Disclaimer: I don't own Attack on Titan.

FORTY-NINE

I had to tell her. Before it's too late.

That dreadful hunch that Mom will die really soon was becoming overpowering. It stirs my whole soul. I felt like it was being squeezed. Then came the sadness. I often got gloomy and couldn't hold back a tear or two. Mom noticed and started to tell me it was okay. It's funny how these things turn out to be different at the end.

Today was another gloomy day for me. I was pacing back and forth on my room, pondering on whether or not tell Mom about my sexual preferences –at least today. I know I have little time, I'm just… afraid of her answer. How the hell am I supposed to reveal something like this to her? I mean, she thinks I'm still into girls! I can't just walk to her and say 'Hey mom, I like men and I almost fucked this cute boy in school twice –or was it thrice? And in his own room and here too, actually.'

-"Jeeean!"

Shit! I almost jumped and hit the ceiling, startled, -"C-coming!"

I rushed downstairs and spotted her patting the sofa beside her, like she always did. Again… the heartache…

I slowly sat beside her, eyes on nothing in particular in front of me, unable to look at her. She obviously noticed and turned my head towards her, -"How are you today?"

I put up gammy smile, -"I'm… alright, yeah."

She raised an eyebrow, dubious, -"What's the matter? Do you wanna tell me something?"

I gulped and shook my head unconsciously. Damn, she was perceptive, -"N-no…"- Maybe tomorrow… she can't leave that soon… right?

-"Come on, out with it,"- She chuckled and started messing with my hair, -"I'm not gonna spank you or anything."

I smiled a bit and I was sure I'd gape my mouth to speak, but instead I chicken out and told her that it was nothing. I couldn't come up with a lie either. She wasn't convinced, but still dropped it. We watched a few movies afterwards and I swore I would tell her… but I didn't.

It was by nightfall that I began to doubt if I'd ever tell her. Whenever I man up enough, my stomach twisted and I back down; I think of every possible reaction from her, every answer, every emotion… that her son is not what she thought he was, that he was completely different. She has probably pictured me with a beautiful girl, having a nice, comfortable relationship with no problems at all…

If only it were that easy, I though bitterly as I walked to my room. I took a bath and headed downstairs again. Mom was in the kitchen, cooking God knows what, -"Mom, what're you-"

-"Some omelets. You like these, don't you?"- She spoke, keeping an eye on the scrambled eggs.

-"I…,"- Woah, it's been like… ages since she made one of those and hell yeah I liked them. I remember I asked her to cook one every damn morning, -"Yeah…,"- My mouth started to water. I haven't eaten those in ages and the thought of having a taste now was both felicitous and grieving. Mom used to make those when I was much older… when I wasn't a jerk. She'd happily wake up to cook them and I ate them just as happy. After I changed… they didn't taste the same and I just stopped asking her, -"It's been a while since you've made one though."

-"Are you saying I can't do one now?"

-"N-no… I didn't mean that!"- I smiled in spite of myself.

-"Hphm."

I chuckled and decided to help her, considering her condition. Her wrinkled arms could barely hold the pan to flip the eggs or any plate. After aiding her, we placed the plates on the dining table and sat to eat. Awkwardly, she started to tell me anecdotes of her youth –at least the ones she remembered which, to me, were hazy. I don't know why she was narrating them to me or when did they come up. Maybe it was because we were eating omelets? I had a few flashbacks as well.

-"I remember when I met this girl… tall, tanned with looong hair and all. I thought she was a tart, but then, in the blink of an eye, she was my best friend. My only best friend,"- Among her stories, I never heard her mention Dad and… it was sad –depressing even. Then I wondered where he is, how he was doing...; to shake my mind away from those though, I shared my own stories with her and I was lost in the moment until she told this one story I've never thought she'd remember, -"Oh, do you remember that little girl that studied with you on third grade? The one that was always with you?"

-"Uh…,"- Damn, I actually don't. I honestly barricaded those memories, -"No, I don't."

-"She had red hair and chubby cheeks. She always asked you for a game or something."

And then it popped in my mind, -"Ohhh…,"- That was long ago. I only remembered how she harassed me for it –a PSP actually, -"Yeah, she always bugged me."

-"She liked you, you know."

-"What?"- I scoffed after swallowing a chunk of eggs, -"Yeah, sure."

-"Yeah, didn't you noticed how she flipped her hair when you were around?"

I laughed and rolled my eyes, -"Oh, please mom, that doesn't mean anything. Maybe she was flipping off some gnats."- Actually, it did felt like she liked, liked me and I almost felt the same… if she weren't so annoying.

-"Seriously, Johnny, you had a thing for her too. I remember when you used to ask me about girls and told me about her,"- Mom had a smile on her, the one someone has when remembering something dear. Then, she sighed deeply and wistfully, as if wanting to go back in time and relive the memory, -"I always though you two would make the best couple. You did liked the same stuff and everything. I wonder how things would be if she was here now, with you as her couple, telling me about her like most younglings do when they have a romantic relationship…"

Damn, I thought, Jean, it's time and you know it.

That was my cue. I had to tell her. Now or never.

My chest ached as I breathed deeply, -"Mom… I…,"- I gulped and squeezed it, -"… I have to tell you something."

I was trembling. That same hunch was bothering me again and it was freezing my whole soul. It was terrifying, but I can't let it control me.

-"What is it?"- She noticed my sudden behavior and stood up, -"Are you alright?"

-"Yeah… I-I'm fine,"- I gestured her to sit down, but she didn't and then I had to stand up to attempt to appease my nerves. I placed my hand on my forehead. Shit, how do I even begin? How do I tell her that her wishes will never come true? That I'm not who she thought I was? –"I… don't even know how to begin…"- My eyes began to water. I bit my lip in order to hold them back. Don't be such a crybaby!

-"Jean…,"- She spoke softly as she walked towards me. She placed her hand on my shoulder and caressed it -"It's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay. You can tell me and it'll be okay."- She pointed to the sofa and led me there. I breathed deeply again as I sat down. She sat beside me, now rubbing my back.

It was almost funny how difficult and stressing this was for me, how frustrating it was to tell Mom about… all this. Maybe it would have been easier if I had a better relation, better honesty, with her when little, but since it has been broken for so long, I was having difficulties now. I've never had the talk with her. What I know now, I learned by myself.

I gaped my mouth. Well, here goes nothing. It was now or never and if I never tell her, I'd regret it later, -"Mom… I… don't like women like I used to."

She tilted her head and I knew I had to elaborate –or better yet, get to the fucking point.

I sighed and before speaking, I wondered if I was attracted only to boys in general… or just Marco –the latter seems more likely, -"I'm… actually in love with a guy."

Mom stayed faceless, processing it all. Then she blinked, her eyes widening, -"Oh… really?"

I gulped and nodded.

-"Oh…,"- Her eyes drifted off as she messed with her hair –or what's left of it, -"That's, um… some news."

That didn't sound good…

-"Why… didn't you tell me before?"- She spoke again, this time looking at me directly.

-"I… was scared,"- To be honest, it's more complicated than that and I figured if I wanted to talk to her about this, I had to tell her everything. No more chickening out, -"I was also… confused, like I wasn't even sure myself. It was all so… sudden, so big…"

Mom chuckled, -"It is."

-"Mom, I'm sorry I didn't-"

-"No… it's okay. It must have been hard for you…"

-"It has –well, it still is,"- My mind slowly drifted into thoughts about my problems with Marco, but I shook them away, -"I wanted to tell you sooner, I swear. I was just…"

-"Jean,"- She placed her hand on my face, -"It's okay. I know. You are telling me now,"- Then, she smiled and dropped her hand, -"And as long as you're happy, I'm happy."

My eyes began to water up again. I was happy, but…, shit, it was just complicated.

-"So, tell me about him."- She suddenly said.

-"Huh?"- I was dumbstruck.

-"C'mon, tell me everything about him. Is he a good boy? Is he your boyfriend already? Have you gone out?"

I chuckled, -"Okay, okay, one at a time,"- Images of Marco began to flash by my mind as I began to speak about him, -"Well, he's very cute; brown eyes, dark hair and has freckled on-"- I paused and considered my next words. Marco had freckled almost everywhere –even on his butt, but I wasn't going to tell her that much… well, not now, -"… on his cheeks and he's really, really sweet."

As I spoke, I noticed how Mom watched me with this… peaceful expression. She was intensely listening to me talk about Marco, like… she really wanted to know, like she's been waiting for us to have this kind of talk –or this one in particular.

-"And he's kind of a nerd –responsible, doesn't like cutting, cheating on exams or being late to class. He's also compassionate and generous, always thinking and worrying for others, doing favors for them and all. He's too good in my opinion, people can use him and he won't notice –well, maybe…, he is smart. Anyhow, that's what I'm there for, to kick anyone's ass who mocks and uses him,"- At this point, I was letting my feelings speak for me, -"I've, um, actually done it several times."

Mom laughed, -"That's my son!"

I laughed at her response, -"Anyway, he likes vanilla, like a lot and…"

So, it went on and on. I lost track of time as I spoke to her about the one guy who changed my life. I told her that too; how everything changed when I met him. I spared her the grisly details of my fights with his bullies at first, but eventually… I told her. I had to. Every single detail. She was a bit mad at me for not telling her of the mess I got myself into, but she somehow figured she couldn't do much about it now, so she calmed. As I spoke more, my earlier joyful mood dropped. I then spoke of our recent problem; his family's resentment towards homosexuals. She though as much and tried to cheer me up, -"I'd like to meet him."

-"You… what? Really?"- My eyes widened.

-"Yeah, of course,"- She smiled tenderly, -"It's what mums do, right? I wanna meet him."

I smiled in joy… slightly concern, -"Okay,"- I said and stood up, -"I'll talk to him."- If she wanted to meet, it had to be tomorrow. I sure as hell wanted to please her.

I walked upstairs a bit scared. I haven't spoken to Marco since our last encounter. I… I didn't wanted to be the limpet and possessive boyfriend –if we even were-, but I really wanted Mom to see him. I owed her that much.

As I waited for an answer, I tapped the floor with my foot nervously, -"Hello?"- As always, Marco's mom answered.

-"Hey, it's Jean."

-"Oh, hey, Jean! Always good to hear from you!"- She spoke cheerfully, as always, -"How's your mother? And you?"

-"We're holding up alright,"- I said, scratching the back of my neck. Damn, all this seemed like I only called her when I needed a favor. It felt selfish, like I was exploiting her confidence in me, -"Um, hey… uh, Mom wants to meet Marco. I thought maybe he could…"

She gasped from the other side, excitedly, -"Oh, that's an excellent idea! And that's just what Marco needs!"

I titled my head, -"What do you mean?"

-"He's been… holed up in his room these days. I haven't been able to get him out..."- She spoke worriedly.

-"Oh no...,"- I muttered silently to myself. Marco…, now I wanted to get him out, -"Well, it'd be good if he came then."

-"Yeah,"- She sighed and I heard footsteps, -"I'll talk to him and let you know."

-"Hey…,"- I spoke quickly, guessing she was about to hung up, -"The sooner… the better. Mom's-"

-"I know, Jean,"- She said and I was betting she had that tender smile of hers, -"Do you want to ask him yourself?"

My heart skipped a beat, -"If… he wants to."

There was silence for a few seconds, except for Marco's mom breathing. Then, there was knock, -"Marco?"- She called and for a few seconds, I didn't hear anything, -"It's Jean. He wants to speak with you."

Silence again. There's no way for me to tell if he's answering her or not.

Then I heard the door opening and ruffling sounds, possibly the phone being passed by. Soft breathing came next and I knew Marco was there, but wasn't saying anything, -"Marco?"

-"Hm?"- He mused.

-"Uh, how are you?"

-"I'm… fine."- He spoke and oh God, how I missed his voice.

-"That's…,"- I was about to say comforting, but since I knew he wasn't 'fine', I swallowed it, -"I wanted to ask if you wanted to come by my home. Mom… wants to meet you,"- I was going to leave out that last part, but I didn't dare lie to him. It wouldn't be lying either way, I just rather he knew the reason for my invitation –reasons, to be specific, -"And I… want to see you."

Marco stayed speechless. He was unraveling my intentions behind the invitation –aside from my own delight. After a few seconds, he sighed, -"Let me ask mom,"- He said and began to speak with his mother. He didn't ask me when, he knew it has to be soon, -"She said she'll take me tomorrow."

I let out a sigh of relief, yet I knew she'd agreed. It's still heartwarming, -"Thank you, really,"- I then breathed deeply, wondering for a second whether he was only doing this just to get it out of the way. It wasn't like him though; for me, it's enough if he does it for Mom even if it pains me a little that he wasn't at all joyful to see me, as I was to see him –at least he didn't sounded joyful, -"I'll… see you tomorrow then."

-"See you."

When he was about to hung up, I spoke again, -"Marco… I...,"- I wanted him to say something, anything, for fucks sake! Something like, I dunno, 'I hope to see you too' or 'I'm forward to seeing you'! –"I… miss you, you know?"

He didn't say anything for a few seconds. I felt like I was about to fall on my knees. I really missed him, missed his hugs, his warmth, his kisses, his touch… but all our problems, our obstacles, our difficulties are together in a tempest and we were holding onto a post or some shit and were losing our grip. I don't want to give up, I don't want to let go, but fuck, it was hard to maintain that grip. I loved Marco and I'd do anything for him, but I hated to see him like this. I didn't know who to blame: the people… or myself. I'm the one who got him like this.

I know it's not fair to be even a bit angry at him, but this… I don't know, I just want an 'I miss you too'.

-"I'm sorry… Jean."- It's all I got.

-"Wait! What do you mean you're-"- The line went dead and soon, me.

I didn't even wanted to consider the idea of us breaking apart –shit, we weren't even boyfriends officially, but after what we've shared… and to have no more…

I decided to keep "positive" and not think about that anymore, so I started cleaning the house up for tomorrow. Mom fell asleep in the couch and since I didn't want to wake her up by carrying her upstairs, I brought her pillows and sheets downstairs. I shifted her on the couch a bit so I could place her stuff. After that, I kept cleaning as best as I could and wondered how Dad was doing. All the messages I sent to him and he answered none. I don't know if I should despise him –maybe, but I didn't. Dad has worked his ass off maintaining both of us and I was grateful. Also a bit mad; when I need him most, he doesn't show up, despite my calls and messages. I can't tell what became of him. I can only hope he's alright. He was acting weird last time he came here, when Mom didn't recognize him at all. Dad has always been optimistic, but if anything happened to Mom, he just…

Unable to think about anything more, I slumped to bed and waited for slumber to get hold of me.