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Jean Kirstein doesn't dance. He never has. It was considered once in his life, oh the days of Middle School and a one Mikasa Ackerman. His dancing career was shot down faster than she had shot him down. It was never thought of after that. He'd sit on the bleachers, the sidelines and walls. Prom was no different. There was no regret there. Prom was spent in a much better and appreciated drunken stupor with a one Annie Leonhardt. That girl, She understood him.
But Jean Kirstein had always been weak to Marco Bodt. It was some sort of mystery that had plagued the boy ever since they'd met. Dunking Marco's head in the toilet his first day in Trost Junior High had marked the freckled boy as his territory, and anyone else who had tried to even look at him had gotten Jean a new week of detention for starting things.
"Please Jean. Dance with me. It's the wedding song...."
Years slaving away in labs and observatories and the smile never faded from that face, the warmth in Marco's eyes that always ended up breaking Jean into what he hated to be seen as. He can't deny him. Marco always wins.
That's probably what makes this worse as he takes his position. Marco always wins when it comes to him. Marco is taller, but he takes his position as the following in this Dance. It's his usual way. He always seemed content in second.
They don't need the music, they know it by heart. He hated to admit that, but Marco was so happy to know. He could ask Jean for it anytime. The boy sure had made him soft. He's so far along from his preteen years of bullying everyone. All thanks to Marco.
Marco was his pacifier, the one who calmed Jean in a way no one else could. A steady anchor that was always ready. Always there for him when everything was too much. When his own family had destroyed him silently.
"Annie would probaby kill to see this," He mutters, letting go of Marco's waist only to carefully raise his arm in the arc needed for Marco to spread around him. "She'd laugh her ass off."
"You know Bertholdt wouldn't let her."
The thing about Annie, you always get Reiner and Bertholdt. It's never just her. Now a days it was just Annie and Bertholdt. Reiner was far too busy with his own love life. Funny how he didn't end up as gay as Jean had thought.
"Bertholdt is still her puppy dog. You know how bad he liked her. Went along with every cruel thing she ever had in mind."
Marco's laugh is unique. Most of the time it starts with a sputter, as if he's trying to hold it in before it grows warm and uncontrolled at all.
"She never meant harm to him.... Look at them now."
"Tell me about...." Jean couldn't deny how their relationship changed from then. It must have been Marco. He's a natural calmer. Annie was never aggressive to her full extent when the four-- Once five-- of them were together. "I still can't believe he's finally getting married."
Marco stops in their steps for a moment, and Jean quickly shakes his head. "I mean, I can believe it! He's always been obvious once he got his feelings in check. It's just, his nature made the proposal..."
That laugh is intoxicating to him. The way it rings in his ears, and is engraved in his heart. He'd be nothing without Marco, just another lost and pathetic wanderer in the streets. Hopeless. He never wants to pull away, when they're like this. These are the memories he loves. The ones where he can drink in the sight of Marco, squeeze his hand in a reassurance of the trust and feelings that have never faded.
"You really are the best Jean. I'd never be able to get through this without you."
"........ Bertholdt's getting one heck of a husband with you. You'll do great tomorrow."
Never faded,and realized too late.