So, yeah, I cried while writing this chap ;~; I say enough with that xD

THIRTY-FIVE

A soaring pain in my forehead woke me up on a shock. I looked around and found myself sprawl over the couch. Damn, I must have slept –or better yet, taken a nap here. I didn't slept very well, I woke up constantly in the middle of the night. I lent forwards and placed my hands on my forehead, squeezing them, damn this headache!

While trying to stand up, I tripped and almost fell over the TV. Shit. I felt dizzy and this fucking headache…!

I walked drowsily to the kitchen, walking past the window and noting a form of pearl white in my periphery, despite my aching head. I lifted the curtain and gasped almost immediately. It was Marco's mom. They arrived.

I unconsciously glanced at the clock, holy shit! It's 8:45!

I was late! So fucking late! And Marco's been waiting for me… –for how long?! I ran upstairs in an incalculable speed, almost tripping again and changed to the school's uniform in a flash. I ran downstairs again, looking desperately for my backpack, -"Jean, is everything alright?"- I heard my name called. It was Marco.

-"Uh… yeah, yeah,"- I said breathlessly. God, where did I left that piece of shit?! –"Fuck!"

-"Jean?"- I heard my name again along with a knock and the front door opening, -"Oh,"- I peeked at the entrance and saw Marco standing there, perplexed, -"I-I'm sorry! I thought it was closed…"

Damn, I must have forgotten to close it last night. Who the hell forgets? And after many, many times Mom urged and warned me to always close it, how could I forget? Shit, I cursed as my chest tightened again at her memory.

-"A-are you okay?"- Marco asked, still there in the entrance.

I ran a hand through my hair, -"I, uh…,"- I couldn't come up with an answer. I was at a loss.

And Marco noticed, -"You're tired,"- He said worriedly while studying me. I must have these huge dark circles under my eyes. I could easily tell by the way he looked at me, -"Maybe you should stay and rest…"

I shook my head, which felt like my brain ruffled along with the motion, -"No, no, I'm… fine. Really."

But it was as if he could poke inside my heart and pick up my most troubled feeling like an index card and read it: tiredness, sadness, agony and oh what else? Pick one, -"No… you're not."

I sighed, a bit irritated, -"I said I'm fine."- I walked over to the living room, still looking for my backpack. Then, I noticed the TV was on and a very suggestive scene was playing: two guys having… sex? Wait… what?

-"Hey…,"- Marcos started speaking and abruptly stopped when the moaning and groans got louder. He gasped, thinking I was in some sort of pain and rushed to me, -"Jean, what's the-"

And he had to come in in the worst part. The other guy was blowing his lover's dick off, like… hard, in an unreal way. It seemed so surreal, unnatural as the other moaned and groan painfully but yet pleased, cum spluttering all over. It awfully reminded of that… manga I read misguidedly. But this was worse, this was a movie –no, a porn- and it moved, it had animation, it was different.

No matter what I told myself, I couldn't look away. No, not this again, for fuck's sake. Am I seeing things anew? I asked myself, recalling that the manga was really a porn between two guys but my eyes deceived me into seeing Marco and me. It also reminded of our previous encounters…

Not wanted to test my eyesight on this one, I turned it off, not even looking at the button. I gazed at Marco, -"I-I totally don't see that stuff,"- I quickly said, walking past him and upstairs, legs wobbling, -"It's one of Mom's novels."

He stood stunned, abashed, perplexed. He gaped his mouth to speak, but I was already in my room, still looking for my godforsaken backpack, -"Fuck!"- I cursed again, unable to find it, ignoring my pounding heart.

After a while, -"Jean, do you need any help?"

-"Nah, it's cool,"- That is, until I stumbled into an old box pulled from beneath my bed and fell face first, -"Godammit!"- I cursed aloud. Today was not my day. If any were.

I heard Marco's footsteps closer. When he entered, he gasped and helped me up, but suddenly realized where he was at, -"Ah, I'm sorry to intrude,"- He quickly apologized, but didn't had his mind on leaving either, -"But you really need help. You're not acting like yourself…"

Realization that Marco –not just anyone- was in my room slowly crept on me. My nerves were acting up. My room was a mess –heck, my whole house was!

-"If you don't feel well, you should stay and rest. I'll let the teachers know and photocopy today's material. I'll bring them to you after class."- He said, holding onto me tightly as if I was feeble and couldn't stand on my own.

I scratched the back of my neck nervously, abashed at his sincerity, -"I'm okay, really… just tired,"- I said, finally honest with him, -"I haven't been sleeping much lately…"

He nodded, -"Explains the bags under your eyes and your behavior,"- At the mention of them, he studied them closer, -"And you've been… crying too."

I looked at him, surprised he could tell. I glanced away and covered them, -"Am not!"- God, what a childish behavior, -"And what do you mean 'your behavior'?"

He chuckled for a bit and turned concerned again, -"You're grumpy,"- He muttered, not liking when I was grumpy a few seconds ago, -"Look, Jean…"

I interrupted him, -"It's okay, Marco,"- I said, trying to believe that myself, -"I can go, I'm fine. Tired, but I'll manage."- Better in school than here anyways.

Marco though for a few seconds and nodded, -"Okay,"- He smiled, -"But don't rush yourself. We'll get there when we get there."

I watched Marco leave, a small smile forming on my lips, feeling my mood lift a little. I guess it all came down to him, huh?

I went to the bathroom, making a face when I saw, well, my face. Seeing as my hair was a mess, I covered it with a black beanie and headed downstairs again, spotting my backpack on the hallway, -"Well, here you are, you little bitch."- I said as I pulled it over my shoulder and kept walking.

Marco waited for me on the entrance, -"Did you eat anything?"- He asked.

I was about to complain that there was no time for a meal until my stomach grumbled.

Marco chuckled, -"It's okay. I already told mom and she said she'd wait as long as she has."

I hurried a bit nonetheless and swallow on the sandwich I just made. I'm sure I'll have a stomach ache soon but oh well. We mounted the car and headed off, -"Jean, you don't look so good,"- Marco's mom warned, -"Are you sure you don't want to stay? I can turn back."

I shook my head, which still ached. Damn, I forgot to take the pain killers, -"I'm fine, really. And sorry to make you wait."

She smiled, gazing at me through the front mirror above her, -"Think nothing of it,"- A small frown invaded her brows, -"Take it you haven't slept well."

I gazed away and nodded.

She sighed, -"You should take some relaxing tea before going to bed. It'll help you,"- She was most likely thinking I was under some intense stress and that I was having nightmares or something. She wasn't far from the truth, but my lack of sleep was mostly due to the loneliness, -"Holler me if you need one, okay?"

I nodded, but said nothing of it. I hated teas. They tasted like crap. I was so grateful to her, but instinct told me to not accept anything else from them.

At the school, we arrived late to science class. Thankfully –and surprisingly, Marco's mom prepared both of us an excuse for our delay. When class finished, Levi gestured me to stay. I groaned; what did I do now? I was really done with his scolding.

But when I sat, -"Kirshtein,"- He began, a serious tone this time; no cocky attitude, no grin, no tea…, -"Marco's mother told me everything."

And I froze in place, -"Excuse… me?"

He sighed irritably and repeated, but with more details, -"She told me your current situation; your mother is gravely ill at the hospital and your father is staying with her for some time and you've no idea of her recent status, correct?"

Why did she tell him? –"Yeah…, correct."- I was totally not expecting this. Yesterday he didn't believe me, so why…? It made sense though, that he'd believe her. I actually didn't went through the details either, not that I wanted to.

-"Then listen well because I sure as hell am not repeating again,"- He crossed his hand together and rested his chin on them, -"I'll give you permission to stand up and answer a call or message whenever you need to, but be warned,"- He lent closer into that threatening position that I've grown slightly immune to, eyeing me thoroughly, -"Do not abuse of this generosity, for it'll be the last one."

I stopped my prompt act of rolling my eyes, -"Th-thank you…"- Thank Marco's mother, dumbass. I then wondered how much it took her to convince this guy, because as far as I knew, she had no proof.

-"I still need proof, official medic paper signed by the doctor or –even better, the doctor informing me himself."- He said, crossing his arms.

This guy was asking too much. I didn't knew the doctor much and I certainly didn't had his phone. I was in no position to interrupt his work either, so screw his proof, -"I'll… see what I can do."- I ended up swallowing those latter thoughts, aware of the outcome.

Levi nodded and waved me off.

Marco and I stayed together throughout the rest of the day and I came to realized how different I felt from last night; so alone and sad. I've never realized just how accustomed I was to the noise in my home, an everyday trait, until I lost it and missed it. Mom's shouts, no matter how annoying, were a part of my days, Dad's reprimands included. He was trying his best to sew Mom and I together again, it's why he stopped working full time… right? Or was it because of Mom? Since when did he knew she was sick? If he did, why didn't he told me sooner? It could've changed so many things…!

A gentle poke in my shoulder was like a slap to push away my thoughts, -"You're thinking too much."- Said Marco beside me, mouth full.

We were eating and when I looked down, I saw that my tray was full. Again, no appetite for canteen food. I placed my hand on my forehead and looked away. I felt a lot better with him around, oh, when did I not? He was whom I needed most now, but these thoughts ended up reaching me, depression and gloom trailing behind. I felt so bone-idle. I didn't wanted to do anything.

-"Jean,"- Marco squeezed my shoulder, noting every single detail in me, -"Please…"

I stood, -"I'm sorry…, not that much hungry."- I said and left to dump the residuum –the whole food, actually.

Classes passed rather slow, but then again, I wasn't paying attention. I was too distracted, too thoughtful. It went on and on, thoughts coming in and none getting out for the rest of the day. When art class came by, Pixis' classroom was closed, -"Ah, sweet, we're free!"- Connie shouted as he jumped around joyfully. He then jumped towards me, -"Dude, we should totally play soccer before practice… la… ter…,"- He trailed off, noting my mood, -"Hey… are you alright?"

Then, out of the blue, Reiner walked behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, -"Yo, Connie, Sasha was just asking about you."

-"Wh- for real?"- He said, excited for a few second before turning concerned for me, -"But wait, I-"

Reiner pulled him away before he could say anything to me. I stared at them suspiciously. Then, Marco poked me, -"Jean, let's go."

-"Yeah…"- I said, trailing behind him.

I was absent-mindlessly following him to the upper rondure. Then, he sat and I sat beside him. I sighed. I was so tired from so much walking, despite my physical training. I was being a total whiney, -"Jean, we need to talk."

Ohh, shit, shit, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, why did that sentence always put me on edge? My stomach flipped over as I gazed Marco nervously, -"Wh-what about?"- I kept asking myself, what have I done this time?

-"About you."- He said simply.

I gulped, -"A-about me?"- I repeated, -"W-what about me?"

Marco's gaze fell a bit, -"I'm worried about you…"- Then, he looked back up at me and I just saw how serious and worried he really was. Damn. Seeing him like that… kind of sunk me, made me feel guilty.

I tried putting up a smile to reassure him that I was "fine", -"It's okay, I'm… fine, really."

Marco's gazed shifted again, his lips twisting, clearly dubious. He knew better. He knew me.

I sighed in defeat. There's no point in lying to him, -"Marco… I'm…,"- I began and my chest felt tight, -"I'm… not so good, to be honest,"- A snort escaped my lips as I desperately rubbed my chest. This tightening was empowering. I noted that as soon as I started speaking rapidly, -"I-I feel like a giant hand from heaven squashed me, like mother Earth slapped me,"- I couldn't stop, I was letting out all the emotions from within me, -"I'm sad, I'm worried, I'm depressed, I'm alone, I'm… I'm…"

Marco lounged at me and wrapped his arms around me, resting his face on my shoulder, -"No, Jean,"- He said, his voice deep as he squeezed me tighter, -"You're not alone."

And it was only then when I realized. His warmth cleansed whatever coldness I had, he literally vaporized it. His light shone so much. Again, I fantasized, but I had no other way to describe it. I remember what he and his mother did for me, what he alone did for me. I let myself sulk to much in those depressing thoughts, -"Marco…"

-"I'm here, mom's here, your dad's here and…,"- He kept quiet for a second and I knew who he'll mention now. I braced myself for the next wave of emotions, -"Your mom is too."

Oh, the agony whenever I thought about her…, -"Marco… she's-"

I promptly bit my lip before Marco could interrupt me, -"Is she, Jean? How can you be so certain?"

I just shrugged. Yeah, how can I be so sure she was dead? I tried… God, I tried to tell myself that she wasn't, but the odds were…

He pulled away from me and gave me a small smile. Then, he pressed his thumb just below my right eye and wiped away… tears? –"Marco, I can't…,"- I buried my face in his shoulder and began crying nonstop, just like yesterday, but being with someone… was much better. He placed one hand on my back and the other on my head, comforting me, -"She's gone… and it was my fault, my fault! She was sick and all I did was fight with her, making it worse...! I can't… I can't forgive myself! It's the only memory I have of her!"

I felt Marco shook his head slightly, -"It's not your fault. Don't punish yourself,"- He pushed me back a bit so we could be eye to eye, -"And are those really your only memories of her?"- He asked.

They were the memories punishing me, to be exact, and I couldn't think of any others, -"I can't help it…"- I whined, looking away.

-"Jean,"- He called and I gazed at him. He was smiling, like always. How could he stay so… happy and confident in situations like these? –"Do you want to fix those memories?"

I looked straight at him now, my heart flaring with emotions, -"Yeah, of course! All those things I said to her, all those fights… I wanna take them all back! If I could time travel, I'd take it all back, I swear!"- But if anything, they constrained me. I couldn't –and could never, fast travel. Another fantasy. What's done… is done and I couldn't do anything about it. Now, I pay the consequences, -"But I can't…, it's done and I can't do shit about it."- I slammed my fist in the floor, pain coursing through my arm.

-"You're wrong,"- Marco said and I looked at him, stupefied at his tone. It was serious, yet compassionate, -"He can make it possible. You just gotta have faith,"- Noting my dumb expression, he elaborated, -"If you truly want to, you just need to believe, in both yourself and your mother, and He'll make it happen."

I found that hard to believe. Didn't He in the first place decided to take her away from me? Why would He give me a chance now? –"I… don't understand,"- I said, my mind reeling, trying to reason with his words. I wanted to understand, but I couldn't. I didn't have much faith in Him to begin with, -"Why would He? I don't go to church, I don't pray for Him, I practically don't believe in Him…"- I said flatly, not holding anything back in this conversation.

-"It doesn't matter, Jean,"- Marco smiled warmly, -"You don't have to be the most holy for Him to lay a hand. He loves us all and gave His life for us. He'll give you the opportunity, but you must believe and have faith."

The warmness grew. It's like I was seeing the light after a year in a cave or something. I couldn't describe it entirely, but I knew what is was: hope. I really, really wanted to. I wanted at least an opportunity to see and hear her. The doubt still lingered in the back of my mind a bit, but I understood him now, -"I… I'll try."- Definitely.

Marco nodded, -"And Jean?"- He spoke and I saw his gaze falling wistfully, -"Please… make good profit of it. Don't let it go to waste," - He spoke, completely certain I'd get the chance, -"It's time I tell you about my dad."

My eyes widen a bit. I remembered the photo I saw on his mom's car: it was a policeman who looked identical like Marco, only more toned and utterly joyful at –what I insinuated, his first day at the job. Since I never saw him when I went to Marco's home, I assumed… something happened to him. Marco has also told me his relation with him was not the best.

-"My dad was a policeman, recently recruited,"- Bingo, -"I've never gotten so well with him; he was strict, reckless and blunt. He was always at work or gym, so he never spent much time with me or mom,"- He reminded me of someone, say, like my father, except the gym part, -"And when he did, it was just for a while and ended up discussing with mom. I was upset with him because of the job, it was risky and he didn't seemed to take it seriously. Mom was too."

My mouth gaped for a while. I wanted to speak and comfort him, but I knew he wasn't finished, so I closed my mouth.

-"One day, we were having a silent dinner. I was upset and desperate to make dad see how risky the police's job was, to make him quit it,"- Marco spoke, his voice lowering a bit –not on purpose, it's like he was having a bit of trouble speaking, remembering that afternoon, -"So I spoke and… I told him he should quit it, that he was too ignorant and reckless. I guess it's enough to say that I let my emotions get the better of me…,"- I knew exactly what he meant. It's like your emotions take control of your body, blocking away the mind and thus reason, -"Like always, he answered with an 'it's okay' and 'you worry too much'. After a while, he got a call from one of his superiors and told us they needed him. I was mad at him so I didn't say goodbye nor to be careful like previous times…"- Marco paused for a moment.

I could pretty much imagine what happened next, but I asked anyways, -"Wh-what happened next?"

Marco looked pained for a moment, but he took a deep breath before resuming, -"There was a raid in one of the nearby stores. The police managed to capture them, but a few got shot… including my dad,"- Guessing the memory wasn't pleasant anymore, I gaped my mouth, about to tell him that he didn't need to continue, but he did anyways, -"After hearing the news, mom and I rushed to the hospital. She didn't wanted to take me, but I insisted. We found him in one of those beds… with several shots in his chest. Mom quickly urged me outside but then dad called me."

I felt a twist in my stomach. It must have been an awful sight for someone so young, -"How old were you?"- I asked, not certain of his age back then.

-"Seven."

I winced as he clarified my latter statement.

-"He called me, saying he needed to talk to me fast. With tears in his eyes, he told me he was sorry and that he should've listened to me sooner,"- Marco spoke, eyes watering equally, -"Instead of just telling him that it was okay, I kept telling him 'See? I told you! I told you!' I was upset and angry at the same time. Dad just nodded and said he knew, asking for my forgiveness, but… I didn't answered him. He smiled and told me he loved me. And just like that, in a blink of an eye, he left."

He died, I repeated and just like me, Marco was angry at him in his last moments.

-"I think God gave me an opportunity there; in a few minutes, I could patch up the gaps between me and dad…, but I didn't. I wasted that chance,"- Marco breathed deeply before looking at me, -"So that's why you mustn't waste it. Promise me!"- He begged, squeezing my hands.

I looked intently at him. He meant it. He didn't wanted me to make the same mistake. Though I wouldn't consider it a mistake; Marco was a kid and upset. I kept my mouth shut however, keeping that to myself and instead, -"I… I promise."

Marco smiled and nodded, pulling his hands away.

-"And… how are you dealing with that now?"- I asked curiously.

-"Well, it still hurts, not like back then though,"- He explained. As I examined him, I noted he really seemed hurt by the memory, but he wasn't close to depression, -"But I feel better. I visit him on weekends with mom and I forgave him. I speak to him and feel… peace. It was like a lesson and thanks to that, you have a chance."

I was again amazed by his assurance that I'd get it, -"Marco, how can you be so sure? I mean, you seem certain He'll give me a hand."

Marco chucked and smiled broadly, -"He always does. You'll see."

I began to wonder if Marco was a child of Him, or his messenger or something, you know, like they exchange conversations, but quickly pushed that though aside.

-"Thanks, Marco…,"- I began after a few minutes of silence, -"For sharing all this with me."

He just smiled and nodded.

Throughout the afternoon, the flicker of hope started growing thanks to him. When I reached my home, I again watched Mom's couch and, surprisingly, I knelt and prayed for that chance. I haven't prayed in years; He had no reason to listen to me, but I might as well give it a shot. Like Marco said, I didn't needed to be a saint nor a shepherd of the church for Him to help me. We're all humans and we all make mistakes. No one's perfect and I didn't need –can't be anyways, perfect to pray for an opportunity.

I closed my eyes, tears cascading down as I prayed silently, -"Please, God, if you can hear me,"- I spoke, voice shaky due to my sore throat, -"I beg of you: give me an opportunity to fix things between me and my mother, to make them like they used to so she can rest in peace."

After that, I fell into a long slumber, hope radiating off of me.