Woah, chapter fifty already xD this is by far the longest story I've written.

Anyways, this chapter was kind of emotive and frustating at the same time for me :/ I think it will be for you too. You'll probably hate along the way xD\

Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan. Just those assholes in their school.

FIFTY

As soon as I woke up, I had to help Mom up.

Today, somehow, she has difficulty to stand up and walk around, so I searched for an old wheelchair in our small depot. Dad has bought it for one time she fell down the stairs and crippled her knee. Stubborn as ever, she stood up and about, but we were better safe than sorry. Now, it had use once again. After helping her on the chair, I dialer doctor Zackly's phone without hesitation –today was Monday, so he had to be working, -"Yes, Kirshtein?"

-"You never mentioned inability to walk in your symptom list."

He sighed, obviously expecting no more from me, -"It is rather obvious,"- After silent seconds, he scoffed arrogantly, -"Her brain withers and it is the brain who sends messages to the body, no? The brain wishes and the body shall obey. It is common knowledge."

-"So…?"- I spurred him to get to the point.

-"Her mind is not functioning well, sending the wrong messages, or none. Picture it like this: the tumor is like a shark in a tank full of fishes. The fishes are the brain's cell and the shark goes hungry for fishes and naturally, eats them all."- He really thinks I'm an idiot.

And I felt like a kid, honestly. I wouldn't be surprised if he made me a diagram of some sorts, -"Fine, I get it."

-"Shall I call one of my men to send you a wheelchair? Considering you do not-"

"Nah, it's fine,"- I said smugly, -"I already got it."

He also though I was irresponsible and cared shit for Mom, -"Astounding."- He said amusingly. Sadistic fuck.

A bit pissed, I hung up and walked towards Mom. She wasn't even panicking by the fact that she may not walk any time soon –well, maybe she didn't know that, -"How're you?"- I asked her, placing the oatmeal on her lap.

-"I'm okay."- She answered, picking the oats with the spoon.

I sighed, knowing she didn't had appetite for it, -"Mom, I forgot to tell you something yesterday,"- She looked up at me expectantly, -"Marco's coming by today."

Her eyes widened, -"He is?"

I nodded, smiling.

A smile grew on her face and she slowly began eating, -"I can finally meet him. The one my son loves."- She muttered to herself –or Peggy. I don't know.

As I waited for them to arrive, I wrapped up any unfinished task from yesterday and by 10 o' clock, I heard a car's engine. I walked outside and spotted Marco dismounting it. He kissed his mother goodbye and I took this chance to just… look at him. I don't know if it was me, but he looked… hotter –yeah, it's probably just me. He was wearing a black, rather tight, t-shirt with an opened book and a text that said: 'Less face, more book' below it. His black jean were accompanied by his usual black converse. It was… rare to see him wear black –at least for me. He usually wore colors.

His hair was nicely combed like last time I saw him. God, he looked… amazing, breathtaking like always. Unavoidably, my eyes traveled lower to his neck, lips, jaw, chin, arms… I literally scanned his whole body. If I could only see through his shirt… God, how I'd love to see his abdomen again.

I started to remember that time he was below me, when I slid my hand throughout his abdomen while I sucked in his neck. I remembered when I licked and bit his earlobe, his moans echoing in my mind, how deep and pleased they ringed in my ears…

I remember how we touched that night… right here, in my house. It began with his attempts at cheering me up and then… we were all over each other, pleasing one another. The sensations his touch bustled in me were overwhelming, blissful, orgasmic…

-"Jean?"

I gasped and almost fell back in surprise. Shit, I was drooling again, wasn't I? Marco stood in front of me, -"Uh… hey."- I said, quickly reaching the back of my sweaty neck. Shit. I didn't realized how hot my body was.

He tilted his head, figuring out my odd behavior.

By now, my heart was throbbing fast, as if I just ran a marathon. I desperately tried to wipe out the sweat on my neck, -"It's… hot today, isn't it?"- You're hot, I though and almost said it out loud.

-"Not to me. Christmas is nearing and the weather is actually cold,"- He chuckled and a vast joy invaded me. God, how I missed and loved his laugh. Heck, I even missed his voice. I really, really wanted to hug him right now, -"But of course, you never watch the news."

I tried to look at his eyes, asking permission for a hug, but it was… difficult. Our long-lasting issues were like a cock-blocker. Fuck it. I wasn't going to let those stop me from just hugging him. Without a second though, I lashed towards him and wrapped my arms around him in a tight, warm hug. I caught him off guard.

-"I… missed you,"- I said, burying my face in his shoulder and squeezing my grip on his shirt, -"So damn much…"- I had a tight knot on my throat, making my voiced rugged.

-"Jean…,"- Marco muttered, but he was speechless. Then, slowly, he returned the embrace and I was filled with joy, -"I…"

I waited for his next words until Mom called me.

I reluctantly parted from Marco, -"Um… we should head inside."- When I did though, I only longed to be closer to him.

I noted Marco's mouth gaped, like he wanted to say something, but he shut it closed and walked past me. Inside, Mom waited for us, -"Oh, there you are!"

I smiled, in spite of how awkward this'll be, -"Mom, this is Marco…"

Mom focused her eyes on him and they slowly widened. She drove the wheelchair towards him. I flinched, afraid she'd… I dunno, yell at him or something, but instead she gripped his cheeks, -"Well, well, well, aren't you adorable?"

Marco chuckled and tried to wiggle out of her painful grip. When she let go, he blushed lightly and rubbed his cheek. He looked so damn adorable, -"It's a pleasure, Mrs. Kirshtein."

Mom gaped her mouth, -"Oh, and you're polite too! No wonder my son drools over you!"

Marco's blush reddened more and I felt my own cheeks flare up.

-"Well, enough with the introductions,"- Mom waved her hands and led us towards the living room, -"Come on, have a seat and feel like home,"- Marco and I sat on the same couch while Mom stayed in front of us, -"So,"- She began, clearing her throat before speaking. Here comes the questions, I though, -"How did you two met?"- Mom was smiling broadly, excited about this moment. She looked like a kid in holidays.

Promptly, Marco and I looked at each other. Our expressions saddened as memories flooded us, -"We… actually met a long time ago."- I spoke up, but Marco nudged my arm to let him speak.

-"We took drawing classes together when younger."- He added.

If my memory of that time was a little blurry, Mom's was worse. She titled her head and had a confused look on her face, -"You did?"- She then looked at me, puzzled, -"I took you to drawing classes?"

I nodded, -"Yeah. That's when I met him; around eight grade, I think."

-"Fifth."- Marco corrected me with a smile on his face.

I blushed, cleared my throat and looked at Mom again, -"Oh, right, fifth,"- I almost laughed at the sameness this had in a normal, heterosexual pair. Usually, the girl remembered special dates, like when they first met, first sex, first gift, etc., and the guy was the one to forget. My memory sucked, but Marco's was on point. I guess he was the 'girl' between us, -"So, uh, yeah."- I didn't knew what else to add.

Marco did, however, -"I remember when you picked him up. He always made a pouty face whenever he heard you arrive,"- He side-glanced at me and I smiled. He's right; I hated to leave him with that little asshole that bullied him, so I got mad at Mom whenever she picked me up, -"There was this little kid who enjoyed teasing me and once Jean confronted him, he never hassled me again. I think Jean became his worst nightmare."

Mom laughed out loud, -"Oh, Jean, always getting in trouble!"

It warmed me to hear Marco speak with honesty, I just hope he doesn't say everything, -"Oh, and that's not the end of it,"- He continued, smiling at the memory, -"He mistook one of the guys in school for the bully, threatened him and all."

Mom laughed and clapped her hands like a seal while I wondered how he knew that. Either Reiner or Connie told him –the latter seems more likely, considering how he was shitting his pants that day. That bald crybaby…! Still, Marco never told me anything. He hasn't scolded me… yet. Maybe now that I wasn't attending school, the group was gossiping about me, telling Marco stuff I never told him. Great. Eren must be having the time of his life.

-"Okay, okay, my son is giving me the look,"- Mom said after she coerced her laughter, -"So, what do you plan to study?"

This was one of Marco's favorite topic, -"I'd like to study Digital Arts; make drawings for magazines, coloring books, stories and so on."

-"Oh, so you like to draw, eh?"- Mom asked, more curious of him, -"What else do you like to do?"

-"I like to write poems, but not often. I also love to read, like a lot."- Marco always gave out a smile whenever he talked about his books. At the mention of poems, I remembered the one poem he wrote for me in the wall of his room. I think Marco remembered too. He was discretely giving me a side glance with a slight bush on his cheeks.

Mom's smile grew into a mischievous one, -"Have you written any poems to Jeanbo?"

Marco chuckled at the nickname, but his expression turn bashful, -"I… I have."

Mom clapped her hand, -"Aw, I'd like to listen to it."

-"I… I don't remember it completely. Sorry…"- He said. Liar, I though. He knows that poem like the Lord's Prayer.

-"Ah, bummer."- Mom muttered, making a face in disillusion.

Before she could ask anything else, I spoke up, feeling kind of left out, -"Hey, mom, have I told you how fucking awesome he draws?"

Mom pouted and crossed her arms, -"No, you haven't."

-"Well, I'll show you. I have one of his drawings around."- I stood up and headed upstairs to my room. I knew Marco was giving me a surprised look. He wasn't expecting I'd keep it.

In my room, I scavenged the boxes under my bed and pulled out a binder with my old drawings, which were like babies compared to Marco's. I passed the pages until I found the Superman that Marco drew, the one I fixed, and pulled it out. I rushed downstairs, but when I heard Mom asking more questions to Marco, I halted and listened –or better yet, eavesdropped. Come on, I was just curious, -"Do you love him?"

The question was sudden to Marco –heck, even to me, -"Huh?"- He was stunned at first, but when he composed himself back up, he cleared his throat, a bit nervous, -"I… I do."

-"If only you could hear him speak about you…,"- Mom's voice trailed off. She was probably remembering how dreamily I spoke to her about him, like a kid raving about his platonic love. Mom sighed deeply, -"He spoke so tenderly of you, like you are the best thing that has ever happened to him, like he'd swim in the eye of a storm for you…"- Her words came out as a mere whisper, still reaching Marco's ears, and she was right. I'd do anything, anything for him.

I leaned in closer and peaked. Marco was biting his lip and looking away, his eyes watering. What's wrong, Marco? I though. He had smiled this whole time, but I knew how turbulent and anxious he really was. Was he… unsure of his answer? Were his smiles and glances at me a bogus? I guessed he really was doing this only for Mom… I couldn't help feel a bit glum and jealous. I'd always loved the attention he gave me, his frequent calls, his 'are you okay?' and scolds: 'how are you supposed to study?' 'Jean, if you don't study now, you won't be able to boost your grades later'. Selfish of me, I suppose.

I really hated to see him like that though. He was the strong-willed between us. To see him reduced to that was… infuriating –and all because of some holy book. I don't know who to point my anger at. God? His family? Myself? The latter's more convincing.

Slowly, he regained himself and breathed deeply, -"I…"

Mom spoke again, -"Tell me,"- She said, but stopped for a few seconds, considering on her question, -"What do you love most about him?"

Marco was speechless. His eyes widened. Yeah, what does he love about me? I'm nothing but a scoundrel getting into trouble –and getting others into trouble too, -"I…,"- He sighed deeply, closed his eyes for a second and spoke, -"I really love his impetus, his passion, the way he gets out of his way for me, but he's too reckless and too… tied to the past."

My head dropped. Of course he'd say that. He's an honest guy; Mom asked and he answered with his heart, he'd never lie to her.

-"He…,"- Oh, he wasn't done, -"… doesn't control his emotions, he overthinks a lot and we've argued, but I still… love him the way he is."

Now, Mom eyes watered. She covered her mouth and began to sob.

Marco quickly stood up and reached for her, -"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

-"No, thank you,"- She looked up and took his hands, -"Please, bear with him and be there for him. I'm leaving soon and I hate to abandon him, the idea of him all alone…"

-"But… where's Mr. Kirshtein?"- He asked.

She titled her head, confused at the 'odd' question, -"Who?"

-"His…,"- Marco paused, figuring out that she'd forgot all about him, -"Uhm… never mind,"- He knelt so they could be eye to eye, -"I'll never leave him… I promise."

-"He needs you,"- She shook their jointed hands, -"Please, promise me that no matter what, you'll never leave him, you'll never abandon him just like I will soon…"

Marco went blank. Mom was practically begging him, -"Please, don't say that…"- Marco's voice was becoming ragged. A tear managed to escape my eye.

-"Promise. You're the only one he fights for and if you're not there…"

A heavy load seemed to fall on Marco's shoulders, kind of like I felt back on school with the whole cellphone shit –with everything, actually, -"I… I promise. I swear I'll…"

Mom smiled, -"You're such a sweet boy… I'm glad Jean has you…"

I really hated to interrupt their emotional momentum, but I had to step in. With a smile, I walked downstairs with the drawing on hand, -"Here, Mom!"- I said and handed her the drawing.

Mom sniffed and cleared her eyes before observing Marco's masterpiece. She gasped in awe, just as I did when I first saw it, -"You did this?"

Marco nodded bashfully.

Mom looked at the paper again, -"You have a wonderful talent. I hope you use it well. I know you will."

Marco smiled warmly with a slight blush on his cheeks.

After that, Mom, with our help, made dinner; spaghetti with garlic bread. Marco shouldn't have helped, I mean, he's our guest, but he insisted. We sat down on the dining table and ate up. Normal conversation followed suit and after we ate dessert, a vanilla cheesecake, which Marco found utterly luscious, we watched some movies. At the core of the movie, however, Mom fell asleep and since she was in an uncomfortable position, I took her upstairs and laid her in her bed after refusing Marco's help, -"Damn, she's lost some weight."- I said as I sat back on the couch.

-"She hasn't eaten enough?"

I shook my head, -"No, not like before."

-"Jean, she's really…"

-"I know,"- I sighed and dropped my head gloomily, -"She's really dying. I still can't believe it…"- Call it denial, but the thought of not having the sole figure of a mother was… discomforting. I can't imagine what I'd do without her.

Marco placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it, -"Jean, it'll be alright,"- He said, his voice soothe and calm, intent on cheering me up –or at least comfort me. No need for the effort, really. His presence alone was comforting enough, -"You know it's normal. We're born, we live and we die,"- He paused before speaking, -"And she's… happy, in peace. You did it. You reconciled with her."

I sighed again, -"Yeah…"- It still left an unpleasant feeling in me. It's not like I reconciled and that's it.

-"Are you… alright?"- He asked after a few minutes of silence. Damn, it's been a while since he asked me that.

I glanced at him and our eyes met. He was really worried, -"Yeah… I'm okay. Tired, but I'll live. It… hasn't been easy."

-"It never is,"- He shifted on the sofa so we were facing each other. He crossed his legs and rested his elbow on his knees, -"But that's what makes life special, right? If it were simple, what would be the purpose?"

I was really not in the mood for his philosophic life lessons. I still appreciated the thought, but what I really needed… was him, I just needed him here, -"And you? Are you okay?"

He didn't answered immediately and that discouraged me, -"I'm… alright."- He didn't looked at me when he said that. His eyes trailed off.

I sat closer to him, -"Marco."

He bit his lip, but didn't flinched. I took his chin and moved his face towards mine. He sighed, succumbed, -"I'll be fine, Jean, don't worry."

I arched an eyebrow, dubious.

He smiled slightly before his expression saddened, -"It's you mom, she told me some things…"

-"I know."

-"You… heard?"- His eyebrows furrowed a bit, probably a little bothered at the fact that I eavesdropped on them.

I nodded, -"Yeah,"- I sighed and prepared myself for the question I've holed up in me, -"Did you… meant all those things?"

Marco's expression softened. He looked down, thoughtful, -"Yeah…"

-"About me, I mean."

He looked up at me, his cheeks flaring up a bit, -"I… I did."

-"Really?"- I leaned closer to him, not taking my eyes off his, -"All of them?"

Marco nodded. So… he even meant the not so good things, huh? Well, yeah, dumbass, he wouldn't have said them otherwise, I though bitterly as I tried to read Marco's face. He was… worried about something else. I noted how he frequently gaped his mouth and promptly close it, like he was battling with himself on whether or not say whatever he wanted to say, -"Jean,"- He finally spoke, -"I'm worried… about us."

-"Us?"- My heart skipped a beat and my stomach stirred up. Every nerve in my body bustled up at the same time, -"W-what about us?"

-"I… don't know if we can keep this up,"- Marco had this heart-piercing look, like it even pained him to speak, -"I… I really shouldn't…"

But then it hit me and again, like he truthfully said, I never controlled my emotions nor my tongue, -"Again with religion? With the Bible? Marco, come on…"

Marco dropped his head and I knew he was biting his lip like he always did whenever he wanted to suppress a cry, -"I'm so sorry…"

It's finally happening, the breakup, this can't be…, -"I can't believe you let it bind you like that,"- Among the mixed emotions: sadness, anxiety, I was really choleric, -"Why should your life based on some fucking book?"

Marco gasped and look up, his brows furrowed, -"Don't speak of it like-"

-"Like what? Then how should I speak of it? It's like your whole life is written in it! Like it's your personal diary! How the fuck should I speak of it?"- I waved my hands up in exasperation. All this oddly reminded up of our dispute in school; I was mad, unable to control myself, I spat at him and unintentionally insulted him… which I ended up regretting really bad later, -"Please, explain! How am I supposed to see it any different?"

Marco was shocked, scandalized at my outburst. Aghast, he lent back, away from me, something he usually did in our arguments. He was scared, his widened eyes were narrowing me in fear. I… really must be looking frightful right now. The familiar guilt was building up in me and it was worse than ever, -"Jean…,"- He started shaking his head, -"You need to understand how much it means to me…, how-"

-"And you need to understand how much you mean to me!"- I yelled, louder than I should have. Marco was taken aback. His eyes widened once again, but this time with slight wonder, -"Marco, I love you and I need you! I lost my dad and I'm losing my mom, I can't lose you too! I can't! What about your promise to Mom?"

He gasped in dread, -"L-lost your dad? What ha-"

I roughly pushed him down onto the sofa, pinning him down below me. I locked my grip on his wrists rigorously, not set on letting him go. He gasped again in surprise, but before he could even ask what the fuck is going on, I smashed my lips into his. I vertiginously kissed him, licking and biting his lips wantonly. Marco groaned and wailed in pain as my teeth carved his soft and smooth lips. He tried to wiggle out of my grip, he even tried to push me off the couch, but I didn't faltered, instead, I strengthened my grip even more, to the point where my nails rasped his skin.

-"J-Jean… s-stop…,"- He tried to lull me out among the harsh kissing, but it was in vain, -"… y-you're hurting… me..."- By this point, I could barely hear him; my tongue was in his mouth, touring around and taking in his succulent saliva, but it wasn't enough for me, or whatever possessed me. I slid my hand up his abdomen, freeing one of his, with which he irresolutely tried to push me off. I knew then he wanted this as much as I did. It's been so long since we've touched, so long since we've kissed, held each other…

But I wasn't reasoning nor did I intended to. I was hurting him, but at the time, I cared little. I just wanted to touch him, to feel him, to remind myself that he was here and that I couldn't let him go. His pained wails became nothing but a whisper.

I kept kissing him nonstop and occasionally, he answered. He tilted his head to the side to get some air. He coughed and breathed harshly while I licked and sucked his neck sternly. His hard moans were like fuel, inciting me even more. He started to grip and pull my shirt, nudging me, telling me to stop, but not stop. At one point, in my hungry and lust driven behavior, I thought I'd heard him sob, I thought I saw tears in his eyes, but I dismissed it and resumed my sinful briskness, not keen on abandoning my growing elation.

-"Jean… please…,"- He started begging while I desperately tried to undo both ours pants, -"Please…"

Suddenly, like a brick just smashed into my head, I stopped after hearing what I though was a cry and after looking down and seeing Marco reduced to tears, I knew I was in real, real trouble; and not only from him, but from myself.

Marco was covering his face with his arm. He was crying. I saw tears cascade down his eyes and neck into his sweaty chest. His shirt was crumbled and raised up, so half his abdomen was exposed, his pants were loosened, his hair was a mess…

All my doing.

-"Marco…?"- I called him, seeing how rigid he was underneath me. My hands quivered as I slowly pulled his arm off his face and when I did, I saw it utterly red, his lips swollen and bruised… then, our eyes met and my soul froze; his eyes… his eyes were red from crying…, how much had I been over him like this? How long has he been calling me, crying and begging me to stop? -"Oh no…"

He gazed off, closed his eyes and breathed with difficulty.

-"Marco, I'm s-sorry… I don't know what got into me,"- Again and again, I began to inanely apologize, -"I-I didn't mean to touch you like that, I swear…"- Too late to realize that what I just said was a deceit.

Marco shook his head and just when I was about to beg for his forgiveness, his mom arrived. He slid out from under me and just like that, he gathered himself up, fastened his zipper up and left and again, I was alone.

What have I done? I asked myself, staring at nothing in front me. My vision clouded as my mind went overdrive with thoughts: what has gotten into me? Will he tell his mom? Will I see him again? Will he forgive me? Marco must really think I'm a rapist and now he'd definitely break up with me! What will I do, what will I do? I swear, I didn't mean for this to happen, I was just…!

My head started to ache massively. I winced and walked limp to the kitchen. After scavenging each damn drawer, I never found the fucking pain killers and headed upstairs. I rushed to the bathroom and took a long shower. I cried my heart out and started to feel weary, yet I couldn't afford stay asleep in here, so I forced myself up and out of the bathroom and collapse on my bed.

You've probably noticed that I really, really like drama, conflicts and whatnot! XD things aren't looking good for Jean, like, at all, but I promised you it'll get better and I'm intent on keeping it!

BEAR WITH ME!