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“Guys, look, there's still some pizza left!”
Marco couldn't help but smile at his friends' excitement. They were supposed to be helping him clean up after his birthday party, but kept getting distracted by all the leftovers. Then again, they were getting rid of the food…
For as long as he could remember, Marco had been having his birthday party at the park near their school. It was nothing too fancy; his family helped him set up everything at the picnic tables, and the park was big enough to fit their entire year. Of course, Marco never invited that many people, but all of his friends kept teasing him that if there was one person who would ever do something like that, it'd be him.
Probably because he used to, back when he was still in elementary.
Needless to say, his birthday always came round with a warm welcome. It was the first party of the summer, and it was always the same: June 16th, at the park, with too many guests that were somehow just enough.
It never got old. At least not for Marco.
But this year, things were a little bit different. Marco made most of the party preparations with Jean. His best friend had always been part of the process, ever since they were little, but it was always him tagging along with his family, rather than just the two of them. Marco didn't mind his company—quite the opposite, actually—but it was weird not having his parents or older sisters checking up on him like he was three years old.
And sure, it made sense. He had just turned seventeen, for god's sake. But, and maybe it was because the day had finally come to an end and there was no party to distract him from his thoughts, the fact that he was getting older, the fact that things were changing, was hitting him a little bit too hard.
“Sasha, Connie, come on, save some for the rest of us!”
“It's finders keepers, Jaegerbomb!”
Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Sasha, Connie, and Jean. Most of the guests were already gone, but the same six people always stayed till the very end. And this year, with Marco's family nowhere to be seen, they were helping him clean up the mess.
Marco knew he should have been lending them a hand—it was his birthday, after all—but he stood still for a while, watching them.
Connie and Sasha were in the middle of devouring the last slices of pizza, with Eren running after them. Armin was checking to see which other boxes still had food in them, while Mikasa and Jean were having a quiet conversation as they put used plates and cups into a huge disposable bag.
There was a weird, hollow feeling in Marco's chest. Like he was watching a scene unfold in front of him, as a spectator, and he wasn't part of it. Before he knew it, it would be over. He didn't know when, or how, but it would end.
He didn't want it to end.
There was a sting in his eyes that he thankfully managed to notice before any tears actually came rolling. Marco placed his trash bag down, and slipped away from the picnic tables, making his way deeper into the park, and only stopping when he reached the upper corner. There was nothing but an old slide there, hidden by the dark, but it was exactly what Marco needed; somewhere to be alone.
He took a deep breath, slowly throwing his head back and looking at the sky. It was a starry night, even more so than usual, or maybe it just seemed that way. He always felt little underneath the stars, but tonight, he felt tiny.
Time was going by way too quickly.
Marco always felt weird on the night of his birthday, but it was usually just his eagerness. Tonight, he was anxious. It felt like there was something waiting for him right around the corner, something he wouldn't have time to prepare for, and—
“Don't feel like cleaning either, eh?”
Marco jumped at the sound of his friend walking up to him, embarrassed to be found like this. He managed to come to his senses quickly though, and forced himself to smile. “Sorry, sorry,” Marco said. “I'll be back in a second, I just needed to…”
“Relax, Marco. It's your birthday,” Jean said, and the way he smiled at him, so reassuringly, made Marco want to smile for real too. He didn't though. Couldn't. Not yet. “So… what are we looking at?”
If Jean noticed something was wrong, he didn't show it. Knowing him, he probably did; Marco was grateful.
He shrugged, glancing up again. “Just the stars.”
“Some good old Marco fashion, then.” Jean bumped his side with his shoulder, but didn't move away after they collided.
They looked at the stars for a bit. It was something they always did together, but just like many things that day, it felt different. Temporary.
Marco wished the silence could have lasted a little bit longer, but in the end, it was he that put an end to it. “Is your hand any better, by the way?”
Earlier, when they had been playing by the swings, Jean took a pretty nasty fall, landing on his arm. Marco had gotten him some ice to put on it, and though Jean insisted he was fine, Marco couldn't help but worry.
Jean hummed in response, as if he didn't understand the question, but then, “Oh. Yeah, I told you it's just a scratch.”
And as if to make a point, he ruffled Marco's hair with the same hand.
“Wh—Jean!”
Ignoring Marco's protests, Jean continued making a mess out of his hair, eventually topping it off with a soft slap on Marco's cheek. “There, good as new,” Jean joked and Marco pouted, but knew he wasn't fooling either of them with it.
That. Exactly that. Messing around with Jean, and with the rest of his friends, like there was nothing going on in the world except the moment they were living in, that was what Marco didn't want to change.
There was no reason to think it would, especially not after a day that had been filled with dozens of such moments, but a voice in the back of Marco's head was warning him they were coming to an end.
He didn't realise Jean's hand was still on his cheek until their eyes met, and Marco found himself so suddenly overwhelmed with emotions that he nearly broke down right there and then.
Regardless of what was to follow, Jean was there now.
And Marco would be an idiot to distance himself because he was scared of being alone.
He didn't want to be alone.
Before he knew it, he was wrapping his arms around Jean's neck, resting his chin on his shoulder. The first tear rolled, and Marco closed his eyes, letting it happen.
He briefly wondered what Jean was thinking of him at that moment, but then his friend was hugging him back, no questions asked, and the gesture, although common between them, was so overwhelming that every other thought left Marco's head. He just held onto Jean as tight as he could, and Jean held back as Marco quietly sobbed.
“Hey,” Jean said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You're okay, right?”
The question was so simple, that Marco couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah,” he said, and truly meant it. “Yeah, I'm okay.”
“Good,” Jean said, and Marco could hear the smile in his voice. “Because your gifts aren't gonna open themselves.”
Marco rolled his eyes. “You just wanna see my reaction.”
Jean chuckled, swaying them back and forth playfully. “Happy birthday, idiot.”
And for the first time that night, Marco believed it was.