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"Are you sure? I know this is like, super important to you." Jean shakes his head. "Look, I swear, you can borrow it. Just bring them back to me Monday."
Marco smiles. "Alright, cool. Thanks." Walking over to the other side of the room, he puts the Walkman and headphones into his backpack, and makes his way back to Jean's bed. Jean looks at him. "I really do not want to go back to school. I'm starting to see why Ymir quit."
Marco flops onto the bed on his back, and sighs. "I know what you mean," He returns Jean's gaze, "But ask her. It's not all that easy out of it either." Jean snorts and looks away at the ceiling, closing his eyes. "Anything's gotta be better than this." Marco also looks at the ceiling, keeping his eyes open.
"Mm."
"Well, y'know. I wouldn't see Jaeger nearly as much-"
"You see him every time we go to the arcade, Jean."
"Hey! It's not my fault he's always there. Besides," Jean looks over at him once more, Marco looks back at him, "Maybe he's trying to impress someone. Lord knows he needs a girlfriend. He's probably driving Armin insane hanging around him so much." Marco laughs.
"Like who? And, uh, wow! Is this your subtle way of telling me to stop coming over so much?" Jean immediately tenses up and begins to defend himself. "NO! No, I mean - I like your company. You're my best friend, man, you know this. Like- oh wow, I bet you think this is so funny." Marco's laughing loud now, "I was just messing with you, Jean."
He finally quiets down, and meets Jean's faux glare. "I know you're not mad, that face won't work anymore." He can tell Jean is trying not to smile, the corners of Jean's lips quirking up only to be forced down to put on a fake angry front.
After a minute of intense eye contact, Jean groans and smiles, grabbing a pillow and forcing his own face into it. "You're so annoying." His voice is muffled, but Marco can understand him. After all, Jean always says that, despite not meaning it at all.
Marco grins, "Mm, I love you too."
Jean throws the pillow over to the opposite end of his bed, and sits propped up on his elbows, looking at Marco. Feeling Jean's eyes on him, Marco looks over. "What? Do I have something on my face?"
Jean looks him up and down, smiling a bit. "Yeah, a shit ton of freckles." Marco snorts. "No way. I have freckles on my face?" His voice wavers towards the end of his sentence though, because Jean's hand is on his cheek. He realizes just how close Jean is as he looks over Marco's face. Jean nods, continuing to look over him. "A lot of 'em."
His mouth is dry. It feels like he can't speak. "Jean.."
Jean stops moving, flicking his eyes over to meet Marco's. They're both silent. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. With his face this close, he can see every freckle and line on Marco's face. For a second, he thinks he would like to memorize every single one for the rest of his life.
Marco licks his lips softly. "Jean, I-"
Before he can say anything, the door bursts open and the two boys jump away from each other quickly, sitting up. Jean's mom stands looking sheepish in the doorway, glancing at the door and back at the teenagers in the room.
"Sorry honey, I don't know what is going on with that door lately. Ya have to be so forceful with it to even open, I swear." Jean nods swiftly, trying to will his heart to stop beating a million miles an hour. Marco sits criss cross with his hands in his lap, biting his lip. Jean looks at his mom, "It's okay, I'll get to fixing it soon."
His mom nods, and looks at Marco. "By the way, love?" Marco looks up at her. "Your mom called, asked when you'd be home. I told her I wasn't sure, but that I'd come ask and that I'd call her back." Marco sighs, standing up, "Ah, I probably should get going. I was supposed to help with the kids tonight."
Jean's mom smiles, "Well, you know you're always welcome here. So are the kids, if your mom needs a break." Marco returns a grin of his own, and grabs his backpack, zipping it. "I'll tell her. Thank you." Jean stands up next to Marco, "I'll walk him out." His mom nods. "Alright," she turns her attention to Marco, "Be safe, okay? It's pretty dark out."
Marco nods in acknowledgement. "I will, thank you Miss K." She gives him a hug, he puts on his jacket, and he and Jean walk outside. Chatting as Marco gets his bike up, he suddenly feels arms around him. Jean's hugging him. It shouldn't be a big deal. It isn't like they've never hugged before. But they're 17 now. Not to mention what (almost) happened earlier.
He's taken aback for a second, before he wraps his arms around Jean, returning the hug. It lingers just a little too long to be considered platonic, but neither of them mention that after they pull away. Jean looks at him, and claps his hand on Marco's shoulder. "Be safe, man. Don't forget about tomorrow."
Marco gives him a side glance, and laughs. "As if I ever do. I usually have to call a million times before you even wake up." Jean scoffs, smiling. "Whatever. Be safe, I'll meet you at our spot tomorrow." Marco nods, and sets off home.
When he gets home, he rushes up the stairs, hearing his mom call behind him. "Marco? Is that you?"
Setting his backpack in his room, he begins to take off his jacket. "Yeah! I'm coming! One sec!"
After a long night of helping with dinner and taking care of his siblings, Marco retreats back up to his room. Flopping back onto his bed, he sighs, finally having time to think about today's events.
What the hell was that with Jean earlier? Was he going to kiss me?
Marco knows what happens to boys like that in their town. He knows that can't be talked about. Most older people disapprove, but don't say anything. It's usually the guys around their age that they have to watch out for. Marco knows he doesn't like girls, and was scared shitless when he told his mom. She had just hugged him while he cried into her chest - he was 13 then. But Jean didn't know, did he?
It's not like Marco is open about it to people around them, but he knows he's suspected of it. He doesn't go on dates, he doesn't talk about girls - not in the same way everyone else their age does. But was Jean like that? Was Jean gay? He's talked about girls plenty of times, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like guys too.
That wasn't something he could just ask, though. Say or ask something the wrong way, and someone could end up beaten to hell and back, or even dead. There were rallies going on, and protests. People are learning more and more, and more and more people are beginning to accept it.
But that doesn't mean it was all rainbows and sunshine, especially after the AIDS crisis started. People had been more angry and violent than ever.
He sighs. This is a huge risk. He knows that.
But friends don't look at each other like we did, do they? He even had his hand on my face.
Marco beings to wonder what would've happened had Jean's mom not come into the room when she did.
Trying to distract his mind from that, he gets up and digs around in his backpack, looking for his journal. When his hand comes into contact with something hard, though, he's puzzled for a moment - before he remembers that Jean let him borrow his Walkman. Listening to music honestly didn't sound too bad right now, and he wouldn't have this chance for long.
His youngest sister had accidentally broken his the other day, so while he was saving up for another, Jean let him use his. He sets the device and headphones onto the floor next to him while he grabs his tape. When he goes to open it, however, he realizes there's already a tape inside.
Jean must've forgotten this. I'll keep it on my desk until Monday.
Marco opens it, and looks at the tape's label, curious. He gasps softly, and covers his mouth with one of his hands. He reads it over and over, starting to blush lightly.
"For Marco" The label reads. But that isn't why his heart is racing. That isn't why he's shocked. He's shocked because next to his name is printed a heart. He knows Jean doodles on everything, but this isn't something he would just lightly add, right? Marco wouldn't have thought this much over it had there been multiple like a normal doodle cluster Jean would usually add to things. But no, it's the only thing drawn on the label besides the "For Marco".
Marco puts the tape back, and shuts the player. Sitting on his bed, back against the wall, he puts the headphones over his ears. He presses play.
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Meanwhile, at Jean's house.
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Frantically searching around, Jean begins to panic. He checks every drawer, crack, crevice, and closet in the house. He had no problem letting Marco borrow his Walkman, honestly. Thing is, he can't find the mix-tape he made about Marco. Well, for Marco. But he never thought he'd give it to him. It honestly wouldn't be a big deal, if not for the doodle he KNOWS is on the label. Especially after today, he's afraid Marco is going to understand it.
Shutting his bedroom door, he lets out a groan of defeat, and flops face first onto his bed.
Maybe he'll overlook it. Or just won't think about it too much. I can pass it off as a regular doodle, probably.
Jean grabs a pillow, and screams into it. Knock Knock Knock.
"Yeah?" He calls in response to the taps. "Can I come in?" His mom asks from the other side of the door. He groans even louder in response, and hears the door creak loudly as his mom walks in and shuts it.
The spot on the bed next to him sinks as she sits next to him, and she begins to pet his hair. "What's going on with you? You've been frantic since Marco left. You'll see each other tomorrow, you know."
He turns over to face his mother. "I know. It's not about that," He thinks for a moment, "Kind of."
She puts both her hands in her lap. "Well, why don't you tell me about it? Is everything okay?" Jean sighs, and looks at the ceiling of his room.
"It's nothing, really. Just some stuff I'm worried about." She's quiet for a moment, and then nods.
"Well, you know I won't force you to talk about it. But I'm always here for you if you want to, okay?" He looks back at her, and nods. "Thanks, mom." She smiles at him. "Of course."
She leaves, and Jean is left alone to think. He knows he likes girls. Always has. He hasn't ever even liked a boy until Marco. He honestly doesn't even know when it started to become more than platonic feelings for the boy. He thought it was normal to feel the way he did until everyone around him had made a big deal out of finding two boys behind a building.
It left him to question how he truly felt for Marco. Best friends can be jealous of other friends, sure, but it wasn't the way he was. He was jealous of all the girls that tried to ask Marco out, and would be extremely happy when Marco would decline. During that time of figuring out how he felt, he had started to distance himself from Marco. It was the worst 3 months of his life, and he swore to never do it again.
No one knows, as far as Jean knows. He thinks his mom might suspect something, especially after the quick pull-away he and Marco had done earlier when she walked in.
When his other friends ask him about his "type", the first thing to always pop up in his mind is freckled cheeks, tan skin, dark hair, dark eyes. Dorky, sweet, goofy. Any feature of Marco. Every feature of Marco.
Every sketchbook and multiple journals of him are filled front to back with sketches, doodles, or drawings of Marco. Even if it wasn't fully shown, every human feature in there was his. The eyes Jean would draw when he was bored always somehow ended up with light spatters of dots underneath them.
He sighs, turning over on his side. Maybe Marco just wouldn't question it, and if he did, Jean would just brush it off. He'd been in fights before, and gotten his ass kicked plenty, but he wouldn't dare risk Marco to be hurt. Especially not because of him. Jean decides to stay quiet.
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The soft strum of guitar begins to fill his ears, and he recognizes the song immediately. Smiling to himself, he closes his eyes.
At some point during a conversation, Marco had mentioned that he really enjoyed old romance music, especially from the 50's. When Jean had asked him for some song recommendations, the first one he had listed was "I Only Have Eyes for You" by The Flamingos.
The song plays, and he thinks about Jean. Jean remembered, Jean cared. Jean made him his own mix-tape with music he knows Marco loves.
As cheesy as it is, Marco loves old romance music and dancing. He thinks maybe he'd like to dance with Jean to this song. He thinks maybe he'll ask eventually.
As the song fades into the next, Marco sits and imagines experiencing life with Jean. Even if he could never have him as his own to love, he hopes they at least would stay friends. He doesn't want to lose him.
Marco wonders if maybe Jean feels the same way.