Archive of Our Own ^beta

My mother used to say that humans were originally born from stars and even if we lived on earth now, so far away from all the other stars, a part of us would still glow in harmony with the lights of the night sky.
It might sound like a cute tale right now, but sometimes I thought about her words and remembered what we had been taught in school and what every adult had talked about when I was a child — the glowing lights in our chests. Lights that supposedly led us to our soulmate.

She stopped talking about those lights when I was twelve and when my father died in a car crash.

But her tales of "destined lovers brought together by fate itself", they stuck with me. I couldn’t wait to finally see the light of my own soulmate.
You could only see your own and your soulmate’s light, as if only you would be able to see the other person and how much they could really mean to you. Your soulmate was the light that would lead you home, that would make all of the darkness go away.
There were people that had never seen the light, not for one moment in their life — and those were usually the biggest critics of this "soulmate idea", calling it madness. Of course, it was hard to prove anything if just the two who were involved with each other were able to see the soft glow in their chests.

I, however, was a believer of this soul mate theory — and so was the majority of the world. My parents had met because they had seen each others’ lights in the dark cinema; I knew the story about their first meeting by heart. Their "first lights" were the case of meeting for the first time, accidentally touching on the armrest between their seats. When I had asked them what color their lights were my father had smiled softly and had just said, "A dark green that gives me new hope everyday." My mother had blushed and had hidden her face in his shoulder. A relationship like theirs was something I wished for a lot, it was one of my goals in life; it was maybe a childish dream, but who didn’t want someone who would love you unconditionally?

The lights didn’t specifically appear when you met your soulmate for the first time, it was rather unpredictable. There had been people that had known their soulmate since birth and only had seen their light thirty years later; there had been others that didn’t even need to touch their soulmate for the first time, just needed to see them and they would see the glowing heart of theirs.

Now, as a teenager, I often lay awake at night, staring up at my ceiling and imagining what my soulmate’s light would look like. This bad habit was not good at all for my sleeping schedule and my body probably hated me for it, but I didn’t really care. My mind would wander off and suddenly another hour would have gone by.

——————

This morning I had once again barely slept. My mother stood next to my bed, a spatula in her hand and her dark hair pulled back into a pony tail. She scowled amusedly — something only she seemed to be able to do — and tugged at my blanket.

"Marco, darling, please get up. You will be late if you don’t," she said and managed to rip the blanket away from my tight grip.

I groaned and blinked slowly. Why was there sunlight shining into my room? Had my cruel mother opened the curtains already? She knew no mercy when it came to school.

Before she could swat me with the spatula, I sat up and murmured "’right, ’m up."

"Good boy! Come downstairs, I made some scrambled eggs with toast."

My morning routine was simple and quick; a shower to get my brain working, packing my school bag and dressing myself. After breakfast I would brush my teeth and brush my hair.

When I went downstairs into the kitchen, my bag and my phone in my hands, I noticed that someone else was already sitting at the kitchen table and chewing on a slice of toast.

Jean Kirschstein, my best friend since kindergarten. He had bleached the top of his hair recently and had gotten an undercut, so now his hair was somehow two-toned. I had been skeptical at first, but he pulled the look off. It fit in with his several piercings and his black rimmed glasses — which totally were hipster glasses, but don’t tell Jean. He looked like a strange mix of punk rock and hipster, I guess. I liked his individual style though.
We had been living in the same street pretty much forever, I cannot remember a time when the big house opposite of mine had been occupied by any other family than the Kirschsteins — although Jean had told me that they had moved to Germany from France only right before he started going to the kindergarten in our town.

I could probably talk all day about Jean and still wouldn’t be finished. Some might say I had a crush on him, had fallen in love with my childhood friend, but I honestly didn’t know. I hadn’t seen his chest glow, not even once, and I needed to see his chest glow before I could even think of being in a relationship with him — he was too important for me that I would want to risk our friendship because I was being misled by my feelings.
Jean always scoffed at my "fucking romantic dreams" — his words, not mine — of meeting my soulmate. He was a realist, couldn’t really wrap his mind around the whole "fate chose your partner" thing, but he also respected my opinion about it and didn’t try to make me change my mind, which I appreciated a lot.

"Hey, Marco, what’s up?" He waved me over and shovelled another fork laden with scrambled eggs into his mouth.

My mother didn’t even react to his disgusting chewing. Yeah, this happened almost every morning.

Putting my bag on an empty chair, I sat down next to Jean and the delicious smell of my mother’s breakfast made my stomach rumble. 

"Dig in boys, I don’t want you to be late."

It didn’t take me any longer before I started eating, too. Gosh, my mother’s food was too good to be true.

"Did you study for the chemistry test?" Jean asked between two bites. One would think the boy didn’t get enough food at home — which he did, his mother was a chef and usually cooked too much.

"Yeah, I think I could get an A this time," I replied and tapped my chin thoughtfully.

"Man, I tried getting that crap into my head yesterday, but honestly, chemistry can bite my ass," Jean grumbled. He had always preferred the more creative subjects over the scientific ones.

"Language, Jean," my mother tutted while leaning against the counter and sipping on her coffee.

"Sorry, Julie," he apologized earnestly and grinned at her.

"Oh, by the way, Marco, you can have the car today. I will be in my studio the whole day," my mother said and kissed my head when she passed me on her way to said studio.

"Thanks, mom!" I shouted after her and gulped down the last of my orange juice.

"I will be right back," I told Jean and went upstairs again to brush my teeth.

I looked in the mirror in the bathroom and sighed. Another normal day at school, with the chances of finding my soulmate as low as always.

Stay positive, I told myself and cracked a small smile at my own reflection.

——————

The only lights I intended to see in my whole life were the electrical ones above my head on the ceiling. No, seriously, I didn’t need this soulmate bullshit in my life. Finding your perfect match sounded awesome in theory, sure, but looking at it realistically, what were the odds that my soulmate lived in this city and went to my high school? I mean, not to rain on anyone’s parade, but there are over a billion people in this world and why would the one person for me live right next door?

The main reason why I don’t like to think too much about this "glowing hearts" thing?
I had fallen in love with my best friend — how cliché was that? — and before you ask, no, I had never seen any lights coming from Marco’s chest.
Except that one time he found glow in the dark paint and accidentally spilled it on his shirt. God, he had looked so adorable at that moment.

Maybe I would have already confessed my love — probably not, I was a chicken when it came to stuff like that — if it wasn’t for Marco’s fixation on finding his soulmate and seeing their light.

I, Jean Kirschstein, was fucked, indeed.
The reason? An adorable guy with freckles who would smile at me as if I was the sun itself.
Did I just say that? I must be turning into a cheesy poet, at last. Don’t tell Eren Jäger though, the mocking would never end.

We grew up together and I couldn’t imagine living without him by my side.
When I had lost my first tooth, he had gone with me to the bathroom until the blood flow had stopped, holding my hand all the time and trying to calm me down.
When he had broken his arm in first grade because he had fallen off the tree on the playground, I had refused to leave his side and our teacher had to take both of us to the hospital in the end, just to stop me from crying in sympathy with Marco — seeing him upset had been and always would be one of my weaknesses.
When I had had to get braces, Marco had been the one to smile at me and to tell me that I still looked as handsome as before. And when I hadn’t needed them anymore, he had come over to my house, his arms full with all the good candy I hadn’t been allowed to eat with the freaking chain-link fencing in my mouth.

When his father had died, I had felt helpless. This time I couldn’t just hold his hand and make the pain go away. It hasn’t been as simple. Of course, I had known Marco’s father and he had been an amazing dad. I had been sad, too, not as sad as Marco or his mom, but still sad — and helpless.
Turned out, holding his hand at the funeral had been… not enough… but it had helped in some way. Marco had hugged me afterwards for a long time, and through my tears I had seen his own tear-stained face. He had looked at me and for the first time in the last few days there was something akin to a small smile on his face. His „Thank you, Jean“ with that watery smile on his face, I think that had been the moment when I had realized that I had fallen in love with my best friend.

And I really, really did not want any soulmate to come along and take him away from me.
Not that I owned him or anything like that, I just tended to get a bit jealous at times.
But I had told myself that if Marco ever found "his light", his destined partner, I would back off and would just keep being the most fucking awesome best friend that ever was. As long as Marco was happy I would be fine.
I would probably end up alone, with thirty cats as my only company besides Marco, who would sometimes visit and all my cats would be freaking delighted to see him because so far, cats had never even glanced in my direction and these thirty cats would certainly get tired of seeing only my face after an hour or so.
Maybe I would die because the cats decided to revolt and to take over my house.
I could already see the headlines.
"Crazy cat man killed by his only friends — Irony or tragedy?"
"Is this the start of the catapocalypse?"
"His last meow"
This one made me chuckle quietly to myself.

"Jean, if you keep furrowing your eyebrows like that you will get wrinkles twenty years earlier than you are supposed to…" Marco’s voice brought me back to reality. "And what are you giggling about? You are starting to look a bit crazy."

He was driving his mom’s car, one hand on the steering wheel, the other tapping on his leg to the beat of the song on the radio — Katy Perry. Really, Marco?
Marco was a relaxed driver and he already had one more year of driving experience, since he was eighteen and therefore a year older than most of our friends — myself included. Compared to my driving, which was erratic at its best moments, it was nice sitting next to such a calm driver.
(Don’t get me started on driving styles, though, because I am still terrified of ever setting a foot even near Eren Jaeger’s car again.)

"Honestly, Jean, you are making me worry with all your staring and not speaking. What are you thinking about?" Marco chuckled.

I shook my head and looked at my best friend.

"I was thinking about revolutionary cats and Jaeger’s car." Maybe I should have just said "Chemistry", but there was no going back now.

"Yeah, I heard about the many cat rebels lately, gotta be careful or we will be the next victims. Kittens are apparently the most vicious ones. All cute and fluffy until they murder you in your sleep," Marco replied with a serious expression.

Did I mention yet that Marco was as much of a dork as I was and that I loved him a lot for not making fun of me but instead going along with my dumb and weird jokes?

"So, what is it that you wanted to do tonight?" he asked me while turning right, driving slowly onto the parking lot of our high school.

Oh right, I had planned something special for tonight. No, not a date or anything like that — even if I would have loved for it to be a date.
Anyways, I knew about Marco’s fascination with stars because of the tales his mom used to tell him when he was younger. And guess who accidentally overheard two astronomy students in the coffee shop near the university talking about an oncoming small meteor shower? Yes, exactly, I did.

"It’s a surprise! An early birthday surprise," I grinned at him and climbed out of the car once Marco had parked it on the usual spot.

"But my birthday is in over a month, this is a bit too early, isn’t it?" Marco said in a teasing tone and followed me out of the car. We grabbed our bags and walked side by side towards the school building.

"Well, you will see tonight why it has to be this night and not any other. And if I don’t find a good birthday present in a month I can always say I already got you one."

Really, my plan was failsafe. Now if only the clouds would play nicely and would just go and fuck off. I looked up to the sky with an angry glare. I hoped we would be lucky tonight.

"Oh, and dress warmly, I will take care of the food stuff," I said and put my arm around Marco’s shoulder. "Tonight will be mega-awesome, I promise!"

He laughed softly and shook his head while we were walking into the entrance area of our school.

"Now I am going to be impatient and curious the whole day. Thanks, Jean," Marco huffed and poked me in the side with his elbow.

"Always pleased to be on your mind," I replied. Maybe I should start thinking about what I said before it left my mouth. The urge to hit myself in the face was strong; I would do anything to hide the blush forming on my cheeks.

Jean, you idiot. What a nice inner voice I had there. But it was right. I was a goddamn idiot and I should stop being so obvious about my freaking feelings.

Thankfully, Marco did not notice or decided not to notice, who knows, and just shrugged.

"You are such a dork," he laughed and God, I was so glad that I was the one to make him laugh in this cute way, with his shoulders hunched slightly, his nose scrunched up and his eyes only slits and… Okay, I was getting off track.

"So, see you in English class later?" Marco, please stop smiling at me like that, I just might kiss you on your cute nose one day.

Where did my manliness go, you ask?

It went down the drain the moment I met Marco and started blushing at every godforsaken thing.

Fuck my life.

——————

I loved football practice, really, I did. Football was a very important part of my daily life, but to be honest, today I couldn’t wait for it to be over.
My relieved sigh when the coach blew the whistle for the last time had been probably loud enough for the whole team to hear.

Eren had looked at me, his glance slightly confused and getting even more confused when I pretty much dashed out of the locker room after taking one of the quickest showers in my life.

Not many knew about this impatient side of mine, but today I completely blamed Jean for it. I hated knowing there would be a surprise tonight but not knowing what it would be.
Could the sun please start setting now?

I took the fastest way to the creative arts building of our school, where I knew Jean would be in after class. He was one of the main actors in this year’s spring play and when he had the time he would spend it over there, practicing his lines and helping building the props.
I was glad that Jean had found a new passion after he had quit football — mainly because his arguments with Eren had been getting out of hand and he had never been that interested in football anyways, at least according to Jean himself.

When I opened the big door leading to the auditorium, I could already hear Jean’s voice, reciting a scene from the play — what was it again? Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream? Sometimes it was weird hearing Jean speak as a basically different person with completely different emotions and expressions on his face, not the expressions I was used from my Jean.

My Jean. Right. What I meant was—

Wait, since when did I need to justify my thoughts to myself? As I had said before, my feelings towards Jean were uncertain, jumbled and were making me crazy. I was allowed to have some slip-ups like that.
Oh gosh, I was getting off topic.

Jean was standing on the stage, in the center of it, script in his hands but not reading from it, his co-actor Thomas Wagner next to him. Apparently they had tried on some costumes? At least, that’s the only explanation I could come up with for the loose shirt and tight leggings — or were those tights?? — Jean was wearing and for the horribly shaped dress-gown-thing Thomas was in.

I went closer to the stage and looked at the time on my phone. Rehearsal should be over soon. Jean’s eyes glanced in my direction before it was his cue to speak again.

"I’ll put a girdle round about the… round about the… about the what. Shit. Not again!" Jean cursed a few more times and looked down at the script in his hands, mumbling to himself. I could hear Thomas stifling a laugh and see him looking at the theater director for a reaction. Which he promptly got.

"Kirschstein, for fuck’s sake, can you please try concentrating?" The theater director Keith Shadis shouted from the first row.

Reason number one why I had never even considered joining the drama club of this high school — except for my lack of talent: This man sitting right there, with his red face and loud voice. He scared the crap out of me, to be honest.

"Sorry, sir. Should I… try again?" Jean rubbed the back of his head and smiled sheepishly.

"You should try again when I can stand to see your face. Tomorrow, rehearsal after school. Don’t you dare fuck this up tomorrow. I will hang you on the flagpole outside if you do.“ Could a teacher talk like that to his students? I doubt Mr. Shadis cared, either way.

Mr. Shadis stood up and clapped his hands twice, the sound echoed in the auditorium.

"Okay, listen up, rehearsal is over for today. I need to get home and watch the new episode of Downton Abbey. And not one of you little shits can keep me from doing that. Crew, clean up, and actors, get out of those costumes, you look friggin’ ridiculous. See you tomorrow," he said and wow, that guy really didn’t need a megaphone to be heard in every nook and cranny of this rather big auditorium.

Jean waved at me and quickly followed Thomas backstage, probably to get rid of that shirt and the tights — yes, now that he had turned around I could see that those were definitely tights; not that I was complaining.

I blushed involuntarily at my own thoughts and was glad that no one was paying any attention to me. Appreciating your best friend’s butt wasn’t exactly part of the "bro code".

A few minutes later, Jean came back and jumped down the stairs leading from the stage. His bag was slung over his right shoulder and in his left hand he was holding a plastic bag. I could see a sleeve of the shirt he had been wearing earlier hanging out.

"Hey there, Freckles," he smiled at me and I gestured to the plastic bag.

"You are really going to wear that thing on the big day?" I asked in a teasing tone. Teasing Jean was way too much fun sometimes.

He shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Christa shoved the bag into my hands before I could leave the room. I was hoping that maybe your mom could work some wonders?" Jean explained and looked at me in a hopeful way.

"You will have to ask her, but I’m sure she will help you, especially when she sees that shirt. Where did they find that thing?" I laughed and started walking next to Jean, towards the exit.

"I think it was used the last time for some… psychological interpretation of Hamlet? I don’t want to know, really." Jean scratched his cheek and that’s when I noticed it.
I suddenly let out a loud, surprised laugh.
Jean’s eyes widened and he took out his phone to check his face in the camera.

"Oh my fucking God, I forgot about the makeup," he exclaimed and grabbed a fistful of his hair with his free hand.

His whole face had been sprayed with some silver, blue and green glitter and they had drawn ivy twine patterns on the side of his face in the same colors. His lashes were blacker than usual and glittering, so I assumed they had also used some mascara and… was that eyeliner?
Before Jean could react, I grabbed my phone and took a few pictures.

"Delete those. Shit. I gotta go back and wash my face," Jean hissed at me and I didn’t think he was truly appreciating this quite funny moment.

I breathed in slowly and focused on being a decent friend.

"Come on, Jean, we are already closer to the car. Just get inside and you can wash your face at home," I said, while laughing in between words. "And I am keeping those pics, I needed a new caller ID for you and this is just perfect."

Jean grumbled something, but did not refuse any further and shuffled over to my car, his head bent down, trying to hide his colorful and glittering complexion. I rounded the car and got in as well, still giggling slightly, mainly because of the look of surprise and horror on Jean’s face when he had realized that there was still makeup on his face.

"You look very pretty, Jean, don’t worry," I reassured him once we were out of the parking space on the street. I turned my head in Jean’s direction and I swear, he was blushing while crossing his arms and avoiding my glance.

"Look at the road, please, and don’t drive too fast! I do not want to get pulled over looking like this," he told me and sunk further into his seat.

"I am sure your fabulous looks would get me out of any speeding ticket," I replied with a big smile on my face.

"I hate you," Jean mumbled in the direction of the window, but I could still hear him.

"No, you don’t," I remarked cheerily and turned on the radio.
I almost didn’t hear his soft "No, I don’t" with the music in the background. Almost.
I wasn’t sure if I was glad that I heard him. But I couldn’t help myself and my smile widened a bit more.

——————

Calling myself nervous would have been an understatement. I knew that this would not be a date, I simply wanted to make Marco happy and see his smile. And it would also probably be an awesome experience seeing those meteor showers as clearly as they were supposed to be tonight.
But I couldn’t stop myself from worrying over every little detail.
Waiting for the sun to go down might have been the most excruciating moment in my life, not even Connie’s messages — all different versions of "CONFESSION TIME TONIGHT!!!“ or "shalalala kiss the boy“ — and my homework could help the time from passing faster. It had felt very satisfying to send Connie a "fuck you" as a reply, though.
I checked the bag with all the supplies we would need for what felt like the hundredth time when the doorbell rang.

At first I was startled, because I was the only one home and who the fuck wanted to visit me right now, at this very important moment?
But then I remembered that I had told Marco to come to my house when the sun had set completely and I couldn’t reach the front door any faster.

There he was, standing on my house’s porch, dressed in his ridiculous — cute — blue down jacket and his blue beanie. He had a small smile on his face that somehow managed to make all of the anxiousness inside of me go away. This was Marco, my best friend for as long as I could remember, why the fuck had I been nervous?

"Hi, Jean!" He waved at me, that adorable little shit. Well, not so little. Whatever.

"Hey, Marco. You ready?" I asked him and went back inside to fetch my warm jacket, my shoes and the backpack with all of the supplies — and what a freaking huge backpack that was. Marco followed me and watched me patiently, while I was struggling with getting my arm into the right sleeve of the jacket.

"I sure am. You look well prepared, too. What are we going to do? Hiking at night? Did you pack all of your possessions in that huge bag?" I heard him chuckle behind me. "Do you plan on eloping with me?"
I almost choked on air when I heard that last playful question.

"Just kidding, although I am very curious what you have planned," he continued talking and my heart beat slowed down again.

Marco, quit playing games with my heart. 

"You will see in a few minutes," I promised him and slipped into my boots. My hand was already on the door handle when Marco’s hands stopped me. For a second everything went black as he put something scratchy on my head and over my eyes. He pulled at it once more, so that I could see his face again.

"We don’t want your ears to freeze off, right?“ He explained and grinned at my disgruntled expression. I glanced at the mirror in the hallway and saw that he had put one of the beanies that my mum had attempted to knit once upon a time on my head. And he had chosen the ugliest one of them all — some purple-green monster was now residing on my head.

"Yeah, thanks, mom. Now I look fucking ridiculous,“ I snorted at my reflection and shouldered the backpack.

"You look dashing, as always,“ Marco tried reassuring me, but I could still hear the grin in his voice even if I couldn’t see it right now. We left the house and I walked past the car in the driveway.

"Okay, seriously, Jean, where are we going?" He asked me after following me silently for the first few minutes. We had already left the suburban area of our street and were walking towards the fields where the magic would happen.

Wait, no, not that kind of magic. I meant… the magic… as in… stars. Things in the sky. That.
Oh my god, I was glad that Marco couldn’t read my thoughts.

He tapped my shoulder to bring me back to reality. Oh shit, had he heard what I had thought?

"Jean, come on, tell me. Where we are going?" He slightly whined.

Okay, no telepathic powers detected so far. Lucky me.

"Remember that hill behind the fields? Where we used to roll down from in summer?" Telling him about our destination certainly wouldn’t ruin the biggest surprise of that night, so I figured I could humor him for a bit.

"Oh gosh, yeah, of course I do. But what are we doing up there in the middle of the night?" I only shook my head in response which made him huff behind me. He caught up to my pace and kept walking beside instead of behind me.

"Jean Kirschstein, do you plan on killing me up there? Where you won’t have any witnesses?" He leaned closer and whispered this into my ear; his warm breath on my skin startling me and almost making me lose my balance with that fucking huge backpack on my back. I had to stop walking or else I would have face planted on the ground.

"Jesus Christ! Don’t startle me like that!" I gasped and clutched my jacket. Marco continued walking in a slow pace as if that little devil in disguise hadn’t just scared me.

"Stop being such a scaredy cat, Jean," He teased me without turning around. I was quick to start walking again and once I was by Marco’s side, I lightly shoved him.

"That’s what you get for calling me a pussy!" Marco only laughed at me.

——————

We reached the small hill soon enough, the moon already hanging above our heads and dyeing the world in an almost ethereal light. I still had no idea what Jean had planned for tonight, although one small traitorous voice at the back of my head kept whispering "He’s gonna confess his undying love to you! This is totally date!"  And I hated that voice, because it got my hopes up for something I couldn’t just expect and it also made me overthink everything; so I tried ignoring it as best as I could.

Jean seemed to be very excited, as he pretty much ran up the small hill — which looked quite funny, I gotta admit that, with that huge backpack. He kind of… hobbled up there. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing silently into my non-existent beard.

When I reached the top of the hill, I could already see a big blanket thrown over the probably cold floor, and some more blankets piled atop of it. Jean stood with his back to me, pulling things out of the backpack. I think I could make out some… food containers? And some cans with coke?

After emptying out the whole backpack, Jean plopped down on the heap of blankets and waved me over to him. "Come on, Marco. We have to get ready!"

I sat down next to Jean, careful to keep a respectful distance, but Jean seemed to be having none of that today and quickly shuffled closer on his knees, throwing a blanket over my shoulders.

"I have hot chocolate in a thermos bottle. And some different sandwiches. And I think I packed some chips and cookies too?" Jean chattered beside me, shoving a random food container in my direction. Afterwards he busied himself with pouring some of said hot chocolate into cups. When all was done, he snuggled down into the blankets around him.

"So… mind telling me what we are doing outside so late at night?“ I asked once more, enjoying the warmth of the cup of hot chocolate in my hands.

"You will see soon. But while we wait, you can just… look at the stars, I guess," Jean replied and avoided my demanding glances. I sighed and got more comfortable by shifting around a bit. The drink in my hand was still too hot to even nip at, so I busied myself by doing as Jean had told me to. I leant a bit backwards to properly look at everything. Around us were only the wide fields, if you squinted you could maybe make out some faint lights of our hometown, but the real light illuminating this dark world were the moon and the stars above us. It was rather amazing to look at the cloudless sky, see all those constellations above us and just feel all giddy and warm inside, because damn, this world was beautiful sometimes.

I heard Jean chuckle to himself and turned my head to look at him, buried beneath all those blankets.

"The stars kind of remind me of your freckles," he explained in this warm, affectionate tone that he rarely used. I could feel my face heating up as I heard this and I tried hiding my face behind the mug in my hand.

"It’s like you have your own personal starry sky all over your body," he continued, completely oblivious to my increasing heart rate and my tomato-colored face.

"I like that about you." I think my heart rate had never dropped so fast in my entire life. I glanced over to Jean and saw him smile at me. "Who would have thought that my best friend resembles the night sky?" he joked and managed to diffuse any possible awkwardness that might have arisen at that point.

"Gosh, when did you become so sappy? All this Shakespeare and theater thing is changing my best friend! Oh no!" I dramatically put my hand against my forehead and let out an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

"I seriously need to find a replacement for you. A new best friend who only supports me and never makes fun of me," Jean grumbled and dipped the tip of his tongue into his hot chocolate. Really, who did that? Who dipped only the tip of their tongue into hot chocolate? Did he want to tease me like that? He was just too cute. Like a kitten. Okay no, don’t imagine Jean with kittens at the same time. Cuteness overload.

Help me.

"Aww, but no one can replace me. It would never be the same as it is with me," I replied and nudged Jean’s shoulder with my own.

It seemed as if Jean wanted to add something to this conversation, but suddenly his eyes flickered towards the sky and his hand shot up to grab me by my shoulder.

"Marco, look up now. Look at the sky!" He urged me and slightly shook my shoulder in his grasp.

I forgot every single question on my mind as soon as I looked back at the starry sky. The moon and the stars were still above us, but several shooting stars had joined them, traveling across the wide plane of the sky. Every time you would expect it to stop, more stars started falling and joined the others on their journey. I honestly couldn’t describe this stunning view, because I don’t think there were any words capable of capturing it. A meteor shower. Jean had dragged me out late at night to go watch shooting stars with me. This was… perfect.

"Wow, I knew it would look cool, but I didn’t expect it to be this amazing!" Jean exclaimed beside me, making me tilt my head back down and in his direction.

Jean had set his empty cup aside and was now completely engulfed by the blankets. He was staring at the sky, his mouth opened slightly in awe. I knew that something rare was happening up there, but I could not tear my eyes away from Jean. He sat there, completely amazed by this small wonder of nature, his amber eyes almost glowing, perhaps reflecting the lights above us.
Then I noticed something on his cheek glittering in the moon light. The stage makeup. He had somehow not managed to get rid of all of it. It made him look otherworldly, some strange, handsome and cute alien beside me, staring at the shooting stars in wonder. My heart felt like it could burst any minute now. 

Smiling softly, I reached up to rub away the remaining makeup, startling Jean in the process and bringing him back to earth. I might have imagined it, but I swear I could feel his cheek heating up when I touched it. He watched me with wide eyes, until he realized that I was trying to clean his face by rubbing at that one spot.

"Do you… uhm… like your surprise?" Jean mumbled, averting his eyes almost shyly.

I searched for eye contact with Jean and said, with probably as much affection as I could offer, "Jean, I love it." I finished rubbing the makeup away and realized in this moment how close Jean and I had really gotten in the past few minutes.
"You… you still had some makeup on your face! Sorry!“ I said and moved to take my hand off his cheek, but suddenly another hand covered mine and kept it in its place. Jean’s hand was covering mine.

"Marco, you know that you are one of the most important persons in my life, right?" Something had changed in Jean’s expression, he looked dead serious and any remnants of his nervousness of a few minutes ago had vanished. He looked as if he was bracing himself for something, the resolve clear in his gaze. My face probably turned red at those words and I don’t think I had ever smiled as widely as I did at this moment.

"You are very important to me, too, Jean," I replied. "Of course you are." Jean’s eyes seemed to search my face for something, his intense staring making me look down in embarrassment.

After a short silence I heard him whisper "Then I hope you won’t regret this" and felt his other hand coming up to stroke slowly through the fine hairs at the nape of my neck.
His face was getting even close to mine, until only a few centimeters between us. He licked his lips unconsciously, one of his signs of nervousness. I didn’t dare to move, waiting for Jean to make the first move, whatever he had planned — even though I had an idea what he was planning to do. I held my breath.

Finally Jean closed the last gap between us and our lips connected in a short, sweet kiss. Maybe the angle might have been weird, maybe his nose was poking a bit into my cheek and maybe I could feel his lips trembling slightly beneath my own, but this was still a perfect kiss for me.

My first kiss. My first kiss with my best friend. My first kiss with someone that I held very dear to me. I felt the butterflies fluttering inside my stomach and I could feel the brush of Jean’s eyelashes against my cheek as he slowly drew away. I had never been so close to anybody and I don’t think it would have felt as good as it did with Jean if it had been anyone else.

Before I could say anything, Jean started speaking again. "Marco, you aren’t just important to me. You are the one that I wanna be with, for as long as you will take me. I really, really like you." His voice had trembled at the end and his hand that was still covering mine tightened its grasp for a second. Jean’s chest was moving up and down very quickly, as if all air had left his lungs and he was now trying to breathe again. From my own chest I could hear my loud heartbeat, way louder than a few minutes before this.

I finally started breathing again, the air rushing in and out of my lungs and grounding me from this high of emotions.
Jean’s words made me realize something and helped me form those confusing feelings inside of me into clear thoughts.

I like him, too. Of course I do.
Who else would be perfect for me but Jean?
It has always been Jean for me. 

I looked down at our chests. Not even a tiny light coming from one of us. Even if the stars and our lights don’t seem to agree. Does it really matter?

This soulmate legend had always been on my mind, setting the bar too high, making me dream my life away, even though I should have just looked at the great boy in front of me. And the lights appeared at the strangest moments sometimes, so maybe Jean and I were soulmates and we just didn’t know yet? It might be possible. I wanted to stop thinking about this too much. I wanted to enjoy this as long as we could.

Jean is my light even if it’s not the literal sense.

Jean looked as if he was starting to regret confessing his feelings in the spur of the moment, but before this regret could actually manifest, I gently moved Jean’s hand from my cheek and held it between my own hands.

"Jean?“ He wordlessly tapped his fingers against my palm to show me that he was listening. I kept holding his hand with one hand while I grabbed the front of his jacket with the other, pulling him closer. He was too stunned to respond to our second kiss at first, but after I had tilted my head to the side and had opened my mouth slowly to deepen the kiss, the fingers on my neck finally stirred again and caressed it slowly. He returned the open mouthed kiss hesitatingly at first, then shuffled even closer. We parted a few times and we locked lips again, and each kiss made Jean become braver, at one point I swear I felt the tip of his tongue against my lower lip. Only reluctantly did I part once again from Jean and waited until he returned my gaze with his almost glazed over eyes.

"I really like you too, alright? And I don’t know if we are soulmates or not, but for the time being I couldn’t care less…" I said to him. His whole face practically burst with relief and happiness at my words.
The next second I was lying flat on my back, a mountain of blankets and Jean wrapped around me tightly. This might have been the strangest — thanks to the blankets — and the most perfect hug I had ever received in my whole life. I hugged Jean back just as enthusiastically, finding his shoulders to wrap my arms around.
Jean’s head rested on my chest, his eyes closed contently and his lips turned up into a private smile.

"Can we stay like this for little bit longer?" He asked me quietly.

"Yes, please," I replied with a stupid smile on my face. I focused my attention back on the sky above us, still alit by the hundreds of stars shooting across it.
And not a single thing worried me in this moment.

——————

We were walking home together. Holding hands. I was holding hands with Marco Bott. I was convinced that I must have fallen asleep and that I was now dreaming a very realistic dream.
For fuck’s sake, I had kissed Marco. And Marco had kissed me. How had that happened. I still couldn’t believe it.

My head felt airy and my hand that was intertwined with Marco’s felt clammy and hot. My heart went crazy inside my chest; fast and erratic ba-dumps thumping against my rib cage.

Soon we reached our houses, Marco’s on one side of the street, mine on the other. I was reluctant to let go of his hand, but it was already late and if we had stayed any longer school would have been close to impossible to endure the next morning.

We stopped walking and stood beneath the light of a street lamp. 

"Jean, thank you for tonight. It really was brilliant," Marco said, smiling at me with his stupid dimples and dark brown eyes.

"It was nothing," I muttered and why was my face heating up again?!

Marco leaned forward and pecked my lips, then let go of my hand. "See you later, Jean. Sleep well."

He walked slowly to his home’s front door and I couldn’t help but watch him walk away, still not able to compute anything that had happened in the last hour. I realized that I must look like the biggest idiot, standing on the street and staring after Marco, so I quickly walked over to my own house, too.

Before I opened the door and went inside, I turned my head back again, to look in Marco’s direction. There he stood, returning my look. But what I noticed wasn’t his cute wave to me, no, it was something else entirely.

I could see a faint light coming from Marco’s chest. Around the area were his heart should be, I could see a light blue, pulsing light, seemingly growing stronger the longer I looked at it.

Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

I might have been close to freaking out. Was this happening right now? Did I start hallucinating for real now? It couldn’t be, could it? No, there was definitely a light coming from Marco’s chest. 

I took a step towards Marco, not sure if I wanted to run over to him — and basically reenact every goddamn romantic movie that existed by jumping into his arms and being twirled around by him — or if I should stay where I was.

Marco decided this for both of us by running back on the street, in my direction. I met him halfway and you could have said we collided in the middle, our arms wrapped around each other, his cheek pressed against mine.

I could feel his chest moving fast, as if he was breathless. Then I heard him sob. Was he crying? Oh my god, did I make him cry?

"Marco, are you okay?" I asked in a concerned tone and moved a bit back to look at his face. Tears were running down his freckled cheeks, but there was a wide smile on his face, too.

"Sorry, I am just so relieved and happy, ignore the tears.“ He laughed out loud, a shaky laugh interrupted by a few more sobs. I gently wiped his tears away with my thumbs and leaned up to kiss him on the tip of his nose. This made Marco smile even more and sob less.

I looked down at our chests in wonder. Both of them were glowing in the same shade of light blue, the small light pulsing in the same rhythm, as if our hearts were completely in tune with each other.

"That’s actually pretty awesome," I said with a grin in Marco’s direction.

Marco laughed once more and rubbed his red-rimmed, teary eyes.

"Jean, I’m glad it’s you." 

——————

Waking up was hard this day. I had not had enough sleep at all last night. I went through my usual morning routine, showered, brushed my teeth and got dressed. On my way downstairs I grabbed my school bag and made a beeline for the kitchen.

I could already hear two voices talking cheerily.

When I entered the kitchen, Jean looked away from my mom, who must have cracked some sort of joke, because Jean was still chuckling, and smiled at me with warm, amber eyes.

"Hey, Marco," He greeted me.

"Hey, Jean," I replied, sharing a grin with him behind my mom’s back. 

Maybe we were stars. Or maybe we weren’t. But as I sat at the breakfast table, with Jean’s hand in mine and his smile directed at me, I felt more significant than any star up there could ever be.