Chapter Text
June 25th. Grade 8.
“So you really won’t be here during the summer?” The last day of eighth grade hadn’t been Marco’s favorite day. Of course, like the rest of the students, he was ecstatic that he’d get to leave the hellhole that was middle school. After the bell had rung for the last time, the rush to escape was dramatic and incredible. He, however, decided to walk slowly alongside his friend Jean, who had to wait for Marco’s parents for a carpool anyways.
“Yeah, I’ll really be gone for the whole thing. My parents are sending me to some damn basketball camp for a month, and then we have the France trip planned . . . fuck this district, why did we get out so late? June twenty-fifth? Camp starts tomorrow!”
“It sucks.” Marco’s chest felt tight. His friend stared at the ground, mumbling curses under his breath. They had been best friends since fifth grade and often did everything together. They even got sick at the same times. But Marco could guarantee that Jean never felt butterflies when he looked at him. Sometime during seventh grade, he’d begun to think of Jean’s scattered acne and shaggy, dry brown hair as cute. Marco loved the braces he hated and the glasses he despised. It shocked him when he’d first realized he felt this way. Concealing his feelings never grew any easier, but they surprised him less. He couldn’t decide whether Jean’s absence was a good thing or a bad thing. He wouldn’t be there to torment him, but he’d have nobody to talk to without him. Marco was social enough, but none of his friends were as close to him as Jean was. The two of them seemed inseparable; nobody else could put up with Jean’s blunt, unpleasant personality quite as well. In fact, it made him fall just a little harder. He had no idea why a person like Jean made his heart stutter and his knees weak, but he did, and he had to deal with it.
“We could’ve spent the whole summer together,” Jean grumbled. The two of them passed the school gates, the crowd still present, though it had thinned a bit. “I’m good enough already! Why do I need to go to camp?”
“I guess your parents didn’t want you spending your summer sitting around playing video games instead of enjoying the nice weather.”
“’Nice weather’? Summer out here is the same as spending time in Satan’s asshole!” It was very dry where they lived, so summers were sweltering and uncomfortable. According to Jean, his basketball camp was an hour south, meaning the heat wouldn’t be any better. Marco laughed lightly at his comment, his heart pounding just a little too hard. He’d noticed he’d been watching his friend a bit too long when he stopped staring at the ground. Quickly, his gaze shifted away, and he mentally applauded himself. Good for you, Marco. He’ll never know anything. He felt a new pang in his chest, one of sadness and longing. Deep down, he wanted Jean to find out. It was burdensome, keeping such a secret from him. He wanted to talk about it, to free his pent-up frustration—Jean was leaving for the summer. If it all went wrong, he could just think about it, and when he came back, he’d feel better about it. It was unrealistic to assume that Jean would ditch him, yet it remained one of his worst fears. He’d much rather love his oblivious best friend than anger him and send him away.
“It’s disappointing. I really did want to spend summer with you, Jean.” He spoke softly. It was obvious, how sincere his words were. Maybe it was too obvious? Marco’s heart was racing. With every new thought, his palms sweat and his face flushed. Just say it. You have a lot less to lose than you think. “Write to me at basketball camp, will you?”
“Yeah, I’ll write you letters. It’s so stupid! We can’t use phones or anything! I have to go months without my games! You’re so fucking lucky. You get to sit home and play everything.”
“Y-yeah.” Did he just stutter? Marco bit his lip, eyes glancing at Jean, who seemed confused.
“Is anything wrong?” Say it. He shrugged.
“Nothing, I—you know it’s more fun when you have someone to play those games with.”
“I hate my parents. They’re taking away your break, too! Damn, should’ve thought of that earlier! They like you better than they like me.”
“That’s not true.” It was true. But it was the last of Marco’s concerns. “But at least you’ll be better at basketball when you come back.”
“I’m already good enough. I’ve never had to try before. What more can my parents ask for?” Marco noticed his family’s silver car approaching, the crowd significantly less. It would be a lot harder to confess with his parents there. He didn’t exactly want them to know.
“Um, Jean?” He could hear his heartbeat. It thumped in his already-tight chest; he strained to maintain a steady voice. Jean looked directly at him—oh no, his eyes were thin and chestnut brown; his darker hair clung to his forehead and fell in his eyes . . . say it. Admit his feelings to him. Risk losing him forever.
He’ll have an entire summer to think it over.
“What’s wrong?” Say it.
Just do it.
“I—my dad’s here.” Defeated, he pointed to the car. Jean began to walk over to it, leaving Marco behind. He sighed, his chest even tighter than before. It would be a while before his hands stopped shaking. Jean claimed the front seat, to his relief. He couldn’t see his face burning in the back. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.
I love you, he mouthed, staring out the window blankly.
August 26th. Grade 9.
Marco couldn’t say he’d changed much over the summer. Despite the fact that he’d grown a few inches and gotten an undercut, he was still the same person. Apart from writing to Jean and some volunteer work, Marco’s summer was uneventful. He did sit around playing video games, like Jean had wanted to, and had beaten five of them. Other times he’d swim or play basketball, and he’d met up with some friends that weren’t Jean. They’d invited him to a few parties, but he’d declined—he felt nervous going there alone. Even so, he’d gotten closer to some of them.
“Ugh, can you believe we’re here?” He looked up from his phone, where he’d been waiting for Jean to text him back, to see his friend Connie running over to him. Despite the fact that he could play basketball fairly well, and was aiming to make the team, he was remarkably short. Marco had to bend down just to make eye contact with him. “It’s so crowded. I can already tell this is gonna suck.”
“Well, Shiganshina High burned down in the fire, so they’ve sent all the students here,” Marco explained, though everyone in the town already knew. Connie shrugged, though he didn’t look any happier.
“Sucks for them. But we don’t have any room, do we?” He watched a giant crowd of girls squeal and jump around, ecstatic. “Can’t Stohess Academy extend scholarships to some of the students? I’m sure they’d want Armin. Don’t smart people give them good ratings or something?” Marco shrugged, his eyes scanning the campus for any sign of Jean. It felt like he hadn’t seen him in forever and it made him anxious. How would he feel, looking at him again? It had been a whole summer, and he’d allowed himself to distract himself from his crush. Now, he’d face him again—maybe, if he was lucky, the braces and the acne would cease to be cute.
All at once, a bunch of girls began to nudge each other. They whispered excitedly, all looking in the same direction. Some pointed, but their friends immediately scolded them. Marco raised his eyebrows, curious. What was all the—
Oh.
Oh.
His heart almost stopped. Walking towards the school’s courtyard was a boy who looked like a model—but it wasn’t. Like Marco, he’d gotten an undercut, but his was bleached a color that matched his eyes. A black V-neck hung loosely off his chest, though parts of the fabric clung to biceps that weren’t there three months ago. Girls squealed when he smiled at them. They used to run away. Marco couldn’t believe he’d live to see the day he wore skinny jeans, but they were wonderful. He couldn’t remember his ass being that nice. It was impossible to look away.
“Um, Marco?” Startled, he remembered that Connie was still standing next to him. And he could see his face flushing and hands trembling. He tried to snap out of this trance that Jean put him in, before it was too strong. “Is there something you never told me?”
“I-I’m fine! Just spaced out!” Shit. The stuttering again. Connie raised an eyebrow, frowning.
“You’re checking out that guy’s ass,” he commented, causing Marco’s blood to rush faster.
“I—well, no, I’m just—uh—it’s a very nice ass,” he finished pathetically. He wished he could crawl in a hole and die, especially before Jean found him like this. Connie snickered, opening a black pit in his stomach.
“Of course it is. You could’ve told me. I don’t care.” Unfortunately, Jean spotted him and met his eyes. Marco cursed his face for being so recognizable. Damn freckles.
“Hey bro, haven’t seen you all summer!” He proceeded to give him an awkward man-hug. Marco pleaded to every deity to have ever existed that Jean couldn’t feel his pounding heart and shaking body. “Lucky bastard, beating all those games. I barely had the chance to play anything.”
“How was France?” He tried to not to focus on anything concerning the way he looked. Where did he get so muscular? Basketball camp? He hadn’t mentioned anything in his letters!
Jean shrugged. “Fine. Would’ve been more fun if you were there. God I hate my family.” He then noticed Connie watching him, an expression of pure shock on his face. “Who’re you?”
“Oh, that’s my friend Connie. He’s trying for the basketball team, too.” Jean eyed him suspiciously.
“He’s tiny.”
“Fuck you.”
“Hey, all I said was—“
“You know him?” Marco nodded slowly, wanting nothing more than to leave. Despite his dramatically changed looks, he was still Jean, meaning his social skills still sucked.
“This is Jean. He was away the whole summer, but he’s back now.” Connie’s eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his head.
“This is Jean?” Jean scowled at him. “You said he was dorky-looking! You were checking out his ass earlier!”
“What?” Marco was burning. The heat that filled his skin was too much to bear. Now he really wanted to crawl into that hole.
“Um, well I—it was impossible not to notice—“
“You really thought I looked dorky before? You always told me that I was fine!” Because you were cute. All of it had gone away. Not a single ounce of cute was left in this boy, yet things had gotten worse. He was hot. He made Marco hot. It was the worst impression he could have asked for.
“I—I just really like your new look,” Marco stammered. “You looked fine before, more than fine—it’s just that I can see that this is the real you.” It was lame. At least he didn’t blurt out that he would gladly lick the defined abs he probably had now. The thought, however, only made matters worse.
“You look great, too. Haircut’s nice.” Marco rolled up the sleeves of his button-down, determined not to show any more feelings. At this point, Connie rolled his eyes, obviously bored.
“Hey, I’m going to leave you to catch up,” he said, already turning away. “See ya later.” Marco watched as he walked away, determined to take his eyes off of Jean.
“I missed you,” Jean said. Marco really needed to leave. He had no idea what he was telling him, how much it meant to him . . . it was the past two years all over again, but way worse. He’d noticed that he didn’t smell so much like Axe cologne anymore. Jean had definitely shoved the embarrassing, awkward preteen years behind him. High school was going to be hell. “No homo.”
Worse than hell.
“I missed you too, Jean.” There. He could smile at him like usual, with Jean’s denseness overlooking the fondness in it. The greatest shock was over with. Over time, he’d get used to Jean like this . . . oh, he could so get used to this . . . “We should get to class.”
“Who do you have—ugh, not the same! Our schedules don’t match up at all!” He groaned, shaking his head. “This sucks.”
“At least there’s basketball,” Marco offered. “If we both make the team. But we can still walk to class together.” It took every ounce of willpower he had not to lace his fingers with Jean’s.
And he’d thought middle school was bad.