relax, and then he pondered what Jean had told him. "Well, you sound like something out of a cheesy book for twelve year old girls with crushes."
"Ugh," Jean whined, burrying his face in his hands. "I know!" He flopped onto Eren's bed, lying down in shame.
Eren made his way over, sitting next to him. "Do you think you like them?" He asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.
And then Jean thought about it; he loved it when Marco laughed, and smiled, and how he was afraid of spiders but not bloodthirsty wolves. Jean wanted to see Marco happy, because it made him happy. But in the end, was that really a crush?
"Do you want to bang them at all?" Eren suddenly said, and Jean shot up like a bullet.
Maybe Marco's face would flush when he kissed him, and then his back would arch when he touched him. Maybe he bit his lip when he was turned on.
"Jean!" Eren cried, smacking him upside the head. "Stop that, you look like a tomato!"
"...Fuck," Jean mumbled, clapping a hand over his mouth. Eren looked at him in slight confusion, but Jean ignored it.
He had a crush on Marco.