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Everyone knew of Jean Kirschstein, the witch that lived at the edge of town. It wasn’t even a question of if he was a good or bad witch; he was the best witch in the kingdom, but always refused invitations by the king to become the palace’s personal witch. And while everyone praised his skill, no one really wanted to go see him, with his prickly attitude and one strange feature from (as Kirschstein had told the story, proudly when the first person had asked) a game with a demon. He never said if he had won the game, but now his eyes shone like stars in the void, the little pinpricks of light swirling slowly in the all-encompassing blackness. It was, to say the least, unnerving to almost anyone that went to see him, but one lone person in particular really enjoyed going to see him.
Marco Bodt, you see, had a bit of a problem. It wasn’t a problem with physical ailments, or that his family was struggling (he was healthy as the ox his family used to plow their farm, he had maybe taken sick once in his entire life, and his family was definitely well off). No, the issue was that he couldn’t think of a reason for why he was hesitating outside of the witch’s house on the edge of town. Even worse, there was literally no reason for him to be near the witch’s house, with his own family’s farm on the other side of town, and no one he knew was sick enough to warrant a visit to the witch, so he couldn’t use that as his reason either. Marco was a shit liar, and knew better than to try and lie to the witch (lying would just piss him off, and Marco had seen what happened to a thief that had lied and said how he had gotten injured in the first place) (it wasn’t a pretty ending for that thief). Marco had finally resigned himself to just going home when the door to the witch’s house flew open with a bang, holding his breath as the witch and one of his familiars tumbled out with the force of some explosion from inside.
“Jesus! Fucking hot sauce on a christmas cake, fucking holy hell, shit,” Jean spluttered out, sitting up quickly and blinking in surprise. The very flat “meow” to his left at least let him know that Mikasa was fine, and he scritched at her ears absentmindedly as he mentally went over what he might’ve screwed up in that particular potion. Mikasa growled slightly at him, before trotting back into the house, her short tail swishing angrily at being thrown outside while she was napping, not even the littlest bit concerned about Jean’s wellbeing. Which was fine and all, Jean’s entire back would probably be one giant bruise in a few hours, at least he hadn’t broken anything this time. Eren had probably fucked with his potion when he wasn’t looking, Jean would’ve been more annoyed if the potion ingredients weren’t easy to gather for this one. Jean couldn’t help but wonder where Eren was; he hadn’t been thrown out of the house, so maybe he’d fused to the wall or something?
“Uhm, e-excuse me, are you alright?” The soft, anxious sounding voice made Jean jump in surprise; no one was ever usually close enough to his home to see his magical failures, but now here he was in front of one of the most gorgeous men in town looking at him like he was seconds away from flipping him over to check for broken bones. Which, Jean definitely wouldn’t say no to, the man in front of him (Marco Bodt, his mind supplied helpfully) could get him on his knees any day...But now wasn’t the time to be thinking those things; he’d already been staring up at this gorgeous man silently with his mouth hanging open like an idiot for too long. No wonder that when Jean suddenly stood up, brushing dirt off of his ass with a crooked smile forced onto his face, Marco jumped back at least half a foot, which made Jean laugh the slightest bit.
“Sorry about that,” Jean apologized, rubbing the back of his neck, “I think something went wrong, not a hundred percent sure...I’m fine though, don’t worry!” Marco didn’t look assured, even though he could see that Jean was perfectly fine, and obviously wasn’t having trouble getting up. “What brings you to this side of town, Bodt?” Jean asked briskly, rolling his shoulders until they both had cracked, his forced smile turning into something more natural when he saw Marco’s eyes flitting up and down his body. Oh, this could be good, he thought, as Marco spluttered some bullshit about a friend of his asking for him to come pick up a potion for him. Jean knew it was a lie, everyone knew the Bodts were shit liars with Marco Bodt being the worst of them all, but he didn’t question it. Both of them jumped when Mikasa let out a loud yowling noise from inside, Jean grumbling “oh what happened now” as he hurried back in, pausing for only a second to wave for Marco to follow.
Marco couldn’t believe it. Had he...Just successfully lied to someone? Not just someone, but Jean Kirschstein, the town’s best witch, who could smell bullshit lies five miles away? He didn’t question it as he hurried after Jean, where crashing noises and cursing was coming from inside the house. Marco was only mildly surprised to see a naked man running around Jean’s house and hissing like a cat as Jean swatted at him.
“Goddamn it Eren get your shitty ass back here!” Jean yelped, diving in front of a large stack of empty glass bottles to protect them from the man, Mikasa hissing when Jean got too close with the broom he was swatting the man with. Unsure of what to do, Marco just stood awkwardly in the doorway, eyes wide as saucers. Yes, there had been rumors going around that the witch was attracted to men...But why was this one acting like a cat and running around naked in Jean’s house?
Almost as soon as the thought crossed Marco’s mind, Jean tackled the man to the ground and wrestled a thick leather collar back around his neck. Within seconds of the collar being secured, there was a loud pop! , and the man quickly shrunk into a catlike form, looking extremely sulky and pissed off. Marco blinked rapidly a few times, the new cat hissing and spitting as he ran up the back staircase, and it was intentionally attempting to cause more damage to the things Jean had laying around on display for potential customers. Mikasa meowed loudly, very close to Marco’s ear, and Marco looked closely at her neck to see a matching leather collar, before she jumped down from her perch nearby.
“Fucking animal…” Jean grumbled, looking at the mess he’d now have to clean up, Mikasa hissing at him as she stalked up the stairs after Eren. “Yeah yeah yeah, I’ll be civil to him when he’s not a fucking dickbag to me, and stops intentionally fucking my potions up.” Jean snapped after her, and would’ve followed to continue arguing if Marco hadn’t sneezed, surprising both of them.
“Ah, yeah, Bodt! You said your friend Mina needed a potion?” Jean asked, suddenly all business even as he brushed dried daisies out of his hair. Marco nodded rapidly, as Jean turned to find his enchanted dustpan to sweep up the broken glass, and Jean couldn’t help the sharklike grin on his face before smoothing it out. Fuckin’ busted, he thought, distinctly remembering that Marco had mentioned one of his male friends, and Mina was definitely not male. “D’ya remember what potion she wanted? Sorry, I’ve had a lot of orders this week, and Eren’s fucked my shit to hell again,” Jean asked unapologetically, scooping up the little tags that had been knocked off some of his potions for customers. He knew for a fact that Mina Carolina hadn’t ordered any potions in the past month (she was one of the many people that were freaked out by his eyes, and no longer did business with him since the game).
“Oh! I...I uh, think she wanted something for the flu? I-I’m not entirely sure…” Marco stammered, hoping that he wouldn’t get caught in this lie. Jean hummed some sort of song, his back still turned to Marco, moving little potion bottles on the shelves that lined the walls. The longer Jean looked, the more sweaty Marco became, anxiety translating into way too much sweat to the point that he would rival Bertholdt’s anxious sweating. When Jean came to a halt at the edge of his bookshelves, Marco was ready to just turn tail and run.
“Y’know Bodt, I have a problem…” Jean started slowly, unable to hide his Cheshire cat grin as he turned to face the impressively sweating man in front of him. “Wh-what would that be?” Marco asked, his voice a little more high pitched than it had been. Jean leaned his elbows against the desk that separated them, gesturing for Marco to come closer. When Marco was almost level with him, Jean leaned up and spoke into his ear. “Mina Carolina hasn’t ordered anything from me since I got my eyes from a demon. Also, you said your friend was male before, and Mina was still using female pronouns last I heard. So, what is your real reason for coming to see me today?” He purred, grin falling slightly when Marco jumped back and looked at him in absolute terror. Jean hadn’t meant to scare him, but as he remembered the stories told about what happened to those that lied to him…
So this would be how Marco would die. Not from old age, surrounded by family. Not by being ordered to join the king’s army and dying in battle. No, he was about to be flayed open by the witch for lying to him. “I w-wanted to see you,” Marco blurted out, hoping that his honesty now would at least make it a quick death, stumbling back as the witch hopped on top of the desk. Jean cocked his head, blinking rapidly in surprise as he crossed his legs underneath him.
“You wanted to see me?” He asked, and Marco nodded several times. He shuffled his feet a bit as he mumbled “You’re never around town, and you don’t talk to anyone unless you need to, so I thought...That maybe you were lonely?” Jean blinked a little more slowly, leaning back onto his elbows as he thought. “Lonely, huh?” He asked, chewing at his lip. He couldn’t deny Marco’s thought, it was true he had no friends, or really anyone to interact with outside of business.
Marco nodded a few times, nervously rubbing just underneath his nose. It hadn’t been his actual reason, but it was pretty close; it’s not like he could really tell the witch that he had had a crush of giant proportions on the man since they were both younger, and he just wanted to talk to him now. Jean’s head was still tilted at a strange angle, and his chest rose and fell, but that was the only indication that he hadn’t turned to stone. He couldn’t tell Marco that some of his magic had shifted when his eyes were changed, and that he could hear others thoughts if he was alone with them and focusing on them alone...Jean couldn’t help the blush that rose on his cheeks, though he would deny that ever happened later (if there was a later). He hummed thoughtfully before he said “You’re right, Bodt”, before he hopped off the desk and into Marco’s personal space.
“I’ll make a deal with you, since you’re tellin’ the truth now. You come back at least...Hmm...Once a week for the next two months and just, I don’t know, hang out with me? And I’ll forget that you lied. How’s that sound?” Jean said, walking Marco into the wall behind him until they were chest to chest, the question coming out like a purr with his lips mere inches from Marco’s. If Marco wanted to, he could just lean down a bit and their lips would touch. Jean’s own tingled at the mere idea of that happening, watching Marco’s eyes flick between his lips and eyes, feeling a sort of satisfaction at seeing Marco’s pupils slowly dilate as the silence stretched between them. A loud hissing noise from not even two feet away from their faces made both of them jump, and if glares could kill Eren would be dead from the one that Jean fixed him with. The bland look on Eren’s face could be easily translated into “get a room you two”, before he easily hopped down from where he sat to go wreak havoc elsewhere.
“I-I-I, yeah, th-that sounds like a g-good deal to me!” Marco squeaked, tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave, his heart pounding in his throat. There was no way to see what Jean was thinking about through his eyes (or, even, what he was looking at), but Marco could see that he was at least a little put out about seeing Marco go. But Marco left, positively running all the way home, not even stopping in the market to get the cloth that his mother had asked him to pick up. When he crashed through the door of his parents’ house, his mother could tell by the dazed look on his face that something either incredibly good or incredibly bad had happened, and she felt that she could wait a day or two before needing the cloth. Marco was even more confused by his mother not scolding him for wasting the day, but took that as his cue to hide in his room and think very intensely about what had happened that day. (His face grew hot when he started thinking about Jean’s star-and-tar eyes, and the tiniest blush that had graced his cheeks when Marco had accused him of being lonely.)