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shingekinosimpson · 2 years

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You Had Me At B Minor: Chapter 5

Chp 1 | Chp 2 | Chp 3 | Chp 4

Pairing: Jean Kirschtein x Marco Bodt

Other relationships: Reibert, Springles, Historia x Ymir, Levi x Hange, a smidge of Jearmin

Rating: Mature

Summary: Jean's band needs a new bass player. Cue freckled Jesus.

Warnings/tags: Long fic, slow burn, Jean POV, friends to lovers, British AU with cannon locations, northern Jean, Unsigned band AU, nonbinary Armin, I promise there will be smut eventually! drinking, mentions of death, descriptions of domestic violence, panic attacks, see start of each chapter for more specific trigger warnings

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Trigger warnings: Alcohol

Put your arms around somebody else And don't punish yourself, punish yourself The truth is like blood underneath your fingernails You don't wanna hurt yourself, hurt yourself By looking too closely

Connie and I finish at the bar around seven and rock up at Eren’s place a little after half eight. There’s always plenty of staff to work Saturdays so we usually get the evenings to ourselves.

I bang too hard on the door and it makes the side of my hand throb. Connie gives me a wary side-glance. I’ve been in an irritable mood all day. At first I put it down to lack of sleep. Usually I’m out like a light, but I couldn’t settle last night, tossing and turning every five minutes in a futile search for a comfortable position.

However, as the day drew on, I started to feel more and more ropey. Not hungover exactly (I didn’t drink that much) but definitely a tad worse for wear. I blame mixing my drinks. Or maybe I need to remember that I’m twenty fucking four and can’t expect the luxury of hangover-free nights out anymore. The thought makes me scowl as I wait for someone to answer the door. It sounds like there’s already quite a few people inside, so I don’t know what’s taking so fucking long.

“S’up dickholes!” Eren yells swinging the door open.

“Hey man!” Connie lifts Eren off the floor with a hug that practically squeezes the life out of him.

“Alright cockgobbler?” I grumble.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it Jean,” Eren wheezes, still held aloft by Connie.

I respond with an eye-roll.

“What the fuck happened to your face Con?”

“A demented elbow in a mosh pit is what happened!” Connie squeaks, putting Eren down as his weedy arms finally give up.

The bruising is nowhere near as bad as I was expecting, just a bit of purple splodging under one eye.

“We the last one’s here?” he asks.

He sounds completely nonchalant, but I know better. He’s trying to find out if Sasha’s here yet.

“Yeah, pretty much everyone’s here except you two. C’mon get yourselves a drink.”

Pretty much everyone. Does that include Marco?

I don’t see him as I enter the kitchen and sling my bag of beer on the counter. Armin, Historia and Mikasa are quick to greet us with enthusiastic ‘hi’s and hugs. I don’t know everyone I can see, but I recognise a couple of guys from Eren’s work chatting on breakfast stools. Oluo and Gunther I think they’re called.

I crack open two bottles for me and Connie and head into the living room to see if Marco’s here. He isn’t, but Sasha is, chatting rather cosily on the sofa with a hunky blonde dude Eren works with. Already anticipating a bad reaction, I turn to push Connie back into the kitchen but he’s already seen.

Shit.

The cheeky smile and bright eyes snap into a furrowed brow and tight mouth. Sasha’s eyes lock onto us and she practically leaps across the sofa to get some distance between her and…I wanna say Eld? She gets to her feet and walks over, though she looks a bit unsteady, slightly tipsy already. Eld puffs out an exasperated breath and joins a serious looking girl on the adjacent sofa. I’ve met her once before. She's doing a PhD with Armin. I’m sure she's called Annie.

“Hey!” Sasha says with a too-big smile, her cheeks flushed, though I can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or alcohol related.

I sense Connie tensing up beside me. He forces out a quiet, “…Hey.”

Christ this is so fucking awkward. “Hey…” Say something. “Err…” Seriously, anything! “…You, err…you been here long?” What the fuck kind of dumbass question is that!?

“Err…yeah I guess. Mikasa and Armin picked me up and we were the first ones here. You guys been at work?”

Connie says nothing. He doesn’t even look at us. Just sips his beer and scowls. Sasha and I waffle on about nothing in particular for a few more minutes before she speaks directly to him, trying (and failing) to drag him into the conversation.

“You okay Connie? Your face looks a little bruised. What happened?”

“ ’M fine. Mosh pit. I’m going to get another drink.”

He stomps back into the kitchen. I don’t try to stop him. The others can deal with his shitty mood for a bit. God knows I’ll be bearing the brunt of it at home later. I tentatively turn back to Sasha, who let’s out a long breath.

“Well that went well,” she deadpans. I can’t help the little snort that escapes me.

“Listen don’t worry about it. His dad’s been a bit ill and he’s had to work extra shifts so he's not been himself this week,” I half-lie.

Christ, she’s barely been back five minutes and you’re already slipping into your old role of mediator between these two!

“What’s new with you anyway? You and the girls make it home in one piece the other night?” I tease.

“Oi!” she reprimands, punching me in the arm and by miracle of miracles, I manage to lighten the mood.

We grab the now vacant sofa and laugh about everything that happened the other night at the bar. It’s funny how easily we fall back into the rhythm of our friendship, as though she’s never been away. Historia joins us with three amazing looking cocktails she’s whipped up for us.

“Oh my god, you absolute goddess,” I gush grabbing one from her.

My irritable mood dissipates a little more with each delicious sip. I should be cautious about drinking given how shitty I’ve felt all day, but my devilish side tells me that the solution is more alcohol. Hair of the dog and all that.

Fuck it. Let’s get fucking fucked!

We’re just getting up to get more drinks when Eren comes bounding into the room.

“Beer pong bitches! Get your asses in the kitchen!”

The fucker’s so excited he throws poor Historia over his shoulder with one arm and drags Sasha by the other.

“Waaaah! Eren!” Historia wails, but she’s laughing her head off all the way to the kitchen, even more so when Sasha smacks her playfully on the butt.

Mikasa and a tall, freckled girl I don’t know are just finishing setting up some cups on the central counter when we walk in, a measure of cheap beer in each one. Eren instructs us to split into three teams.

I groan inwardly when Sasha ends up on a team with Historia, Gunther and Eld. I don’t even need to look at Connie, I can feel the daggers he’s throwing both of them. Mikasa and the freckled girl (who it turns out is Mikasa’s friend, Ymir, from work) team up with me, Armin and Connie, leaving Annie with Eren and his other work mates.

Sasha’s team beat Eren’s in the first round so then it’s our team vs Eren’s. Annie’s amazing but the rest of them keep throwing too hard. It doesn’t take us long to claim victory, knocking them out of the game entirely. The final round will be our team vs Sasha’s, though everyone’s had their fair share of shitty beer by now. This should be interesting!

“Shit!!” I miss my first shot against Historia, who takes great delight landing hers straight after.

I knock back the beer with a grimace.

“That’s right take your medicine bitch!” she shouts, dancing on the spot and pointing at me.

“Oh it is fucking ON now,” I retort, my fiercely competitive streak running riot.

Historia, along with the rest of her team mates soon start to look worried though. Mikasa and Ymir are fucking bad-asses, landing their shots with deadly accuracy, even after drinking two cups apiece from the last round. I’m so fucking glad they’re on my team! Although it doesn’t save me from having to knock back two more cups of beer, each of my competitors hitting (in my opinion) extremely lucky shots. I loudly blame Historia’s cocktail for my shitty performance, swearing blind that she’s drugged me.

“You fucking wish Kirschtein!” she laughs.

Sasha’s tipsy demeanour, on the other hand, only seems to improve her game. She even manages to bounce the ball off FOUR fucking rims before landing it smack in the middle cup. Her team mates practically piss themselves with excitement, grabbing and hugging her. I just shout and scream curses.

Shit no! We need to win!

Eventually we’re a cup a piece. It all comes down to the skill of the next two players…and it’s Connie vs Eld.

Eld’s up first.

Destroy this motherfucker Connie.

We all stare him down as he arrogantly cricks his neck and stretches his shoulders.

C’mon Con. Wipe that stupid smirk off his fucking face.

He rolls the ball between his fingers, closes his fist and kisses it for good luck.

Miss miss fucking miss!

Stooping slightly, any bravado vanishes from his face, replaced with intense concentration as he lines up the shot. He’s taking this as seriously as I am. With a flick of his wrist he releases the ball, opting for a bounce shot instead of aiming straight at the target. He goes too hard and it bounces high in the air. Everyone collectively draws in a sharp breath, holding it while we wait to see where it will land.

It drops, bounces off one side of the rim, then the other, before bouncing off the table together.

“YES! FUCKING YES!” I scream.

Eld has his head in his hands as his team mates groan and curse. It all comes down to Connie now.

We all start with words of encouragement and prayers to the beer pong gods.

“C’mon Con!” I bark, massaging his shoulders.

They’re taut beneath my fingers and I know he means business. He’s not looking at Eld, instead staring intently at the lone cup before him. I half expect it to spontaneously combust the way he’s glaring at it.

Without breaking focus, he holds his hand out to the side, squeezing the ball when Armin obligingly drops it into his palm. He hunches down, then changes his mind and stands tall. His hand lunges forward a few times without relinquishing the ball.

One…two…release!

It soars across the table and lands with an elegant ‘plop’ in the centre of the cup. There’s a brief moment of silence before we erupt into hysterical screams, no-one quite believing it. Ymir sinks to her knees with a cry of affirmation, Armin and Mikasa grab each other screaming in triumph and I wrap my arms around Connie’s middle, hoisting him up and screeching along with my teammates.

“YES CON! YOU BEAUTIFUL MOTHER FUCKER YES!!” I’m so happy I could cry.

Eren bounds over to join in the love too. Then we all childishly turn to the defeated team and heckle them rotten. We’re so loud that I almost miss the doorbell ringing.

“Was that the door?” asks Eren.

“I’ll get it!” Armin shouts chirpily, letting go of Mikasa.

I chuckle to myself as I watch them skip merrily down the hallway; Armin always gets giddy when they’ve had a drink.

I turn back to Connie, my face sore from yelling and grinning. I expect to find him beaming at me, but he’s narrowing his eyes again as he watches Sasha give Eld a conciliatory hug.

Well his good mood lasted for all of five seconds.

I open two more of our beers and shove the bottle in his hand to distract him, clinking mine against his.

“My fucking hero,” I say with a stupid smile on my face.

He begrudgingly returns it.

I’m just wondering who’s at the door, but then I hear him and I know instantly. How can it be that I recognise Marco by voice alone when we’ve barely known each other a week? The thought doesn’t sit comfortably with me. I don’t want to dwell on the reason why. Then I remember who he’s bringing along and my soaring high from beer pong comes plummeting back down to Earth.

“You’ve just missed out on beer pong! Can I get you guys a drink?” Armin asks walking into the kitchen with Marco close behind.

“Yeah a beer please,” Marco replies.

Another guy follows him into the room.

So this is Marco’s boyfriend.

He’s shorter than Marco, though his weird hairdo adds a couple of extra inches. It’s a reddish-brown. Short, but a bit longer on the top and flicking in all sorts of crazy directions. I didn’t realise ‘poorly constructed bird’s nest’ was a trend right now.

Alright curb it with the bitchiness Kirschtein. You don’t even know the guy.

“What do you want Floch?”

Floch! What kind of dumbass name is that?

Said the boy with the French name who can’t speak a fucking word of it.

Fair point.

He glances in my direction but pays me no attention, unlike Marco who comes bounding over straight away like an excited Labrador.

“Hey!” He’s so fucking cute. Sorry, what?

I mistakenly open my arms for a hug but he stops short, so I cover by setting my drink down on the counter.

For fuck’s sake. Why are you such a dweeb?

“Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah good thanks. Oh this is my friend Floch.”

Friend? Not so official then.

“Floch this is Jean - one of the guys from the band I told you about.”

Knowing that Marco thinks enough of me to tell his boyfriend, makes me way happier than it should do. Floch offers me a hand.

“Nice to meet you John.”

Mother. Fucker.

“It’s JEAN,” I correct through gritted teeth, squeezing his hand.

Floch’s eyes flash almost imperceptibly. Marco’s dart nervously between the two of us. I decide to play nicely for his sake.

“Nice to meet you too. D’you guys need a drink?”

“Oh I think Armin’s just-”

“Armin certainly is! Here you go!”

As if on cue, Armin’s face pops between the two them, a beer in each hand.

“Thanks,” Marco says politely, while Floch just takes his and starts swigging.

He could just be nervous but it seems kind of rude.

“You guys had a good night?” asks Armin, moving to the other side of Marco.

Marco talks animatedly about their date night, which consisted of a restaurant serving ‘the best Thai food I’ve ever had’ and a trashy horror movie.

“You should’ve heard this guy scream,” Floch laughs. “It’s a good job I was there to hold his hand.”

Definitely not just friends then.

“Hey, you jumped just as much as I did!” Marco laughs, giving him a playful shove.

His hand lingers on his arm just a fraction longer than necessary, long fingers trailing lightly down Floch’s sleeve before settling back at his side again.

“S’cuse me,” I mutter brushing past Armin to get another drink.

I notice them give me a quizzical look out the corner of my eye (nothing gets passed you Armin) but purposely keep my head down, not wanting to invite a conversation about it.

Beer isn’t cutting it anymore. I need something stronger. My hand lands on a near-full bottle of Sailor Jerry’s. Yep. That’ll do. I grip the neck and drag it towards me. I can hear Connie behind me saying hi to Marco and introducing him to Mikasa and Historia. I mix myself a drink - half coke, half rum – and take a sip. It burns the shit out of my throat but it’s a welcome distraction from the clenching in my chest.

“Hey,” says a gentle voice. I turn to face Armin. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. You okay?” I say to deflect further questioning.

“You sure?”

Shit.

“Yeah totally fine,” I reply with what I hope is a believable smile and then quickly cover it by taking a sip of my drink.

We both turn and slouch against the kitchen bench, facing the others.

“Marco’s friend seems nice.”

“Boyfriend,” I say too sharply.

“Oh. I thought so but I wasn’t sure.”

Liar. You of all people would’ve picked up on that in two seconds flat.

“Yeah…”

Sasha’s introducing herself now. The corners of Marco’s eyes crease with laughter when she enthusiastically asks him if he’s Italian.

“Sort of actually. My grandmother was from Italy,” he replies.

“What really?” Floch cuts in. “Well that explains the amazing rigatoni you made the other night.”

“Yeah it’s a Bodt family recipe.”

“Jeez Italian blood and he can cook. Why haven’t you introduced us sooner Connie?” Historia jibes playfully.

Everyone chuckles, but the way Floch snakes his arm around Marco’s waist doesn’t go unnoticed. Not by me at least.

“You want another drink?” I say to Armin, mainly so I have an excuse to turn around and keep my hands busy.

“Oh. No thanks. I think I need to pace myself a bit after beer po-”

“Naaah c’mon, have a Sailor Jerry’s with me. It’s really fucking good.”

Please. Any excuse not to turn back round.

“Alright,” they relent. “Just don’t make it very strong…I said not strong!”

“It’s not strong! That’s a normal measurement! I do work in a bar y’know,” I say, adding the coke and nudging Armin cheekily in the shoulder.

“You’ll put Springer’s out of business if you keep giving out measurements like that!” they smirk, shoving me back with their hip.

We fall into our own little conversation away from the others and have a proper catch up on everything – their PhD, my upcoming training, how Armin’s Grandpa is doing, my mam, Connie, Mikasa, anything and everything. It’s nice. I don’t get to talk much with just Armin anymore. Not like we used to anyway. And having their cute face to focus on helps me forget the others are even there...

“Oh god don’t ask this guy!”

...until Floch’s obnoxious voice diverts my attention.

“He works with toddlers for a living. I’m surprised he can even form full sentences!”

It’s a joke. It’s obviously a joke and everyone laughs, Marco included. But, when I notice him scratch the back of his neck, my blood boils. I know Marco can be sensitive about his job. He worries about people’s reactions and being judged for it. I’ve only known Marco six days and I know that already, so why the fuck doesn’t his boyfriend? He’s just using Marco’s job for a cheap laugh and putting him down in the process. And in front of his fucking friends no less. Unspoken rage prickles beneath my skin and I bite my lip. Floch smiles, apparently pleased with his little joke.

I will come over there and wipe that fucking grin off your stupid fucking face you dick.

I might be over-reacting and reading way too much into it but I can’t help it.

“Wanna go sit down?” Armin asks eyeing me warily.

“Sure.” I down the rest of my drink and quickly make another one.

Armin’s face twists when I make it half and half again, but they know better than to say anything. I follow them towards the living room door and I may or may not accidentally stumble into Floch on my way.

“Oops! Sorry mate,” I cover, patting him on the back (though smacking might be a more accurate description).

“S’alright bro no problem.”

I’m not your bro, you stupid ugly birdsnestofahairdoslymotherfucker!!

Look, I know.

I know I’m being childish but I’m too tipsy to care at this point and I decide to let my mind indulge in its unfounded hostility. Plus, convincing myself Floch is an arsehole is preferable to acknowledging what’s actually bothering me right now. I stubbornly push that thought away and look for another distraction.

I find it when I enter the living room, though it’s certainly not one I was expecting.

“What is this, a fucking hairdressers!?”

Eren and Historia are sat on the floor in front of the sofa with Mikasa and Ymir behind them, braiding their hair.

“You’re just jealous because your hair is nowhere near as fabulous as ours,” Historia replies smugly, sticking her tongue out at me.

I’m still tense from the conversation in the kitchen, but I can’t help softening a little at that. I give her a lop-sided grin before drawing in a long, steadying breath and let it out slowly as I settle into the chair opposite them with Armin. Watching them, I feel better already. The warm feeling I had earlier returns and dampens my anger.

I love that we still do childish shit like this. We’re all technically ‘adults’ now, with rent to pay and jobs to go to but we’re still just kids deep down. I know I am anyway. Fuck living up to my parent’s standards of married by 21, kids by 25 and happily ever fucking after. Didn’t work out so well for them did it? These people right here are all the commitment I need in my life. These ridiculous, infuriating, fierce, incredible, beautiful people.

Jesus, you get so sentimental when you’re drunk.

“Make my braid like Armin’s Mikasa! I need a twinsies selfie with them!” Eren says.

“Fuck me,” I snort. “How much have you had Jaeger?”

He replies with a giddy laugh.

I’ll take that to mean ‘a lot’ then!

“Ymir make mine like that too! Then we can have a triplet selfie! Eren can be the brown filling in our blonde sandwich.”

“Ooooh! Like Nutella!” Eren says seriously, like he’s just said something incredibly profound.

“Errrr,” Ymir starts, glancing between Mikasa’s progress and the back of Historia’s head. “Okay...sure.”

I zone out as I watch Mikasa’s quick fingers at work. I love having my hair played with.

Why isn’t mine long enough to braid! I pout.

“Okay done.”

The words have barely left Mikasa’s mouth when Armin dives onto the floor for the aforementioned ‘twinsies selfie’.

“You guys are ridiculous,” I laugh, watching the ludicrous faces they pull.

“Ridiculously adorable?” Armin grins.

“You wish.”

Eren takes no notice, already busy uploading the picture to Instagram.

“Aaaaaaaaand…hashtag gay nerds!” Eren cries, flipping his phone round to show Armin.

I splutter mid-sip. Mikasa and Historia both crack up at the combo of Eren’s comment and me making a dick of myself.

“C’mon Ymir,” Historia giggles. “Get a move on! I wanna be a gay nerd too!”

“Okay okay just, err…gimme a second.”

Her face is frowning in concentration. I’m not sure what the hell Ymir’s been doing this whole time, but Historia’s hair looks nothing like Eren’s. I think Historia senses she’s been lumbered with the dud hairdresser.

“Ymir, I know we’ve just met so don’t take this the wrong way…but do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing?”

Mikasa snickers as her and Ymir exchange complicit glances.

“Sorry sweetheart. I just wanted an excuse to get you between my legs.”

Historia’s jaw practically hits the floor and I lose it. Eren and Armin screech out a long ‘Haaaah!’ pointing at Historia’s stunned expression. Once I’ve caught my breath back, I lean forward to hi-five Ymir, tears starting to stream down my face. Where has this girl been all my life? Even Historia has to start laughing, though she can’t quite erase the shock from her face.

“Sorry,” she eventually responds. “but you need to be a bit better with your hands to get me between your legs.”

Jesus Christ, this just keeps getting better. Ymir isn’t fazed in the slightest, giving Historia a wink and a sly grin.

“Move over Jaeger,” Historia says as she plants herself in front of Mikasa.

“What the hell are you idiots screaming about?” Sasha chirps bounding into the living room with Marco in tow.

She’s dragging the poor guy along by the hand like she’s known him all her life. He’s smiling but he also looks vaguely terrified, eyes-wide as he staggers to keep up with Sasha. I expect Floch to follow close behind but he doesn’t materialise.

Sasha gasps dramatically when she see’s Armin, Eren and Historia’s hair. “Oh my god I love it! Me next Mikasa me next!”

She let’s go of Marco and squishes herself next to Historia. He looks at Eren and Armin, who are busy messing around with Snapchat filters, and then his eyes settle on me. I fidget a little in my seat to compensate for the somersaults in my stomach. He smiles broadly as he walks over to me and perches on the arm of the chair I’m sitting in.

“Alright?” he asks casually.

Our height difference brings my eyes directly level with his bicep and I’m so close to him, I can see a cluster of five freckles nestled on the inside of his arm.

“Here mate!” I jump up far too quickly, so quick he visibly flinches. “Sit yourself down,” I say gesturing to the chair.

“What? No no! I’m fine hones-”

“Nah c’mon you’re making me feel like a midget,” I cut him off, already using my hip to push him off the arm of the chair.

“Alright,” he chuckles, settling into the now vacant space.

Okay this is better. I don’t feel so claustrophobic now.

“Where’s Floch? Have we scared him off already?”

Please say yes.

“Ha, no he’s just outside on the phone.”

“Oh.”

Bit late to be getting a phone call.

“So, did you and the ‘touchy feelies’ get home okay last night?”

“Yeah but we got so lost because of my directions! I don’t drive so I only really know the bus route home and…”

I swear I am listening to begin with, but the rum really starts to kick in and my focus becomes hazy as I look down at him. I remember noticing how long his eyelashes were last night and my eyes are drawn to them again. They flick around animatedly as he tells his story, framing the deep sparkle of his warm eyes perfectly.

I zone back in when I’m needed. He asks if I know the canal. I hum in acknowledgement and he continues. One hand moves around as he mimes Bert’s sister trying to do a ‘million-point turn’ in a tiny alley way, but it’s his other hand that really distracts me. The one he’s left on his drink, playing with it absentmindedly, long fingers gently stroking up and down the glass.

“So yeah, I don’t think she’ll be offering me a lift again anytime soon. How ‘bout you and Connie? I noticed his bruise isn’t too bad.”

Crap. Time to stop daydreaming.

“Y-yeah fine thanks. We just jumped in a taxi. Thanks again for letting me tag along by the way. I had a really good night.”

“Yeah of course!” He smiles so wide his eyes crinkle. Another somersault flutters up to my sternum. “Like I said, I don’t know how I would’ve coped on my own with those two so I’m really glad you were there.”

He smiles softly and takes a sip of his drink. His tongue darts out over his bottom lip to catch a stray droplet and my gaze stops dead. It’s slightly bigger than the top lip, curvier too. The skin looks so soft but firm at the same time, like it would push back fervently if I-

“Hey!”

My eyes snap up and see Floch, hopping onto the opposite arm of the chair. He drapes one of his legs over Marco’s knee as he hands him a fresh drink. My warm, fuzzy feeling evaporates.

“Oh thanks!” Marco replies happily.

His eyes crinkle again as he smiles at his boyfriend and I have to look away. The room quietens as the ‘braidy bunch’ stagger into the kitchen to top up their drinks.

“Oh Jean I meant to ask. Will you guys be free on Tuesday? I really want to get an extra practise in before the gig.”

“Well Connie and I usually work on Tuesday nights but I think his dad is giving him the night off to make up for the extra shifts this week. Eren is usually free on a Tuesday too. You’ll just have to manage without me I’m afraid.”

“When’s your first gig again?” asks Floch.

“Friday,” Marco says anxiously.

“That soon? You sure you’ll be ready?”

Wow. Way to be fucking supportive arse face!

Careful Kirschtein. Reign it in.

I’m about to snap ‘of course he’ll be fucking ready!’ but think better of it and decide it’s safer to address Marco directly.

“You’ll be fine Marco. You did great on Thursday and you’ve got two practices between now and Friday. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah. I’m sure you’ll do great,” Floch states, his voice slightly firmer. There’s tension in the air now that I pray Marco doesn’t notice. “Where you guys playing again?”

Marco starts explaining where Springer’s is (as best as he can) but is quickly interrupted by thundering footsteps and a face that looks capable of murder.

“Jean Kirschtein!” Sasha storms towards me and lifts a bottle of Sailor Jerry’s up to my face. Shit. “Did you drink half of this?”

“Maybe…?” I say, giving her my best ‘adorable scamp’ face but anticipating a violent reaction.

“Want some more?” she barks, her face still livid.

Needless to say, I am confused.

“Erm…sure?” I stammer, scared she’s about to crack the bottle over my head.

“Right then!” she grabs me by the wrist and drags me over to the sofa.

Only then do I notice the two shot glasses in her other hand. She slams them down on the coffee table and wrenches the top off the bottle like she’s trying to strangle it. Her face is still burning with anger, so much so that the shots she pours slosh all over the table. I just sit there, stunned, watching the whole performance and wondering where the hell this is going.

She hands me a shot, clinks the glass too hard and yells, “Fucking cheers!” before throwing it down her neck.

I tentatively do the same with mine and then wait to see what the hell’s going to happen next.

“I have a question for you Jean Kirschtein!” she says grabbing the bottle as she starts the ritual again. “Why, pray tell me, does your gender feel the need to play silly childish games instead of just acting like a fucking adult?”

Marco and Floch take that as their cue to slip out of the room. I stare at her agog, “I…I’m sorry?”

“Yeah! So you fucking should be! Cheers!” she knocks back a second shot. “Like if you have something to say, just fucking say it you know? You’ve got a mouth. You’ve supposedly got a brain. So how about you try putting those two things together and fucking talk to me instead of all this bullshit!?”

And with that, she slumps back onto the sofa with a loud huff.

Okay. She’s clearly not talking about me.

Connie, what the shit have you done now?

“Okay, first of all,” I say, taking one of her hands in mine. “On behalf of my gender, I apologise. We are fucking idiots. Secondly, because we are fucking idiots, talking is not our forte. We are much better at acting crazy in the hopes that amazing women like you will be able to see through our bullshit and figure out what we really mean.”

She starts rubbing the back of my hand with her thumb.

“And third of all,” I lower my voice to make sure only she can hear, “whatever Connie’s done to make you this angry, I’d bet my life he feels a million times worse than you do right now knowing he’s upset you.”

It all comes out kind of slurred and I really hope that doesn’t make it seem less sincere.

“Why are we still like this Jean?” she says softly, still stroking my hand. “Me and Con. We’re not kids anymore so why are we still acting like it? I thought we would’ve grown up a bit by now. I thought things would be different when I came back, that we could be different, but nothings changed. Why can’t we just be adults about this?”

“Sasha, we’re at a house party, you’ve got your hair braided to match your friends and we’re both smashed on Sailor Jerry’s. What the hell gave you the idea that we could be adults?” I smile.

“Shut up Jean you know what I mean!” she laughs, leaning forward to slap my arm. “Ugh, actually I don’t even know what I mean anymore. You know what I mean?”

“W-what?” I laugh.

Then she laughs too and before long we’ve both totally cracked up into drunken giggles, clutching our bellies and rolling around on the sofa like idiots.

“I’ve missed you Jean!” she wheezes in between gasping breaths and the odd giggly aftershock.

“I’ve missed you too.”

And I really have, though I don’t realise just how much until now. I know I’m drunk, but I really do love Sasha. Yes, with her there’s always ‘Connie drama’, but she really knows how to make me laugh and she has a big heart.

We’re not the only ones giggling, I notice. Mikasa and Historia have just came scurrying in with matching mischievous smiles. They head straight to the TV, skidding down onto their knees and fiddling about with something I can’t see. Sasha and I exchange confused looks.

“What the hell are you two doing?” she asks.

Historia throws her a devilish grin and grabs the TV remote. When she switches it on I groan dramatically. Sasha on the other hand is so excited she leaps up and starts jumping up and down on the sofa.

“Oh my god are you freakin’ serious!? I haven’t played Just Dance in ages!”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, already anticipating how bad these dance moves are going to be.

“C’mon Jean dance with me!” Sasha yells tugging at my arm. I remain firmly planted on the sofa.

“Neeeeewwwwp!”

“Aw please!”

“I would but I’m afraid my moves are so sweet I’ll just make you look bad Sash!”

“Oh whatever Kirschtein!” she huffs throwing my arm back at me.

A few more people, no doubt wondering what the hell is drowning out Eren’s Spotify playlist, stick their heads round the door to see what the fuss is and pile into the room. Armin bounds over to join Sasha in selecting the first track. Ymir and Eld fill a couple of empty seats and sit back like they’re waiting for a show to begin.

Christ, do they want friggin' popcorn too?

“Fuck yesss!!” Eren screams with his arms in the air when he enters the room and realises what’s going on.

I can’t help but snicker.

This guy’s fucking wasted.

Marco soon returns with that big smile of his, followed by Floch and Connie, who appear to be having a rather animated discussion about something.

Whatever. At least talking to Floch will keep him out of Sasha's way before he does any more damage.

They head over to join me on the sofa. Marco, I’m glad to say, opts to sit right next to me and Floch is delegated to the opposite end next to Connie.

"What the hell are those two arguing about?" I ask.

"Oh, they're debating who’d be in their ultimate band. You just missed a pretty heated discussion on who was a better front man out of Freddie Mercury and Robert Plant."

"Are you actually serious!?" Connie suddenly cries, laughing exasperatedly.

Marco and I just look at him, waiting for an explanation.

"This guy would rather have Phil Collins on drums than Jon Bonham!" he says in disbelief, thumbing in Floch's direction.

"What!? Mate are you brain dead?"

It comes out sharper than I had intended, so I cover it with a laugh.

Seriously though is this kid actually fucking brain dead??

"Phil Collins is really underrated as a drummer!" argues Floch.

Connie now has his head in his hands. "You cannot sit there and tell me Phil Collins is a better drummer than Jon Bonham. You just can't!"

"Oh everybody says Jon Bonham is the best drummer," Floch says rolling his eyes.

"Because he is!" Connie and I both say in unison.

This fucking guy. It's like he's going out of his way to be different in some weird attempt to appear more interesting.

"I'm telling you, Phil Collins is underappreciated. The guy's got skills."

"If that were true," I argue, "the Tarzan soundtrack would've been a hell of a lot more interesting!"

"Hey don't be knocking Tarzan!" Marco jibes, playfully elbowing me in the side.

Connie doesn’t even react to my comment, continuing to argue with Floch about the (non-existent) merits of Genesis.

Then in a quiet voice Marco adds, "He was my first boy crush."

I splutter and snort so loud and so unattractively that the people squished on the adjacent sofa cock their heads at me. Marco starts giggling at my reaction. I think he might finally be drunk. Connie pays no attention, passionately discussing guitar players now, but Floch is only half listening, narrowing his eyes at my and Marco's little exchange. It shouldn't make me happy but it does.

I excuse myself to go for a piss and make myself another drink. After two rather sizable measures of Sailor Jerry’s I decide to be sensible (I must be getting old) and pour myself a small amount of the Jack Daniels I brought.

“Hey,” a gentle voice says behind me. Marco. I feel heat rising up the back of my neck.

“H-Hey!” I stutter. “D’you want some Jack Daniels?”

“Oh, yeah thanks! I said I’d get a drink for Floch. Is it okay if I make two?”

I wonder whether I can spit in Floch’s without Marco noticing?

“Yeah ‘course.”

“Thanks. I’ve left those two arguing about bass players now. I couldn’t get a word in edgeways.”

“What, they had an amazing bass player sat next to them and neither of them thought to ask your opinion?”

He smiles sweetly at the compliment and looks away.

“Yeah well, they’re pretty engrossed in their Lemmy vs Peter Hook conversation.”

“So whose side are you on then? Lemmy or Hook?”

“Neither. Flea all the way.”

“I fucking love Flea. Good choice. Alright then, what about the rest of your band? Who would you have on drums?”

“Dave Grohl.”

“Interesting. Front man?”

“Billy Corgan.”

“Ooooh not Cobain?”

“I mean if I could have two he’d definitely be the other one but Smashing Pumpkins are my favourite band so I gotta go with Corgan.”

“Fair enough. And guitarist?”

“George Harrison.”

“Oh!”

“What?” he smiles, curious at my reaction.

“I mean, I'm completely on board with George Harrison. I just assumed you’d have someone from the 90s like the rest of your band.”

“I do love the 90s. Like, I know I was born then, but if I could go back in time that’s definitely where I’d go. Seattle grunge scene, classic Lollapalooza, BritPop. All that.”

Part of me is kind of mad at Marco. He could’ve told me he was really into Van Halen and Journey, but no. He had to tell me about his amazing taste in music and love for 90s alternative bands. Like I needed another reason to like him.

“How ‘bout you? Where would you travel back to?” he asks.

“Hmm. I don’t think I could choose one decade. I’d probably want to see a bit of everything from each one. Although my favourite bands are Deftones, Nirvana and Pumpkins so maybe I would join you in the 90s.”

“Oh! Cool. Well, if I ever invent time travel it’s a date,” he says grabbing his drinks.

I hang back a step so he doesn’t see me blush.

We head back into the living room to resume watching our friends make dickheads of themselves. I have to say, watching Eren and Armin (with matching braids no less) dance in unison to Nicki Minaj’s Starships might be the campest thing I’ve ever seen, though Ymir and Historia doing the YMCA give them a run for their money.

Nearly everyone gets dragged up by Sasha, Mikasa or Historia at some point. Even I give into Sasha’s pleas eventually. Though in my opinion, we fucking NAIL the routine for Timber, even if I do collapse in a fit of giggles when she jumps on my back.

After a while, everyone is worn out and slumped around the living room. But when Eren bursts in holding two acoustic guitars, a new wave of energy seems to ripple through us all. He thrusts one into my hand and we perch ourselves on two stools, dragged in from the kitchen, at the front of the room.

After a bit of tuning, he grins at me. “Blister?” is all he says, and I smile back nodding.

If I had to choose a song that was ‘our song' it would definitely be Blister in the Sun. It was the first song we bonded over back when we were learning how to be each other's friend. Connie had recently passed his test and we were out for a drive when it came on the radio. It turned out Eren loved it as much as I did. Whenever I hear it now, I picture both of us in Connie’s back seat, loudly singing our hearts out and finger drumming.

I count us in and we start playing. Most people quickly pick up on the song and join in with the chorus, while Connie enthusiastically bangs out the beat on the coffee table. I have to laugh at how drunk Eren is, hitting the odd bum note and adding in over the top flourishes to certain chords. It’s imperfectly brilliant in an odd sort of way, like watching At the Drive in live or something.

Fleetwood Mac gets a suitably drunken sing-a-long next, before we play some classic Kinks and Last Night by The Strokes. I’m in the mood for something heavier and suggest Celebrity Skin, which I follow with Nirvana’s Sliver. Eren and I sing/scream a bit too enthusiastically and my throat is ragged by the end of it. I decide we all need something more laid-back now, if for no other reason than to give my voice a rest. Although it does have a certain sexy roughness to it now if I do say so myself!

I glance around the room as I grab a quick swig of my JD & coke and my eyes fall on Marco, chatting to Mikasa and Historia. He laughs at something Historia says and the way his eyes squint as he rocks back in his seat is so genuine and carefree.

I know what I want to play next.

I start tapping out a beat on the body of the guitar. The chatter around me grows a little quieter and I start strumming the opening bars of 1979. I watch as Marco stops to look up, instantly recognising that I’m playing the Pumpkins. My face splits into a goofy grin but I don’t care. I don’t care if he knows it’s for him. I want him to know.

Eren and Connie join in, giving the song more presence, and I swear it’s as though an invisible blanket of calm settles over us all. Everyone singing along quietly with serene expressions and smiling gently.

Floch comes back in and sits on the arm of the sofa next to Marco, who’s so lost in the song (I’m happy to say), he jumps a little when Floch brushes against him. My eyes are drawn to them again when I notice Floch’s arm snaking around Marco’s shoulders and I know I should look away but I don’t, too eager to see how Marco reacts.

I really wish I had.

Just as Marco looks up to give Floch a smile, Floch tugs him forward by his shirt and ducks his head down for a kiss. Marco’s eyes go wide at first, clearly caught off-guard, but then he just melts into it, his eyes fluttering closed while his hand comes up to rest on his boyfriend’s waist.

It’s like a stinging slap in the face and the shock of it makes my hands stutter on the fret board for a moment. I stare straight down and try to concentrate on what note comes next but honestly, I want nothing more than for this fucking song to be over. It's ruined now. I just wanted this song to remind Marco of…well, it doesn’t fucking matter anymore because now all he’ll think of is the time Floch kissed him so sweetly it made his head spin.

I speed up towards the end of the song and finish with a loud strum. Thank fuck it's over. I curse my eyes for flitting up again, knowing fine well I’m going to see something I don’t want to. Their lips are no longer locked together but the way they’re both gazing at each other is somehow worse and I wonder how my neck and ears can burn so intensely when icy shards are settling in my stomach.

“Here Con you take over for a bit,” I say thrusting the guitar in Connie’s direction, purposely not making eye contact.

Connie might be a few fries short of a Happy Meal but he always knows when somethings up and I don’t want to get into things with him that I haven’t even processed myself yet. I sway a little on my feet as I head to the kitchen, but I feel stone cold sober. My buzz is gone, and I desperately need to sink into oblivion.

Annie and Armin are chatting at one side of the kitchen when I enter. I give them a polite smile and am so grateful when they carry on their conversation instead of engaging me in a new one. Grabbing a tumbler, I pour myself some Jack Daniels. No longer seeing the point of mixers I take a straight sip and try to concentrate on the sharp burn it creates at the back of my throat.

My forehead starts pulsing and I take some deep breaths to prevent it becoming an all out throb, but the sharp fluorescent lights in here are doing me no favours. Connie and Eren have stopped playing and the sound of chatter in the next room grows louder. A bass line starts thumping as the music is turned back up again. The vibration of it makes my skin crawl and my head’s getting worse.

I take another sip but it does nothing. The sound of laughter wafting in from the living sounds more like screeching and my head hammers with the sharpness of it. I need a moment alone. I gulp down the remainder of my drink. Staggering out the kitchen, I head straight for the end of the hallway and open the door to Marlowe’s room, which I suppose is now the spare room.

I flick the light on and wince at how bright it is. There’s no lampshade, just a lone bulb casting a hideous white glare onto everything. I fumble about with a bedside lamp and smack the light back off as quick as I can.

It’s a bit weird seeing the bed made up but then I figure Eren must’ve done it in case anyone wants to crash. I could simply sit on said bed (like a normal person) but I don’t, opting to sit on the floor and wedge myself between the side of the bed and the radiator. Well, I say wedge, there’s just enough room to stretch my legs out. I quickly retract them, however, and bring my knees up to my chest. I find it helps my breathing and my head isn’t pounding anymore, although now it’s swimming. Shit. I am really fucking drunk.

Part of me wants to just sit here and think about absolutely nothing, but Marco and Floch keep flashing in front of my eyes and I know it’s no use. I need to be honest with myself.

Almost hugging Marco, my disproportionate and fervent hatred of Floch, purposely playing the Pumpkins, my reaction to that kiss.

No denying it son, you have a major case of the hots for Marco.

I take a deep steadying breath and let it out slowly.

Okay. It's okay. You’ve had crushes before and they never last long. You just need to ride this one out like all the others. A few weeks of subtle eye-banging and extra masturbation to get it out of your system and you'll be fine.

It’s true, the only people I’ve ever fell hard for were Mikasa and Hitch. Everyone else has been a mere flash in the pan. Even my infatuation with Armin lasted less than a month. Granted, the fact that Marco has an absolute bell-end of a boyfriend is gonna make this harder but I'll get through it. Yep. Wait it out. Good plan. And in the meantime…

“Ugh…” I groan, resting my head on my knees. “I am so fucked.”

The door creaks open behind me and I hear soft footsteps padding across the floor. I don’t need to turn my head, I already know who it is.

“Hey Armin.”

“Hey! What you hiding in here for?” they ask slumping down onto the floor next to me.

“Just had a bit of a headache is all. It’s getting better though.”

“Nawww,” they coo.

A hand wraps gently around my shoulders before coaxing my head down to rest on their shoulder. I hum contentedly as they start playing with my hair and let my eyes drift closed.

“Hmm. Thanks Armin.”

“No problem. You sure it’s just your headache bothering you?”

You already know the answer to that.

No point insulting them by lying. Armin can always see through it anyway.

“Yeah I’m okay. Just…Do you ever, like…worry about being alone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…that you’ll never find someone and even if you did it would eventually turn to shit anyway. That we're all destined to be lonely.”

Jesus I am definitely shitfaced.

“Hmm. Yeah. A lot actually.”

“Really?” I say, looking up at them as best I can without moving my head.

They continue stroking my hair, their cheek resting on the side of my head.

“Yeah of course. I think everyone does you know? It’s scary not knowing what your life is going to turn out like and who you’ll have to share it with. But..”

They lift their head and look down at me.

“Just because it doesn’t work out for some people Jean, doesn’t mean you’re destined to repeat their mistakes.”

They always get straight to the heart of the problem. My parents never found lasting happiness = maybe I never will either.

I sit up now and look at them earnestly. Their hand falls from my hair but stays on my shoulder.

“So what do you do in the meantime? Like, how do you not worry about it?”

It’s unfair of me to ask, to expect them to have all the answers, but Armin’s always been so wise, like my own little personal Buddha.

They sigh and gaze wistfully at nothing in particular, thinking about what they want to say.

“There’s no easy answer Jean. I think you just have to put yourself in the hands of the universe and see where it takes you. It probably sounds cliché to say ‘stay positive’ but if you go through life assuming you’ll never find someone then you probably won’t. I just try to be open to the idea without fixating on it. Live in the moment, you know?”

How do they always do this? Even when they’re telling me things that I kind of know already, they still manage to make me feel a million times better.

I smile softly, “Yeah I guess you’re right.”

“Don’t worry about things you don’t already know. You can’t predict the future so don’t try. And anyway, you’ll never be alone with us bunch of misfits around to drive you crazy,” they laugh. “And you’ll always have me whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, right back at you.”

I don’t realise just how far I’ve leaned in towards them until my eyes lock onto the starburst pattern of their pale blue irises. I know I should stop, but I keep falling forward. Armin does the same, and the way their eyes flit down to my lips doesn’t go unnoticed. The hand they’ve left on my shoulder grips fractionally tighter. I let my eyes close and continue falling until I find what I’m searching for.

My lips find theirs and I kiss them, softly, barely there, before pulling back. I expect that to be it, for Armin to shift away from me and laugh awkwardly but they don’t. They move forward and kiss me back, firmly. I let my eyes drift closed and focus on their soft lips, their delicate nose brushing my cheek. The hand on my shoulder slides up to caress the back of my head, as I let my fingertips ghost up the side of their arm. I cup Armin’s face and kiss them back more fervently.

I lick softly over Armin's bottom lip and feel their breathing quicken. There’s the taste of something sweet and sharp on their lips. I chase it, sliding my tongue into their mouth, earning me the tiniest little hum. I quickly sink into a fog of escapism and relish every moment. I can feel myself getting pulled deeper with every swipe of Armin’s tongue, but with it, the knowledge that if I allow myself to come to my senses – even for just a second – the spell will be broken.

No, not yet. Sink with me Armin. Stay with me a little longer.

They tug gently on my shaggy undercut and I can’t help the soft moan that tumbles from my lips onto theirs. I let my fingers trail from Armin’s face down to their waist and grip firmly, before moving again to their thigh. I knead the firm flesh with my thumb as I plummet, deeper and deeper into the soft heat of our kiss. My hand shifts, sliding up closer, closer still, almost up to-

“Jean wait,” Armin pants, pulling away from me.

The spell is broken.

They don’t have to say anything else, I know it’s over, but I listen anyway. “If this is what you need I’m here, but…I get the feeling that, this isn’t really what you want?”

Trust Armin to know me better than I know myself. I could play along with my heart instead of my head, convince myself that I really do want this, but my head wins out in the end. Armin’s right. This isn’t what I want, I’m just searching for a distraction after realising I’m most definitely lusting after Marco.

Hang on, what was that? I stop and process what they’ve just said to me - ‘If this is what you need I’m here’.

Fuck. Was I really just about to throw myself at Armin for the sake of needing a ‘distraction’? With no regard for their feelings or how it could affect things between us?

Christ. When did you become such a self-absorbed fucking shit?

The realisation that I just came so close to using Armin for my own selfish reasons knocks me sick. What the fuck was I thinking?

“Fuck, Armin I…shit,” I don’t even know what to say. I just put my head in my hands.

“Hey! Jean c’mon it’s okay.”

Arrgggh!! No, you’re making them feel bad! They haven’t done anything wrong!

“No, Armin it’s not okay.” I look directly at them. “I am so fucking sorry.”

There’s not a single hint of anger or disappointment in their face when they look at me. They just smile.

“Jean there’s nothing to be sorry for, alright? We’re just a bit drunk. If anything, I’m more shocked it’s taken us this long to have a drunken kiss. Two hot friends who’ve known each other for how many years? I’m offended it’s taken you this long to make a move,” they joke nudging me in the shoulder.

“I don’t deserve you Armin.”

I don’t. I really don’t. I could’ve royally fucked up our friendship just now and they’re letting me off the hook. Not only that but they’re still making me feel better, painting a smile back on my unworthy face.

“Sure you do. C’mon let’s go see what the others are up to. You know how dangerous it is to leave them unsupervised for too long.”

“Yeah. Yeah okay.”

I let Armin help me to my feet, like so many times before, and squeeze their hand in an unspoken vow to never allow myself to do something so stupid ever again.

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shingekinosimpson · 11 months

Text

You Had Me At B Minor: Chapter 12

First | Previous

Pairing: Jean Kirschtein x Marco Bodt

Other relationships: Reibert, Springles, Historia x Ymir, Levi x Hange, a smidge of Jearmin

Rating: Mature

Summary: Jean's band needs a new bass player. Cue freckled Jesus.

******************************************************************

Trigger warnings: n/a

What a beautiful face I have found in this place That is circling all 'round the sun What a beautiful dream That could flash on the screen In a blink of an eye and be gone from me Soft and sweet Let me hold it close and keep it here with me

When I was ten, I made the mistake of telling Eren that Connie really fancied Sasha. We were having one of our usual pissing matches about who was Connie’s best friend (that to my credit HE started) and I started lording it over him that he didn’t know Connie’s biggest secret. He swore blind that he did but wouldn’t tell me what it was, so I knew he was bullshitting. Anyway, after letting him goad me and push my buttons…I let it slip.

He acted like he knew all along, but I saw the way his eyes sparkled as the words tumbled from my idiot mouth. That was lunchtime. By home time, every motherfucker in our class (and some in the year above) knew Connie’s big secret. Eren blamed me, I swore blind it was him and Connie didn’t speak to either of us for the rest of the week.

Eren ‘big mouth’ Jaeger. The obnoxious little shit who couldn’t hold onto anything for longer than a millisecond. I think that was the week I decided he was no longer just an annoyance, but my arch-nemesis.

Fast forward a few years and a couple of emotional breakdowns/breakthroughs later, and we’re walking side by side, on our way to spend a day in town together. To his credit, he’s much better at keeping secrets now – he hasn’t told anyone about my massive crush - but it’s still no surprise that he only lasts as far as the end of his street before he starts grilling me about my night with Marco, that same sparkle in his eyes as he begs me for the juicy details.

“Mate I can tell by your fucking face that something happened! C’mon, spill!”

“Nothing happened! Well nothing like that anyway. Just me making a tit out of myself.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“…I woke up cuddling him.”

“What!? Are you fucking serious?” My silence and pathetic face are confirmation enough and he starts full-on cackling at me, stopping in his tracks to hold his belly for a few seconds. “Aw mate! What did he do? Was he freaked out?”

“Not freaked out, I mean he made a joke about it, but he was obviously pretty embarrassed.” We continue walking and my mind flits back to that moment just before I was fully conscious, and how snug he felt cradled against my chest. I sigh wistfully. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Eren snorts. “No arguments here.” He feels the need to back track though when I shoot him a scowl that could cut glass. “Sorry. C’mon though it’s pretty funny.”

“Well forgive me for not being able to laugh about it just yet. It kind of sucks feeling this way you know!” Instead of taking the piss, Eren chews his lip, looking uncharacteristically thoughtful. “What’s that look for?” I probe.

“You liking Marco, it’s more than just wanting to climb him like a tree isn’t it?”

I nod.

“You actually really like him, don’t you?”

“…”

Eren’s eyes widen as he looks away and puffs out a breath. I don’t blame him. Pretty sure he’s never known me have it this bad before. Even with Hitch, I never really spoke to Eren about how I felt. Any conversations we had were usually just laughing at kinky sex stuff that went wrong or me venting about an argument we had.

“Listen, I've been debating whether or not to tell you something…about Marco…but saying as you really do like him...”

The hairs on the back of my neck flex uncomfortably.

“…Yeah?”

“I think you should tell him how you feel.”

“What!? No. No fucking way. Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because maybe it’s not as one-sided as you think.”

…What?

“What d’you mean?”

“I just...I think he likes you too.”

I blink at him with wide eyes. What.the.fuck?

“What do you mean? Has he actually said that!?”

There’s a fluttering in my chest, like a songbird hatching and drawing its first hopeful breath.

“Well, no but-"

‘No’ pierces me like a rusty nail - my songbird cruelly cut down before it even had the chance to spread its wings.

“Then what the hell makes you think he likes me!?” I snap.

“Just…things he’s said to me and the way he acts around you. Like, you should have seen the way he kept looking at you at ‘Battle of the Bands’, man. Especially when Hitch was up to her old tricks.”

I remember Marco looking at me then, but I also remember seeing nothing but concern in his eyes. Plus, Eren doesn’t know how much he was missing Floch that night. I’m sure any wistful looks Eren might have caught were more to do with that than me. Right?

Remember how he held you to his side? Remember how his fingertips slotted so well into the dip of your waist? Remember how he didn’t let you go?

No. Stop it. That was…Marco’s an affectionate guy. I was the one wishing it was something more than that, not him.

But then what if…? Goddammit Eren.

“What’s he said to you like?” I ask, bracing myself for more disappointment.

“Well, a couple of nights ago we were talking about that gig and he started asking questions about me and you – whether we were seeing each other or had some kind of ‘friends with benefits’ thing going on. He was trying to be casual about it, but I could tell he was digging for info.”

He was…Fuck, I wasn’t expecting that. My mind goes into overdrive and for a moment, all I can do is stare back at Eren. Marco was asking about me - about whether or not I’m sleeping with Eren. Was he asking because he cares? Holy fuck, does Marco care who I sleep with!?

Wait no, let’s be rational here. Just because he was asking about me and Eren doesn’t mean he’s interested in that way. I mean, I kissed Eren on stage in front of everyone for fucksake. I can’t blame Marco for being curious about us. Anyone would be.

He could be interested in Eren for all you know.

Fuck.

That thought lands like a lead balloon in the pit of my stomach. I know Eren would never do anything but still, it would be pretty fucking painful finding out the guy I’m hopelessly infatuated with is into one of my best friends.

God, what if he chose to confide in me about it? How would I even respond!? And I’m the fucking idiot that suggested they live together in the first pla-!

“Earth to dipshit! Hello!”

Eren waves his hand in front of my face and snaps me out of my rabbit-hole thinking. Not that it does me much good.

“Look, I know what you’re getting at okay, but I don’t think he’s asking for those reasons Eren. I mean, we ate each other’s faces in front of the whole bar so of course he asked about us. Connie and everyone know we’re impulsive little shits who can’t help ourselves, but Marco doesn’t.”

Eren doesn’t look convinced and rolls his eyes. “Okay yeah, he might’ve just been curious, but…the way he asked made me think otherwise. Like, if he’d just said, ‘So are you and Jean a thing?’, I wouldn’t have thought much of it, but he didn’t.”

I know I shouldn’t ask for details, but the tiny glimmer of hope in my heart can’t fucking help itself.

“What do you mean? How did he ask?”

“So like I said, we were talking about the gig – which now I think of it, he brought up – anyway, he said he thought it was cool how we stood up for Bert and Reiner like that, but then he did this really awkward laugh and said, ‘Seemed like you’d both done that before,’ like he was obviously trying to find out if we had any history. Obvs I just laughed and was like, ‘Me and Jean? No way!’ I thought that would be the end of it, but then he was all like, ‘Oh I just thought you guys might have a thing or have started seeing each other or something.’ I swear to god he was blushing bright red when he said it Jean.”

The longer he speaks, the harder my heart beats in my chest. God how I’d love to believe in everything Eren’s telling me, but…I can’t deny reality. I’ve just spent time with Marco – he slept in my bed for Christ’s sake – and I didn’t get any of those vibes from him; no awkward blushing or stammering or questions about me and Eren.

I think Eren is reading into things because he knows how I feel and he’d love it to be true. For my own sanity though, I can’t take his words to heart. I can’t afford to clutch at straws and get carried away with the possibilities he’s offering me. If I don’t expect anything, I won’t be disappointed when it doesn’t happen.

“Listen, I know you’d like it if Marco felt the same way I feel about him, but I’ve not picked up on anything like that from him, like, at all.”

You sure about that? Have you forgotten how gently he caressed your face and stroked away your tears? Or how he held your hand? How he cooked for you?

Fuck, no, that was- I was upset! He’d have done the same thing for anyone, right?

“Well maybe he’s good at hiding it!” Eren grins excitedly.

I don’t mirror his expression. My head is swimming. I kind of just want him to stop now.

“Then why’d he do such a shit job at hiding it from you? Or maybe that’s your answer right there.”

“Eh?” Eren stares at me as I wait for him to get it…but the penny doesn’t drop.

“Maybe the reason he was asking all those questions is because he was trying to find out if you are seeing anyone,” I say, trying my hardest to keep the hurt out of my voice.

“Whaaat!?” Eren scoffs. “You’re not serious?”

“Why not? He was asking about both of us. Could just as easily be you he’s interested in.”

Yeah Eren why not? In fact, now that I think about it, it would explain why Marco looked so hurt after I’d just kissed Eren. Fuck. He definitely likes Eren. Fucking fuck.

“Mate, no. Just...no. I fucking live with the guy okay. It’s definitely not like that between us. The only time he turns into a blushing mess is when we talk about you. And anyway! He knows I’ve been seeing the guitarist from that night, so if he was into me, why would he ask about you instead of her?”

Shit. I don’t have a comeback for that.

I fiddle with my fingers and chew my lip, trying to think of something to say. God fucking dammit Eren. Why do you have to plant these seeds of hope in my heart, when I know come spring they’ll have sprouted into nothing more than hideous weeds with roots that hold deep no matter how hard I try to dig them out.

I take a deep breath. “I’m not telling him.” I want to sound firm, but it comes out sounding like a petulant child.

Eren huffs exasperatedly. “Mate c'mon. The worst thing that could happen is he’ll knock you back but at least you’ll know where you stand.”

“No, the worst thing that could happen is I ruin our fucking friendship and we lose him. Think about it. If I make things awkward he’ll be the one that takes a step back because the rest of us have been friends for so long. He’s just started rebuilding his life here. What kind of dickhead would I be if I ruined that for him because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut?”

Eren’s eyes flash at my ‘rebuilding his life’ comment but he doesn’t press me for any more information. Instead he twists his face in a way that tells me he knows I’ve got a point, even if he doesn’t want to agree with me.

“Okay fine, I get that, but just...think about it okay? I’m not saying you have to tell him but maybe just, I dunno try flirting with him or something.”

“Flirting with him? Jesus Christ Eren.”

“What!? You flirt with people all the time Jean - half the time you don’t even realise you’re doing it – so just, you know, crank it up a notch with Marco and see how he reacts. If you get nothing back, you can easily laugh it off and nothing’s spoiled, and if he flirts back well, there’s your answer.”

Coming out of Eren’s mouth, it sounds fucking stupid but whatever, might be worth a try. And if I agree, at least I’ll get him off my back.

“Fine. I’ll think about it. Now can we please change the fucking subject.”

I should be careful what I wish for, because changing the subject means Eren spilling his guts about the guitarist he’s been getting with.

“She offered to peg me on our first date. I almost fucking proposed!”

“Fucking hell Eren.” I shake my head but the tugging at the corners of my lips makes it hard to act disapproving. “And I don’t think you’re allowed to use the word ‘date’ to describe the first time you fucked.”

“Mate I don’t care what we call it as long as it keeps happening. I’m seeing her tonight actually.”

“Hmm. Maybe I should invite Marco ‘round again. Save him from hearing you getting ‘effed in the A’ in the next room.”

“Hey I haven’t said yes to that yet! And anyway, I’m going to her place so Marco will be safe. Well, unless you decide to indulge in non-consensual spooning again.”

“Oi!” I smack him on the arm but he just flashes me one of his patented cheeky-ass grins in response.

“You mind if we head to Rough Trade first for a mooch around?” he asks as we turn the corner onto the main street.

“Sure.”

______________________________________________

Three vinyl records, a sushi lunch, a new shirt for Eren’s ‘date’, two plaid shirts for me and a pair of Moomin Vans (that I simply could not resist) later, and we’re back at Eren’s.

I knew Marco wouldn’t be back from work yet, but I still feel a twinge of disappointment when we walk into the living room and don’t find him there. After a quick bathroom break, I decide to get out of Eren’s hair so he can get ready. Just before I head out, my phone jingles and buzzes in my pocket and, even though I can see Eren watching me out the corner of my eye, I don’t try to hide my smile when I see who it’s from.

“No prizes for guessing who that is then,” Eren grins.

It’s Marco of course, replying to the picture I sent him earlier of my new Vans. He must be on break.

ItsaMeeMarco:

Waaaahhh!! OMG I’m so fucking jealous! I didn’t even know they were a thing!

My grin gets even goofier as I imagine him screaming like a teenager at a K-Pop concert.

HeresJeany:

Me neither! I couldn’t resist. Didn’t have you pegged for a Moomins guy :P

I don’t even want to tell you what horrifying images of Eren flash through my mind when I type pegged.

“Jesus you should see your face. Like a fucking tomato.”

“Shut up!”

“Haha! Right am gonna go shower. Catch you later.”

“Alright. Have fun on your date,” I say jogging down the stairs to the front door.

“I’ll share all the dirty details with you tomorrow!” he shouts after me.

“Please don’t!”

“YOU LOVE IT YOU SLUT!” he cries as I open the front door, much to the surprise of the woman walking past with her dog.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing and unlock my car. Another message from Marco comes through before I turn on the engine.

ItsaMeeMarco:

Hehe. You have no idea ;)

That fucking winky face sends my heart into overdrive. I know he’s just joking about the Moomins, but still, Eren’s advice from earlier swims around my head. Maybe he was right about flirting being the way to go.

HeresJeany:

It’s not Moomin boxers is it? Remember I know all about your kink for silly underwear now Bodt ;)

ItsaMeeMarco:

Breaks over but I’ll send you a picture when I get home

He’ll…he’ll what???

ItsaMeeMarco:

Not of my underwear! Oh god I just realised how that sounded XD

Oh well. The thought was nice while it lasted.

______________________________________________

Dead. I’m officially dead. Killed by unfair levels of cuteness causing my heart to explode.

Marco’s promised picture comes through a few hours later. It’s of himself, his eyes closed and a serene smile on his face as he cuddles a small, scruffy-looking Moomin toy. Judging by the state of it, he must’ve had it since he was a kid. In fact, the longer I stare at the picture, the more I notice tell-tale signs of wear and tear; the missing tip of an ear, a patch of fur that looks a little threadbare and another that’s clearly been stitched back together.

I reply with the ‘cutest shit I’ve ever seen’ meme. Unfortunately he takes that as an invitation to be even cuter and sends another picture of himself with a cat ears filter, pouty lips and the caption ‘Who me?’

My heart flutters and before I can second guess myself, I send him an invitation to hang out again tonight. I know I might seem a little eager, but what’s the worst that could happen? All he can do is say no right? I make sure the invitation is to hang out with me AND Connie to ‘jam and play games or whatever’ so as not to make it weird, but my stomach still flips horribly when I get this reply:

ItsaMeeMarco:

No thanks. I’m getting a bit sick of you.

Anyone else and I’d be tapping out my own snarky reply in seconds. Marco on the other hand reduces me to a quivering, paranoid mess with zero chill, so I’m sure you can imagine how relieved I am when this comes through seconds later:

ItsaMeeMarco:

Jk ;) Yeah of course I’d love to!

He’d ‘love’ to. Eeep!

______________________________________________

Marco arrives an hour later with his guitar strapped to his back and a tube full of Pringles, which Connie immediately snatches out of his hand.

“Pringles for Springles!” he cries skipping back up the stairs two at a time.

As affable as always, Marco just smiles and closes the door. “Long time no see,” he grins. “You keepin’ alright?”

His cheekiness makes me weak at the knees but I give as good as I get with a, “You just keep crawling back for more don’t you?”

“You wish. I’m only here to hang out with Connie,” he chuckles, following me up the stairs.

“Well, turns out he’s ditching us for a date with Sasha. Sorry to break it to you.”

“Shame. I might just go home then.”

Is this flirting? Are we flirting? I think we might be.

I can feel a slight blush tickling up the back of my neck at the thought, but then Marco hits me with a comment that makes it ten times worse.

“Mate I don’t wanna sound pervy but…are you commando right now?” he sniggers.

Fuck!

I’d not long been out of the shower when he knocked so I’d pulled on my joggers like I normally do – I rarely wear boxers when I’m slobbing about the house - and didn’t really think about it. It can’t be that obvious, although…shit yeah, these light grey ones are a bit on the tight side. Oops.

Fuck it. I will not let him fluster me. I’m gonna own it.

I twist my head and narrow my eyes at him with a smirk. “Why? You checkin’ out my arse Bodt?”

There’s a definite hint of pink in his cheeks now. “I mean, you are waggling it right in front of my face!”

I come to a halt at the top of the stairs, put my hands on my hips and decide to really waggle it.

“Free and easy Marco. There’s nothing like an unfurnished basement for pure comfort.”

He full on cackles, obviously appreciating my Bart Simpson reference. “Please don’t show me your impression of Dr Cheeks,” he giggles, nudging me in the shoulder as he brushes past.

“Keep asking me pervy questions and I definitely will!”

______________________________________________

I am well and truly off my Mario Kart game tonight. I keep overcompensating on my turns and it feels like every fucking shell known to man is landing right in my path. I blame the fact that Marco’s thigh is pushed right up against mine. After he called me out, I put on some boxers and changed into some thicker joggers, but I can still feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric. Every twitch of his knee makes me buzz with electricity and I have to remind myself to breathe.

My lack of skill might also have something to do with how distractingly bright and cheery Marco is tonight. He’s shown absolutely no qualms about taking the piss out of me and Connie, or showing me affection when I pout and pretend he’s hurt my feelings. It’s like spending time with the Marco I see on stage – the confident rock star with a swagger in his step and a cheeky glint in his eye.

It’s unfair how hot it is.

He chuckles playfully after I go skidding off in the wrong direction again. “Jean, you realise the aim of the game is to win right?”

Swoon.

I try to think of a good retort, but Super Mario’s trademark outfit reminds me of some ammunition stored on my phone and I decide to go with that instead, my smile splitting into a devilish smirk as I abandon the controller.

“Hey Connie,” I say unlocking my screen and pulling up my photos, “You ever wondered what Marco looks like in blue dungarees?”

“W-What??” Marco stammers whipping his head round to me.

I can’t help poking my tongue out between my teeth as I hold up a picture of baby Marco – the one I snapped from his mam’s mantelpiece.

“Haha! Cute,” Connie chuckles. “Hey Marco, you ever wondered what Jean looked like as a baby?”

Wait, what??

“WHAT!?”

Connie starts scrolling through his phone with an up-to-no-good, “Hehehe”.

“Why do you have a baby picture of me on your phone!?”

“Eren sent it to me.”

“WHY DOES EREN- !?”

“Right Marco, wait ‘til you see this absolute UNIT of a baby.”

“Hey!” I protest.

Marco’s laughing his ass off and he hasn’t even seen it yet. I realise too late that I should probably stop gawking and launch myself at Connie to stop him.

“Look at this CHONK!”

“Oh my god! What!?” Marco cries, grabbing the phone from Connie’s hand and quickly descending into hysterics.

“Oh come on it’s not that funny!”

“No it definitely is,” Connie says with a twisted grin.

I’m gonna kill him. I’m actually going to fucking kill him.

“How is this even you?” Marco asks with tears in his eyes. “You’re so…”

“So what?” I stupidly ask.

“Well…chubby!”

That does it.

I grab a cushion in each fist and start beating him as hard as I can – or at least as hard as can be expected when soft furnishings are your weapon of choice. He moves his hand up to defend himself, but a serious case of the giggles renders his efforts as useful as a marzipan dildo and he crumples. As good as it feels to get my own back, it feels even better watching how fucking tickled and elated he looks, lying in a heap and still casting giggly glances at Connie’s phone.

“Stop laughing at me!” I demand, though it sounds weak coupled with my own laughter. “How dare you body-shame an infant!”

That sets us all off. My face and sides are aching by the time one of us is able to speak coherently again.

“Oh man…I would never have believed you were a chubby baby…brilliant,” Marco pants.

“He was like that until we were about five or six,” Connie adds.

“Really?”

“Yeah, he was like a little barrel and then he slowly stretched out over time.”

“Feel free to stop talking about me like I’m not even here! Dicks!” Then I turn to point at Connie. “You’re just jealous I stretched out more than you! I had a growth spurt when I was like 16,” I add looking at Marco. “I’ve been towering over Connie ever since.”

“Yeah well, maybe I kept stretching in other areas,” Connie grins with an eyebrow waggle.

“Pfff! Mate I’ve accidentally seen your dick enough times to know that ain’t true!”

“Hey! I’m a grower not a shower!”

“I hope so or Sasha’s gonna be seriously disappointed when she finally gets in there.”

I expect a silly come-back, but Connie just laughs weakly and goes bright fucking red, like, his whole face erupts into crimson.

“Oh my god,” Marco murmurs.

“Has Sasha touched your dick!?” I ask.

“N-no! Of course she fucking hasn’t!”

“But you want her to don’t you!” I sing-song, prodding him in the ribs to make him squirm even more.

Sweet revenge.

“Right! Fuck you both!” he laughs, springing up from the sofa. “I need to go take a shower.”

“A nice cold one?” I snigger.

“Oh you just fucking wait Kirschtein. I’ll wipe that smile right off your face.” And with that, he stomps off to his room, leaving Marco and I alone.

We take a break from the game to grab a drink and a few more snacks, before settling on opposite sides of the sofa. I miss the warmth of his leg pressed against mine but I guess it would be weird to sit so close given how much space we have now.

I’m just passing Marco a bag of chocolate buttons when a loud BING vibrates right through my arse.

“Ahh!! The fuck!?” I dig around under my butt cheek and find the culprit - Marco’s phone.

He chuckles and grabs it from me to unlock the screen. “Whoops. Must’ve slid out of my- Pfffftt! Hahaha! Oh my god!”

Marco buries his face in one hand as his shoulders shake with giggles.

“What?” I ask, my lips already curling into a grin.

It plummets from my face, however, when I see what’s so fucking funny. Connie’s put my baby picture side by side with fucking Strax from Doctor Who, with the caption ‘Baked Potato Baby’ and a goddamn dancing potato gif in the corner.

“Oh he is fucking DEAD.”

Marco’s response is to look at the picture again and descend into laughter so high and so wheezy, I wouldn’t be surprised if only dogs can hear him.

“Ow!” he croaks clutching his stomach. “Fuck. I can’t keep laughing like this.”

“Don’t touuuuch meeee please! I cannot stand the way you- AAAAHHH! WHAT THE FUCK!!??”

In less than a second, I’ve shoved the stool against the shower door and hopped on top of it.

“AHH GOD NOOOOO!!”

Connie’s screams mingle with Marco’s laughter as I start dumping handfuls of flour on him, some of it filling the air around him like a cloud, the rest of it already sticking in messy clumps to his wet skin.

“F-FUCK!! NO!! A-AH!” he coughs and splutters, waving his hands and pulling the shower door open.

I take that as my cue to flee the scene and hop down before he can get his hands on me.

“C’mere you little shit!” he cries, stumbling out and snatching up the first towel he lays his hands on. “Don’t think I don’t see you filming Marco! You’re dead to me now!”

I run past a very giggly Marco and chance a glance over my shoulder at Connie. In his haste he’s grabbed a face cloth, which barely covers his junk and I realise with terror I’m about to be chased by a very sticky, very naked Connie Springer.

My socks skid across the floor as I round the corner and weigh up my best option for an escape route. Bedroom? No, if I’m not quick enough he’ll get flour all over all my stuff. Living room then. Connie’s footsteps thud behind me and I dive to one side of the room. He chases me round and round the coffee table, looking like a cross between the abdominal snowman and a perverted ghost.

We stop to catch our breath and size each other up. To my horror, I realise I’m on the wrong side of the table for an easy escape and Connie is blocking the way back out. Fuck. I should’ve just locked myself in the bathroom. I pretend to go right and then whip to the left, jumping up onto the sofa to stay out of his reach.

“No!!”

SHIT! How was he so fucking quick!?

Connie launches himself forward, rugby tackling me down to the sofa cushions. The force of it knocks to wind out of me. Not that Connie cares, pinning my arms to my sides and aggressively nuzzling my face before I’ve even had the chance to draw breath.

I squawk and splutter as blobs of dusty, doughy gloop stick to my face and hair. My hands twitch but I realise fighting back will mean manhandling a naked Connie, so I resign myself to my fate and wait for him to run out of steam.

“There you little bitch, have some of it back!”

Marco can barely breathe with how hard he’s laughing, stumbling over to us for a close-up of my face. “Any regrets Jean?”

“Fuck you both.”

Considering how much flour there was, it doesn’t take us too long to get everything looking just about normal again, and we’re soon waving a re-showered Connie off on his date. I take a few minutes to finish drying my freshly scrubbed hair and join Marco back on the sofa.

“So someone’s a big fan of Ghibli,” he comments, scrolling through our Netflix list.

“I mean, you’d have to be an idiot not to be.”

“I’ve been scared to watch any more since I saw Grave of Fireflies. The whole big brother little sister thing absolutely broke me.”

“Oh god. Me and Connie made the mistake of watching that one thinking it would be cute! We we’re inconsolable,” I chuckle, swinging my legs up onto the sofa. “Lift your bum up would you? My feet are cold.”

I expect him to call me out for being cheeky. Instead, he replies, “Okay but you gotta keep my feet toasty too.”

He flashes me a grin and digs his feet under my arse. I am beyond pleased about it.

Marco’s never seen Ponyo because he was ‘scared the little fish person might die at the end’, so we watch that after I assure him it has a happy ending. When it’s over, we grab our guitars and play about with some new riffs and song lyrics I’ve been having trouble with. I even convince him to sing along with me for some of it. He still blushes when I tell him he’s got a good voice.

We’re having a laugh rearranging the lyrics of a nursery rhyme he sings at work (into something far less appropriate) when my eyes notice something wrapped around Marco’s wrist.

“Is that a hair tie?” I ask, nodding towards it.

“Hmm?” He holds his wrist up to look, like he’d forgotten anything was there. “Oh. Yeah. I sometimes use it when I’m working at Bean’s.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, why?” he smiles, putting his guitar down.

“I’ve never seen you with your hair back. Put it in!”

“O-Okay.” He blushes prettily and starts brushing his hair back with his fingers. “You got a thing for ponytails or something?” he asks with a grin.

I laugh and reply with a cheeky wink, “Well y’know, who doesn’t like having something to hold onto?”

“You’re awful,” he chuckles, blushing even harder.

I watch the muscles in his arms flex as he finishes tying the band. His hair’s not quite long enough to all be gathered into the stubby ponytail, so some of it still hangs down around the nape of his neck.

“Ta da!” he cries with a couple of jazz hands.

Oh god. I feel like the connection between my brain and my tongue has been severed. He looks fucking gorgeous. A few loose waves at the front flop forward, framing his face perfectly - no doubt the same unruly locks I ran my fingers through just last night. My heart jitters at the thought.

“Is it really that bad?” he asks with a quirk of an eyebrow.

Shit I’m staring. Remember how to speak you idiot!

“N-no! Not bad at all. You just look…super different,” I cover. “Really suits you actually.”

He smiles softly, satisfied with my response. “What about you?” he asks.

“What about me?”

“What does your hair look like tied back?”

“Oh err, I dunno. Never tried. I don’t think it’s long enough,” I reply, tugging my floppy fringe between my thumb and fingers.

His eyes light up and a cheeky, heart-breaking smile stretches across his face. “I bet it is! C’mon let’s try.”

Marco’s nimble fingers untie his ponytail and I swear to fucking god his hair moves in slow-mo when he shakes it out. He holds out the tie and I look dumbly between it and his face.

“Erm…how do you do it?”

“Have you never tied a hair bobble before?”

“Well, I mean…I’ve never had to before.”

“One of the perks of having a little sister I suppose. Okay c’mere, turn around.”

He shuffles right next to me and I freeze. Is Marco actually about to play with my hair? I think I might fucking implode.

“Hang on I need to be higher than you, erm…I know.”

I turn and watch him sit on the arm of the sofa, before patting the space in between his legs, that huge grin still on his face. I just about keep my cool with an eyeroll.

“You are way too enthusiastic about this Bodt.”

Trying my best to be casual, I hop into the space he’s left for me, but my skin prickles in anticipation as his legs press against my sides. He laughs lightly and I feel his breath caress the back of my neck, which would be enough to send me into orbit, but then his fingers start raking through my scalp.

O-oh god.

I press my lips together to stifle the moan of appreciation threatening to bubble up my throat and shift in my seat to cover the shudder that ripples over my body. He runs his hands in succession from my hairline towards the crown of my head over and over and over again. I melt like butter into his fingertips, letting my eyelids flutter closed.

So good.

I’ve always loved having my hair played with, but I’ve never had strong fingers like Marco’s scratching through my scalp like this. It’s strangely intimate I realise in a panic, and my idiot mouth says the first piece of crap it can think of to break the tension.

“You’re err, not thinking about making me your personal Barbie doll from now on, are you?”

“Haha. I think you’d need a bigger pair of plastic boobs to fulfil that role.” He starts to pull my hair tight signalling he’s nearly done. I only have to keep my cool for a few more seconds.

“Okay, personal Ken doll then.”

“Ken had plastic hair, not proper hair.”

“Why do you know so much about dolls!?”

“Yet another perk of having a little sister. Okay all done! Wanna see?”

“Yeah!” I turn and give him a smile, hoping I look half as handsome as he did with his hair back.

He’s opening up the camera app on his phone and not looking at me, but there’s a definite blush on his cheeks. Actually no, it looks more like he’s trying not to la-

“Take a look!”

“…Oh you motherfucker.”

Marco hiccup-laughs behind his hand before full-on cackling at me. I look absolutely ridiculous.

“Well, demented pineapple is certainly a look I’ve never tried before.”

Yeah, my fringe is clearly not long enough to pull into a proper ponytail judging by the way it’s sat on top of my head. I look like a bratty baby in a pushchair.

“Please let me take a selfie before you take it out!” Marco pleads, still laughing his ass off and looking absolutely stunning in the process; his crinkled eyes, pink lips stretched around a huge smile and pretty blushing cheeks.

Fuck. He’s so gorgeous.

It’s moments like this that make everything else melt away, where the sheer joy on Marco’s beautiful face makes all the angst and pining worth it. Smash my heart in pieces Marco. I don’t care. I can withstand the heartbreak, because with it comes the treasured memories of making you laugh and knowing I was the one who caused that stunning smile to break out across your perfect freckled face.

“Fine,” I relent (like I could ever say no to him), “but you need to make yourself look just as stupid as me!”

He shuffles in close and squashes his cheeks between his hands while I stick my tongue out with a wink and take the photo. I keep hold of his phone afterwards.

“What’re you doing?”

“Setting it as your wallpaper. Obvs.”

He snorts a laugh when I pass it back. “Wow. We are fit as fuck.”

“Well, maybe one of us is.”

It tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it. My face flares scarlet at the realisation I’ve just said something I only wanted to think.

Oh crap.

Any trace of levity on Marco’s face dies as his eyes fix on mine and I sit there like a rabbit in the headlights, waiting for a reaction. His lips gently part, as though he’s on the cusp of saying something but can’t quite bring himself to do it.

Oh no.

A sickening thought rolls over me and I jump in before he finds his voice, because I cannot bear the thought of Marco having to sit there and awkwardly explain that he doesn’t really see me that way, that he’s only ever seen me as a friend.

“I-I mean, who wouldn’t want to get with this!” I jabber, pointing at my hair with a smile that I hope seems genuine but probably looks a bit manic.

Marco blinks at me and his mouth falls into a weak smile.

“Y-Yeah. Good point. Guess we should take it out before you cause mass hysteria.”

He’s making a joke, but the softness in his voice is anything but funny. I murmur in agreement and tug at the tie, sliding my fingers through my hair to help my fringe back into place. I lift my gaze to hand it back to him and my breath gets lost in my throat.

His dark, glistening eyes lock onto mine again and the air around us suddenly feels charged. There’s something…something in his features screaming at me but I can’t work out what it is. I gaze right back and try to place which emotion I can see in his face but it’s hard to focus when my body practically vibrates with the force of my feelings. The want, the need – I feel it all the way down to my bones.

A tug in my stomach causes my weight to shift forward just a fraction and then I see it. It’s quick, quick enough to have missed if I had blinked. Marco’s gaze flicking down to my lips and back to my eyes. My adrenaline spikes.

Is he…Is he going to-?

The sound of Marco’s phone ringing makes us both flinch. He jumps back and fumbles in his pocket. Whatever expression I thought was there vanishes as quickly as it came when his eyes flick up to mine again.

“Sorry, it’s my mum. I better, err…”

A horrible, lurching feeling takes over my chest watching him stand and move away from me, his face contorting into a frown. The change in atmosphere gives me whiplash. Everything was so warm and bright just a minute ago. Now it all feels cold and distant, to the point where I start to question if what just happened was even real.

Who the hell am I kidding? Of course Marco wasn’t going to kiss me. Stupid stupid stupid. I’m so fucking stupid.

“Hey mum, you okay?...What? What do you mean?”

Oh no. A horrible sense of déjà vu ripples over me.

“Mum. Mum calm down…MUM! She’s staying at Charlie’s tonight remember? It’s Saturday. She’s at Charlie’s.”

An exasperated but amused smile crosses Marco’s features.

“Yeah, you are a numpty…Yeah I’m fine, just hanging out at Jean’s. Okay, go get some sleep…Alright love you. Bye.”

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Mia’s staying at her friend’s tonight, but Mum forgot and thought she’d gone walkabout again when she came home to an empty house. Haha.”

Neither of us speak for one long, stretched out second. It hangs awkwardly between us and prickles uncomfortably up my neck and over my ears.

“Do you err, do you mind if I grab another drink?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

I leap up from my seat like it’s electrocuted me. “Course not! Erm, I-I’ll get them!”

“Oh, I mean…I didn’t mean you have to get it for me!” Marco splutters awkwardly.

“I know! It’s fine. I want one anyway. Beer or coke?”

God I wish I didn’t sound so flustered.

“Erm…Coke’s fine.”

“’Kay.”

I fill a glass with water and glug down half before refilling it and plead with my body to just act fucking normal. Shame my fingers decide to betray me. I go to get a glass for Marco and the bastard thing slips from my grasp, rolls off the bench and smashes on the floor.

“Shit.”

“Are you okay?” Marco asks, already walking over.

“Don’t!” He stops and blanches at my reaction. “You might get glass in your feet!”

He opens his mouth to say something, but the sound of keys scraping in the lock stops him. I look towards the stairs and fucking wilt with relief knowing something is about to interrupt this awkward situation. I hear footsteps coming up the stairs and then Sasha walks in with Connie just behind.

“Guess which idiot decided to have a major nosebleed in the middle of dessert!”

“It’s me! I’m the idiot!” Connie says gleefully, his voice muffled by the balled-up tissue in front of his face.

Sasha glances down at the mess around me with a confused expression. “You having a glass throwing party or something?”

______________________________________________

Connie’s tendency to be completely oblivious to everything around him is a double-edged sword. Most of the time, he puts his foot in his mouth and makes things even more uncomfortable. Tonight however, and to my great relief, I get the flip side of that, where Connie’s complete lack of awareness helps dissipate an awkward situation.

He dives straight into the story of his nosebleed and slowly but surely, the worst of the tension dissolves. Connie is positively giddy, making us all laugh with his ridiculousness. Sasha too; I forget just how hard she can make me laugh when she’s on top form. Marco relaxes against the arm of the sofa and starts to smile again - especially when Sasha sarcastically thanks us for making Connie late with the flour stunt and we all have a good giggle at the video together.

“Jean I keep forgetting to ask, are you free two weeks from today?” Sasha asks when we’ve stopped chuckling.

“Think so. Why?”

“That’s when we’re going to the cottage.”

“Oh, yeah. Marco mentioned that to me.”

His eyes meet mine when I say his name and he smiles. Sasha starts giving us the details and the more we talk about it, the more excited I feel about the prospect of a holiday. I am more than ready for a break – though it’s unlikely to be very relaxing with this crazy bunch. And I have to admit, the thought of spending time away with Marco doesn’t exactly fill me with a sense of zen either. There’s a moment when Sasha’s talking about how many beds there are and how many people will have to share, and the tips of my ears burn red when I notice Marco trying and failing to look me directly in the eye.

I wish I knew what was going on in his head.

He doesn’t stay long enough for me to figure it out. After Sasha offers him a lift, he decides to head off with her, which means I don’t get to speak to him alone at the door. I’m honestly glad for it though. I’m not even sure what I’d say.

Hey Marco I thought you were going to kiss me earlier hahahaha. Kind of offended you didn’t hahaha. Just kiddin’ lolz. Unless?

Yeah. Let’s not.

He offers me a cheery wave and a ‘catch you later’ before buckling himself into Sasha’s car but that’s about it. His smile seemed genuine enough so I try not to overthink it. I’m too tired to think too hard anyway.

I head off to bed after a quick catch-up with Connie. Things are still going good with Sasha, though he hasn’t asked her to be ‘official’ yet and he still hasn’t gotten beyond cheek kisses with her. He’s hoping our trip to the cottage could change that.

“I’m still not sure though. I mean the last thing I want to do is push things too far too soon when we’re stuck on holiday together. That would kind of ruin it.”

“Dude I’m sure you’ve got nothing to worry about. You guys seem really comfortable around each other. It’s like you’re there already.”

It’s warm tonight, so the coolness between my bed sheets feels like absolute bliss when I slip between them. I plug my phone in to charge and roll over with a huff, folding my arms behind my head and enjoying the stretch across my chest.

I’m sleepy as fuck but my head still swims with unanswered questions about what happened tonight. Did Marco really want to kiss me or did I read into things? Did he think I was going to kiss him? Is he freaked out?

My eyes grow heavy despite my babbling mind and I start to drift…

Bzzt! Bzzt!

Ah! I jerk awake as the ceiling’s illuminated by blue light. There’s one new message on my phone from Marco.

ItsaMeeMarco:

Hey. Thanks for tonight. I had fun :)

He’s attached the picture from earlier…the one I set as his wallpaper.

HeresJeany:

Your hairdressing skills leave a lot to be desired. I had fun too :) Goodnight Marco x

ItsaMeeMarco:

Goodnight Jean x

______________________________________________

As much as I’d love for me and Marco to be more than friends, this week has made me realise how precious our friendship is, because let me tell you, being friends with Marco Bodt is an absolute fucking privilege.

He rang me first thing Monday morning to make sure I was okay about going back to work and he’s called me every evening since; wanting to hear about my day, offering words of encouragement and praise, telling me dumb stories just because he wants to make me laugh. I can’t get over how much he cares about me – I feel like I have to pinch myself every time the phone rings.

It’s also a huge relief knowing what happened on Saturday night (whatever the fuck that was) hasn’t changed anything between us. Not gonna lie, I still feel just a teensy bit paranoid but only because I haven’t seen him in person to make sure things are really okay. I invite him to hang out and there’s band practice of course, but he tells me he’s got a lot of work to do prepping for an interview in a week, so he can’t make it. It’s a for a full-time teaching role at the school next to his nursery. I really hope he gets it - I can tell how much he wants it whenever it comes up in conversation. He’s so fucking cute when he starts talking about the kids and all the ideas he has for teaching them. I could listen to him for hours. In fact, I probably have once or twice this week.

As for my job, this week has been okay - better than I was expecting, actually.

I had a few jitters about returning on Monday morning, but it felt good to be back with everyone, albeit one less person than I expected. Daz has decided not to come back. I guess he was pretty shaken up by the whole experience – he always seemed a bit out of his depth so I wasn’t too shocked when they told us the news, but still.

Obviously, this meant that everyone found out what happened. I didn’t have to go into too much detail thankfully - Mike gave everyone the short version of events. As promised, he did a lot of wellbeing training with us all and even brought a therapy dog along to one of the sessions, which was ridiculously awesome! Apparently they have them in the emergency services for group sessions, like if the whole team had gone through something traumatic.

Mike also booked me a session to meet the counsellor. It wasn’t too heavy. It was mainly a meet and greet where they got to tell me how the sessions work. We talked about what happened with Indy a little bit but not much. They said a lot of people who’ve experienced trauma like that don’t benefit from reliving the event because it embeds it further in their memory. She talked through some other strategies I might find useful. For now, I think I’ll be okay, but it’s good to know help is there if I ever need it.

To be honest, the most helpful part of this week (apart from talking to Marco) has just been working with all my training buddies again. Everyone’s been so supportive but especially Reiner. They seemed the most concerned out of everyone when Mike explained what happened with the traffic collision. He asked me a few things about it, but mainly to see how I was coping and if I needed anything rather than about the event itself. I really like Reiner. I hope we get to work together when our training is over.

I invited him and Bert to hang out with everyone tonight. Eren and Marco are having everyone over at their place. I’m making more of an effort to socialise after my little pity party last week pretty much turned me into a recluse. It would be a lie to say I’m not looking forward to seeing my mates, but honestly, it’s the thought of finally seeing Marco’s gorgeous face after nearly a week that has me bouncing on the balls of my feet as Connie and I wait for someone to answer the door.

“C’mon you wankers let us in! We come bearing gifts!” Connie yells, impatient as ever.

The door opens a crack and Sasha peers though with a serious expression.

“…What kind of gifts?”

“Err, a case of beer and enough crisps to fill a swimming pool.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes flick between our faces and the carrier bag full of crisps. “Very well. You may enter.”

She swings the door wide and Connie strides in with a ridiculous grin plastered across his face, heading straight to Sasha’s side to tell her all the flavours he’s brought.

I follow after them, my eyes on the hunt for one thing and one thing only when we reach the top of the stairs. Soothing warmth spreads through my chest when I enter the kitchen and see him, chatting happily to Bert and Armin.

Ahh. There he is.

Any remaining doubts about things being awkward quickly fall away when he lifts his head and locks eyes with me. The smile that beams from his face could set the world alight. I notice Armin quirk an eyebrow and turn to see what Marco’s looking at. Their face softens into a knowing smile when they see it’s me and they give me a cute little wave before turning to Bert and drawing him into a conversation.

“Hey!” Marco grins.

I was worried he might be a bit reserved with his affections, so it feels like a weight has lifted from my heart when he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a hug.

“Hey, you okay?” I grin, discreetly breathing in his scent. God I’ve missed it.

“Yeah. I missed you.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole fucking flat heard the comedic SCREEEECH of my heart coming to a halt at the way those words just casually tumbled over his lips. He releases me, but not by much; there’s only a small gap between our chests as looks at me.

“Oh yeah?” I smile. “Living with Eren that bad is it?”

He giggles and headbutts me softly on the shoulder. I look down at the hand not wrapped around my bicep, at the near empty beer, and then back up at his flushed face.

“Your nose is red,” I say, playfully booping him on a cluster of freckles. “I’m guessing that’s not your first beer.”

“Maybe. Work has been so bloody stressful this week, so Eren and I cracked open our first beers at about half five. I’m only on my third but, yeah, we haven’t eaten that much yet!”

“Well lucky for you Connie brought a shit ton of crisps!”

Marco sobers up a bit once he gets some food in him. Everybody’s brought something so we’ve got a good little buffet going by the time it’s all sorted.

“Hey,” he whispers when everyone’s distracted by Reiner sharing pictures of the therapy dog. “Don’t tell anyone but I got us a sneaky treat.”

“You did what?” I ask, my cheeks hurting from the huge smile that immediately snaps into place.

“C’mon I’ll show you.”

He tugs at my elbow until we’re out of the kitchen and leads me into his room, unnecessarily tiptoeing the whole way like he’s in a Pink Panther film or some shit. I feel like my chest is about to burst with giddiness. He hops onto his bed, sitting cross-legged before rummaging in the backpack near his pillow. I slot into place next to him while he starts talking excitedly.

“There was a lady selling these at the outdoor market on my way into work today and I couldn’t resist.”

He pulls out a bright box covered in blobs of colour. But then I realise the blobs of colour are pictures of macarons.

“Oh my god. Marry me Marco.”

He chuckles and looks at me with a huge, heart-stopping smile. “So, there’s a couple pistachio and a couple raspberry ‘cos I know they’re your favourite, but she had all these other insane flavours that I just had to try…”

‘cos I know they’re your favourite.’ I kinda wanna ask him to marry me again.

“…there’s two chocolate orange, two red velvet cake and these two are frickin’ cinnamon roll flavour!”

Jesus Christ Marco if you don’t stop being so unreasonably cute I’m gonna have to kiss you.

“Which one do you wanna try first?” he asks.

“Cinnamon roll. Obviously.”

“Is that ‘cos you’re a secret cinnamon roll?”

“The fuck? How am I a cinnamon roll?”

“Big tough firefighter Jean who secretly loves macarons and squeals over kittens,” he giggles.

“Oh yeah? Well would a cinnamon roll do THIS?”

I grab both the cinnamon roll macarons and cram them into my mouth. Marco full on gasps before smacking me on the shoulder.

“You bitch! I was really looking forward to trying one of those!”

I’m about to make a snarky remark but my brain short-circuits when I start to chew because holy-fucking-shit.

“Mmm…moh my mod… they taste so gudm.”

Marco looks completely and utterly done with my shit and reaches for my face.

“I will squeeze those macarons right out of your mouth I swear!”

He tries to grab my cheeks but I manage to bat him off, swallowing enough that I can speak properly.

“Oh man. I actually feel really bad now.” I swallow the last mouthful. “They were amazing. I’m so sorry.”

“That doesn’t help!”

He lunges for my ribs and I’m not quick enough this time. His fingers dig mercilessly into my sides and I immediately become a squirming, shrieking mess.

“Gah! M-Ahaha! Marco no! Stop! Ahahaha! Stop!”

“No more treats for you! I’m having all the rest to myself you hear me! This is what you get for being a pesky macaron thief!”

“No! Stop! A-haha! I’ll do anything!”

He manages to grab both my wrists and I panic, kicking my legs to get him off me before he pins them with one hand and starts tickling me again. I don’t get very far. He flashes me and evil grin and jumps over my legs, pinning my thighs between his.

He stills his tickling fingers for a moment and gazes down at me, that a mischievous sparkle still in his eye. “Anything you say?”

Throb.

I’m caught somewhere between absolute heaven and my worst nightmare – Burning the image of Marco straddling me (smiling down all flushed and breathing heavy) into my memory, whilst also praying to fucking god I don’t get an erection and freak him out.

“In that case,” he smirks, “sing ‘The Little Green Frog’ and I’ll get off you.”

“…Fuck you.”

“Okay fine by me!” He goes right for my armpit this time. I squeal but I try not to twist too much for fear I’ll grind my dick up against him.

“Agh god! Sto-o-op! Stooop! Okay I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

I screw my eyes shut so I can’t see his smug fucking face and sing the stupid song as quickly as I can.

“Haha. That was beautiful Jean.”

I crack an eye open.

Oh.

His face isn’t smug in the slightest, it’s fucking breath-taking. The widest, brightest smile stretches across his rosy lips. His eyes - crinkled at the corners - are catching the last of the daylight through the undrawn curtains, highlighting flecks of honey in the warmest brown. And it’s all framed perfectly by his soft wavy locks, swaying gently as they hang forward.

Jesus fuck.

The familiar tug in my stomach takes on a new intensity, squeezing my heart and making my fingers and toes tingle. My breath gets caught in my chest, and I think he notices because I feel him tense ever so slightly. The smile starts to soften.

“Jean?”

“…Yeah?”

“I lied.”

“Wha-? Ahhh!”

Strong fingers and thumbs dig at my waist with a renewed sense of vigour and within seconds I’m laughing my head off, and Marco’s laughing his head off, and the sound of our shared glee is like the most perfect song I’ve ever heard.

“Jean! Marco!”

Eren’s voice.

“Yeah?” we both respond breathlessly.

“I don’t know what’s going on in there, but it sounds kinky as fuck!”

A comment like that from Eren would usually result in a torrent of abuse spewing from my mouth, but when Marco drops his head to my chest and giggles, I’m on cloud fucking nine so I just giggle along with him.

“C’mon you gays we’re gonna play ‘Grandma’s knickers’!”

“Grandma’s- Are you actually serious?”

Turns out Eren was deadly serious. Mikasa brought it up when people were reminiscing about school and everyone immediately demanded we play it.

I barely last a minute, still giddy from my tickle attack with Marco, but considering how fucking giggly Marco’s been this evening, he is insanely good at ‘Grandma’s knickers’. The absolute shite that Connie comes up with has me crying with laughter but Marco barely even flinches. He finally lets the tiniest of smiles slip when Historia asks, “When you fantasise about Reiner, what’s he wearing?”

No-one can keep a straight face after that so we abandon the game, everyone starting up their own conversations and just generally relaxing while Eren plucks aimlessly at his guitar. Marco and I are chatting happily to Armin and Bert when Sasha interrupts us.

“Hey Marco, you gonna reply to my message anytime soon?”

Message? Didn’t think Marco and Sasha were close enough to be exchanging messages on the regular.

“What message?” I ask with a curious grin. God knows what crazy crap Sasha’s been sending his way.

“I’m trying to set him up with my friend!”

…What?

“My friend Niccolo saw Marco’s picture on my Instagram and he’s been bugging me to introduce them.”

Armin, I notice, catches themselves before they look in my direction. I wish I could say the same for Eren, who looks really obviously between me and Marco with an awkward expression.

Mate I swear to god if anyone notices you…

“Honestly Marco you should give him a chance. He’s really fit!” Sasha continues.

“Show us a picture then,” someone says. It’s hard to tell who with the ringing in my ears.

Sasha babbles on some more about what a wonderful person he is, while I just stare at Marco. I know he can see me in his peripheral. I know I’m being obvious. I know I’m inviting a conversation I’m not ready to have…but I can’t help it. I need to see. If there’s even a hint of Marco being interested in this guy, I need to see so that I don’t stand in the way.

“Oh wow! Yeah he’s cute Marco,” Connie laughs. “You should go for it! Shouldn’t he Jean?”

Connie I love you but I swear to fucking Christ you are so bloody dense sometimes!!

He thrusts his arm forward so I can see the picture on Sasha’s phone. Some stupid gorgeous blond with a stupid chiselled jaw grins at me suggestively and I instantly fucking hate him.

“Err..”

“Giviz a look Con,” Eren interrupts so I don’t have to answer. I could kiss him. “Hmm, looks like a bit of a prick to me.”

“Eren!” Sasha cries, while a couple of other people snort with laughter.

“What? He does! You can do better than him Marco.”

Marco gives a short chuckle. He hasn’t really responded much beyond polite smiles and the occasional hum.

“C’mon Marco. What have you got to lose?” Sasha asks.

“Yeah erm, maybe? Let me think about it.”

Fuck. Is he actually considering it?

“Maybe!? Okay let me give you the lowdown on why he’d be a good boyfriend. One, he’s a chef and he’s actually amazing. Two…”

I tune out the rest as I get up to grab a drink. After popping the cap off another brown bottle, I head down the hall to Eren’s room. He won’t mind. I just need a moment, just a couple of minutes to have a word with myself and then I’ll be fine.

I swing one of the windows wide and lean on the frame, breathing in the night air and gazing down the road at the streetlamps. My head swims with a million thoughts, moments I’ve shared with Marco all flashing through my mind at once; all the time I’ve spent with him, all the times he’s shown me affection and all the times I’ve felt like something was off kilter…all the times he’s had that look in his eyes and I’ve wondered what the hell it means.

All the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘could bes’…

And then I think of what Eren said last week, about telling Marco how I feel. Because until I do that, I really have no right to be running away and feeling sorry for myself. Moments like this are going to keep happening again and again. It’s inevitable with someone as great as Marco and only a matter of time before he finds someone new.

God, the number of times I’ve had a go at Connie for not telling Sasha how he feels and here I am doing the same thing. If I don’t speak up soon, I’m gonna miss my chance. Maybe forever. But do I even have a chance? Could I ever hope to deserve someone as amazing as Marco? Could he ever see me as more than a close friend? And if he says no…

I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m a fucking coward and I can’t do it.

Shit. My eyes burn so I squeeze them shut. Don’t cry. Don’t you DARE fucking cry over this. Stop stop STOP.

A single tear manages to push through but that’s all. I sniff hard and press my lips together, getting a grip of myself. Just in time too, as barely a minute passes before I hear the door creak open tentatively.

“Hey,” Armin says, gently knocking their hip into mine. “Don’t worry I’m not here to kiss you.”

I snort and give them a genuine (albeit watery) smile, knocking them back.

“Yeah I know,” I huff as I run a hand through my hair, not really caring for the way it sticks up in places. “We only do that in Marlowe’s room…or Marco’s room now, I guess…”

“Hmm.”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

“Oh yeah?” They turn to face me. “Go on then. What am I gonna say?”

“You’re gonna say I need to tell Marco how I feel before he gets snapped up by someone else and I miss my chance. That I’ll regret it if I don’t say something. Oh and some crap about how I’m great and wonderful and I definitely have a chance with him.”

“You don’t believe you’ve actually got a chance though do you?”

“Honestly no,” I huff looking down the street at nothing in particular. “So telling him is just going to fuck everything up. Like, don’t worry, my self-esteem isn’t so bad that I think I’m unlovable or some shit, but Marco’s just…He’s fucking sunshine incarnate you know? And I…well I need to be realistic about my chances.”

Armin hums pensively for a moment.

“Well, you weren’t a hundred miles away from what I was going to say, apart from one thing.” I twist my head to look at them, eyebrows pinched. “I don’t think Marco wants to be snapped up by anyone else.”

Hope twists uncomfortably in my gut. “What makes you say that?”

Armin pauses, as if they’re choosing their next words carefully.

“…Every time I see you two together, I can tell you’ve fallen for him a little bit more; it’s been that way for a while now. And I know I don’t know Marco as well as you so I could be wrong but…I think he’s fallen for you too. He loves talking about you. I don’t think he realises how obvious he is, but he lights up whenever you come up in conversation. He’s like a brighter version of himself when you’re around…and so are you. I think you should tell him how you feel. Even if you don’t get the answer you want, Marco’s not the type of person who’d throw away a friendship like yours. But honestly? I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

I look back towards the street, my heart pounding in my chest at Armin’s words. I tug at my hair and groan.

“I can’t do it Armin. It’s too fucking scary. Every time I think about it I just see him blushing and smiling awkwardly and then having to tell me he doesn’t see me that way and being really nice about it, which would somehow make it ten times fucking worse.”

They hum at my words. “Okay, I get how the thought of that doesn’t feel great but…imagine you don’t tell Marco and then he starts seeing someone else because he convinces himself that you don’t see him that way. Wouldn’t that feel worse than you telling him and getting politely rejected.”

“…Maybe.”

“Jean.”

“Okay,” I huff. “Yes. Of course that would be even worse.”

“Exactly, so just think of you telling him as the lesser of two evils.”

I let my head drop to the forearm resting on the windowsill and groan even louder. “I hate it when you’re right.”

When I turn my head they’re smiling at me affectionately. I think it’s the first time ever that smile doesn’t make my chest twinge. Instead I just feel gratitude to have a friend as amazing as Armin.

“Listen, we’ve got our trip to the cottage coming up soon yeah? Well maybe that’ll give you the push you need to open up to him. You’re gonna be spending a lot of time together- ”

“I’m not telling the poor guy when we’re on holiday! Knowing he’s stuck there with me after he’s had to turn me down - that’ll be awkward as fuck.”

“Tell him when we get back then,” Armin counters with a shrug. “Either way, I’m sure you’ll have a clearer idea of how he feels by then.”

God, I really want to spit my dummy out and stamp my feet and refuse to be a grown up about this. Armin doesn’t leave me much choice though. Why do they have to be so bloody right about everything? It doesn’t help that when turn my head, they’re looking right at me with all-knowing smile on their lips.

“Don’t give me that look,” I mumble, narrowing my eyes at their big blue ones.

“What look?” they ask, knowing fine well what I’m getting at.

“Like you’re so fucking sure I’m gonna go through with it. THAT look.”

“Fair enough. C’mon let’s head back.”

“Ugh, do we have to? I really don’t want to hear Sasha going on about how great that fucking guy is Armin.”

“I doubt they’ll still be talking about that. C’mon.”

Once again, Armin is right. The conversation has clearly moved on. Eren, Connie and Sasha are sitting close together, laughing at something to do with Eren’s guitar, while Reiner, Bert and Marco are all smiles looking at something on Reiner’s phone.

Marco’s eyes are the first to find mine when I enter the room. He gives me a gentle smile that I feel all the way down to my toes, but when I walk over, Reiner’s the first to speak. “Oh speak of the devil! I’m just sharing some pics of us in action from this week.”

I lean over to have a look. I appear in a quite a few of the pictures: carrying a big-ass roll of hose, tying a line to a ladder, sporting a big cheesy grin as Onyan ties a bowline around me.

“Kinky right?” Reiner sniggers, giving Bert a mischievous look.

“Get your mind out of the gutter babe,” Bert sighs.

“He literally can’t help himself,” I add. “The amount of innuendos that come out of this guy’s mouth on the daily is ridiculous.”

“Mate we’re surround by fucking hoses and poles and rope all day! It’s not my fault!”

Reiner chuckles to himself but stops abruptly when he scrolls too far and a very shirtless picture of him in half uniform comes on the screen.

“Shit!” He twists away from us to scroll back.

“Wait what the fuck was that!?” I ask trying to get his phone.

“Nothing! Nothing!”

“Oh Christ.” Bert holds his forehead and shakes his head, clearly mortified by his boyfriend.

“Not nothing! That was a sexy firefighter selfie if I ever saw one! Show us again!”

“Yeah show us!” Marco parrots.

“Babe I’m so sorry,” Reiner laughs, slinging an arm around Bert.

“It’s fine,” he says with an eye-roll. “Just don’t show them any others! I know what a show-off you can be.”

Reiner gives him a quick kiss on the temple and pulls up the picture on his phone. “Okay here you bloody pervs.”

Marco and I both lean in for a closer look, laughing loudly and grabbing at each other’s arms like a couple of excited kids. He nudges Bert, coaxing him into a high-five, which Bert can’t help but grin and blush at.

“I like how you’ve strategically placed the straps over your nips,” I grin.

“Well you gotta leave something to the imagination! Always leave them wanting more. Anyway I’ve shown you one of mine let’s see one of yours. Tit-for-tat and all that!” he says looking at me.

“I-I…I haven’t got any!”

“Bullshit! We’ve had the uniform how long and you’re telling me you haven’t taken any sexy fireman pics yet?”

“Why the hell would I!?”

Reiner spends a good few minutes arguing why it’s always a good idea to have sexy photos saved because ‘you never know’, while Bert and Marco laugh at my obvious disbelief that anyone could make these arguments with a straight face.

“Oh my god, we should totally get all the trainees to do a calendar for charity!” Reiner suggests gleefully.

“You’re insane.”

“I’d buy it!” Marco laughs raising his hand.

My head whips round at that, trying to work out whether or not he’s taking the piss.

Bert raises his hand. “Me too! I’d buy it!”

“What are we buying?” Historia asks sticking her head between Bert and Marco’s biceps.

“We’re trying to convince Jean and Reiner to do a sexy firefighter calendar for charity!” Marco grins.

“Oh my god are you kidding!? That’d be frickin’ amazing!”

“No. No no nope. I am not going to be peer-pressured into taking my clothes off. And you’re all terrible friends for trying to make me.”

Historia turns to me with a scowl, “Can’t believe you’re taking money away from charity Jean. Shameful.”

The twang of chords vibrating through the air saves me from anymore bullying as we all turn our attention to Eren, who’s started strumming what I quickly recognise to be the opening of ‘Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots’.

Eren playing usually acts like a siren’s song for me – my fingers curl and flex with the need to wrap around the neck of a guitar and before I know it, I’m right next to him singing and playing my heart out. Tonight though, that doesn’t happen. Tonight, the only urge I feel when Eren’s fingers curl around the strings is the urge to be close to Marco.

Lucky for me there’s a space next to the arm of the sofa he’s perched on. He watches me as I walk around him and sit down, my head about level with his waist.

I look up to give him a smile and he quirks an eyebrow at me. “You not gonna join him?”

“Nah. Think I just wanna listen tonight.”

He smiles softly and looks back towards Eren.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s getting late, maybe it’s the alcohol in my system, maybe it’s because we’re at the back of the room so no-one can really see me, or maybe it’s because I can’t see his reaction unless I tilt my head back. Whatever the reason, I make a bold move and let my head settle down against Marco’s thigh.

He tenses at first but doesn’t push me off, so I let myself relax and gently sing along. Eventually, the song draws to a close and Eren launches straight into another – one of my favourite’s actually – strumming the sweet-sounding opening for ‘In the Aeroplane Over the Sea.’

I hum contentedly as I breathe out, feeling myself sink into the flesh of Marco’s thigh a little further, and that’s when it happens. The sensation of warm fingers settling on my head makes my breath hitch, as Marco starts stroking my hair.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! Is this actually happening?

His fingers draw gentle circles around my undercut; soft but with just enough pressure to have me practically purring in his lap.

So good.

His fingers still and he switches to gently stroking my crown with his thumb.

Am I in heaven right now? This must be what heaven feels like.

I give a contented sigh – not caring if Marco hears it – and let my eyes flutter closed.

I’m not going to sleep. I’m just enjoying the moment. I won’t let myself fall asleep.

“Jean…Hey Jean.”

“Hmm?”

“Sorry to wake you but I really need a pee.”

“Wha-? Oh...” Shit. Turns out I did fall asleep. “Sorry about that,” I croak sitting upright.

“It’s okay,” he beams, pushing himself up and walking through the door with one last smile over his shoulder at me.

It takes a moment for my brain to catch up with where I am. I rub the sleep from my eye and look around me. Lucky for me no-one seems too interested in the fact that I was just conked out on Marco’s thigh. Most people are still in the living room, slumped about on the furniture enjoying their quiet conversations. Connie and Sasha look particularly cosy – all curled up on one armchair and laughing at something on Sasha’s phone.

I smile as I watch them acting so comfortably with one another.

Bzzt bzzt.

My phone vibrates against my leg and when I pull it out, I see it’s a message from Eren. A picture to be precise, of Marco looking down at me where I’m sleeping in his lap; the tiniest hint of a smile as he rests his hand on my head. The caption underneath reads ‘I ship it’.

My heart squeezes with a bittersweet pain. The affection on Marco’s face is…disarming. Deep down, I know it’s just because we’re good friends. I know that’s the truth. But it’s honestly hard not to let myself believe in other possibilities when I look at us together – imagining what it would be like if napping on each other and hair stroking was the norm. Maybe waking each other up with a kiss on the temple.

No Jean. Stop. Don’t torture yourself.

Do ‘just good friends’ really look at each other like that though?

Marco comes back with a glass of water in hand. He doesn’t sit on the arm of the sofa, choosing instead to sit next to me. Right next to me. Leg-squished-up-against-mine levels of next to me.

“Here you go sleeping beauty,” he smiles, handing me the glass.

“Oh, thanks!”

Our fingers brush when I reach for it so I take a few big gulps to hide how affected I am by the tingling in my digits.

“Carrying all that hose around finally catching up to you?” he chuckles.

“Yeah must b-” A huge yawn cuts me off. “B-be. Sorry.”

“S’alright,” he chuckles again, this time ruffling my hair.

The exquisite feel of his fingers is over with far too quickly. My head almost chases after his hand when he drops it.

“You could erm…you could always sleep over…if you want.”

“…Yeah?”

“I-In my room,” he adds scratching his neck.

Ba-dum.

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah. I could repay the favour, for letting me sleep over last week I mean.”

“I’m pretty sure I begged you to stay over Marco so wouldn’t that mean I owe you a favour?” I smile.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he chuckles softly, but then his face becomes more serious. “I just mean…well, my bed’s big enough and,” he lifts his head and turns to face me, his voice soft and eyes out of focus, “I…I wouldn’t mind.”

Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum.

The look in his eyes is scaring the shit out of me because it could so easily convince me of so many things. Like convincing me that maybe tonight is the night I tell him. It could be so perfect. Both of us huddled together warm and cosy beneath his sheets. Maybe he would start stroking my hair again. Then maybe I lift my head, so close that the tips of our noses brush. And when he doesn’t pull away I’ll kiss him. Tentative at first but then closer and deeper and I’d hum at the sweetness of his lips, the light taste of beer on his tongue…

Or maybe not. Maybe we’re both too giddy, too full of alcohol. I don’t want him to wake up with any regrets. That is not how I want this to go.

No. Tonight is not the night.

“Thanks for the offer but err…I think I wanna crash in my own bed tonight. I’m absolutely shattered.”

I pretend not to see the disappointment in his face. “Oh. Yeah no worries.”

“I think I’m gonna head actually. Struggling to keep my eyes open.”

I spend a couple of minutes saying bye to people before heading down the stairs to the front door, Marco trailing a step behind me.

“Let me know you get home okay,” he says holding the door open for me.

“Yeah will do. You free any days next week? Been a while since we went out for food,” I smile, hoping that small gesture will somehow make up for me leaving.

“Yeah maybe. Can I let you know?”

“Yeah course. No worries. Okay erm…catch you later.”

I go in for a goodbye hug, but it’s nothing like our usual hugs. He squeezes me tighter, his arms lingering longer, head buried further into the crook of my neck. My chest constricts painfully. We eventually let each other go and I turn to leave.

“Okay see you.”

I only get a few steps down the path when his voice stops me.

“Jean wait!”

“Y-yeah?”

He twists the bottom of his t-shirt and scratches the back of his neck.

“I’m erm…I’m not interested in that guy by the way. The one Sasha was talking about.”

I blink at him while my brain explodes and scrambles to put itself back together again.

“Oh…okay.”

My tongue has literally forgotten how to form full sentences.

“Just erm…thought you might want to know. Okay bye.”

And with that he steps inside and swings the door shut. I stare at the space where he was for a good few seconds. What…the…fuck?

The moment I turn to go there’s a gentle thud on the other side of the door and I look towards the sound, half hopeful and half terrified he’ll come back out. When nothing happens I puff out a huge breath I didn’t realise I was holding and start walking.

I walk without concentrating, hoping my legs will work on autopilot and somehow take me home, because the only thought running through my head right now is…Does Marco like me?

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