Chapter Text
High school sucks, but I’ve come to terms with that. I’ve pretty much given up on the prospect of romance (like that was going to happen anyway), or even friends, for that matter (Jean does have friends, he's just a dramatic little mf). I just want to get out of here.
School starts all too soon. I’m woken up at an abhorrent hour by my sister and her uncanny impression of a dying narwal. I wonder if she’s open to constructive criticism. “Shut the fuck up, Monica!”
My sister, ever-so-eloquent, responds with a touching: “Wake up, you useless piece of shit!”
I bury myself further into my cocoon of sheets. “Fuck off.”
Monica manages to peel the covers off me, ignoring the string of curses and strange hissing sounds that come out of me when she turns on the lights. Then, just as gracefully as she arrived, she storms out of my room. She did this for what reason?
After I recover from the mortifying ordeal of being awake, I roll my reluctant body out of bed. I somehow bring myself to shower, get dressed, and brush my teeth. I grab a bagel and my lunch, locking up as I leave the house. I don’t realize that I forgot my bag until I arrive at school. I can’t bring myself to care.
I have history with Erwin first. Fucking superb. All of the desks are arranged in pairs. I find a set of desks near the back of the classroom which are empty. I’m very content sitting at my desk. Alone.
Alone, that is, until a disgruntled boy runs into the class. He’s late. Erwin gives the new kid a calculated look. The freckled boy shifts nervously, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry sir, I, uh, got lost.”
Erwin leans against his desk. “You’re new, I take it?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.” The guy's face turns ridiculously red.
“Just don’t let it happen again.” The kid does an awkward thumbs up. Erwin nods in Jean’s direction. “There’s room in the back.” Fuck.
“Thank you, sir.”
“And your name is?”
The freckled boy turns to look at the teacher. “Oh, sorry. I’m Marco! Uh, Marco Bodt.” I don’t even know the guy, but I’m about to pass out from second-hand embarrassment.
Much to my dismay, Marco heads straight to where I’m sitting. It’s not like he really has a choice, though. It’s not like anyone would willingly choose to sit next to me. The freckled kid gives me a small smile, awkwardly sitting down in the seat next to me. “Uh, hi. I’m Marco.” he holds out a hand. I squint at it for an embarrassingly long time, not really sure what I’m supposed to do with it. Marco looks embarrassed, putting his hand down after a while.
I looks over at Marco blankly, way too tired to figure out the fuck was going on with his hand. “Yeah. I gathered.”
Marco flushes again, laughing a little. “Sorry, I guess I’m sort of a mess today.”
I look at Marco’s rumpled clothes and messy hair. “Yeah. I gathered.”
Marco laughs again. What’s this kid on? It’s too early for this. “You really have a way with words...” That sass though. He glances at me. “I don’t think I ever caught your name.”
“It’s okay.” I yawn. I am nothing if not incredibly humble and forgiving. Marco’s still staring at me expectantly, though. “What?”
“Uh, your name?”
“Oh yeah. That.” I attempt a dashing grin. Marco just looks taken aback. It’s been a while since I’ve practiced. I guess Marco cannot fully appreciate the enigma that goes by the name of Jean. “The name’s Jean Kirstein.”
“Jean…” Marco muses. I like the way he says my name. He gives me a wayward smile, the ghost of a dimple appearing on a soft freckled cheek. “I like it.” That makes me feel… some kinda way. I shift uncomfortably, crossing my arms. Marco tilts his head. “Are you French?”
I grimace. “Quebecois, unfortunately.”
He laughs again. “Sounds about right.”
I glare at him. “Excuse you?”
There’s a mischievous gleam in his eyes that doesn’t match the sweet smile he flashes me. “Oh, nothing.”
“Ferme ta gueule, tu crétin,” I mumble.
Marco looks at me blankly. “What?”
I give a go at a sweet smile. “Oh, nothing.”
Marco mirrors my posture, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair. “So be it, Kirstein.”
I just narrow my eyes at him. “Bodt.”
We’re interrupted by Erwin. We have to do some stupid thing about what we know about the confederation of Canada. Whoopdeedoo.
I don’t realize that I’ve been intensely glaring at the board until Marco clears his throat. “Uh, Jean?”
I snap out of it, turning to look at Marco. And then at the empty spot where my bag should be. Then back at Marco. “Marco,” I start, “my guy. You don’t happen to have, like, a paper I could borrow? And maybe a pen, while you’re at it?”
Marco raises an eyebrow at me, sporting a slightly infuriating smirk. “The incredible Jean forgot to bring paper to class?” He shakes his head disapprovingly. “What are we going to do with you, Jean?” He sighs, handing me a few sheets of paper and tossing a pen in my direction. “Keep it.”
I fumble with the pen. “Oh, wow. Uh, thanks man. I owe you one.” I make a mental note to return it to him later.
Marco shrugs. “It’s nothing.”
Not really. But I leave it be.
After racking my brain for literally any morsel of information about the constitution for an entire two minutes, I decide that I am going to fail history and should just give up before I put any effort into it. I make the executive decision that my time will be best spent drawing mediocre doodles on my paper. This should be easy, right? WRONG
Marco’s legs are all jittery. They’ve been shaking since he sat down, which didn’t bother me at first. But his tall stature is causing my desk to shake, which makes my doodles look like they were drawn by a small child who took their parent’s adderall. I put a hand on Marco’s leg. His eyes widen. “Chill the fuck out, dude.”
Marco looks like he’s the opposite of chill. His leg has stopped bouncing, but his eyes are huge and his face is beet red. It takes me a moment to realize that my hand is on Marco’s leg. When it dawns on me that I'm the source of Marco’s blushing, my face is probably as red as Marco’s. I withdraw my hand right away, running it through his hair in an attempt to look casual, casting my eyes away. Clearing my throat, I add, “You don’t need to drill a hole through the floor, tone it down a little, yeah?”
If it’s possible, Marco flushes even more. “Sorry, I had, like, three energy drinks this morning.”
I squint at the new kid. “What the fuck?”
Marco just smiles sheepishly.
The rest of the period is spent in awkward silence.
As soon as the bell rings, I’m out of there. Well, almost. But as I leave, the pen that Marco lent me is heavy in my pocket. I turn back to where we were sitting, remembering how he got lost on his way here, but he’s already gone at that point. It’s probably for the best. I wasn’t planning on making friends anyway.
My next class is English. I fucking hate this class. I look around the classroom. All the tables have a few people at them. My eyes wander to a blond boy at a table near the middle of the classroom. My heart sinks when he looks up. Armin’s intense eyes bore into mine. I look away. I see Armin wave at me from the corner of my eyes, and try to ignore his hurt expression when I turn away from him. I move to the sit as far away from him as possible; meaning that I end up at a table with Hannah and Franz. They’re all over each other. That’s nasty. I spend the rest of the class waiting for the Earth to swallow me whole.
I leave English at an inhumane speed. Making a beeline for the art room, ready to spend the rest of highschool alone, I don’t notice two arms sticking out to stop me until I walk into them full-force. “Oh, no you don’t mister!”
“You’re not eating lunch in there all alone this year!”
Two different arms snake around my shoulders, turning me around and walking me towards the door. I sigh, hunching in resignation. Connie and Sasha grin at me, which I respond with my typical Jean glare. Sasha pinches my cheek. “Aw, there’s my Jean.”
I glare even harder at her. “I won’t hesitate to bite you.”
Connie guffaws, pulling my head down to his level and ruffling my hair. I recoil. “I missed ya, Jean!”
I grumble, and we do the thing where I pretend I didn’t miss them and they pretend to believe me.
After their ambush, Connie and Sasha drag me out to the grassy hill that we usually hang out on. Annie, Bertholdt, Reiner, Mikasa, Ymir and Historia are there too. Mikasa and Annie are in an armwrestling match. An excuse to hold hands, if you ask me. Historia’s draped over Ymir. Betholdt and Reiner are sitting besides each other, blushing furiously, avoiding eye-contact. Apparently Eren and Armin left on a bathroom break, but it’s been a while and they haven’t returned. I sigh, leaning against an old maple tree.
I spend lunch with Sasha and Connie, who are having an intense conversation about the Madagascar movies and the cultural and societal impact they had. I let my attention wander, a tall boy catching my eyes. I squint at him— that shirt looks familiar. It’s freckles from history! Marco wanders off, and I briefly wonder where he could be going. There’s literally nowhere to go in Trost. What could he be up too? I shrug it off. I’m not going to get hung up over the whereabouts of some guy I met, like, two hours ago.
After Sasha has consumed all of her lunch and part of Connie’s, it’s time for her to get more food. I go with Sasha to raid the vending machine. She’s developed a not-so-legal method of getting free food, and I’m not above getting some chips out of it. Like any other teenage girl, Sasha goes on about some true crime case the whole time. I'm pretty sure I make out something about murderous geese. Seems legit.
Lunch is over all-too soon, and I have good ol’ math next. I used to be good at it, but functions is not where it’s at. In typical Jean fashion, I sit at an empty table. I glare at anyone who even dares look at the three other empty seats at his table. Most shy away. Annie just glares back, slumping unceremoniously into the seat diagonal from me. She may or not terrify me. Annie’s demeanor changes when she sees someone behind me. “Oh my god, it’s Edward Cullen.”
As if this year couldn’t get any worse, a beautiful goth girl takes the seat next to me. “I’m sorry? Did Shawn Mendez say something?” She doesn’t acknowledge me. Good times. I’ve lowkey only had a crush on her for, like, two years.
“That doesn’t even make sense” Annie slings one arm across the back of her chair.
“Isn’t Shawn Mendez a lesbian?”
Annie sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She inhales, “Where do I even start, Ackerman—”
The two intimidatingly pretty girls continue to bicker and blatantly ignore me for a solid two minutes, when someone clears their throat. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
I look up to see a tall freckled boy standing across from me. I notice the gleam of a chain under the new kid’s shirt. Marco shifts uncomfortably, and I realize I’ve been staring. Shifting my gaze down, I nod.
Annie and Mikasa’s attention has shifted, their sharp gazes tracked on Marco. Annie gives him once-over, smirking at him. “You can sit here,” she says quietly, nodding at her lap. Mikasa’s jaw clenches. An unspoken competition has begun.
Marco laughs uncomfortably, sitting carefully away from her in his own seat. “Thanks, I’m good.”
Annie shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
Mikasa stares at him with those sharp eyes of hers. “I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Uh, yeah, I just moved here. I’m Marco.”
“So, Marco,” Annie starts, “how’d you end up here?”
Marco rubs the back of his neck, looking away. He shrugs, “My mom got a job.” he doesn’t elaborate. Annie shrugs. I was actually wondering the same thing. I get the feeling that Marco’s not telling us everything.
The rest of the period continues like so, the two girls watching Marco like a predator does its prey. Marco sends me a few pleading glances, but I can only shrug.
Marco’s out of there faster than I am, which is saying something. I drag myslef to last period.
To be honest, I sort of fell asleep throughout all of physics. I don’t even know why I’m taking that class. I really couldn’t care less about fucking velocity. I shuffle out of the classroom, trying to stifle a yawn. At least I got a good nap out of it.
I clock out as soon as I get home. You could say that napping is my hobby. My passion, even.
The rest of the week continues in the same mundane fashion. When Friday comes along, Sasha and Connie somehow manage to drag me to a party at Reiner’s. I regret everything.
Party is a bit of a stretch. If you haven’t been to a highschool party before, let me let you in on a little secret: they fucking blow. Trust me, you're not missing out. Picture this: twenty sweaty teenagers packed in Reiner’s musty basement, the air thick with smoke, a subpar classic canadian rock song playing in the background. I’m sitting on the arm of a couch, alone, sipping on an unidentified substance. Maybe it’ll kill me.
Armin and Eren are making out in a corner. I try to not think about that. Last I heard, Sasha and Connie went upstairs to cook meth using kitchen condiments. Because that’s gonna work. Historia is absolutely destroying Reiner at beer pong. Ymir is trying to beat up an intimidating body pillow of Jeremy Renner. I think she actually thinks it’s him. A few people are having a heated discussion in the corner about Shrek the Musical. Everyone else is gathered on the floor near my couch playing truth or dare. I just want to go home.
I zone out, staring at Reiner’s ceiling, to the tune of Ymir hollering profanities at Jeremy Renner. His ceiling tiles are the same weird fuckers that schools have. Annie’s voice brings me back to the party. I tense automatically. She scares me. She’s not talking to me, though. I relax a little. She’s just playing truth or dare.
She gives Mikasa a small devious grin. “Truth or dare, goth?”
Mikasa leans towards Annie. “Truth.”
Annie smirks. “Scared, Ackerman?” Mikasa just glares at her. Annie continues. “All right. So, Mikasa; who do you like?”
Mikasa considers this for a moment. Her steely gaze fixates on Annie. She smiles a little. “The new guy.”
“Marco?” It comes out pretty harsh.
Mikasa gives Annie a cold glare. “Yeah, and what of it? You’re not the only one allowed to like him.”
Annie looks upset. I sink into the couch, letting what just happened register. Mikasa and Annie like Marco. I feel a pang of jealousy. Mikasa and Annie like freckles. My head is spinning. I shouldn’t have had that drink. I’m... jealous?
I’m so confused right now. Why am I so jealous? Do I really like Mikasa that much? I think of the way that Marco says my name. Suddenly, I’m angry. Who gave him the right to have a cute smile? Why does Mikasa have to like him? Why does…
Mikasa likes Marco. Of course she likes him. He’s… Marco. Perfect, freckled Marco. And me? Well, I’m just me. I sigh. Of course she likes him. How could you not?
How could you not… I frown. There’s no way the guy’s that perfect. He has to be hiding something. But what…
The rest of the night is a blur. I probably just sat on the couch. All I remember is falling, and suddenly I’m on my bed. I lie there, waiting for the world to stop spinning, letting the weight of my existence slowly crush me.
I have a bad feeling about this year.