Chapter Text
The walk back to Jean’s small apartment is quiet.
Most of the people in the neighborhood have retired back into their homes and are probably in the process of making dinner or taking nap. Probably with someone right next to them but Jean keeps himself from getting too far into those thoughts.
He trundles his way towards home, his hands full of food items, and instead thinks about the weird day he’s had.
He’d woken up that day, mind set for something new, and had spent most of his morning sitting around doing anything but something new. His entire body had been flittering with some kind of energy that he needed to find an outlet for but there was just so much that Jean could do in his tiny little home without stepping on a cat’s toes or stubbing his own on rogue furniture.
Instead he’d resigned his morning to hideous cartoons on television that didn’t remind him any of what his childhood favorites were like and the sudden pangs for something familiar.
His thoughts had roamed a lot during those too long commercial breaks.
He didn’t like thinking about how it had ended with Eren but the more his thoughts wandered, they would point out the small things. Like how Eren was definitely not the culprit when the very essence of a relationship was a 50/50 split and a certain amount of the troubles Eren felt was from Jean himself.
He didn’t like having any of this pushed onto him but Jean couldn’t deny that their relationship had been teetering on the tiniest bit of weight and was sure to snap at the tiniest provocation.
And suddenly the truth bells were ringing and Jean was caught up denying that it was even there.
Walking back home after the day he’s had brings to light, for Jean, that Eren was right.
Something was making the air between them volatile and a little part of Jean was glad that Eren was able to get away before an explosion erupted between them and permanently separated the two.
Eren had promised that he’d come back; as a friend, but he would come back and talk to Jean once he’d cleared his mind.
Jean had waited the entire week for that day to come and after all those long days he’d decided to take a step in what Eren had gone to do.
He needed to get over relying on Eren for his social anxiety.
And then the incident with the guy on the bike – who Jean is sure now was Marco flashing by – was a slap in the right direction.
There were people out there that could feel for him and talk to him. He just needed to go out.
Running into Marco was that second surprise in Jean’s life and he hoped those feelings would grow into something like a friendship if not just the casual “hey” as they passed each other on the street or in the cornershop.
Jean soon found his feet pounding up the staircase leading up to his apartment door, his hands reaching into his pocket to grab his keys like on autopilot. His thoughts had wandered enough that he’d forgotten about the cool drink in his hand but after manhandling the keys and sticky lock he rushes his way into the small kitchen and cracks open the seal.
The cool burn of acidic-worthy caffeine feels great as it hits the back of Jean’s throat and he’s quickly pulled from the feeling when he hears the soft mewls coming from around his feet.
Jean stoops down to run his fingers through soft fur. “Hey baby. I brought you some yum yums.” He stands up and grabbing the box of wet cat food, he pads over to where Jacque’s food and water bowls are set up near the small dining table. Jean hears soft cat paws padding along behind him and smiles to himself. “You ready for some dinner, sweetheart?”
He turns around and looks down at his cat who meows in response as he sits on his hind legs, looking right back up at Jean.
Jean sits on the floor in front of the bowl and waits for his fluffy cat to sit himself on Jean’s lap as he fiddles with the packaging of the cat food.
It doesn’t take too long when he hears little paws on the smooth tile coming towards him and he lifts his arms from where he’d been resting them on his thighs to let Jacque onto his lap. The cat sidles up and into his given place with ease and Jean runs his forearm over his back as he cracks open the can.
He pours the mushy contents of canned cat food into the food bowl and waits as Jacque shifts in his lap to sniff at the stuff before taking a tentative lick. Jean snickers at the act and lets Jacque sit in his lap to be petted as he takes tiny bites and sniffs constantly at the pile of food.
Jean’s always been the type of person to not talk to people as much as he does with animals. Animals won’t judge your moral compass or how hard you’re crying over something completely trivial.
“Is it any good sweetheart? Hopefully by the time I get my next paycheck there’ll be a sale on the stuff you love and we can stock up so we never have to make you eat this mush.” Jean drops the can next to him and smooths his hand over Jacque’s fur who purrs in appreciation at the attention.
“It’s been a weird day, hasn’t it?”
---
It’s takes a couple more days before Jean finally sees the numbers on his bank account going up.
Pay day is here!
He’d gone to work the day before – the chilly Monday morning jarring Jean into wakefulness and ready to start the path towards normalcy. It was Tuesday afternoon now and a quick look on his laptop showed that a full paycheck was waiting for him to get the things he needed done taken care of.
The rent and utilities bill for that month had already been sent down to the landlord. All that he needed to do was find a way to bring back and restock his bone-dry refrigerator and pantry. Toilet paper was probably something he needed to buy more of.
Shit. He should probably make a list.
Grabbing a pad of paper and a pen from his desk, Jean turns his body to lean against the smooth, dark pine of his writing desk and looks out through the doors of his deck.
He hadn’t opened the doors since that last Saturday; he was too busy trying to clean up his messy apartment and sorting out his dirty clothes from the clean.
The place had turned into a pigsty as Jean had lazed around and a turn around one place meant a revamp of everything around him. That meant keeping his place clean and clear of nasty bugs and rodents.
But now that he’s had the time to pour his focus back into work and relaxing in a new amount of free time, Jean can see a beautiful day trying to leak into the cracks of his deck space.
He pushes himself off the desk and walks towards the door. He can hear the soft sounds of Jacque breathing deep in his sleep across the room on the couch; his raspy breathes loud enough to drown out the sounds of the city outside.
Jean opens the door and lets the noises and fresh air into the apartment. The doors of the deck a little to the side of his across the alleyway sits swung open and Jean wonders if he’s ever even seen them open so wide.
Someone new must’ve moved into the house, Jean thinks.
There isn’t much going on outside the alley and Jean listens to the sounds of casual shouts and cars honking through the streets lining both sides of his building. People are still on their way home and Jean really should start getting that list prepared before the sun starts dipping too far towards the horizon.
He jots down the few things he can remember that are needed at the soonest time possible. Things like: milk, eggs, bread, Double Stuft Oreos, some fruits, (probably) lettuce and sandwich things, chocolate.
Deeming his list a hopeless cause and good enough, Jean’s about to turn away from the balcony to shuffle his way down to the grocery store when something catches his eye.
It’s quick but he sees a hand reaching out and pulling the wide double doors for the balcony next to him closed. He doesn’t get a good luck at the person, but something rings a few familiar bells and Jean hopes to every god out there that fate couldn’t be playing this many games with him.
Jean glances down the alley and realizes that just maybe he’s in some kind of weird, television show set up like the Truman Show and everything is planned and fake and obvious shit like this was being done for the viewer ratings. A sting sparks its way up Jean’s spine as he watches the little light the alleyway gets catch and reflect off the thin veneer of a black bike chained to the side of the building opposite to Jean.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Grabbing his keys and wallet in a mirror of his actions just a few days prior, Jean leaves his balcony in favor of walking through the world outside – the appeal of looking from a distance no longer relevant as he walks towards the small gap between the two buildings that leads into the alley.
Jean skids to a stop at the entrance of the tunnel, the small light of the afternoon casting shadows from the tall buildings on either side of him. This different perspective on a familiar space where Jean can see the underside of his own balcony and the metal railings he’d seen dark, freckled fingers trailing against just a few minutes ago hiding in the small shadows.
Jean looks lower, his vision tunneling on the bike, leaned up against the brick and mortar of the opposite building and half-hidden from the drying sun rays.
He doesn’t have any way to identify the bike’s owner or any sort of picture proof to compare his memories to and for second all Jean can do is stare at the black bicycle like it’s an alien species sent down from another planet.
There’d never been a bike parked out here before and the way that it’s barely hanging on to the old metal pipes along the wall of the building shows that the owner was careless about where to put his transportation.
Probably someone new and without the knowledge that it’s safer to take your bike inside with you than to leave it on the side of the road for the taking.
He hopes that whoever this bike belongs to, whether it’s Marco’s or not, they’ll be back soon to unchain the thing and take it inside somewhere. Jean doesn’t have the time to deal with door-to-door announcements on the search for a missing bicycle.
Jean spins on his heels to start his walk down towards the supermarket; it’s a farther distance than the cornershop and in the opposite direction from where his apartment building stands between the two. But instead, he runs himself into another brick wall, his nose digging painfully into the solid form.
The solid form covered in a soft cloth material that feels similarly like a tee shirt a person would wear out on a lovely afternoon.
Jean freezes and feels pins and needles sparking rivers into his veins as he blinks away the pain from squashing his nose into somebody’s collarbone.
He rubs the back of his hand against his eyes, pressing hard against the thin layer of skin until he can see little white spots in the surrounding darkness. Little stars flutter around his vision as he opens them, tears accumulating in the corners as he tries not to let the sudden pain get to him.
He mutters a quiet “sorry” as he tries to let the air around him help to dry out his ducts to avoid rubbing his eye sockets into his brain from the irritation.
The stars seem to clutter themselves onto the face in front of him as his eyes clear up considerably and Jean takes a couple more seconds to blink. Like a jolt running straight through his spine, Jean stands upright, his back rigid as he blinks up the inch or two Marco’s height grants him.
Surprise runs across the other man’s face and stuttered response filters through cotton as Jean tries to listen to the words leaving Marco’s mouth. “Jean? Wh-what are you doing here?”
Jean blinks and his hands start their tirade of being useless and in the way. “I-I, um, live here actually.” He points over his shoulder with one of his flapping hands and shifts in the direction of the alley. “That balcony up there is actually mine.”
The surprise turns immediately to pure joy across Marco’s face as he shoots a million dollar smile that could blind a person and give Jean a new prescription on his reading glasses. “Really?! That’s so crazy. I live in one of the places right next door to you! Actually, I’m pretty sure that balcony next to yours is mine and Armin’s place. What a small world!”
Jean can’t help but to grin at Marco’s enthusiasm, a warm feeling soaking straight into his shoes and leaving him shivering as he watches Marco glance between the two balconies in wonder.
He looks like a little kid that’s been given a buck or two to go wild in a candy store at Disney World; his expressions are comical yet endearing to a certain extent that Jean can’t manage to look away from his smile.
Marco turns back down to look at Jean and he clears his throat, caught in the act of staring like a complete creep. “Nice. We should hang out sometime. Have like a balcony barbeque. You can bring over your friend, Armin or whatever.”
Marco smiles, his lips softer than the harsher tilt they’d had a second ago from being so surged with excitement. “That’s sounds like a great idea.”
“Great,” Jean breathes out. His nerves had piled inside of him and that one exhale manages to leave his lungs fully depleted from oxygen for a second. “I should probably get going. Got groceries to buy.”
Marco chuckles and gives a quick nod. “Ah. Your paycheck finally came in?”
Jean lets out a strained grumble that passes as a disgruntled laugh. “Yup. And I’m ready for some semblance of real food.”
Jean watches the light flicker in Marco’s eyes for a second and the way his smile seems to falter for just a millisecond before bouncing back up to enthusiasm. He would’ve missed it if he’d taken the second to glance away but it’d still happened and Jean wonders what the sudden emotion that flitted to quickly across freckled cheeks could’ve been.
“Well I should let you go and get that semblance of real food,” Marco replies, his voice a little strained as he seems to let himself flutter around the word. “I’m sure you deserve it.”
He could say something, comment on how Marco seems suddenly frustrated and how his idea of hiding it is really a piss poor job of doing so. Instead he nods his head and trails his eyes across Marco’s face. Hopefully the other guy will get what Jean is trying to understand; what he’s trying to say.
I’m onto you Freckles.
“Right. Well I guess I’ll see you later then, Marco.”
Marco nods his head enthusiastically, that light and energy flowing back into every part of his being as he bounces towards where his bike is chained to the wall. “Hopefully real soon. I’ll tell Armin about the invitation.”
“Sounds good,” Jean replies offhandedly; not thinking much about his promise for meager amounts of meat on the tiniest grill possible sitting on the edge of his deck.
He remembers suddenly. “Oh hey, Marco.”
The boy turns around, a look of worry etched on his face that leaves Jean smiling in reassurance.
“It’s probably not a good idea to leave your bike chained outside. ‘Lot safer if you take it up with you.”
Marco smiles, his gaze glancing down at his bike and back up at Jean. There’s something behind those brown eyes that catches Jean off guard again and he can’t place it but lets it go for another day to figure out. “Thanks, Jean.”
Jean shakes his head. “No worries, man. See ya.”
He turns on his heels and lets the sounds of chains jingling and hitting a cracked pavement be the soundtrack to his walk as he makes his way towards the grocery store. He can still here Marco climbing onto the metal bike, the chains and brakes working underneath him as he settles down and pushes himself in the other direction of where Jean’s headed.
Jean doesn’t turn around to watch Marco ride off but there’s a little spark in the base of Jean’s spine that’s intent on making itself known; the thrill of turning around and maybe finding brown eyes looking back at him.