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“I didn’t know that people even got yeast infections anymore.” Mikasa rubbed Eren’s back, focusing more on the spine than anything. Eren didn’t want to be a jerk and say she was applying too much pressure but she was going to cut him in half with her hands alone. “It seems so 1800s.” She mumbled.
“Shut the fuck up, Mikasa.” Eren had his head in his hands, combing his eyebrows to distract from the pain cooking in his nether region. “I think I’ll be good if I just get some monistat, where is he?”
Armin turned the corner as if on cue. He held the back of Monistat up as if he didn’t hear Eren when he told him to be discreet about it. He rushed over, keeping the bag to his side. “You’ll never guess who I ran into.”
He probably could guess. No visible bruises so not Reiner or HIstoria, he wasn’t gone for an hour so not Marco, probably some nerd Eren’s never met but will act like he remembers.
“That new kid Jean, you know the one from France?” Armin said with a bright smile, handing Eren the bag over the table. “He asked me why I was buying it and I explained your whole situation. No worries, apparently it happens all the time in France. Apparently they have their own Monistat stores.”
Armin is the smartest person Eren knows which is why he had to take a deep breath before answering him. In what world would there be French Monistat stores? “He’s not French, Marco told me that his family is from Montreal.”
Which is true. The first week of school while Jean was doing his “oh I’m basically a transfer student” bit, Marco whispered into Eren’s ear and told him that Jean is from Montreal. Marco denies this now but Eren doesn’t forget stuff like that. Especially not when Jean’s accent changes everyday for people with ears to hear it.
Maybe he was given that information to be his school’s very own Cassandra. He could foresee Jean’s bullshit but everyone was too captivated by him that they wouldn’t believe him. They’ve all been gaslighting him, trying to make him seem insane for even insinuating that Jean is a liar. A French fraud.
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“Aren’t yeast infections kinda slutty?” Reiner murmured as he set his backpack into his otherwise empty locker.
“It’s not an STD.” Eren grumbled, he hadn’t planned on telling multiple people about the sourdough cooking in his crotch but Reiner had to know that behind the bleachers anything is cancelled for the time being. “No, it's a natural thing.” He leaned against the locker next to Reiner’s. “I wouldn’t expect you to know that. And I didn’t even get it that way. I don’t let guys screw my growler, I’m saving it for that one model.”
“What the fuck is a growler?” Reiner squinted, closing his locker slowly as he thought about it.
“Hello Reiner,” Jean moved Eren off his locker to take the position of leaning against the locker as Eren just was. “Hello Eren.” He said it like it was a second thought. Eren scowled at Jean. His accent was so fake. It sounded like one you’d hear in a satire comedy flick. Or worse, one from a 60s spy thriller made by someone who had never met a French person in their life. “Reiner, do you have a, how you say, hoodie?”
Eren tilted his head in confusion. “Why do you say ‘how do you say’ before words you clearly know how to say? Marco says you aren’t even from France, you're from Montreal.”
“Reiner, I saw you playing American football.”
“Don’t ignore me Jean.” He interrupted him swiftly.
“Marco is a, how you say, liar. He cannot be trusted.” Jean always ended his sentences by shifting his voice up an octave. The last word was always said a bit higher than the first, like he’s always unsure about something. It made Eren want to go to France and study the way they spoke so Jean could make his persona more accurate.
Reiner took the hoodie off his back and handed it to Jean. “Thanks for watching my American football game, man, it must be so foreign for you.”
“He’s seen American football before, he isn’t from France.”
“Ah yes, very foreign.” Jean and Reiner went about their conversation as if Eren wasn’t there. Talking amongst themselves, there was even a giggle at one point. “I should go to class now that I have a hoodie.” He left without acknowledging Eren’s stares at him.
“We all know you’re from Montreal.” Eren seethed.
Reiner watched Jean leave then finally gave Eren attention. “Since you have a yeast infection can you still give hand jobs?” He closed his locker and gave Eren a look that seemed to be an attempt at both a smolder and puppy eyes.
“I’m not giving you a hand job.”
Jean peeked over the corner and speed walked back over to the pair. He knew an opportunity when he saw one. “I went to class and I realized how, how you say, hot it was.” He took off the hoodie, somehow lifting his shirt enough to show off his v-line. Eren rolled his eyes at the display. It’s a zip up hoodie, clearly Jean just wanted to lift his shirt because zip ups don’t do that. “So I came back to my locker to give you back your, how you say, hoodie.”
“Oh no problem, Jean.” Reiner took the bait, borderline drooling at the sight of Jean’s skin. Men are dogs. Not the cute ones but the ones that are so horribly bred that you can’t help but feel bad for them because of how intellectually disadvantaged they are.
“I want to murder you.” Eren said under his breath, staring daggers into Jean’s body. He planned this. Waited for Eren to be out of commission to steal his jock. This douchebag even shaved for this moment, there wasn’t a speck of hair on his stomach.
Reiner re-opened his locker to put the hoodie in it, somehow finding a way to flex the muscles that Eren was 99% sure were from steroids. Still, Jean blushed and grinned. “Jean, would you want to go out on a date?”
Eren says no to giving a hand job one time and suddenly Reiner is open to dating? “What?”
“Are you asking if I want to have a, how you say, ménage à trois?” Jean put his hand on his chest with the biggest grin Eren had ever seen.
“Really? Are you really asking how to say a French word?”
“I love it when you say words I don’t understand.” Reiner pulled Jean in by the waist. They both began laughing to each other. “You know… Eren just broke up with me.” They were never together. Reiner leaned in with pursed lips.
“Well you know Reiner, my people know a lot on suffering.” Jean looked up through his lashes to emulate that doe-esque look that didn’t fit his face at all.
Eren huffed. Was he invisible? “I didn’t know that the French Revolution happened in Montreal, you know, where you’re from!” He was boiling in rage when he went unanswered. “What people are you even talking about? Montrealians?”
“No, the people that invented French kissing.” Jean moved in to close the distance between him and Reiner. The two making out sent hives down Eren’s back. Especially the fact that Jean was moaning “oui” instead of yes. He shuddered and walked away.
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“Reiner’s stupid.” Armin said in support of Eren. Eren couldn’t even pick his head up off the table. He wasn’t mad that he and Reiner weren’t seeing each other anymore, no he couldn’t care less about that, it was more the fact that he and Jean speedran talking stage to exclusivity. More so that Reiner dropped him because he didn’t want to give him a handjob. And to top it all off Jean was sitting on Reiner’s lap on the table right behind him.
The tables aren’t even that spread out. If Jean so wished he could probably touch Eren’s back by just kicking his foot out. All Eren wanted was for someone to see through Jean’s facade. Or, better yet, for someone to ask him to say “About.” Canadians have an accent, even if heavily covered, and Eren knew that Jean’s original accent would slip through.
“Isn’t this better than some second rate hand job?” That stupid French accent. The condescension from Jean’s words were pooling in his gut. He was all but shaking in rage.
“Who the fuck said my hand jobs were second rate? Reiner?” Eren stood up, slamming his hands on the table as he did. “Because he wasn’t complaining when he was getting them!”
“Oh I don’t know, everyone from Trost to Liberio.”
“Well not that it’s any of your business, Jean, but my hand jobs are not second because I don’t just give handjobs. I let boys hit my butthole, not my growler, but my butthole. Because unlike you I’m saving my virginity for someone special. Yeah, not jock trash like Reiner!” Eren panted after yelling out his anger. They didn’t even hear him, they were back to making out. Jean was saying “Napoleon” instead of “God” which had to be both blasphemous and offensive to actual French people. Jean was basically spitting on all French people with how surface level his demonstration was.
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“Do we have to do this? It feels intrusive.” Armin whined but continued to set up his telescope. “Don’t break it, my grandpa got it for me.” He moved to walk away but Eren pulled him back in
“No, you're going to watch this. I need someone else to be here when we confirm that he isn’t French.” Eren paced behind Armin while he rubbed his hands together. “You’ll see how right I am. Then everyone will believe us.”
Armin muttered something under his breath. Their set up was simple. They were on Armin’s grandpa’s room because Eren, not stalking, had gotten inside information, Marco, that Jean moved in right down the street from Armin. His house was in spying distance. They were dressed in all black, graciously donated by Mikasa. He could’ve just gone over to Jean’s house to hear if his mom had that same stereotypical accent but this way was better. Mikasa planted a microphone in Jean’s yard so they could record Jean’s real accent.This way he’d get concrete proof that Jean is a big fat liar. With not one, but two witnesses and a recording.
“What’s he doing?” Mikasa peered over Armin’s shoulder.
“Walking Frenchly into his French house to meet up with his French mom.” Armin said monotonously.
The door was opened by Jean’s mom. The two seemed to be having a conversation about something unintelligible. This was it. “Mikasa, did you hook the recording device up to your phone?”
“Oh.” Mikasa looked back at Eren. “My dad said I couldn’t bring it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before we set up?”
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“I’m not crazy.” Eren shook his head at Mikasa. Maybe he was just saying his thoughts out loud. He wasn’t over this. As the days pass everyone fawns over Jean’s foreign nature. Sure he’s still foreign, but no one would care about him if they knew that he’s Canadian, not French. He was also sure he watched Jean skip over the bilingual question on their quarterly nurse form. Anyone would feel crazy if they were telling people the truth and no one listened. “You believe me right?”
“I don’t know, Eren, I think I heard him humming a French song earlier.” Mikasa set her head on her knuckles, doodling.
“That doesn’t make him French!”
Jean walked into the library, seeing the duo and rolling his eyes. Eren beckoned him over. He was going to prove this right here, right now. Mikasa is a reputable witness. She’d see he’s not French and back Eren up.
“Do you speak French, Jean?” Eren asked curtly.
“Oui.” Jean gave a disgusting pompous smirk.
“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, Jean?”
There was a moment of silence. Eren and Jean staring each other down.
“Oui.”
Damn it he might actually be French.
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Jean’s mother opened the door. “How was school Jean?” She took his bag from behind him.
“It was aboot as normal as elways, eh.”