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“You are a child. So of course I’m going to take your ass to Chuck E. Cheese now shut up and stand by the skee ball machines while I get us some token.” Eren huffs to himself as Jean slides his way between loud and rowdy children towards the machine that ate money and tossed back those little gold coins with the mouse’s face stamped through. It’s a Friday and the crowd that’s shuffled around the animatronics stage is thick with snotty kids but it’s also a certain best friend’s birthday and he’d promised to make it great.
Jean had picked Eren up after work, making sure the boy had no idea beforehand where he was being taken. Stepping up to their shared apartment, he’d never expected a boy dressed in his best outfit – his button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows like a model imitator. Eren looked good. Like really good. Like holy shit this is why I’ve been fantasizing about my idiot best friend for like five months now. His slacks were neatly pressed – something that never worked out considering their shitty iron – and his shoes were shined like he was going to a job interview or a funeral. And Jean was taking him to a kid’s restaurant. Fuck.
Jean squeezed his lithe body between the few adults that huddled around the tables next to the token machine as he muttered every cuss word he could think of to himself. “Shut. Fuck. I’ve done fucked up. The asshole wanted a nice night out. And I fucked it up to the holy nines and I’m being a little bitch and buying tokens like a little bitch and buying tokens like a little pussy who can’t-” A strong stare from a nearby mother of probably three of the little monsters at his feet shut his mouth for the time being but the scowl still ran along his lips as he stuffed the $20 in and grabbed a cup to fill it with the 40 tokens that fell out in return.
He turned back towards where he left Eren, his eyes roaming for a second over the bulky games and adults running after kids with tissues in hand. He finds the boy huddled by the wall, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt that stayed untucked and Jean knew that he was probably shuffling his feet against the ugly-patterned carpeting.
“Fuck.”
He ignored the scowls that were sent his way over the strong pull to get back to Eren as quick as he can. He’s fucked up and he thought Eren would be mad or maybe he’d even laugh at Jean’s joke for a present but the frown and lack of that light that usually illuminated Eren’s eyes was an obvious sign that he’s really misunderstood Eren’s request to have a “night out together”.
He could totally resurrect this train wreck of a night, though. Play off the fact that even he regretted bringing him to this place. It was too late to back off now or Eren would figure just how damn weak Jean was to that horrible expression he was wearing right now. He didn’t know where the sudden gloom over his head came from or what triggered it but hopefully Jean could salvage the night without abandoning the entire cup of tokens that jingled with every step he took closer to the dark-skinned boy. His hair was still the unruly mess it was every day. His bangs drooping over his eyes as he looked down at his hands. Memories of running his fingers through it during the aftershocks of late-night nightmares ran through Jean’s head as he smiled down at Eren as he stood toe-to-toe with him.
“You ready to get your ass whooped at skee ball,” Jean said, his voice dripping in farce enthusiasm as he shook the cup of coins in Eren’s face. Eren startled out of his thoughts and Jean pretended he hadn’t noticed how his jaw clenched down on the insides of his cheeks as he set his face to match a fraction of Jean’s smile. He nods his head and reaches between them to grab a few coins and turns towards one of the monsters, his back to Jean, and loads the coins in. Jean doesn’t stand too long to dwell on the silence and sidles next to Eren and flipping his coins in and they time their movements and start their game.
Jean barely even tries. His mind is way thrown for a loop as he glances every few seconds to make sure Eren is having a good time. But each glance gives him a face dissociated with the usual competitiveness it held and holy shit how did Jean fuck up so hard.
The game ends soon enough and Jean thinks about betting two out of three but Eren’s attention seems lost and Jean flounders for that second to try to find a way to fix it. To set this night out. To make it less like a joke and like – like maybe it’s a sad excuse of a date.
A different game. Need to find a better game. His eyes land on the motorcycle racing game set up across the aisle and if only it wasn’t the kid’s birthday and they were more enthusiastic, Jean would own his at it but he turns away and looks for something else. The variety of arcade games are placed around the building look appealing but there’s a doubt in him that it won’t appeal to Eren’s taste. His eyes landed on the photo ride and the thought of squeezing himself right next to his best friend to take a couple pictures to capture the night was bitter in his mouth and instead he let himself fall back to Eren’s side to point out the small Cyclone game.
Eren followed Jean’s eyesight and nodded, “sure” was the only response he received and Jean rolled with it as he led the way to the machine. The lights blinked up at them, spinning in circles around the base where the restaurant’s spokes animal was glued to the center. He dug through the cup of coins, handing one to Eren to start it off and watched as Eren’s eyes focused on the coin for a second, his hands twitching at his sides. They practically shook as he reached up to grab the coin from Jean’s grip and the slight graze of their fingertips against each other lit fires in Jean’s arms and center as Eren pulled away and turned towards the lights.
The coin in and the lights now spinning in a different direction, Eren zeroed in on its rotation, his hands both hovering over the large red button that would make the entire thing freeze. It took a couple of spins before his hands slammed down and landed on the number 5, just shy of hitting the jackpot. Eren swore under his breath, his eyebrows furrowed as he stepped away to let Jean have a turn. Jean slipped the coin in and with a speedier process, he slams his hand against the button and in some magical universe where the gods are watching upon him, the momentum of lights end directly onto the place that elicits the most whiny and shrill noises as the machine flashes its lights and throws up a hundred interconnected paper tickets.
Jean’s hands punched the air, a loud whooping leaving his lips as he thought that maybe things would start looking up and he was drowned in that delusion for all of three seconds until he turned back to Eren. The disbelief was written clear across the boy’s face, the scar that ran along the bridge of his nose and the other on his forehead hidden as he scrunched his face up in annoyance as Jean smiled like a dick at him. “What?”
“You’re being a dick.” Eren’s voice is small, strained a bit from unused.
“How am I being a dick,” Jean very nearly yells back, acutely aware of the kids that crowded them because of the noise the machine was making. “Am I not allowed to be excited I got the jackpot?”
“Well considering we’re at a fucking Chuck E. Cheese, it’s kind of pathetic. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Jean felt himself take a step back, his face blank for a second as he stared at Eren.
He was used to the insults, they’d built their entire relationship around it. But for some reason this hurt a lot more than he thought it ever could. He wasn’t pathetic; he just wanted to have fun and Eren wasn’t helping. “I’m not pathetic,” was all that he could splutter out. His gaze turned away from Eren for just a second, unconsciously seeking out the exits in case one of them decided to storm out. “Why can’t we just-”
Eren cuts him off before he can continue, his voice biting as he tried to keep it down to a whisper as the kids dispersed and went to find their friends or parents. “Why can’t we just what, Jean? You brought me to a fucking kid’s playground. For my birthday! I didn’t really plan on spending my 21st surrounded by plastic toys and screaming children and sorry if I’m not exactly excited about Cyclone as much as you but this stinks more than the shitty Indian food Sasha eats at work.” He’s fuming so hard, the fire in his eyes, smoldering that bit of spark Jean had felt earlier and all the blond could do was just stare.
He’d really done it. Eren hated him and he hated himself as he felt the ducts in his eyes working overtime to keep them from shedding tears around children.
“This birthday sucked,” Eren continues. “I wanted to go out with you and this is not what I meant.” He turned on his heels, ready to leave and seemed to realize that Jean had been the one to bring him there in the first place and instead turned towards the back of the restaurant and marched straight towards where the bathrooms were. Jean didn’t follow, he knew better and let Eren fume to himself before saying anything.
Finding a table, he plopped himself down and rested his head over his arms on the table and focused on keeping himself breathing. This was hurting. A lot. Like more than a best friend should be hurting over harsh words. Eren didn’t mean it. He wasn’t pathetic for making a dumb joke and he did care that Eren wanted a memorable birthday. That’s all he wanted when he thought to bring him to play skee ball. He kept his head down and his knees jittered and shook as his hands fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket. He doesn’t have any idea how long he’s sat there, letting the guilt of ruining the one day for Eren but minutes must’ve past and he feels Eren’s presence at the other end of the booth seats. He sits down, his feet kept right underneath him as he sat, back flushed against the leather.
Jean looks up from the table, his eyes edging on the cliff of being red, and sits himself up to face the boy. Eren is as much put together as he had been before he’d left, his face still pulled into a scowl. But there is that essence of just being done that surfaces from behind his eyes. Jean grimaces up at him, his lips pulling on the edges as he tries to show some kind of emotion that isn’t the pit of angst that he feels building in his stomach.
Eren sits and waits for something and Jean realizes he wants an explanation. He probably wants to know why instead of that night out that most 21 year olds want, he’d been taken out to Chuck E. fucking Cheese and given grimy gold coins to play games that last less than 2 minutes.
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know you wanted to-to um, go out fancy. I dragged you here because I thought we could have fun. I didn’t know you wanted something else. I’m sorry.”
Eren squints at Jean, his nose scrunching in that way like when he smells something that doesn’t settle in him and Jean tenses, waiting for him to yell at him to just take him home or drop him off at Marco’s or Connie’s for the night. He clears his throat and Jean feels his hands grip tight onto his pants, waiting for the shitstorm.
“I thought this was going to be a date.” Jean’s eyes widen as he stares at the blush growing very pink on Eren’s cheeks and he can feel the tips of his own ears doing the same as Eren stares back at him, his sight never wavering. “It’s why I dressed up. You-you just disappointed me for a second I guess. It’s fine though, really.”
“But Eren-” Jean starts. Eren raises a hand and he shuts his mouth.
“We can order a pizza and maybe take a picture in that stupid police car photo booth thing over there. Maybe Mr. Cheese himself will make an appearance,” he says, glancing around at the stage where a bunch of kids were trying to climb up and down off of.
Jean’s voice comes out a bit breathless like he’d just been punched in the gut with a basketball filled with very heavy rocks. “Yeah sure. Th-that sounds great.”
“Great! Then it’s a date.