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"Alright Marco!"
My name is declared loudly, Jean's long and gangly arms sweeping dramatically as he talks. A cloud of white punctuate his statement. It's so damn cold in here...
This impromptu secret meeting inside a cramped tool shed to discuss Jean's love life was definitely not on my list of things I wanted to do today. But here we are.
Cobwebs hang from the rafters above in thick curtains of gray. I find the sight unsettling to say the least.
But Jean's amber eyes are a perfect distraction; illuminated by the thin strips of light that seep in through the slats of wood. They look like a sunset on fire. I feel my pulse pick up a bit, and I inwardly curse at my poor, gay heart.
Outwardly I smile patiently at Jean, waiting for him to continue.
"Operation 'make Mikasa fall for me' is officially underway!" He clenches his fist, a wide, hopeful smile stretched across his angular face.
It makes me want to bash my face against the nearest wall...
"Okay. What do you need me to do?" I say instead. Maybe one day I'll actually grow a spine and say what I really feel. But today is not this day.
Jean's smile goes from determined, to shy and soft at the drop of a hat. The way he looks at me makes me fall in love with him a little bit more.
"See, this is why you're my best friend Marco. No one else's ever been there for me like you." Jean's voice settles into a quiet, intimate whisper by the end.
Damn it. He really doesn't know how to play fair.
If he notices my smile becoming strained, he doesn't make a comment. It's a kindness that slowly kills me, day by day.
"You're pretty good friends with Armin, right?" Jean is quick to move the conversation along when he realizes I'm not going to make a comment to his previous declaration.
My brow furrows in confusion, but I nod slowly in response. I'm not sure what Armin has to do with this, but I'm starting to think this newest plan of Jean's is going to spell misery for me.
"Good. Armin is a smart kid, even if he follows Jaeger around like a pathetic puppy," Jean grumbles that last part, as he shoots the dust coating the floor a fearsome glare. I try not to laugh, but a small smile betrays me. I'm glad he's too busy glowering at dirt specks to notice. By the time Jean's looked up at me, I'm able to school my expression back into my normal benign and patient smile.
"I can't disagree, Armin is brighter than most of us here. But what does he have to do with anything?"
"He's friends with Mikasa,"
Jean says it like the solution to his plan was that obvious. Like I was too slow to figure that out on my own.
"Yeah, I know. So what? You really think I can get Armin to convince Mikasa to go out with you?"
I usually don't get sassy with Jean. But some times I just want to shake some sense into him, and then follow up by kissing that sense right back out of him.
"... you don't think it'll work?"
Jean's voice sounds so uncertain. It makes me feel terrible, and I immediately wish I hadn't lost my cool.
Time to do some damage control.
"No, I'm not saying that exactly," I pause, trying to find the right words to say; it was like picking out a path across a field of land mines. "It's just... I don't think it's going to be so cut and dry y'know?"
"Why? Because a girl like her wouldn't even give a guy like me a shot?"
Jean sounds ticked off now. The glare he wore earlier is now directed at me, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't scare me a little. Or turn me on. But that was a realization I'd explore later.
"N-no, that's not what I meant at all..." at this point I've backed away a few steps, my hands raised in defense. Jean scoffs as he advances after me. Even he could sense how weak that defense was.
"You know Marco, you confuse me sometimes." At this point I feel my back bump against a wall, the rough wood catching onto the thin fibres of my shirt. Jean is shorter than I am, but right now it's like he's looking down on me. I feel incredibly small. He's crowded me in so closely that I can feel his warm breath hit my chin. "You always stand by me, but there are times when you make me feel like you're not in my corner..."
I want to kiss the anxious pinch between his eyebrows away. He's so close I can smell the military issued soap on his skin. I'm trembling. With need. With fear. With words held back for too long.
Every one of those words are balanced on the tip of my tongue. The scale is so close to tipping over. I open my mouth, finally ready to spill my guts, when Jean places a hand on my shoulder; his fiery glare nothing but smoldering ashes now.
"Marco," I've always loved the way he says my name. But his voice sounds so lost I can't enjoy it. "You're the only friend I've ever had. I... I know I've said that plenty of times before.
"But you've been acting so strange lately. I don't know how to handle it..."
Jean's eyes are locked onto mine. They're warm, and full of sincerity. I love them. I love him. It hurts too much. But if I look away now, I know it will make him more unsure. So
I don't. I hold his gaze with enough sincerity to match his.
The way he finally smiles lets me know I made the right choice.
"I need you in my corner Marco. Now, more than ever." His grip on my shoulder tightens, "We're about to graduate... and I know Jaeger is going to drag Mikasa to their deaths by joining the Scouting Regiment. I know she'll follow him recklessly. So I've gotta show her soon that there are other paths she can take."
Every confession I was about to make falls away. I recognize the look in his eyes. I've felt it enough times reflected in my own when I looked at him.
It was love.
And it wasn't directed at me.
It never would be.
But that makes my decision easier to make. It makes my problems less significant than his in comparison.
Without hesitation I grip his opposite shoulder, and squeeze softly as I smile.
"I didn't mean to make you doubt anything Jean. You know how I overthink stuff."
My fingers brush the length of his broad shoulder, down his arm. I stop myself at the wrist, but I can't resist lightly grazing its underside. "I know it'll work. I'll do my best to help you, Jean."
"You will?"
His tone his breathless, and it makes me shiver. I know it's because he's relieved. But for just a moment I let myself pretend that this close proximity is affecting him as much as me.
The inherent trust between us is the final nail in the coffin of my decision. That his happiness will always come before mine. No matter what.
I smile the same benign, patient smile as always.
"Of course Jean. You know I'll always be fighting in your corner."
He huffs out a held breath, that he disguises as a laugh, and gently punches my arm.
"And I'll always fight in yours."
He says it with a smile so genuine it hurts.
"C'mon, let's go get lunch before there's nothing left."
Just like that Jean is back to his usual self, waving off the tension between us like it never appeared. As I follow him back outside, the finality of the door slamming shut behind us resonates in my ears for the rest of the night. If anyone had asked me in that moment, I would have said it sounded more like a lid sliding into place over a casket.
It might as well have been.
"Are you listening to me Armin?"
My voice sounds whiney and pathetic even to my own ears. It makes me instantly feel bad for unloading so much emotional baggage onto him.
At the moment he has his head bent low over his equipment; a wrench in one hand, and an instruction manual in the other.
"Yes Marco. I'm listening. And I feel bad, really I do..." Armin takes a moment to look up at me. His blue eyes seem even brighter in comparison to the dull, washed out surroundings. "But I've told you before, and I'll tell you again: relationships are really not my area."
"EEEEEEEEEuuuuuUuuuuurrrgghhhhhhh..." I run my hands through my hair, making the ends stick out at weird angles in my frustration.
Armin tuts at me, his attention returned to fine tuning his gear. "Your melodramatic groan of agony does little to sway me. I'm not getting in the middle of your strange love square. It's just... wrong."
"What do you mean by that?"
I can't help sounding a little offended.
Armin huffs out a sigh and shakes his head. I barely glimpse the exasperated look on his face through the curtain of his blond hair as he says, "You're in love with Jean. Jean likes Mikasa. And I'm fairly certain Mikasa only has eyes for Eren. If this situation were any more complicated, it could make it into one of those trashy novels that Connie likes to read."
"Don't shame a man and his love for terrible literature."
I frown when Armin just shrugs at me. Honestly I wasn't expecting much else. Armin was great at solving any problem that could be figured out through logic and reasoning.
Matters of the heart were a different world entirely.
"It's just... how am I supposed to get over some one that I'm forced to spend pretty much every day with?"
"You don't. The only way to get over relationships of the romantic nature, is to separate yourself from the source. Give it time to heal the severed ties. Get interested in other people. At least, that's what they tell you in all the books."
A low screeching sound is heard under Armin's words as he works on the small, intricate bits of his gear.
"For example, look at Mikasa." Armin moves his attention to the shelf of tools as he talks, "she's spent almost every moment, of every day for the past several years with Eren. She'll never be close to getting over him, unless she pulls away. It's a harsh, but inevitable reality."
"I know you're right. I only wish that I didn't have to 'get over' Jean... I wish it was simpler."
Armin leans up onto the tips of his toes while his hand searches around blindly for something on the highest shelf. Even if it's amusing to watch, I cut him some slack and sidle over to reach it for him. After all, he is doing his best to help me with my problem. Even if it's taking him out of his comfort zone.
"Air gun?"
Armin smiles, and nods. We've worked on gear for so long together we're like a well oiled machine at this point.
"I know you wish it was simpler. I'm sure Jean does too. And Mikasa."
I look at his hands as they move confidently around the fragile wires. He disconnects, and rearranges them in strange, complicated patterns that only he knows. I remember back when we started maintaining our gear together, how he figured out how to modify and improve it within the first week.
I wished in that moment, that rearranging and changing someones heart was just as easy. The thought makes me smile bitterly to myself.
"I told Jean I was on his side. That I'd be fighting in his corner... yet, here I am. Thinking of any possible way to get between him, and what he wants." I stare at my feet, shame burning through me. "In the end," my voice is softer now, so soft even I can barely hear it over Armin's work, "I really am quite selfish."
"Maybe you are. Maybe you're not," Armin's feet scuff gently against the dirt floor as he shifts his weight to lean in closer and examine his gear. "It's all a matter of perspective. Jean is treating Mikasa's feelings the same as you are. He knows how she feels about Eren, yet he continues to pursue her anyway. Do you think Jean believes he is being selfish?"
My eyes move from staring at my feet, to looking up at the ceiling as I ponder Armin's words. "I'm not sure he even thinks about stuff like that to be honest. He's very... single-minded I guess."
A little half smile curves one side of Armin's mouth as I say that. He was probably thinking the same thing. "See," he says, straightening out his posture. It allows him to finally look me directly in the eye. "In the end, you are both the same. But you both approach the situation differently. Neither of you is more selfish than the other.
"After all, every one of us has something we would do anything to obtain. Isn't that why we're here? Fighting to live another day. Fighting to hold onto the things we want the most."
The relief that washes over me makes me feel lighter than I have in a long time. For someone who says he's not very well versed in matters of the heart, Armin really does know how to get to the heart of what matters.
I feel better, but I'm still left with one burning question.
"What should I do? Do I help Jean, and finally set aside my own feelings. Or do I fight for what I want? Who do I hurt in the end... him? Or myself?"
Armin looks at me regretfully. Most of the relief I was previously experiencing, vanishes.
"I honestly don't know Marco," Armin replies with an apologetic grimace, "only you can come to this decision."
His response makes me sigh, just a hint of annoyance underlying it. But I can't deny, that as cliche as his advice is, he's not wrong.
Only I could decide what was worth sacrificing in the end.
It's just a decision I'm not too keen on making.
Weeks pass.
Even if I've come to terms with my feelings never being returned, I realize they're harder to put aside than it seems. Every time Jean smiles. Or laughs. Every arm slung over my shoulder as he taunts Jaeger; him holding onto me because I'm his best friend, and we were supposed to do everything together. It makes letting go that much harder.
I don't have it in me to sever the root of the problem from its source. Not being friends with Jean would be just as bad as never being more than that.
So I suffer in silence. I smile, and nod, and offer advice whenever he needs it. I start making excuses to hang around Armin, so I can spy on Mikasa for Jean. By day I'm the ideal picture of a best friend. By night, I'm curled up tightly in the bunk under Jean's, my face shoved into my pillow so my crying doesn't wake him.
It's an endless, vicious cycle.
I know it has to stop.
I know it's going to hurt like hell.
"I think our plan is working Marco!"
Jean and I find ourselves in what he has now declared as our base of operation. We've furnished the tool shed with a couple bales of hay to sit on. An upturned crate that we use as a table, and one old, barely useable lantern. Jean's quite proud of the set up. I still think it's too damn cold in here.
"I swear she smiled at me the other day as she left the dining hall." Jean has his elbows resting on the crate, his chin cradled in his hands as he stares dreamily into the distance.
"She's never smiled at me before... man Marco, you're a genius. I would've never thought that complimenting her arm muscles would actually make her happy. I always thought girls would get offended by that stuff..."
I can't help that I tune out most of what Jean talks about these days. It's always strategies to get Mikasa to notice him. How pretty her dark hair is. Talk about her womanly curves, and soft lips. Stuff that I can't even begin to relate to.
"Mm-hm." It's the only reply I can bring myself to put the effort into making.
Jean could be talking about making peace treaties with Titans and I wouldn't realize it at this point. My thoughts we're too far away to care. It was one of the only ways I could keep myself from breaking out into tears around him these days.
I always thought the term, 'broken heart' was overdramatic. Sometimes I still do. It doesn't feel like my heart has been broken. It feels more like it's been replaced with a yawning, open chasm that constantly aches. Something empty, yet altogether full of so much hurt that it becomes painful.
"...Am I boring you or something?"
Jean's change of tone startles me back. He doesn't sound annoyed-- which would normally be the case if I wasn't paying attention to him. Instead he's leaning forward, his eyes focused intently on me. He's frowning ever so slightly.
"Ah... um," I smile nervously, "I wouldn't say you're boring me. I'm just having some trouble relating to the conversation."
"Because you don't like Mikasa? I mean, I'm glad you don't-- less competition and all that-- but..." Jean pauses, gives me a strange look like he's seeing me for the very first time.
"You can at least appreciate her appeal. I'm sure you've got loads of girls to talk about. You never do though... am I hogging the conversations?"
I find myself sighing long and hard. This wasn't a topic of conversation I ever wanted to have with Jean. I was half hoping he would never notice my lack of contribution in what most of the boys here liked to talk about: girls. "You'd be surprised Jean," I somehow manage to make myself sound cool and disinterested, "I don't have much to tell in that department."
Jean's thoughtful expression becomes skeptical. "I find that highly doubtful. Girls must have loved you back home in Jinae. What with those soulful brown eyes, precious freckles, and near saint-like kindness." I know Jean well enough to notice that under the teasing, he sounds a little bit jealous. A part of me thinks that, for just a moment, Jean was jealous of those hypothetical girls being interested in me because he wanted me all to himself. But I quickly realize that the jealousy is directed more toward his own insecurities, and why he thinks girls never like him back.
"It's true. Not much to tell. If girls ever liked me, I never noticed and they never said anything."
"Well..." Jean scowls at the ceiling as he thinks. "You had to of had crushes on girls at least. Even if you never did anything about it."
Crap.
Why was Jean being so attentive to me tonight? Usually our interactions solely revolved around him and his personal problems.
How much stalling would make me sound suspicious? What would be safe enough to reveal...?
"Girls... I don't know," I shrug and fix my gaze on my feet, "they never captured my interest. I always had more important things to think about."
I shiver when I look back up, and meet Jean's amber eyes; both from the cold, and the strange look I see there.
"... were you ever interested in boys?"
God. His voice is so soft, a searching note in there that makes me wonder if he's known a lot longer than he's let on. I'm not sure how, or if I should respond. I'm suddenly terrified.
Silence answers questions just as well as words do.
Jean lets out a big sigh. I notice him lean in a little more.
"I guess I always knew. I've never seen you check out a girl, or get flustered when you talked to them."
I can't look Jean in the eye. Why did I let myself become so transparent? I'd done such a good job hiding before. Maybe... maybe a part of me knew before I even actually knew, that I'm just tired. Tired of lying. Tired of hiding. Tired of not being who I've always been out of some irrational fear that I would be hated.
"You know it doesn't bother me right?"
'If you knew what boy I was particularly interested in, then it would bother you' I think to myself.
"I know," I say instead.
"Then why didn't you ever bring it up?"
It takes a lot of effort to make myself look Jean in the eye again, but when I do I immediately want to look away again. He looks so soft and vulnerable. I really want to kiss him.
"Would you really be okay with me talking to you about boys instead of girls?"
Jean looks at me like I've offended him. "Yeah, of course. I'm not a complete asshole. Even I can admit that I've seen some guys that make me question myself."
Something in me snaps.
"So," my voice drops as I look Jean dead in the eye, "if I told you about this boy-- this arrogant, strong willed boy. A boy who draws me to him every moment of every day. Who makes me laugh, and cry, and feel so much I can't even stand it some days..." I pause, gauging his reaction. "What would you say?"
"Are you... are you talking about Eren? If so, I don't really see the appeal."
I thought I couldn't be more un-subtle. Jean's jump to that conclusion has me in stitches before I know it; a couple tears run down my cheeks as I laugh so hard I can barely breathe.
"No---" I wheeze, trying in vain to get my breathing under control. "I-I'm...hoooooo... I'm not talking about Eren."
"Oh, good." Jean looks incredibly relieved. "I was gonna say, if you had a thing for that asshat, you could count me out."
I wanted to point out that If I did have feelings for Eren, it would be incredibly unfair that I've helped him out with Mikasa this whole time, and yet Jean would refuse to return the favor just because he can't get over his hate boner for Eren. But as usual, I keep those kinds of thoughts to myself.
"So, you gonna tell me who this mystery boy is?"
I consider it for a moment. Would it be so bad to finally tell him? Now that I know he's a lot cooler with this than I had thought, would it really ruin our friendship? Could we go back to normal if I got things off my chest, and just move on?
"No." I'm such a fucking coward...
"C'mon, why not? We're best friends, we tell each other everything, we---"
And suddenly Jean's eyes go wide. They glow like fire in the lamplight.
"It's me... isn't it?" His voice sounds distant, because I can feel the world falling away from under my feet. I can't breathe.
My eyes are wide. I can only shake my head as terror slowly creeps up my spine.
Jean gets up and walks over to me very suddenly. He kneels in front of where I'm sitting and touches my cheek. His fingers feel like ice against my flushed skin.
"Do you like me Marco?"
A shiver runs through me. Jean's voice is so low, and heated. His eyes are fixed on me as if he's never going to look away.
Finally, I slowly nod my head.
Jean smiles, a soft curious little smile. "I've always wondered..."
I want to ask him what he's always wondered, but I find the answer quit quickly after he said it. Jean's fingers slide from my cheek and run through the bristle-short hairs on the back of my neck. I can feel the white breaths that puff from him on my skin.
He closes his eyes, and he kisses me.
It doesn't really feel like much. No sparks, or dizziness to make me swoon. Just Jean's lips pressed softly against mine. It does feel warm though. The kiss is better than anything I ever imagined. And it's over far sooner than I'd ever imagined, too.
"Well...?" Jean breathes it out more than says it.
"Why did you kiss me?" I avoid answering him, to ask a question I deem more important in this moment.
Jean puts a little bit of distance between us. He looks very confused by my harsh tone. "I've thought about kissing you plenty of times Marco. I always shrugged it off. I mean, we spend a lot of time together. Thoughts like these tend to happen in situations like ours."
"So that's it? You kissed me 'just because'. I'm not some experiment Jean---" my voice grows more incensed. I move back, putting more distance between us.
He cuts me off. "I kissed you Marco," Jean patiently stays where he's at, not trying to close the gap, "because I like your freckles. Your big hands that look clumsy, but really aren't. Your big, dumb doe brown eyes.
"I've always liked those things. More than I let myself admit sometimes."
Jean gradually closes the space between us. "I do like Mikasa. But if I'm being honest... spending literal years just to get her to smile at me, hasn't been doing me any favors in the insecurity department. Really, a part of me kept holding these stupid secret meetings, so we could spend more time together."
I'm trembling. Yeah, mostly from the cold... but, there's a big part of what Jean said that is wrecking my insides. I swear I felt my heart do a loop-the-loop.
"Mikasa would never sit in a freezing cold tool shed with me just to listen me talk about some crush she's not interested in hearing about. You're the only person I know who's dumb enough to join me."
He gives me the cocky half smile that made me fall in love with him all those years ago.
"I think this freezing cold idiot needs another kiss from the idiot who brought him here."
"Anything for you," Jean murmurs, his cocky smile growing fond, "idiot."
The second kiss was even better.