Jean was actually pretty surprised about how little of a fight Joan put up in regards to him taking over the journalist position. He'd decided to do it, regardless of what his father said, but his announcement went over incredibly well when he made it. Joan didn't even argue, just made Jean swear that he'd do it right.

It took him a few days to get everything organized. Part of it was that he didn't feel right going through Levi's things. But the building was his now, and he had to know where things were, or there wouldn't be any newspaper at all. So, trying to put the discomfort aside, he got to work on finding everything and putting things in an order he could remember.

Then he had to set about finding a contact in the bigger city to gather information from. It took some searching, but he found a list of names with faraway addresses, and he set to work writing to each of them in hopes of establishing some sort of exchange.

With that, he'd done as much as he could. It was going to be hard to do it all himself, but he'd have to make do.

The one good thing amidst all of the new stress was that he had a place to call his own. He didn't live there, of course, but he had a key, and rooms all to himself. And, because he was his own employer, he got to make his own hours. No one questioned him if he got home late, for all he had to say was that he was busy. No one could refute the claim, since no one really saw him when he worked.

He hadn't yet brought Marco to the building, but he did decorate with flowers Marco gave him. It was his space, so his father couldn't come and throw his flowers out the window. All of the different plants left the place smelling crisp and floral, and he found that he liked it more than the minty scent left behind by Levi, though neither was unpleasant.

The flowers were sort of distracting though. He'd find himself staring at bluebells and sweet-smelling honeysuckle, thinking about Marco instead of doing the writing he was supposed to be working on. At some point each day, the allure became too much, and he'd pack his tools away and slink off to the Bodt's home.

He'd started coming a little later in the day, when most people had already retreated into their houses for the night. His mother had stopped fussing about him missing dinner, and had taken instead to leaving him something that he could heat up for when he finally did come home. To make up for it, he lingered with her in the morning, eating breakfast slowly and staying till mid-morning. Without Levi demanding he be up with the sun, it wasn't a problem. And his mother seemed to enjoy having his company for the extra few hours.

That's probably why she didn't complain about how late he was out. It was already getting dark out most nights when he jumped over the fence and searched Marco out. Instead of the sun's heat and blue skies looking down on them from the meadow, they had fireflies and moonlight. It was different, but not necessarily bad.

In fact, some nights, it was positively breathtaking. Marco's skin was sun-kissed, but it looked beautiful in the moonlight too, his freckles standing out even more than they did during the day. And the way his dark eyes reflected the innumerable fireflies dancing between the blades of grass was enough to have Jean staring at them for ages.

With the cover of darkness, they felt more ease with affection, lying in each other's arms for hours, exchanging kisses recklessly, brushing fingers across cheeks and jaws. Jean let Marco slip daisies into his hair, not worried that Joan would berate him for the emasculation, for he wouldn't see it.

They decided to go on a walk one night, waiting till around dinner time so that no one would be out. Even still, they cut through the meadow, heading in the general direction of the river again, walking slowly. When they'd reached the limit of the town, Marco reached out, catching Jean's hand with his. And Jean let him.

Crickets and frogs chirped, a soft buzzing accompanying their footsteps as they walked. It was seemingly aimless, the path they took. Jean almost wished they'd get lost, forced to roam the forest with only each other to rely on, together. He'd gladly brave the elements if it meant he could be with Marco without fear. But that was only in dreams.

It took a while longer, but they wound up at the same river bank. They didn't swim though, choosing instead to simply sit nearby and watch the water, some areas still enough that they showed the stars, and they could look down as if seeing the sky.

Jean shuffled over when Marco pulled gently, pressing their sides together and accepting a kiss when it was offered. Marco kept pulling, though, till Jean was in his lap, knees on either side of his hips. It was a bit more intimate than Jean was used to, but he eased into it, glad that he could angle his face down instead of up, for once. The position put him higher, so Marco had to look up to kiss him.

Even when their lips stopped, they remained in that position, Jean resting his head on Marco's shoulder, nose pressed into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent from a day's work.

"You always smell nice." He commented. Marco laughed, the vibrations rumbling against Jean where their chests met, and his fingers came up to gently rub at Jean's back. He hadn't even realized it was tense until he was melting into the big hands.

"If dirt and sweat are a nice smell, I suppose so." Marco joked. Jean rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss against Marco's neck, since his lips were already so close.

"You smell like other things too." He argued. "Like chamomile, and cinnamon, and flowers."

Marco's fingers found a particularly knotted spot, and Jean flinched, becoming mostly liquid almost immediately after.

"Do I?" The other boy wondered. Jean nodded, taking another sniff.

"Yeah. And your sweat isn't that bad smelling." He added. Marco snickered.

"You must love me." He commented. Jean's face flushed, and he buried it quickly into the crook of Marco's neck, lest he see. He couldn't say it himself, but he didn't deny it. That seemed to be enough for Marco.

His fingers trailed up, twisting in the fabric of the shirt that Marco was wearing. It was softer than usual, Jean noted, the weave tighter and the threads weren't yet bare. After pulling back and taking a glance, he grinned, kissing Marco's nose, mostly because it was the closest thing to him.

"You're wearing the shirt." He pointed out, rubbing the collar between his fingers. Marco rolled his eyes, but nodded.

"You'd probably thrash me if I didn't." He said with a sigh, fidgeting a bit with the buttons.

"I would." Jean agreed, flattening the collar carefully and inspecting the man inside. He looked handsome. He told him so.

"Mama said the same thing." Marco laughed, eyes darting towards the sky for a moment as if they were searching for the memory in his mind. Jean found his fingers rubbing gently at the nape of Marco's neck while the other boy was lost in thought. He didn't remember moving to do that.

He let his hands fall away, pressing his cheek against the taller boy's shoulder, feeling the fabric and inhaling the smell. It was everything he could ask for.

Jean had nearly fallen asleep against Marco's chest, but he had to force himself to stay awake. While he could be late getting home, he couldn't stay out all night. In a bid to keep his eyes open, he pulled back just a little.

"Marco?" He called. Marco drew a sharp breath, shifting and blinking rapidly. Apparently he was getting sleepy as well. Jean couldn't help a small smile. "You still won't tell me about our… Souls?" He picked the word carefully. Marco rolled his eyes.

"I won't." He confirmed, craning to kiss Jean's cheek. Jean sighed, sitting back so he could look into Marco's eyes. He was quiet for a moment, then he sucked in a breath, a coy grin gracing his lips.

"That's alright." He decided. "I think I know anyway." He added.

Marco quirked a brow, hands finding Jean's hips and holding on to make sure he wouldn't fall over.

"Oh?" He inquired, fingers dancing softly up Jean's sides and back down again, squeezing at his boney hips again. Jean nodded, humming.

"I think so, yeah." He agreed. Marco waited a long moment, expecting elaboration, but none came.

"Jean?"

"What?"

"You aren't going to tell me what you think?" He wondered. Jean snickered.

"Well, you won't tell me what I want to know." He shot back. Marco blinked, then chuckled.

"I guess that's fair enough." He agreed. "But it's going to bother me." He added.

Jean smirked, kissing Marco's nose, then his cheek. They were silent for a long while, then Marco made a small noise of distress.

"Alright, I can't take it. I'll make you a deal." He announced. Jean quirked a brow.

"I'm listening."

"You tell me what you think, and if you guess right on your first try, I'll tell you if you're right or not." Marco offered. Jean pretended to consider it for almost a full second, then he nodded.

"You have a deal." He decided.

They both went silent, and Jean took a breath, as if he were about to speak, but then he realized what exactly he was about to say, and his cheeks flushed, the words fell short. And, no matter how many times he tried to find the words, it sounded too embarrassing to actually say. Marco waited patiently, smiling encouragingly as Jean did his best to get it out.

"Jean?" He finally prompted after a couple of minutes had passed with nothing said. The one in question sat up straight suddenly, eyes wide.

"U-Um, I-" He stuttered. Marco laughed, hands coming up to cradle either side of Jean's face, and he pressed his lips to Jean's before he could stumble any more. That seemed to calm him down, at least a little.

He took another breath before trying again.

"I think… I think that we fit together really well." He began. Marco's smile sobered, but didn't fall completely. "And… I want to say that we're like our parents, that we're just making it work. But, when you told me about seeing them… Well, you said that soul mates are sort of… Drawn to each other?" He recalled. Marco nodded.

"Well, I think that… I mean, when I first started visiting… I was really confused about why. I'd been taught to be scared of you all my life. To hate you. Everyone always acted like your land, and your family was cursed. I know better now, but I didn't then." He explained, looking down at his lap. He took a small moment to redirect his thoughts.

"But, anyway, I couldn't understand why I kept coming back. It was like I couldn't help myself. And I couldn't stop thinking about you. And, well… That sort of makes me think that…" He paused, lip trembling. To say what he thought aloud was a daunting task. To say it was to admit to so much. But he needed to say it.

"I think that we're… Perfect." He finally breathed. Marco didn't move for a moment, and Jean chanced a look up at his face. It seemed neutral, for the most part. Had he misheard? "Er… I mean… I think we're… Soul mates." He finally managed.

Still, Marco's face didn't change for a long while, but eventually his lips pulled up into a smile. It seemed almost melancholic, but not sad.

"…I didn't expect you to guess correctly." He admitted, fingers squeezing Jean's hips again, as if that was a comfort. The words made Jean's heart flutter, beating rapidly and loud in his ears.

Soul mates. They were soul mates. They were meant for each other. The thought both terrified and elated Jean. To think, there was someone in the world that had been made just for him. To think that someone else could fit so perfectly with him, could complete him in such a special way.

But that also meant that he was bound to Marco. Now that they'd met, according to Marco, they could not live apart. If separated, they'd desperately fight to return to each other. They'd bend to each other, change themselves, give their lives for each other. It was daunting, yet it filled him with a sense of fullness, as if he'd been missing something until he knew for sure that Marco was his.

He was drawn from his reverie by Marco's lips on his yet again.

"This is why I didn't want to tell you." He sighed, running his fingers through Jean's hair. "You're already overthinking it."

Jean pursed his lips, scooting closer so that their chests were flush together again.

"Sorry. I just don't know what to think of it." He admitted. Marco nodded, and Jean felt the motion rather than saw it. "I'm happy though. I think." He added.

Marco smiled, and even though Jean had his face pressed back into the other boy's neck again, and therefore couldn't see it, he felt it. He felt Marco's happiness. Was that what it meant to have a soul mate? If so, it was beautiful.

When the moon started getting too high, Marco reminded Jean that he needed to get home, and they extracted themselves from each other, walking back to town. Jean was so dazed by the confirmation of his musings that he actually forgot to let go of Marco's hand until he was at the other side of the fence. And, even as he let his hand fall to his side, he couldn't keep himself from leaning over to kiss Marco once more before he headed for his own home.

The walk was quiet, but that sort of suited him anyway. It gave him time to think about what he'd learned. He still wasn't sure what to feel, but it was at least mostly pleasant. Sure, it was hard to consider that some higher being, namely God, had actually made him for Marco. That went against everything he'd been raised to believe.

But what other explanation could there really be? How else would he and Marco be perfectly suited for each other? Maybe Marco had some other explanation, but the only thing Jean could come up with was that the Father had made them to be that way.

But why? Why, if they were meant to be together, were they both male? If it was so wrong for two men to love each other, then why make two that couldn't be apart? And, beyond that, why make it wrong for them to be together in the first place?

He'd never had to question his faith so much before. Sure, Marco had said some things that made Jean think, but never had he actually thought that, maybe, just maybe, he'd been taught wrong his whole life. He couldn't begin to guess where it'd gone amiss. He couldn't bring himself to speculate about who was wrong; Was it God? Was it the bible? Was it the church? He was too scared to let himself come to a decision.

But, regardless, his mind had come to its own conclusion; Regardless of who or what was wrong or right, he knew he couldn't be apart from Marco. No matter what anyone said, if they were meant for each other, if they were made by someone to be together, then he'd be damned if he let anyone, even the creator, keep them apart.

No one, not the Father, not the preacher, not the townspeople, not even his father would keep them apart. If he were to die, then so be it. The thought should have scared him. It should have terrified him. To think that'd he'd rather die than be away from Marco.

But, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he should be, he wasn't afraid. With the knowledge that they were meant for each other, he suddenly felt a sort of calm wash over him. For, if they were supposed to be together, then why should he let anything keep them apart?

What on earth could hope to keep them apart?

A/N: I should be studying for a Spanish test tomorrow. I can hear the sound of my grade slipping. Spanish has been weirdly hard for me. Like, I'm having a harder time with it than I did with German or Japanese. I don't know what's up with that. But I'm trying, and that's what counts, I hope.

I say as I slack off.

Anywho, twas time for an update! And I hope you guys liked it. Hopefully it's a bit more bearable than the last one, at least. I think I distressed a few people with that.

I'm really super excited for you guys to get caught up with me. Writing chapter 18 was really fantastic for me, and I'm so stoked to share it with you guys. But alas, it will be a while yet. Patience is necessary on the part of both me and you guys.

Random bit about KuroRiya: I used to never have chapters written in advance. Like, I put the chapters out when I finished them. I only sort of recently started trying to keep at least a few chapters ahead of my posting, just in case disaster befell me in some way. But it's so hard for me not to post those chapters, because god I just want to share them. I'm a loser like that.

And that has been the random bit about KuroRiya that no one cares about. Now, I must go. I should study, since I'm probably going to call into work tomorrow on account of mental health. And I know that's shitty of me, but I need it. I think I might have a little too much on my plate, but not a lot of choice in the matter. Real life is a bummer that way.

Thanks for reading, guys. And, seriously, thanks for the feedback. I'm sure you know by now, but it keeps me going more than anything! Till next time!

KuroRiya
九六りや