Work Text:
Marco sat on the bench next to the arcade entrance, tapping his shoes against the cement while he scanned the parking lot for the arrival of his friends. Jean, Connie, and Sasha were supposed to come for one last arcade night before graduation. This had been a sort of routine for them since sophomore year, to come and play games every Friday. Since next Friday would be graduation, they’d planned today to be their last hurrah.
Seeing Jean weaving his way through a row of parked cars, Marco smiled and got to his feet. He tugged at his clothes and smoothed down his hair, trying and failing to ignore the butterflies he got when he watched his best friend. Three years, and he still hadn’t gotten over or learned to manage this tragic crush of his. He hoped going off to college would help, but knowing he was going to the same school as Jean, he had his doubts.
“Hey, Marco!” Jean called out with a crooked smile as he stepped up the curb and onto the sidewalk.
“Hi!” Marco met Jean halfway and they opened their arms to give each other a quick hug.
Just that split second in Jean’s arms was enough to send Marco’s heart into a frenzy. The feeling of warmth and safety when they held each other was unlike anything else Marco knew. It was addictive and agonizing, so often given to him just long enough to leave him craving more when it was inevitably taken away. Even so, he’d never dare ask Jean to stop. Those moments were too valuable to give up, and asking Jean to stop hugging him would raise questions Marco didn’t have answers for.
“I got a call from Connie on my way over here. Sasha is sick in bed, so they’re not gonna make it out today.” Jean shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed, his shoulders sagging.
Marco’s excitement deflated as well. “Ah, that’s too bad… Do you still want to hang out, or should we see if they can come another time?”
Jean scoffed. “Of course I still want to hang out. We can still do something with Sasha and Connie later, too.”
“Well then, let’s head in!” Marco beamed and turned towards the entrance, walking in step with Jean through the sliding doors.
As they emptied their pockets for the security screening, Marco abruptly realized that he was now alone with Jean for the night. That was typically easy enough for him to handle, but… being at the arcade felt like it pushed the boundary between hanging out and a date in a way that turned his stomach into a bundle of nerves. The fact that it was their last night like this didn’t help, adding to the emotional intensity of it all.
Jean’s arm around his shoulder yanked Marco out of his thoughts. “Do you wanna play the rhythm games first, or should we go downstairs and start with the throwing games?”
Marco stuffed his wallet and loose change back into his pocket, half processing his feelings and half pondering Jean’s question. “Uh… If you don’t mind, can we play the rhythm games first?”
Jean didn’t hesitate to pull them towards that area of games, keeping his arm around Marco as they went. Marco’s face felt warm, the feelings from being hugged earlier back even more intensely now that Jean was holding him longer. Marco was eager for the distraction playing a few of his favorite games would provide because he had no clue how he’d get through the next few hours unless he could get himself back in order.
Finding himself standing in front of his favorite game, Marco started to pull out his game card. Before his hand was even in his pocket, Jean leaned down and swiped his card, prompting the machine to light up and chime. Marco looked over at Jean, who had a smug smile on his face.
“Too slow,” he teased, and Marco turned to look at the machine with a huff before he could melt under Jean’s gaze.
Tapping through the menu and picking the first of his three songs, Marco tried to focus on the input prompts. He played the game on a relatively high difficulty level, so being just a little bit off could make an entire song a disaster. Just a few notes into the song, Marco had already missed several easy inputs. He was too busy thinking about how close Jean was standing, leaning over and watching Marco’s hands press and slide the keys. In his distracted haze, the song felt like it ended in a blink. When he was met with the failure screen, he groaned.
“Woah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you fail that song before…” Jean muttered, glancing between Marco and the screen.
Marco shrugged it off as well as he could. “I’m a little distracted, that’s all.”
Playing through the next two songs, Marco managed to clear them. Jean stepped away and stayed quiet, making it easier for Marco to focus. His less-than-stellar scores, however, meant his ticket haul was also abysmal. Groaning at the ticket count, Marco shook his head. So much for trying to snag anything cool from the prize desk.
“How about we move on to the games downstairs?” Marco needed some time to breathe, so having Jean play a few games sounded like a good plan.
“Works for me.” Jean turned on his heel and started towards the stairs, Marco a couple steps behind.
Walking down the stairs and past the prize counter, Marco glanced at the wall of prizes. Jean continued walking towards the Skee-Ball, basketball, and baseball games, but Marco stopped and did a double-take at the prize wall. A few rows up, hanging from a hook, was a snail plush. It had a light blue shell, a cream body, and looked like one of the softest, most huggable things Marco had ever laid eyes on. Seeing a plush of one of his favorite, most underrated creatures, Marco was overcome with the intense need to have that before he left for the night.
“What are you–” Jean backtracked to stand next to Marco, following his gaze. “Oh, you have to have that.”
“Agreed, but the rhythm games don’t give out very many tickets…” Marco sighed and turned towards Jean.
Marco watched the gears in Jean’s head turn, a smile slowly spreading over his face. “True, but the basketball game does!”
“Jean!” Before Marco could argue, Jean marched off towards the basketball machine.
While he wanted to argue from a friendship standpoint that Jean didn’t need to blow his credits and tickets on a stuffed snail, Marco couldn’t ignore how nice it felt that Jean wanted to win him a prize. It was sweet, stirring up the butterflies in Marco’s stomach once again. Catching up to Jean, Marco leaned against the machine and watched Jean start to play. Given that he’d played for their high school basketball team all four years, he did pretty well with the game.
“So,” Jean started between shots, “how many tickets for the snail?”
“I didn’t look, but you–” Marco had to at least try and dissuade Jean.
“I’m getting you the snail.” Jean paused with a basketball in hand to give Marco a determined look, and any further arguments Marco had withered away.
“F-fine, but I’m going to go and try to win you an axolotl while you play.” Marco walked away before Jean could argue.
Walking through the rows of claw machines, Marco found the one Jean always played in the middle of a set of smaller prize games. He made one attempt every time they visited, and had for the last few months, but hadn’t managed to get what he wanted. There were red lizards and brown dinosaurs and green frogs packed behind the glass, but Jean always aimed for the pink axolotls mixed in. There were the fewest of them, and they were wedged tight in between the other prizes, but that never stopped Jean from trying to get them. While Jean worked at getting the tickets for the snail, it felt like the least Marco could do to try the claw machine a few times and see if he could get Jean something to take home, too.
It took six tries, but Marco managed to free one of the axolotls from their bright, packed prison. Grinning as he hugged and then fluffed the small creature, Marco just about skipped back to the basketball game Jean was still playing. Marco hovered back until Jean finished the round he was on, not wanting to interrupt when Jean was in the zone. When Jean leaned forward, hands on the machine and sides heaving, Marco realized he was not messing around in the slightest when it came to playing the game well. Trying to suppress a blush, he took a few more steps forward with the axolotl behind his back and cleared his throat, drawing Jean’s attention.
“I got you something,” Marco said, smiling and biting his lip as he set the axolotl on the machine and slid it towards Jean.
Jean watched the plush for a moment, glancing between it and Marco, before his whole face lit up, eyes bright and a joyful smile on his lips. He snatched up the axolotl and hugged it, giving its head a soft kiss. Marco melted at the sight, the opportunity to see Jean be so sweet to something a rare treat. It had taken many credits to get that prize, but it was all worth it to see the way Jean reacted.
Even after he was done cuddling his new companion, Jean didn’t set it down. Instead, he tucked the axolotl into his shirt so its head stuck up under his chin. Jean rested his chin on it for a moment, as if he couldn’t stand to stop snuggling it, before he set his stance to play the game again. For the first time in his life, Marco felt jealous of a stuffed animal.
“Thank you, Marco,” Jean said, voice soft and genuine.
“Of course, it’s the least I can do. Do you want to try the basketball game one more time and then find something to play together?” Marco’s tone was more affectionate than he’d meant, but Jean didn’t seem to notice.
“Maybe. I’m so close to beating the high score and getting the ticket jackpot. If I do that, I’ll have more than enough tickets for you to have the snail.” Jean leaned down and swiped his game card again, bringing the machine back to life.
“Jean, it’s okay if I don’t get the snail today–” Marco muttered, his blush threatening to come back.
“Nah, I’ve got this.” Jean cut Marco off as his expression shifted back to being focused, his torso leaned over the machine to snatch a basketball as soon as the cage holding them opened.
Jean’s many hours dedicated to basketball showed as he sent ball after ball easily through the chain net. It was impressive in a different way from watching Jean play in a basketball game for school. While a game showed off adaptability and quick thinking, this was a show of consistency and control. The first round of the game was over in a flash, giving Jean a second to catch his breath and shake out his arm. He smirked at his score and Marco felt his knees go weak.
“That’s a solid first-round score,” Jean explained.
Marco stayed quiet, watching as the cage opened again for the second round. This one was more challenging, with the net moving side to side slowly. Jean started off with little trouble, but he seemed to be getting tired. He was sweating and breathing hard, the pace at which he took shots losing some of its consistency. When he missed, he swore under his breath and shook his head, while his clean shots got self-satisfied huffs and cocky smiles.
Jean was more invested in this than Marco had expected. He must not have taken any breaks while Marco was at the claw machines, and with how in shape he was, he had to be pushing hard every game to wear himself out so much. Standing there and watching his best friend work so hard to win him a silly prize at the arcade, Marco came to a terrifying realization.
He didn’t have a crush on Jean.
He was in love with Jean.
When that realization washed over him, Marco felt like the floor fell out from under him. Staring at Jean felt different with that realization. Rather than playful admiration and butterflies, Marco felt like he was taking something he wasn’t meant to have. That sensation made his stomach flip and blood run cold. When Jean looked over at the end of the second round, saying something about how he was on a roll, Marco felt hollow in his chest as he faked a smile. Looking away from Jean as the third and final round of the game started, Marco stepped away, the room spinning around him.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be okay, supposed to let his crush exist in the background while they moved forward through life as best friends. That was supposed to be enough because it had to be. How could he be satisfied by that when his feelings had deeper roots than he’d realized? How could he pretend everything was okay when he was suffocating under these gargantuan emotions? How could he hold himself together when the person he leaned on the most was the one throwing him off balance?
Marco had no answers for those questions and no idea where to find those answers. Taking a few more steps away, Marco fought to keep his breathing even. He felt like running, screaming, or crying, but instead found himself frozen, staring at the prize wall while Jean still gasped and cursed at the basketball game. Turning around, Marco was about to tell Jean he didn’t feel good and wanted to go home. There was no way he could carry on like normal for the duration of a normal game night. Instead, he was just in time to see the machine lighting up and playing sounds, the high score screen flashing. Jean fist pumped and turned around, beaming at Marco.
“I got it! I got the high score!” Jean ran over and yanked Marco into a hug, lingering and swaying side to side.
Rather than a sense of warmth and safety, this hug brought back Marco’s feeling of getting something he shouldn’t have. He wanted Jean to never let go, longed to bury his face in Jean’s chest, but those were selfish things that were not fair to either of them. The only way to fix the feeling of stealing moments was to tell Jean how he felt and why he wanted those things, but that ran the too-great risk of Jean no longer being willing to give Marco anything at all. Just the thought of losing Jean entirely broke Marco’s heart. Silence and secrecy was the best Marco could do, and it would be enough because it had to be.
“Alright, Marco, let’s go get your snail!” Jean pulled away from their hug and guided them towards the prize desk, Marco stumbling after him in a daze.
When they got to the desk, Jean shot Marco an excited glance. Marco smiled back, giving up his battle to lock up his feelings if only for a moment. Even if it wasn’t meant to be romantic, Marco couldn’t help the way that getting this prize after all of Jean’s hard work made him giddy. He needed a break from the dread simmering in his chest, and he didn’t know when his next opportunity to take one would be. Turning his attention to the employee, Marco took a deep breath.
“Hello, could I have the snail plush, please?” Marco pointed it out on the wall.
“Do you have your game card? That plush is... 3,000 tickets.” The employee glanced down at a list on the desk to read off the price.
Marco gasped. “O-oh, that’s more than I expected. Don’t worry about it, Jean.”
“No way, not after I worked so hard to earn tickets for it. How many do I have?” Jean handed the employee his card, which they swiped through a reader.
“Your ticket balance is 3,037.”
“Alright, I’d like him to have the snail, please.” The employee nodded and deducted the tickets from Jean’s card.
“Jean!” Marco knew he couldn’t possibly hope to stop Jean, but he had to pretend to try.
As the employee climbed a ladder to get the snail off its hook, Jean turned to Marco with a more subdued smile. “Hey, I want you to have this. Um, even though we’ll be at the same college, I’m not sure how often we’ll get to hang out like this. Will you take this snail as something to remember me by?”
Marco studied Jean for a moment, soaking in his words, and then the tears came. He didn’t feel them until they began to crawl down his cheeks, prompting Jean to look him over in concern. He reached out and set a hand on Marco’s shoulder, ripping a sob out of Marco’s throat. Marco wanted so desperately to believe that Jean’s words came from a place of the same kind of love he felt, but he knew that wasn’t the case. Jean had been clear time and time again that he was straight, and Marco bitterly wondered why hearing that over and over never stopped him from developing feelings for Jean.
“Marco, are you okay?” Jean looked freaked out, which made Marco aware of what a mess he must have looked like.
“I don’t know…” That was true, but Jean didn’t need to know all of the reasons why.
“I know we’ll have different majors and live in different dorms, but I’ll always make time for you. We’ll be okay, I promise.” Jean wrapped his arms around Marco and rubbed soothing circles on his back.
That was too much. Marco felt like Jean was tearing his heart out, and while Jean couldn’t possibly realize what he was doing, that didn’t stop a flash of anger from searing through Marco’s veins. Stepping away and out of Jean’s arms with a scowl, Marco cleaned his face with irritated swipes of his hands. Jean looked stunned, but Marco didn’t have the emotional strength to spare for taking care of Jean.
Just then, the employee climbed back down the ladder with the snail under their arm. They walked over and set it on the counter. Jean exchanged pleasantries with the employee while he took the snail and put it under his arm before heading for the stairs and the exit without a word or another glance in Marco’s direction. Marco dragged himself along a few steps behind Jean, exhausted by how the night had played out. He could sense hurt and confusion coming from Jean and prayed those feelings would be short-lived and resolved without intervention on his part.
When they finally got outside, Jean stopped and turned to face Marco. Marco met his eyes after failing to avoid them and offered a weak smile. He felt so anxious and vulnerable, broken open and raw after the unwanted realizations of the night on top of being terrified of the damage his outburst may have caused. They stood in silence for a long moment before Jean sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“Whatever is going on, I’m here for you, okay? You can talk to me about anything, whenever you’re ready.” Jean didn’t smile, looking at Marco with a serious and intent expression.
Marco swallowed thickly and nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be okay, things are just… strange, right now.”
Jean laughed lightly and Marco was relieved that Jean didn’t seem too thrown off by the rejected hug. “They are, right? Our whole lives are, what, a week away from changing forever?”
Marco chuckled, opting not to comment on how he felt like his life had already changed irrevocably. “Pretty much.”
“Well,” Jean smiled and held the snail out, “at least we’ll have each other.”
Marco felt another wave of tears coming as he took the snail, fighting them down before Jean could see. “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he said, the words leaving an acrid taste on his tongue.
Just then, something in Jean’s expression changed again. He looked thoughtful, studying Marco with something unreadable in his eyes. That sent a jolt of panic through Marco. He ran through their conversation, trying to discern if he’d said something to give his feelings away. He wondered if he hadn’t blinked away his tears fast enough, or if he was looking at Jean in a weird way. Marco’s head spun with all the possibilities of what could go wrong between them and he squeezed the snail closer to his side in an attempt to ground himself.
“Do you have your camera in the car?” Jean asked, putting an abrupt stop to all of Marco’s racing thoughts.
“I do, why?” Marco appreciated the distraction from his inner turmoil.
“We should take a picture of us with the stuffed animals as a memento.” Jean’s tone was sentimental again.
That sounded like an excellent idea, even if Marco wanted to remember the day for very different reasons. “Sure, walk with me to my car?”
Jean nodded, and they set off in step with each other to where Marco had parked. While Jean lingered by the trunk, Marco unlocked the passenger door of his Forester and grabbed his camera from where it was hidden under a jacket on the floor. Blowing some dust off of it, Marco stepped back and closed the door. Meeting Jean by the trunk, Marco shifted his weight uncertainty, still clutching the snail tightly to his side.
Jean scoffed playfully and tugged Marco over by his wrist. “Make sure you get my good angle, okay?”
“Every angle of you is a good angle,” Marco responded without thinking.
Jean looked stunned for a split second before he burst out laughing. Marco laughed along with him to cover up his horror at what he said. When they finally quieted down and leaned back against the car, Marco felt a little more at ease. Perhaps he didn’t have to be quite as careful around Jean as he thought, which did a great deal to lessen his fear of ruining everything.
“Alright, get the snail up here and get some pictures,” Jean said through lingering chuckles.
Moving the snail between them while Jean kept the axolotl in his shirt, Marco reached his arm out and started snapping pictures. He moved his hand around a little each time, hoping to ensure at least a few really good shots out of the bunch. Maybe he could add them to his portfolio, too.
When they were done snapping pictures, they lingered just a moment before Marco spoke up with one of the most selfish things he’d ever asked. “What if… we just didn’t go to graduation next week? What if we hung out... just me and you?”
“I think that sounds nice, to be honest. I was thinking the same, but I figured you’d want to go.” Jean leaned his head on Marco’s shoulder.
Marco let himself rest his head on Jean’s, closing his eyes and focusing on calming his wild heart. “I’d take hanging out with you over sitting in the gym for four hours any day.”
“Aren’t you supposed to speak at graduation, Mr. Valedictorian?” Jean had a good point, but Marco had a better answer.
“Yes, but I think Armin can give a better speech than me, and I never accepted the offer.” Marco made a mental note to let the school know he was opting not to speak at graduation and was thankful he’d put off deciding what to do for so long.
Jean snorted but didn’t press any further. “My house or yours?”
“Yours,” Marco answered quickly, knowing he’d want to talk to his family about his feelings and unwilling to risk any of them telling Jean.
“Deal.” Jean sat up and Marco resisted the urge to pull him close again. “I know it isn’t that late, but why don’t we call it a night? We got a good, if expensive, haul,” Jean pulled the axolotl out of his shirt and smiled at it before glancing at the snail still pressed between them.
“That works for me. Text me when you get home?” Marco stood up and walked to the driver’s side with the snail clutched to his chest.
“Of course, drive safe!” Jean grinned and waved as he took a few steps backward before turning to make his way to his own car.
Opening the door and climbing into the safety of his car, Marco broke down. He clutched the snail to his chest and buried his face into it, his steady stream of tears gradually evolving into sobs. Under normal circumstances, he’d call Jean for support, and his inability to do so left Marco feeling isolated and small. Having one perfect friend to rely on was wonderful, except when that one friend was the cause of your problems.
Giving himself a few more minutes to cry, Marco let the ache in his chest exist unabated. It felt like he was torn in half, one of which was fake and the other real. From now on, there would be a version of Marco that was Jean’s best friend and one that was in love with Jean. Knowing that would be the case for the foreseeable future, Marco resigned himself to carrying these feelings of loneliness and longing. He’d try to find other people and be happy, but he sensed deep down that nothing short of having Jean would soothe the ache in its entirety.
As he set the snail down in his passenger seat, Marco realized there was someone else he could call. Digging his phone out of his pocket, Marco opened his contacts and scrolled to his mother’s information. Tapping on her number and setting his phone on its dashboard stand, Marco wiped at his eyes and nose. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his mother’s voice through the phone.
“Hello, Marco!” She sounded cheerful, and Marco almost stopped himself from interfering with that, only shaking that thought away when he reminded himself that his mom would want to be there for him.
“Hey, mom…” Marco sighed. “Do you have a minute?”
“Always. What’s going on?” Her tone changed, now a blend of concern and focus that Marco was familiar with.
“I… Well, I don’t know how else to say this, but I think my feelings for Jean are a lot stronger than I realized…” Marco teared up again but made no effort to hide the way that strained his voice.
“We’ve already talked about this, and nothing has changed. I support you, Marco.” While hearing confirmation his mother was still there for him was nice, it felt like she’d missed the point.
“Mom, I think I’m in love with him.” Marco sobbed, floored by how much scarier it felt after saying it out loud.
“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” his mother cooed, “do you want to come home and talk about it?”
“Y-yes, but can we also talk about if I’m going to graduation or not?” It felt stupid to bring that up after what he’d just confessed, but it needed to be discussed eventually.
His mother didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, we can talk about that, too.”
“I want to skip it and spend time with Jean, especially since his family isn’t around for it.” Marco couldn’t stop the words tumbling out of his mouth. “I’m also so scared of things changing now that I know I love him, and we’re going off to college, and–” Marco cut himself off with another sob, giving his mother an opportunity to cut in.
“I understand, and I know your father will, too. We can always celebrate at home, and graduation day is your day to do what you want. Maybe we can invite some relatives over for a nice dinner, or have a pizza and movie night. We’ll think of something, don’t worry about that.” Marco appreciated how even his mother’s voice was, grounding him and helping him come back from his outburst.
Taking a deep breath, Marco finally turned his car on and buckled his seatbelt as he let tears flow freely down his face. “Okay. Okay, thank you. I feel a little bit better.”
“Good. Drive safe, okay? I’ll have tea ready when you get here.”
Marco smiled with a sniffle. “I will, see you soon.”
Ending the call, Marco took another deep breath and backed out of the parking space, his tears subsiding as he focused on navigating the parking lot. He replayed the phone call with his mother in his head on the drive home, holding himself together by the support of his family. Facing these feelings for Jean wouldn’t be easy, but at least he wouldn’t be as alone with them as he’d feared.