Chapter Text
“Who won’t listen to who?”
“Oh, hey Marco! Who brought you home I thought you weren’t-”
“I got out early, so I rode the metro.” Marco’s voice was stiff and curt. Jean felt like he was going to throw up again.
“I would have picked you up you know.”
The look Marco gave Armin could probably kill.
With a sigh Armin left with some bullshit excuse about making tea.
Jean shifted around uncomfortably in his seat. Marco was so close, but he couldn’t touch him. With a start Jean realized he had just been going through the motions of daily life, empty and dull, but he had not fully accepted that Marco was his anymore. With the boy standing right there just two feet away, feeling the universes between them, Jean’s throat closed up.
Those brown eyes stared into Jean’s. He couldn’t read them, knowing only that they didn’t hold all the love and kindness they had always shown. There was something else there though, more emotion than Jean had ever seen.
Marco bit his lip and interrupted the silence. “Do you want to, uh, come into my room?”
It was so awkward it was tangible, but Jean wanted desperately to be next to the freckled boy so he nodded and followed behind.
The room was different than the last time. The bed was made, but terribly. The chair in the corner had clothes piled on so that it was almost overflowing, but other wise it was clean. Almost like it was never used except to sleep.
Out of the corner of his eye Jean saw the picture frames he had admired just weeks before. The majority of them were turned over, so only the cardboard back showed.
Jean sat tentatively on the edge of the mattress while Marco stripped off his sweatshirt and dropped his bag next to the clothes-chair.
“So, how you been?” Jean asked, carefully not looking at the other boy.
“Better.”
Better than what? Jean didn’t ask. He didn’t want to hear that Marco was doing better without him.
Armin chose that time to walk in with a shaking tray full of tea. He set it down on the dresser and left with another bullshit excuse about homework.
Jean didn’t like tea, but he took it anyways for something to do.
Once the door closed the silence overwhelmed the boys again.
“I’m sorry.”
Jean almost spilled his tea at the sound of Marco’s voice.
“A-about what?”
The sound of the cup hitting the tray was almost ear shattering.
“For treating you like I did.”
“It’s okay,” Jean mumbled, finally looking up at Marco, “I understand.”
“Do you really?”
Jean thought about it. “No, no I don’t. I don’t know how to understand but I have tried so hard.”
“You never change.” Marco smiled slightly before continuing. “I- I don’t really know what to do anymore Jean. I can’t go to school for a while because I can’t write, or focus with all these pain meds. I wake up in the night with phantom pains thinking that my arm is still there.”
Jean opened his mouth to speak, to say anything, but Marco took a deep ragged breath and spoke again.
“So I need you to leave me and continue your life.”
“You act as if you gave me a choice.”
Marco looked taken aback by the boy’s smart response. “I can’t hold you back-”
“Shut up for a goddamn second and listen to me!” Jean stood up and stalked over to Marco. “Stop acting like you are giving me a choice, that you don’t mean anything. You aren’t useless. My life was useless before I met you. I never went out and just moaned and complained about everything and then you came in and made me happy. I don’t want to go back to that.”
Jean sat down on the floor, leaning his forehead on Marco’s legs.
“I don’t want you to believe you are worthless because you aren’t. You never were and never will be, Marco Bodt.”
When Marco’s legs started shaking Jean looked up at him to see his crying.
"But-"
"Now I want you to look me straight in my eyes and tell me you never want to see me again if that's what you really want." Jean hoped his voice didn't give away how terrified he was that Marco could actually do it. He had done it before after all.
“I never want to see you again, Je-” Marco broke off, already looking away. “I can’t do it, I’m sorry I just can’t do it.”
A strained laugh escaped Jean’s lips. He was so relieved he could cry - again.
“Don’t be sorry Marco, I’m so fucking happy you couldn’t say that.”
It only takes a minute before Marco laughs. He laughs until his tears dry, and when he’s finish he looks at Jean with his eyes bright.
And it’s just like nothing ever happened.
Of course they couldn’t pretend that nothing happened, but Jean was just ecstatic that he was able to talk to and be with Marco again that it really didn’t matter to him.
Marco continued therapy for building up strength in his arm. He started going weekly to a behavioral person, which helped a lot with coping for him.
And it was really just like nothing ever happened.
Marco visited during three A.M. shifts and batted away Sasha’s hands when she tried to fry his shoes. School wrapped up, leaving more time for working off those student debts, but also more time for just being free.
There were stares when they walked down the street holding hands, and while Jean liked to pretend sometimes that it was just because they were gay but Marco seemed to get over the weird looks he would get because of his stump.
“Sir?” A little girl ran up to them in the park one day, tugging on Marco’s pant leg.
“Yes?” He leaned down to be eye to eye with her.
“What happened to you mister?” She pointed to Marco’s arm and Jean felt his blood run cold.
“Um-” Jean started, but Marco looked up at him and shushed him.
“Don’t worry, I have this.” Marco turned back to the toddler and smiled kindly. “Well you see here, I was sick for a very long time and the only way to get better was to make a sacrifice. A wimpy little arm isn’t much to save a life, don’t you think?”
The girl’s brown eyes widen and she nods solemnly. “Oh yes!”
Marco tweaks her nose. “Now make sure to eat your veggies so you don’t end up like me.”
He stands up and winks at her, telling her to go find her mom. When she gives him a small salute he returns it with a smile. When the freckled boy turns back to look at his boyfriend he finds Jean smiling.
“What’s that look for?”
“Oh nothing, I’m just really proud of you right now.”
“Oh shut up!” Marco punches Jean’s arm, but he’s laughing.
Without thinking, the blond kisses him fiercely. It’s not quick, and maybe it’s not the most passionate, but Jean pours all his feelings into the one brief moment he’s reeling when he pulls back.
The stunned Marco let’s Jean pull him over to a grassy hill where they sit and watch the people go by. With Marco, Jean never felt rushed or that he always needed to be doing something. They sat and watched the sunset over the city, and while the light pollution blocked out the stars Jean traced the constellations on Marco’s arm.