Chapter Text
I like you.
It was on one of those nights when the hazy purple of the night sky played with your emotions that Marco, after years of frustration and regret, finally confessed.
The silence between them had stripped him of his walls, leaving him utterly vulnerable to the beasts within. And Christ, did he want to take them - his words - back and forget that night. They were leaning over the railing of a bridge when it happened; Jean had taken a long drag (a habit he picked up from some seniors he had idolized back in high school) and had flicked the ashes aside. Marco felt his chest tighten at the sight. His longtime friend would always try to keep up his ‘cool guy’ image, but in reality, Jean would rather die than pollute the river than coursed through their childhood town. The same river that the two of them, along with some other friends, had played in as children during the dry summers. When they were young, the urge to be with Jean could be disguised by the innocence accompanied with being a child.
Looking at Jean now, as a 20-something-year-old sophomore in college, was an entirely different issue. Rocking the undercut like he had invented the style, oozing this suave masculinity when underneath he was just trying to pull himself together. Even if Marco didn’t know things about Jean that few other people were aware of, there was no denying the attraction. The need to hold him tight and tell him “You don’t need to be cool. You’re already amazing to me.”
Back to the issue at hand, however, this scenario had slipped and fled far from Marco’s reach. After hearing those words, Jean’s reaction couldn’t have been more dramatic. He began coughing loudly in hacking breaths; his cigarette fell from the corner of his mouth in the process. He stepped away from Marco when the latter attempted to provide any relief to the coughing, waving his hand away. Another tell-tale sign things would not end well.
The first, Marco had neglected to think of this earlier in his emotional high, was Jean’s pining for a woman named Mikasa Ackerman. Yes, she was beautiful yet modest. Yes, she was calm and observant. Yes, she was talented and perfected every skill she came across. Yes, she disregarded Jean’s advances in favor of tending to the needs of her relative - one whom Jean particularly disagreed with. Yes, she was out of Jean’s league. Jean’s feelings, however, did not falter in the midst of adversity. Their relationship, in more recent years, had shifted gradually from strangers to acquaintances. This was a relatively huge amount of progress considering their lack of communication. It made Jean happy, and, to an extent, Marco because he was glad to see Jean succeed in his romantic plights. Even if his heart ached with every text he received.
“Heh, t-that was a good one, Marco.” Marco’s head swiveled to look at Jean. His throat felt dry. “You nearly got me there. Sure, it’s been awhile since either of us were in relationships, but you can be damn convincing when it comes to things like that.”
In another world, maybe Marco would’ve had the courage to grab Jean by the collar and kiss him. Kiss him with an intensity of a love that blossomed for nearly a decade. Run his fingers through that two-toned hair and pull his best friend closer to him so that their bodies intertwined and crashed into each other like fireworks. Mutter “I love you” into his mouth as he claimed it again and again without shame or remorse. It could’ve kiss that belonged in the movies.
Life isn’t a movie. It’s an endless puzzle where we have to piece things together to figure out what we need.
Right now, Marco needed Jean. Not his lips or his heart, both of which he wanted greatly, but his company. He needed his friend.
Marco laughed, eyeing Jean as he tried to regain his composure. In his mind, Marco fixed the collar of his jacket and smoothed his hands across his chest. He chuckled as Jean rubbed his hands over his shirt to wipe off any ash from his cigarette. This time, Marco reached over to flick a piece over the left pocket.
“You know me too well, Jean,” he mused as he leaned over the railings once more.
“Damn, I've known you since diapers, haven’t I? We’ve been stuck together since. I hope I know you well enough by now.” Was there something more in his friend’s tone?
No.
For the rest of the night, Marco would put off his heartache. All he could do was enjoy the company of the man he loved the most.