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Marcel had trouble accepting that conclusion. He had trouble accepting the fact that he liked him. Liked him?
No, loved him. By him, he meant Fernand. He does not know how he came to realize that, in addition only now, and how it all even happened.
He kept thinking, thinking and thinking about every single moment he had spent with Fernand, looking for any hints as to how all of this started.
His face paled the moment he remembered when and where it all began.
'It was when he touched me, the second time we fought, in that empty lot.'
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"You didn't expect to get off that easily," Marcel began, pointing his finger against Fernand's chest, "we're gonna settle this like men, on the empty lot, without Mr. Herp—"
"Hey! Marcel! Gaston! Come and give me a hand!"
He earned a glare from the Alsatian in response. The ginger then followed his older brother, whom had called him for help.
When six o' clock hit, the two boys in question found themselves facing each other, ready to grab at each other's throats. And that's how it began too.
Well, almost.
Marcel threw himself on Fernand, trying his best to pin the other down, before getting their places switched by the Alsatian as he found himself underneath him, hands pinned down next to each side of his head.
Marcel's stomach fluttered at that.
'What the hell?'
He couldn't fight back, he froze at the thought of that just happening.
He could feel his face heat up, fighting back was the least, or almost was, the least of his worries for a second.
Then he regained his spirits. And they, in favor of one and against the will of another, switched places again.
The two wrestled like that for another while, before standing up at one point, and each being held back by someone after a while; Fernand being held by Jean and Marcel being held by Ernest.
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'Yeah, that's when it all started.'
It's not like the two were still enemies, now that Marcel was part of the Robinsons, Fernand took quite a liking to him, and so did the ginger in return. Except the latter's heart apparently decided to take it to the next level.
Of course, it had to. Always had to make everything seem bigger than it actually was. It always happens. Just why.
The entire thing tired out his brain, he just wanted to stop thinking about it all, as he sat down on the grass, right underneath the tree of the Robinsons clubhouse.
He sat down against the tree to clear his mind, and to stop marching around the place like an idiot, thinking about that, but it simply did not work.
Now, that he thinks about it, again, it started happening every time they fought, well especially during the first few days of school, back in 1939. The fighting toned down for a bit, but every time they touched, may it be a mere accidental rub against the arm, or a shoulder pat, he always felt his stomach flutter and his face lightly heat up.
'God, please give me answers.'
. . .
There was no way he was going to tell Fernand. What would the Alsatian think of him?
He'd surely reject him, that's the thing. And hate him, and humiliate him about it in front of the rest of the group whenever he'll get the chance, or something petty like that.
But Fernand wouldn't do that. He isn't petty.
Maybe he can tell him.
'Let's just hope it won't get awkward after that.'
⊱ ────── {⋆⌘⋆} ────── ⊰
Three days after he finally realized and slowly accepted his feelings for the other.
Took him three days to think it all through, and to get the answers he wanted.
Now, he found himself in the courtyard of the school, leaning against a wall, his little brother next to him, eyeing him questioningly. Why questioningly, because the eldest has not said a word since they arrived, and keeps zoning out, even in class, where he was surprisingly quiet too.
What Gaston had also noticed, was the occasional, almost continuous glances Marcel would shoot at Fernand. With no malicious look in his eyes, he couldn't really tell what expression was present in those eyes.
"Okay, Marcel, I'm tired of this non-stop silence, what the hell is up with you today?"
"Uh? W-What? Did you say something?" Marcel stammered, looking like he just got snapped back into reality.
"And you aren't even listening, great..." Gaston muttered to himself, before turning back to the other. Marcel softly sighed, before asking again, "Well, what were you saying?"
Gaston lifted his head up, replying, "So I was saying, well, asking, what the hell is up with you today?"
The older male froze. Nervously, he stammered, "Well, it's just-"
The sounds of someone imitating a bird were suddenly echoing throughout the courtyard.
'Fuck.' Gaston widened his eyes in defeat.
'Good.' Marcel sighed in relief.
Back in class again, and Gaston would make sure that he was certain of what he would be seeing, because he did not want it to be a product of his imagination in the end, and he'd just ridicule himself in front of his brother, in a way.
And boy was it not a product of his imagination, at all.
Marcel would sometimes be practically staring at Fernand, in almost a loving way, just explained everything.
Loving.
Marcel loved Fernand?
. . .
He was almost certain now, and he was going to confront Marcel about it right in the beginning of lunch, so no bird sounds to interrupt them.
When lunchtime was announced, Gaston immediately went to the back of the class to his his brother, and dragged him along till they were outside, and brought him behind a large tree bark, away from the earshot and sight of everybody.
Gaston was at least a head shorter than Marcel, but he was still pretty strong, for a kid his age.
"Woah there, Gaston! What the hell?!" Marcel yelled while he was being dragged. When they reached the tree, the taller one of the two leaned against the bark for some stability.
"Okay, now there's nothing to interrupt us, I hope, so now you're gonna tell me what the hells been up with you for the past, what, hours?"
"I'm just- I'm just tired, didn't sleep well."
"Does staring at Fernand like you wanna kiss him perhaps take the tiredness away?"
Marcel's entire nervous system just froze, right then and there. How the hell did he notice that?
"So? Does it or not?" Gaston chuckled, a small hint of seriousness still present in his voice. Marcel's body, along with his system seemingly unfroze, as the boy regained his spirits, and looked at his younger brother.
"What the fuck are you on about?" Was all that came out of his mouth.
"Oh my God," the younger one began, scoffing, "don't start playing dumb, it was so damn obvious! Fuckin'- Jean and Ernest probably noticed it too, hell maybe even Fernand did but he said nothing!"
Marcel visibly started panicking at that statement. Gaston lightly regretted his words, since it was probably going to be harder to get the answers out of his brother.
"No bur seriously, just spill the beans big bro! There's no point in hiding it anyway, seeing from the way you panicked."
". . .Alright."
'Finally, damn,' Gaston thought to himself.
Marcel told him everything, from A to Z; why he's been zoning out, and staring at Fernand, what made him like that, the conclusion he came to, and all of that.
Gaston was surprisingly, surprised. He should have expected Marcel telling him he might have feelings for the Alsatian. Marcel also told him about how he might confess those feelings to Fernand, but he wanted someone's opinion on it first.
"Well, since you two have a pretty good relationship now, he wouldn't make a big deal out of it, or humiliate you or something, he clearly isn't the petty type. But it's probably gonna get awkward for a while." Marcel thought the same.
But to be honest;
'You only live once, so I'll just go for it, plus he doesn't seem like the petty type.'
How was he going to do it though?
Just be straightforward, that's the best way.
There was also no way he was going to do it at school. That's really not the best place to be doing it, at all.
Maybe the clubhouse? Well, there's a high chance the rest of the group will be there too, they do daily meetings there, and say, if Marcel asks Fernand to go to a more private place to talk, in front of everyone, there's a high chance that a curious little shit might eavesdrop, or something of the sorts.
Maybe the cliff? It's peaceful, the Robinsons don't go there that often — as often as they go to the clubhouse — and there's a beautiful view over the ocean, and the city, that they can enjoy together, as a couple.
That is if Fernand feels the same way, of course.
A very low chance of that happening indeed.
But that's that.
⊱ ────── {⋆⌘⋆} ────── ⊰
"Hey, Fernand?" Marcel patted Fernand's shoulder as he called for him. The Alsatian turned back, and smiled at the sight of the ginger.
"Hey Marcel! What's up?"
'God, that smile-'
Marcel's face subtly heated up at Fernand's expression, he almost lost himself for a second, before getting snapped back into reality by the other's question;
"Marcel? Is everything alright? Your face is kinda red."
The shorter male glanced at him, quickly replying, "Y-Yeah! It's just really hot today, isn't it? Heh-" Fernand raised and eyebrow at him, but decided to leave it at that with a small 'huh, yeah.'
"So, did you wanna say something?" The Alsatian added. The ginger just remembered why he addressed Fernand in the first place now, and nervously said, "Well- I was gonna ask if you could meet me at the cliff today, at four o' clock, please?"
"Oh, sure! Why maybe?"
"I- I just wanna talk about something," Marcel replied, trying to avoid Fernand's curious gaze.
Fernand nodded, as the two made their way towards the row, since the 'bell rang'. You know the drill.
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Half past three hit, and school was now over. The kids were free to go now. Marcel and Fernand had thirty minutes before the meeting.
'What does Marcel want to talk about? Is it something important? Did something bad happen?' Thoughts were roaming around the Jewish male's head, as he got slightly worried.
But it couldn't be that bad, he doesn't know why he's overthinking it all.
But one thought just wouldn't go away.
What if. . .
'Of course it can be anything but that. Don't try to get your hopes up.'
. . .
Three forty-five, fifteen minutes left. The Alsatian figured he should go to the cliff by now.
And so he did. He wanted to be early, so he didn't have to keep Marcel waiting.
When he arrived there, the ginger was surprisingly also here, also early. The Jewish boy made his way towards the other, smirking, almost smiling, as he wrapped his arm around the ginger haired boy's shoulders.
Marcel lightly flinched out of surprise, as his head snapped at Fernand, noticing a friendly smirk on the other's face.
'That smirk, oh God-'
The two then simply greeted each other, and Marcel drew in a breath. The boy then looked straight into Fernand's eyes; there was no way he was going to avoid the other's gaze. He wasn't scared, there was no turning back now.
"Okay. . . Fernand, I've- I've been feeling like this for a while now," Marcel began, earning a raised eyebrow from the taller male, a curious, questioning, and slightly worried look.
"I. . . I like you."
Fernand froze, Marcel let out a soft sigh before continuing.
"Like, like you, in more than a friendship type way. Like, you know, love you, like a guy would love a girl. Except you're not a girl. I love you man, and I've felt like that for a long time now."
The Alsatian hadn't said anything until now. He couldn't believe it. It was genuinely unexpected. But only one thing came out of his mouth, out of genuine disbelief.
"What?"
Marcel immediately regretted every single word that came out of his mouth. His chest tightened, he clenched his fists, out of reflex, not to punch anyone, it's just a habit of his.
He sighed, again;
"Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have said anything, I'm- I'm sorry," he stammered, slowly walking away,
"Marcel wait—" Fernand tried to finish his sentence before getting interrupted again by a stammering Marvel.
"No- I'm- I'm sorry Fernand, I shouldn't have said anything!" Was the last thing Fernand heard before the other was out of sight.
The Alsatian felt disappointment, because he tried reaching for Marcel, but the other left too quickly. He figured the boy needed some time alone.
But a small spark of joy shone within him, regarding the ginger's confession. The feelings that he so gladly returned, but couldn't get himself to say anything. He let out a long sigh, and figured he'd just confront the other tomorrow, and make sure Marcel doesn't escape, so he can at least hear him out.
. . .
'Why, why why why-'
Why? Why did he do it? Just one simple word, and a confused tone, made him regret everything that happened.
"What?"
It hurt. It hurt a lot.
If Fernand wanted to say something, why didn't he just go for it, huh?
Idiot. I just threw it in his face, it's normal he'd find trouble to immediately respond.
Marcel let out a soft sigh, as he lay in his bed, and closed his eyes for a bit.
'Maybe I should confront him again, tomorrow.'
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"Marcel! Wait!" Fernand yelled, running after the ginger boy. It was seven fifty in the morning, and kids were making their way to school. It started at eight thirty, so they still had a lot of time. Marcel turned his head, as Fernand stopped in his tracks, lightly panting.
"Hey, Fernand." The greeting was cold, and nervous. The Alsatian felt a small pang in the chest at that. But there was no time to fret, he wanted to get his feelings out as soon as possible, before Marcel came to the conclusion of a wrong idea.
The two found themselves on a path, in between two fields. Marcel was waiting for the other to say something.
"You know what," Fernand began, "I can't get myself to say it in words, so. . ." Marcel looked confused at that, before a pair of lips eagerly pressed on his.
Fernand just kissed him. Longingly too, and Marcel gladly melted into the kiss after a few seconds. The two's lips moved in sync, for a few more seconds, before Fernand pulled away.
"I hope that says enough about my feelings for you."
"It does," Marcel quietly muttered to himself, before a smile had crept its way up to his lips, and he jumped into Fernand's arms. The Alsatian gladly embraced him, as the two chuckled.
They let go of each other, and Marcel grabbed the other's hand, dragging him on the way to school, as they talked about everything and nothing.
Marcel had no trouble accepting those feelings now that he knew Fernand returned them.
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Man I love writing lengthy shit, also yes cross-posted on Ao3