Chapter Text
Jean slumped to the ground, a soft, salt-tainted wind blowing blond strands of hair away from his face as he stared off the cliff and across the vast expanse of water. Undulating blue flashed in front of him, the evening sun glinting off the ocean and clashing with the orange-tinted horizon line.
He liked coming here, to the edge of his little world. Nobody disturbed the man as he sat, a dark blob of grey against the ever-changing skylight.
Until, that is, today.
He had to admit, the kid was cute. With his pastel purple, three-sizes too-big sweater drowning his figure and the mint-tinted skinny jeans, he seemed to be incredibly thin. Jean unconsciously drank in the sight of him, noticing the array of freckles across his cheeks and nose, the messy dark hair falling over his eyes. Oh, his eyes! A marvelous colour that could be searched far and wide; you could scour the deepest of oceans and the highest of summits, yet never come close to brilliance that shone in his pretty irises. His skin wasn't as pale as Jean's own, yet he didn't have the slightest tan- his tone seemed to meld perfectly somewhere between the two. The petal-pink lips, chapped ever so slightly, that grinned at him from above and the thick, almost girlish eyelashes- if Jean didn't know better, he'd have pinned the boy as wearing mascara.
And who could miss the flower crown perched on his head? The dark green leaves, the bright reds, pale pinks and stark whites of the fake - yet almost real- roses that stood out against his mussed black hair.
"Hello!"
Jean had to swallow thickly before he could manage a reply. The stranger's voice was smoother than Lindt chocolate, sweeter than honey and as vibrant as a clear sunset-
"Hi."
Jean cursed mentally. That was so lame. Why is he talking to this pile of pastel cuteness that had just plopped to the ground beside him, unaware of the toil inside his mind? Oh, dear.
"I'm Marco."
Silence. Jean was too engrossed in the sound of the other's voice to process the words properly, before feeling his expecting gaze. Heat crept up his neck and he swallowed again.
"Jean."
Ahh, crap. He was done for. The Marco kid splayed beside him was too busy grinning about nothing to notice the waves of anxious discomfort rolling out of Jean's wind-bitten skin.
"Nice to meet you, Jean! I was sure surprised to see someone else in this little hideaway."
Jean merely managed a strangled grunt of reply, acknowledging the words but struggling to straighten out his own mind, keeping his eyes on the fading blue sky above him.
"Not very talkative, are you? Oh well, I'll probably do enough jabbering for the both of us, haha!"
He hoped he wasn't discouraging the boy by his silence, yet wished for solitariness.
"So, whatcha doin' here?"
Jean huffed and sat up, glaring at Marco, who bit his lip- shit- and flushed abashedly.
"M'sorry." He mumbled." I was just.... Y'know. Sorry."
Jean's conscience begged him to reassure the boy that it was not his fault, and that the grumpy male was just a rude, smart-mouthed, introverted douche-bag, but all he said was, "Spare me."
He hugged one knee, staring across the ocean again, determined not to look the obviously guilt-ridden boy. Of course, Marco blamed it on himself-- just Jean's luck.
"Are you from around here?" Shit. He need to redevelop that filter he once had between his brain and his mouth. "I haven't seen you around, and it wouldn't be easy to forget a face like that."
Marco flushed lightly, but smiled nonetheless. "Ah, no, I moved here a few weeks back! I don't really know many people and I haven't been out much yet, what with getting settled in. "He explained, losing his hesitance at Jean's earlier standoffish-ness. Jean nodded wordlessly, pressing his lips together to keep from spouting more crap.
After a while, the sun was beginning to set and he stood up, brushing off his jeans and grimacing at the dirt it
the action left on his hands. Marco scrambled to follow suit, chewing his lip.
"I, ah, should be heading off. I'll see you around?" Marco's face looked ridiculously hopeful, Jean thought, and he found himself agreeing.
"Maybe." He corrected. Marco gave him a cheery little wave before turning.
"Uh, hey. Wait just a sec." Jean called uneasily, before Marco could leave. The pastel boy turned, his smile as bright as the sun itself.
"Yes'm?"
"Give me your arm." Jean's voice was uncomfortable, monotonous even. Marco held out his arm nonetheless and Jean pulled the sleeve up, scribbling his phone number down with the inking pen that always sat in his back pocket and looking away.
"Message me, later. I'm... Generally more talkative when I'm not face to face." He muttered and scuffed his shoe into the grass awkwardly, a grimace settling on his features. He glanced upwards to see Marco's grin fall, then a smaller, flattered smile graced his lips as if he knew the inside of Jean's mind.
"Will do, Jean." He answered softly, then grasped the hems of his sleeves into his palms and left. Jean did not move his feet until the pastel-coloured smudge was out of sight.
Oh, dysfunctional child of Satan. What in hell was he doing?