In the end, he neglected to ask about the daffodils. He guessed that Marco wouldn't tell him, anyway. If he was going to give him a straight answer, he wouldn't have bothered with the flowers in the first place. No, he'd have to ask someone else what daffodils meant. But he couldn't think of anyone who would bother with knowing what each individual flower meant. He'd have to keep his eyes peeled.
In the meantime, he devoted all of the time he'd once spent with Mikasa to Marco instead. He used to visit the girl about twice a week, and now that it was clear she had no intentions of courting him, there was no real need for it. They could socialize at church.
Marco never brought up that another of his 'feelings' had come to pass. They always came to pass. Jean was beginning to wonder where on earth the boy had gotten his sense of intuition. He was a little jealous of it. If he was that good at guessing things, then he'd be a lot luckier in life, that's for sure.
But he was sort of scared to ask. What if Marco told him it was thanks to some sort of ritual he'd done? No, Jean decided he was better off not knowing at all.
On that particular occasion, he found himself treading through the tall grass, walking next to Marco at a lazy pace. Levi had given him the day off, much to his surprise when he got to the office. With a whole day and no responsibilities, he'd chosen to spend his time with his closest friend.
When had Marco earned that position? Who had filled it before? It seemed to Jean that, compared to Marco, no one had ever really been a close friend. What a strange thing to think.
Marco saw fit to celebrate Jean's day off, and somehow coerced a few of his siblings into taking over his chores for the day so he could spend the entire time with Jean. Once the tasks had been delegated, he'd beckoned for Jean to follow him back to the familiar meadow that they always spent their free time in. But he'd kept walking past it, jumping over the fence that signified what land belonged to him, and what land did not.
Jean hesitated, coming to a halt with his knees pressed against the thick beam of wood. Once upon a time, the fence had been the boundary between where he was allowed to go, and where he was not. He'd grown accustomed to breaking that rule.
But now Marco was outside of the fence.
He'd never seen Marco outside of the fence.
And suddenly the fence felt more like it'd been built to keep something in than to keep something out.
Marco turned, looking at him with a quirked brow. He didn't smile, but nor did he frown as he waited for Jean to make his decision.
"I'm not taking you anywhere that people would see us." He offered, a hint of sadness muddying the ale color of his eyes. Jean swallowed, internally berating himself for his fear. Marco's words had quelled it, but he felt a wave of disgust for himself. Because Marco had been spot on. Jean was scared of being seen with the other boy.
He wished he could say otherwise. He wished he could claim to be brave enough to walk down the main street, right past his own home, right past his father's office, right next to Marco. But he wasn't. He couldn't.
He stepped over the fence, following behind Marco as the darker boy began walking again. He watched the way Marco's legs carried him, as if they were used to taking this route. He watched the way Marco's shoulders and hips swung just a little to the pace of his steps. He watched the way Marco leaned just a little to the left when he walked. Because of the leg he'd broken as a child.
"Are you going to walk behind me the rest of the way?"
Jean jumped, Marco's voice startling him out of his reverie. He took a moment to decipher what had been said, then he quickened his pace to walk beside Marco again.
"Sorry." He offered softly, and Marco only smiled, a sort of melancholy smile.
They walked long enough that Jean decided they were out of the town's limits. But still, Marco kept walking, and eventually they came to a small forest. Jean looked at the tree line for a while, deciding that he didn't recognize it, and turned to Marco. But the other boy had already plunged in, following a path that he was clearly familiar with.
Jean bit his lip but couldn't keep himself from following. It crossed his mind only for a moment that maybe Marco was taking him so far away to do him harm. But he immediately shook that idea out of his head, ashamed he'd even thought it.
So caught up in self-hatred was he that he ran into Marco, who had halted in front of him. He backed off, looking up to make eye contact. Marco frowned.
"You're scared." He proclaimed. Jean's lips fell open in wonder. He didn't deny it. "You don't need to be. It's nothing bad, I promise."
Marco didn't seem as hurt as he should have. And that hurt Jean in turn. Had the boy come to expect Jean's fear of him, even after they'd become so close? He couldn't blame him.
They got back to walking, and Jean followed with more confidence this time, walking a little closer than he had before, as if that might make up for his moment of weakness, his moment of unwarranted distrust. Marco paid it no mind, even when their shoulders brushed a few times.
Their destination became obvious with the sound of rushing water. And, sure enough, Marco led them to a riverbank. The water stretched in either direction further than Jean could see, and the water was clear enough for him to see some fish swimming lazily against the current.
Marco sat down on a large rock, unbuckling the shoes he always wore and pulling them off, letting them fall next to him. His feet were a few shades lighter than the rest of him, but still darker than any part of Jean. His toes curled and uncurled against the rocky sand, and he sighed, a soft smile gracing his lips.
Jean watched, looking down at his own shoes. He hadn't played in a river since he was very young. Eren had convinced he and Armin that it was a good idea, and they'd jumped in. Jean couldn't speak for the other boys, but his own mother had been furious when he came home soaking wet, clothes and shoes ruined.
Marco looked over to him, smile still glowing, and laughed.
"Are you going to make me go swimming by myself?" He wondered, standing up and undoing the buttons of his waistcoat.
Jean sucked in a breath, looking down at his shoes again, the gold buckles shimmering in the sunshine. They were almost mocking.
As if in retaliation, he toed them off, leaving them next to Marco's. And then he got to work on his own waistcoat, having several more buttons to deal with. Marco was already taking down his trousers by the time Jean had gotten through them all. His breeches proved a lot more troublesome too. Marco stood in only his shirt, the fabric hanging loose now that it had been freed from his trousers.
He knelt down and helped Jean with his garters, stepping back to let Jean roll down his stockings. And then Jean hesitated, standing in only his shirt as well. Marco's fingers were already working at his own buttons, but Jean's only twitched at his sides.
He'd never been naked in front of anyone outside of his family. Even when he'd gone swimming with Eren and Armin, they'd all simply jumped in, clothes and all. But he was old enough to know that he couldn't do that.
Marco didn't seem to mind at all; He was already letting the fabric slip over his shoulders, revealing even more freckles and a confidence that Jean didn't possess. But he seemed to pick up on it, and he paused, looking over to where Jean was watching him. And he smiled, pulling his shirt back over his shoulders, and he approached.
Jean almost ran, but he managed to stay in place, and he looked up once Marco was before him. The darker of the two reached out, slowly undoing each button of Jean's shirt, carefully pushing them through the buttonholes until the fabric fell open. Jean's toes curled.
Marco let his own shirt fall first, then he coaxed Jean's over his shoulders, catching it before it hit the ground and letting it fall onto the pile of Jean's other clothes instead of in the ground.
Jean's breath was a sharp intake, but he didn't reach for the security, letting it come in the form of clenched fists and closed eyes. He thought he could feel Marco's eyes all over him, silently laughing at his paleness, at his obviously wealthy upbringing. He was a spoiled boy, and he knew it, and he sometimes wished he knew a harder life. A life more like Marco's.
But when he opened his eyes, Marco was nowhere to be seen at all. He blinked, head snapping in either direction as his eyes sought out the familiar form. His ears located his companion first though, a soft splashing that drew his eyes in the proper direction. He'd looked just in time to see Marco surface from the water, already several feet away from the bank.
Doing his best not to hesitate anymore, as it was proving a fruitless thing that day, Jean stepped into the water, walking forward a few paces and gasping when it got suddenly deeper, his feet meeting no purchase where he'd expected it. His limbs instinctively began to flail, as if that might help him.
Marco swam to his side, pulling him back a bit till his feet found sand again.
"You can't swim." The larger observed, and Jean felt a blush bloom across his cheeks.
"Not well." He agreed, toes curling against the strange sensation of the fine rocks, almost silky under the water. Marco smiled, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him back to where the bottom dropped off, sending Jean into a frenzy for a moment. Then he realized that Marco was easily keeping him afloat, and he calmed down, focusing instead on moving his limbs productively.
"I've taught plenty of my brothers and sisters to swim." Marco announced, kicking rhythmically underneath himself, legs brushing Jean's on occasion. Jean flinched every time it happened. "I don't see why I can't teach you."
And so he did. It seemed almost hopeless at first, seeing as Jean was prone to panicking as soon as he was released, but he eventually worked up the coordination to go back and forth between the two banks. He wasn't nearly as good as Marco, but at least he wasn't at risk of drowning anymore.
The mountain water started getting to him a little after the hottest part of the day. The sun had painted him red, and the cold water chilled the burn to the point that he was shivering, so Marco shooed him out onto the bank, chasing him into the grass where they both laid out, letting the sun dry them off. Jean knew he'd regret it, but he was already burnt, what harm could a few more minutes do, really?
Marco got up first, and he disappeared into the trees somewhere, moving too fast for Jean to even try following behind. He instead found some shade, picking up first his, then Marco's clothes and moving them to the spot he'd chosen. He slipped his shirt back on, doing up some of the buttons, but he got bored with it part of the way through, so the top buttons remained undone.
When Marco returned, he dropped a whole armful of flowers in Jean's lap, giggling happily, as if he'd accomplished something grand. Jean quirked a brow, looking down at them. They were all the same kind of flower; Lilies. But they weren't tiger lilies, like he'd given Mikasa. These ones were yellow and orange, bright and vibrant, similar in coloring to the daffodils he'd been gifted before.
"Are these for me?" He asked, gathering them into a neat array while Marco shoved his arms into his own shirt, nodding. Jean couldn't help a small smile.
"Just in time. Mother made me throw out the daffodils just yesterday. They'd wilted something terrible." He confided. Marco grinned, flopping down next to the other boy and helping him gather up the flowers. Once they were all organized, Jean put them aside, leaning against the tree he'd picked for shade and heaving a sigh.
"What do these flowers mean?" He asked. "And the daffodils. You never told me." He recalled. As expected, Marco only shook his head, his smile going coy. Jean sighed again, shrugging.
"I guess I'll have to ask someone else, then." Was his eventual reply.
They basked in the sunlight for a while, then Marco beckoned him into the forest where they picked some berries. Jean had never tasted them fresh from the bush, had never had the chance to pick them. They were incredible; Sun-warmed and just a little sour from being picked early.
It wasn't until the sun began dipping towards the horizon that they reluctantly returned to their clothes and put them back on, walking back along the path they'd taken that morning. Jean's shirt, however fine the linen, felt scratchy against his fresh sunburn, and the few ruffles seemed almost heavy. Even more so when he called his goodbye to Marco and headed for home by himself, hopping the fence with a bit of difficulty, considering how many flowers he was attempting to carry.
He was determined not to leave a single one behind. And he'd thus far been successful. He dropped a few at the door in his attempts to get it open, but he came back for them after he'd retrieved a vase and some fresh water.
Again, he was questioned on the origins of the flowers, but his mother was sated when he said he'd received them from Mikasa. It was a bit strange for a girl to give him flowers, but it was a much more acceptable explanation than the truth.
"Oh, her affections are growing!" His mother squealed with pride, kissing his cheek as if he'd given her a wonderful gift. "First daffodils, and now day lilies! And so soon!" She chirped.
Jean's brows knit, and he grabbed for his mother's hands.
"What are you on about?" He asked. She giggled gleefully, kissing his cheek again.
"Oh Jean, I couldn't possibly tell you! Maybe you should have paid more attention when I was telling your young ears." She cooed, pulling her hands away and dancing towards the kitchen. Jean watched her go, looking back at his flowers in confusion.
She'd said 'affections are growing,' but that was her thinking in regards to Mikasa. If Jean mentioned they were from a male friend instead, would the meaning change? Surely so. And maybe he was overthinking it… After all, affections could be friendly. His mother was known to blow things out of proportion, so this was probably a case like that.
"Jean?" She called, poking her head out of the doorway to the kitchen, looking at him skeptically. "Why are you so red? Did you get a sunburn?"
He stiffened, fist clenching subconsciously at his side.
"Uh… Yeah." He admitted, eyes dropping to the golden buckles of his shoes again. They still seemed mocking. "Levi had me looking around town most of the day, so I was outside for hours. You know, looking for anything story worthy." He lied, stomach sinking. Lying was a sin. But telling the truth would have been even more dangerous.
His mother smiled wryly, returning to the kitchen.
"He'll make you a journalist yet." She called. "Just don't tell your father I said so." She added, laughing. Jean tried to laugh too, the sound half-hearted but enough to fool his mother. He retreated quickly to his bedroom, setting the flowers down and staring at them as if demanding answers, as if they could explain away his confusion and worry.
The flowers, of course, gave him none.
A/N: Sorry for the wait, but I'm in the middle of moving out, and school just started up, so life's been a bit hectic, to say the very least. I'm starting to get settled in, but I've still got a lot to do. Still, I felt bad leaving everyone in the dark. So I'm trying to get some updates up while I have the opportunity.
This chapter is a bit more lighthearted, or so I hope. And a bit more interesting than the bridge chapters. I didn't realize, when I was writing them, that the previous two were sort of uneventful. But you know how writing goes; One chapter at a time.
It's been mentioned to me in a comment that I ought to put the meanings of the flowers in the ending comments. (I haven't had time to respond to comments yet, and am about to have to give my roommate the internet for a bit.) And I totally understand where that is coming from, but I think half the fun is looking it up and learning something new. But if that's not really your thing, most, if not all, of the flowers are eventually explained in the story, at some point. It's still worth looking, though. You'll have a better idea of what's going on much earlier on if you do! That's up to you guys though!
I've got to wrap up, but I want to go ahead and establish a tag on tumblr. You never know when that'll be useful, you know? So if you guys want to post anything related to this story, from questions to feedback, or even fanwork (maybe someday, if I keep wishing on the stars) you can tag it with "fic wwfg" and I will see it. And if you want to just find me on tumblr and be friends or something like that, I'm the same there. Just KuroRiya.
Thanks so much for all the support thus far, you guys have been absolutely fantastic! I'll try to update again soon, and respond to your comments! Till then, feedback is always appreciated!
KuroRiya
九六りや